#Frosty wilderness painting

[design-expert19]

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[edgeray]

Vixen

(Arlecchino x Reader Blurb)

A/N: Last Arlecchino post before I go back to classes. 😿This is a hybrid au! blurb from my poll, and it's likely I won't make a oneshot out of this idea. It's still a really cute concept, so maybe I'll make another blurb of this concept or another hybrid au! idea. concept. Shoutout to @megistusdiary for this adorable idea of Artic Fox Arlecchino! (Love you CEO of Arlecchino!) For those of you guys that weren't entirely... pleased with my 'Arlecchino is not a person' blurb I offer this piece in favor of having my life spared. Content Warning: Pretty OOC for Arlecchino, mentioned but not graphic injury, 2.2k words

Arlecchino is as beautiful as snow.

It's the first thing you've noticed when your eyes laid upon the hybrid Harbinger. Beneath the silky snow-white fur and graceful, cordial appearance, you recognize that a predator laid underneath her exterior; a feral fox ready to lash at anything that so much as touches what was deemed hers. You don't let her sleek, fluffy coat distract you from her red-crossed eyes or her black claws.

Still, it is futile to deny her beauty.

You recall your first meeting with her in Snezhnaya, trudging through its frosty forests in nearly knee-deep snow. You don't quite remember what your purpose for being there was, though you ventured out to the wilderness behind your home often with no real purpose. Snow crunching underneath your boots, you admire the pristine, white landscape that no other place in Teyvat could display.

Here, your sight is met with a frost-covered plane, a frozen river cutting between you and a forest, the silhouette of a grand mountain behind the conifers. The sun hangs low, just above the peaks of the mountain, painting the sky as a gradient of topaz oranges and honey yellows. The only noise that fills the air is the whispers of the occasional winter breeze, blowing through your hair and making you shiver. Captivated by this picturesque scene, you simply stand and observe what's around you, your stare unbreaking.

That is until your ears pick up on a noise, a soft whine in the distance. You can tell it's not human-like, more like a cry that a puppy would make, but nonetheless, you're curious. There's another similar sound, this one more faint, but you let your ears guide you to the source of the noise until you near the edge of another wooded area of the wilderness.

What your eyes set on shocks you. A relatively large white blob sits amongst red patches of snow around. Is that blood? Approaching closer, you realize it's a rather large animal with white fur, and you assume that it's a Snezhnayan Snow Wolf from its size, though it's hard to tell with its back turned away. It's struggling to stand up fully; one of its hind legs appears to be injured given how it's not putting as much weight on it when it limps through the snow. You watch it struggle a little, wary of approaching a wild animal especially one of that size before you witness it collapse. Not intent on just observing the poor creature, you walks towards it, making your presence known so as to not startle it abruptly.

It whips its head and locks eyes with you. It is then, you chillingly discern, that this is no ordinary Teyvat creature. It's bigger than what wolves can grow up to, and its ears and tails don't match that of a wolf. Its ears are shorter in height and more triangular and its tail is much thicker than the average wolf's. Notably, on its legs, the fur darkens from white to pitch black, the color encompassing its feet entirely. This is something unseen in any snow creature you've come across. But most striking of all is its gaze. Red pupils with ebony eyes matching its feet, it watches you calculatingly.

You expect it to growl or snarl or make any sort of noise a wild, cornered creature would, but you get nothing besides continued staring. It's unsettling, but it should be a good thing that it hasn't perceived you as a threat yet, right. Regardless though, you still try to verbally communicate with it.

"Hey, I'm just here to help okay? I won't hurt you. If I do, you can, I don't know, bite my face off or something?" You awkwardly reassure it as you kneel beside the animal. It simply tilts its head to lock eye contact, and you half-expect it to bite you without warning.

Although it feels pointless to talk to a wild animal, you ask, "Can I touch you?" Expectedly, there's no response, but you take it as permission. You place a tentative hand over its fur, brushing your hand through its fur. It's incredibly soft, almost like how you'd imagine what touching a cloud feels like. It's a light and immaculate coat. But you didn't come here just to pet it.

"You have a really pretty coat," you compliment the fox(? Let's stick with that for now), before your fingers trail down to where the blood originated. It's a clean, deep laceration across the length of its back leg. What could have injured it like this? There's no other marks on the leg, so it can't be a claw from another animal. This was a precise cut, something that only a human can do.

"Did someone do this to you?" You wonder out loud in a sorrowful tone. What kind of human could harm such a beautiful creature? Unbeknownst to you, its ears twitched in response.

You get to work treating the wound with the emergency equipment you always carried when you ventured. There's no resistance or protest from canine, and you question if this is really an animal you're treating. How it hadn't budged one bit as you cleaned its wound, you're not sure, but you're just glad it hasn't shown one sign of aggression towards you. If you clean it and allow the skin to heal, the cut will likely heal independently. Once you've wrapped the final bandage around its leg, you glance at the fox's eyes again.

Not even once did it stop watching you.

You try to comfort yourself from the disturbing fact by observing how cute it is and imagining what it would be like to snuggle with it. It's when you notice the sun was setting, and dusk is approaching quickly. This typically wouldn't be a problem, but as you increasingly grew worried, a distinct problem struck out. You're lost.

"Well, shit."

Guess you have to set up camp. You hate the thought of having to spend the night out here, but you have no choice. You won't be able to make out anything soon from how dark this place gets. It's not your first time doing so, but you hate it still. With the remaining minutes of sun you have left, you gather as many sticks and branches as possible before you light them with a match, creating a campfire. You lay a little close to the fox, which seems to have also decided to make the campfire its resting place for now.

You cocoon yourself with a thick blanket.

"You'll keep me safe, right...?" You ask of the fox. No response. How very assuring.

Despite the bundles of fabric purposed for helping with extreme temperatures, you find yourself still shivering. You're cold, not to the point of frostbite, but your form can't stop trembling, your teeth chattering.

"It's too fucking cold for this shit," you groan, hugging yourself for extra warmth and curling into a fetal position. As you curse yourself for getting lost, you hear a shuffle, and the crunch of snow. Before you can even search for the origins of the sound, you feel a warm, large weight against your back--it's something soft. You look over your shoulder to see white fur and then look back to where the fox was originally: it's no longer there. Instead, it's pressed against you, sharing its body warmth with you.

"Mmm... good kit," you tiredly drawl as you absorb its heat greedily, enjoying the texture of its coat. It makes falling asleep easy.

Before you drift to sleep, you swore you heard a human, feminine voice purr from behind you.

"Annoying little vixen."

When you wake up, you expect to be met with white--white snow and fur. You are only met with one of those. Your eyes adjust to the pricking sunlight that stab into your vision. Surprisingly, you're warm even with the chill that you feel cascade against your cheeks. Memories of the night prior start piecing together. You still feel the fox's presence, though, strangely, the weight behind you doesn't seem nearly as soft or large as you remember. And something is draped around your midsection. You look down, expecting to a fur-covered limb.

Instead, it's a human arm that is wraps around your form, holding flushed against a person and your heart skids to a stop. The forearm is black with gold and ebony markings on its surface, but the dark color fades into pale skin. Is this person even human? A humanoid? A hybrid? With your rising panic, you become increasingly more aware of the presence that has you encaged in their embrace. You can't turn to look who is behind you in fear of waking them up--you don't know what they'll do to you once they're awake.

The soft snoring behind your ear and the warm breath brushing against your nape makes you shiver. However, what you do notice is how warm their body is; they exude a body heat that's abnormal. Do they produce their own heat from within? You know of very little creatures that can do that, let alone humans. Maybe an external source? Like a vision?

Then a sudden thought comes to you. Has this person been... sleeping with you to keep you warm? Is this person somehow the fox you helped? Deciding to risk it, you twist your head to look over your shoulder.

Red-crossed pupils glare back at you and your entire form freezes. Faced with perhaps the most gorgeous woman ever, a pale, unblemished face framed by ivory hair and some ebony strands appear before you.

"You're awake," her gruff voice comes out and the tips of your ears burn from being caught awake.

"Y-yes," you stammer out, still trying to recover from the shock. "Thank you for keeping me warm."

She hums in response before unfurling her arm from your body and standing up. Immediately, your body misses her warmth and you shudder, wrapping the blanket around you tighter. You sit up with her and it's then that you realize that she is indeed a hybrid. The same ears from the fox last night matches those on her head, and there's a tail that swishes lightly from behind her.

You take the time to admire her clothes, the question of where she got them slipping from your mind. She dons a marble white and slate gray jacket over a corset-type shirt with black and a matching gray and wears black pants. Her outfit reminds you of similar attire to Snezynayan nobles. What is someone of her status out here? Something about her seems vaguely familiar, though you don't quite know why.

"You're the... fox from last night," you dumbly state.

"Correct."

"But you're a human now."

"Astute observation," she huffed with a bit of mockery in her voice and you chuck snow in her direction.

"I've never seen a hybrid before, cut me some slack!" You snap back in faux anger. You let out a sigh, before you flick your attention to her leg. You can't see the wound because of her leggings, but you presume that it's still there.

"Who hurt you before?" You rasp out, corner eminent in your words and expression.

"That's not of your concern," she answers in a curt manner, making you wince.

You bite your bottom lip, a bit frustrated from the quick shut refusal, but you know she shouldn't pry. For as beautiful as she is, both in her human and fox form, you know just from the unsettling... sensation she emitted that she was dangerous, not to be disturbed or poked to much. You figure you should probing her on what led to this situation.

"Can I know who you are?" You question instead.

The fox hybrid steeps in silence for a few moments. Her facial muscles softening just the bit, the red flare in her eyes glowing. Then, a crack in her hardened expression, a small smile graces her lips.

"Arlecchino."

Bonus (Content Warning: VERY Suggestive. Like the closest thing to a smut I'll get.)

"Arlecchino."

"Mmh?"

"I need to get up."

"Just a little longer, kit."

"Arle, I love you, but I will kick you."

"With what functioning legs?"

"Is this why you wanted to dick me down? So you can harass me with no consequences?"

"Exactly."

You grit your teeth, trying to peel her arms off of your bare form, but the fox hybrid persists, keeping you glued to her as she nibbles gently on the skin of your nape. To emphasize her hold, her tail curls around one of your legs, its grasp tight and ensuring you can't go anywhere.

"Annoying little vixen," you groan, pulling the covers off of the two of you.

Arlecchino purrs into your shoulder, and her hands trail from your midsection down to your hips. Her tail caresses your inner thigh and you shudder.

"Again?" You gasp in dulled surprise as you feel her rise and she flips your body over to be beneath her. One blackened claw hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with hers and pressing your hand into the mattress behind you. The other hooks underneath one of your legs, raising the leg over her shoulder.

"Of course. After all, I need to ensure you take my kits."

[u6is]

"Be my fire in the cold."

pt. one

— kylian mbappé x reader: fluff

In the quiet town of Megève, nestled in the heart of the French Alps, the snowfall was a gentle, rhythmic lullaby. The kind that makes you want to snuggle deeper into the warmth of your bed. You felt an irrepressible pull towards the frosty beauty outside your window. You threw the covers aside and padded over to the windowpane, your breath fogging the cold glass. The snow had painted a fresh canvas over the sleeping world, turning everything monochrome but for the occasional twinkle of distant lights.

You glanced over at Kylian, still lost in a peaceful slumber, and couldn't resist the urge to wake him for a surprise. You whispered his name, a soft echo in the stillness of the room. His eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile spread across his face when he saw you.

"Merry Christmas," you said, and his smile grew. He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and took in the serene winter wonderland outside.

"It's perfect," he murmured, and you knew exactly what he meant.

You both got dressed in warm layers, your cheeks flushing from the excitement of the crisp air. Kylian looked at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Prête à y aller, ma chérie?" (ready to go, my darling?) he asked, holding out a pair of snowshoes.

The thought of exploring the pristine landscapes together filled you with excitement. You nodded, and he helped you strap them onto your boots, the sound of the bindings clicking into place echoing through the room.

With snowshoes on, you stepped out of the cozy chalet and into the silent embrace of the Megève Ski Resort. The snow was thick and fluffy, muffling the sound of your footsteps as you ventured into the frosty forest. The trees towered above you, their branches laden with a fresh coat of snow, creating an archway of white that led to the untouched wilderness beyond. The scent of pine was sharp in the air, invigorating and pure. Kylian took your hand, leading you through the enchanting maze of snow-covered trees.

Your breaths grew heavier as you climbed higher, the cold air biting at your cheeks. But the effort was worth it; every step revealed a new postcard-perfect scene. The sky above was a canvas of soft blues and purples, the sun peeking shyly over the mountain tops, casting a warm glow over the snow-capped peaks. Kylian paused to point out a family of deer in the distance, their dark forms standing out against the stark landscape as they grazed peacefully. You watched them in awe, feeling a sense of kinship with the creatures that called this place home.

He stopped at a small clearing, the snow untouched except for the occasional bird tracks. The silence was profound, the only sounds the rustle of the trees and the distant echo of laughter from somewhere in the resort. Kylian looked at you, his eyes full of a warmth that seemed to melt the icicles hanging from the branches above. He leaned in and kissed you gently, his warmth a stark contrast against the frosty air. You wrapped your arms around him, feeling the beat of his heart against your chest, a rhythm as steady as the falling snowflakes.

“So, is this your secret plan to keep me all to yourself out here?” you asked, giving him a playful smile.

“Caught me. I figured if I brought you out here, you’d be stuck with me,” he replied, smirking.

“Oh, so you think I can’t find my way back alone?”

“Hmm, well, maybe. But I doubt you’d want to.”

You grinned, raising a brow. “Confident, are we?”

“Only because you’re still here, in my arms. So... maybe just a little bit,” he teased, holding you tighter.

You laughed, resting your head against his chest. “Alright, you win this time. But only because you’re my best heater in this cold.”

He chuckled softly. “Best heater, huh? I’ll take it. But you’ll owe me a reward.”

You looked up at him, eyes glinting. “Oh? And what exactly does this ‘reward’ involve?”

He leaned in, his eyes sparkling with warmth, “More moments just like this one.” and gently kissed your lips.

Breaking the kiss, Kylian bent down and scooped up a handful of snow. He playfully threw it at you, the chilly flakes landing on your nose. You squealed and laughed, the sound echoing through the woods. The snow fight was on, with Kylian using his speed and agility to dodge your throws while you tried to keep up, your cheeks growing rosier with every giggle. The snow fell around you, the world a blur of white and mirth.

As the laughter subsided, Kylian took your hand again and led you deeper into the woods, the trail growing steeper. The challenge of the climb brought you closer together, your breaths coming in quick gasps as you pushed through the drifts. At the top of a hill, you stopped to catch your breath. The view was breathtaking—a panorama of endless white, unmarred by the chaos of the world below.

Kylian looked at you with admiration, his eyes gleaming with pride. He leaned in and kissed your forehead, his warmth seeping into your bones.

When you were both sufficiently cold and breathless, Kylian took your hand and led you back to the chalet. The warmth inside was a welcome embrace as you shed your outer layers and hung them by the fireplace to dry. The crackle of the firewood and the smell of pine filled the room.

You settled onto the couch, a mound of blankets between you. Kylian disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a tray laden with hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a plate of buttery croissants. The aroma of chocolate and baked bread wafted through the air, mixing with the scent of the fireplace. He placed the tray on the coffee table and took a seat beside you, his eyes dancing with the reflection of the flames.

You both took a sip of the rich, creamy drink, the warmth seeping into your chilled fingers and toes. The sweetness was a delightful counterpoint to the bitterness of the cold outside. Kylian reached for a croissant, breaking it in half and offering you the larger piece. You took it, feeling the warmth spread through your body as you took a bite. The flakes of pastry melted on your tongue, leaving a trail of buttery goodness that made you close your eyes and sigh contentedly.

The fire crackled and popped, casting shadows that danced across the walls.

With your hunger eased, your head rests gently in Kylian's lap, gazing up at the soft flutter of his lashes, lost in the beauty of the moment.

"Mon chéri, can you read that book for me, please?" You beg softly.

Kylian pulled out the book from the shelf beside him,

Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë

He began to read aloud, his voice deep and soothing.

"He is more myself than I am.

Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.

If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger:

I should not seem a part of it."

Kylian's fingers found yours under the blanket, weaving together like the roots of the ancient trees outside. The words weaved a warm blanket around the two of you as the night grew darker. The warmth of his hand was comforting, a silent promise that no matter where life took you, you'd always find your way back to moments like these.

The candles on the mantle flickered, casting a warm glow over the room, making it feel as though you were the only two people in the world.

The moon had risen high, casting a silvery light on the fresh snow, making everything glisten like diamonds. Kylian set the book aside. "How about we try something different?" he said, his voice a gentle rumble.

He led you to the back of the chalet, where a wooden deck jutted out into the night, surrounded by a ring of towering pines.

He stood there, a bottle of wine cradled in one hand, while in the other, two delicate glasses glistened, waiting to be filled with the promise of an evening just for the two of you.

In the centre of the deck was an outdoor hot tub, steaming gently in the cold air.

The water looked like a pool of liquid gold, beckoning you closer.

Kylian's eyes never left yours as he helped you into the tub, your skin prickling with anticipation. He followed the warm water enveloping you both as you settled in opposite each other. The jets bubbled around you, a soothing caress that seemed to melt away the tension of the day.

Sipping wine with him in the warmth of the hot tub feels like being wrapped in a soft, whispered embrace, each moment as soothing as a blanket drawn close on a winter’s night.

You leaned back, set the wine glass to the side, let the water lap at your chin, and watched the snowflakes pirouette around you. They were so close you could almost feel their chilly kisses, but the heat of the tub kept you cocooned in comfort. Kylian reached out, and his fingertips grazed your cheek, brushing a stray snowflake away. His touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine.

He moved closer, the water sloshing gently between you. His eyes searched yours, seeking permission, and you gave it with a nod so slight it was almost imperceptible. The moonlight reflected in the pools of his irises, making them look like twin lakes under the stars. His hand slid down to your neck, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. You leaned in, the anticipation a delicious ache. His kiss was tender yet urgent, a silent declaration of the depth of his feelings for you.

The warmth of the hot tub was a stark contrast to the icy air outside, but it was nothing compared to the heat that grew between the two of you.

As Kylian's hand traveled down your arm, you felt every inch of your skin come alive. You reached out, your fingers in his hair, and the world outside the wooden deck ceased to exist. There was only the two of you, the water, and the night sky above.

Kylian's kisses grew more urgent, his hands exploring every inch of your body. You responded in kind, the warmth of his touch sending waves of pleasure through you. The sound of your breaths mingled with the gentle bubbling of the tub, the only soundtrack to your private dance of desire. The snowflakes continued their silent descent, kissing your skin as they melted away.

Kylian's hand slid beneath the water, tracing the curve of your waist, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together, skin on skin. The warmth of the water was a stark contrast to the cool air, creating an erotic friction that made you shiver.

You felt his hands on your back, untying the strings of your bra, the fabric slipping away, leaving you bare before him. He took a moment to drink you in, his eyes a smoldering gaze that set your heart racing.

"You're so beautiful," Kylian murmured, his voice thick with desire.

He slid closer, the water rippling around you, and his hands found your breasts, cupping them gently. His thumbs circled your sensitive nipples, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. You moaned softly, the sound lost in the whisper of the falling snow.

The water sloshed as you moved over him, your legs straddling his. You felt the hardness of him pressing against you, a promise of what was to come.

"I can’t stop thinking about you...Every moment without you feels like a lifetime."

His mouth found yours again, the kisses growing deeper, more demanding.

"I’m right here, you know." Breaking the kiss you looked into his eyes and saw it—an undeniable yearning, soft and vulnerable, like a puppy's gaze waiting for a home in your touch.

You could feel your body responding, your heart hammering in your chest.

"I know, but I need you closer. I just need to feel you... It’s like I can’t breathe without you near." His hands gently pull you towards him.

His chest was a warm wall of muscle against your cool skin, his breath hot against your neck as he trailed kisses along your collarbone.

"I didn’t know you were so needy."

"I am." His hands continued to explore

"When it comes to you, I can’t get enough. You make me crave more than I ever thought possible." Tracing the curve of your waist and the dip of your hips.

"Laisse-moi te prendre tout entière." (let me have all of you) With a tender yet intense tone, Kylian's hands roamed over your bare skin, sending shivers of pleasure through your body.

The world outside the hot tub was forgotten as your bodies moved in a rhythm as old as time itself. The snow continued to fall, but it couldn't penetrate the bubble of heat and passion that surrounded the two of you.

As the night grew deeper, the stars grew brighter, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the resort. The cold was a distant memory as you clung to each other, lost in the warmth of your love.

part 2 🫢

needy kylian aaaahhh

[trulybetty]

Gold Rush | Chapter One

Pairing: Joel x OFC Warnings: none - just building angst, and more angst to come. Summary: Old lovers Joel and Charlotte find themselves unexpectedly reunited in the community of Jackson. Struggling to navigate the complexities of their shared history and the harsh realities of their new lives, the pair find themselves drawn to one another once again. AO3: Link

Chapter 1

The biting chill of the winter air gnawed at their faces, numbing their cheeks and noses. The frosty mist hung in the air, painting everything in a hazy white. The scent of pine and wood smoke wafted through the cold breeze, mingling with the distant echoes of laughter and bustling activity from within the walls. The sight of snow-covered trees reaching towards the grey sky added an ethereal beauty to the desolate landscape.

The endless, frozen wilderness surrounding them was interrupted by the gates of the commune. Joel pulled his horse to a sudden halt, his gloved hand tightening on the reins, as he squinted through the frosty mist at the distant sight of civilization. Beside him, Ellie adjusted her grip on the reins, her face turning up to mirror his gaze, her breath visible in the cold air.

Maria, riding ahead, glanced over her shoulder and noticed Joel easing his horse to a halt. Her voice carried back to them, tinged with anticipation, "Not long now." She tightened her grip on the reins of her own horse and gave it a firm kick, urging it forward.

Joel took in the expanse of the terrain around him. This wasn't the furthest west he'd ever been, but it was his first time seeing the vastness of Wyoming in person. A small part of him was sorry that these circumstances had brought him here. The snow-covered plains extended out, stretching towards the distant horizon as far as he could see. They passed by in a blur as his horse leapt forward, striving to catch up and keep pace with the group. The absence of human presence had allowed nature to reign supreme, weaving a tapestry of unspoiled beauty across the land.

From the corner of his eye, Joel caught a glimpse of a rider to his right. The person pulled a red bandana from their pocket and held it aloft, the wind whipping it back and forth. It was a silent coded beacon, a sign recognized by those standing watch at the gate towers, granting permission for entry into the commune.

The heavy gates swung open, revealing a town bustling with life despite the harsh winter. The sound of horses' hooves resonated through the air, accompanied by the bustle and chatter contained inside the walls. Joel hadn't been prepared for the scale of the town that lay within, nor the modern furnishings. The scent of freshly baked bread wafted from a nearby bakery, blending with the earthy aroma of farm animals and the faint tang of smoke from chimneys. The twinkle of holiday lights and the sight of the Christmas tree in the centre square added a touch of warmth and festivity to the cold winter scene. 

The gates, despite their weight, closed swiftly behind them. Still atop their horses, they made their way through the town, the residents of Jackson unabashedly casting curious glances in Joel and Ellie's direction. He could sense Ellie's discomfort, her unease with being under scrutiny.

Before Joel could say anything to Ellie, the sting of the cold air gnawed at his face, numbing his cheeks and forcing him to turn away from the direction of the wind. Through the frosty mist, he spotted shapes moving in the distance, figures bustling about their daily tasks. His heart skipped a beat when he finally caught sight of a familiar figure.

Tommy.

Joel pulled his horse to a sudden halt, the animal neighing in protest. Squinting, he tried to convince himself that the person he saw was indeed his younger brother. Joel's bloodshot eyes widened as he glimpsed Tommy, standing amidst the swirling snowflakes. His heart skipped a beat, a mix of disbelief and relief flooding his senses. The weight of the years apart bore down on him, but in that moment, he couldn't contain the swell of joy rising within him. The distant echoes of laughter and conversations filled his ears, blending with the muffled sound of snow crunching beneath his boots.

His heart pounded in his chest. It had been years since he last saw Tommy, ever since they had gone their separate ways in Boston. Their paths had diverged as they struggled to survive in the harsh world they found themselves in. Tommy had joined the Fireflies in search of redemption, while Joel was determined to make the most of his time in the quarantine zone. And now, fate had brought them together.

"Tommy!" Joel yelled, his voice cutting through the cold air like a rusty echo. His fingers tightened on the reins as he dismounted the horse, his boots crunching on the frost-covered ground.

Tommy's face registered a moment of disbelief before a gasp escaped his lips. He ran across the square, arms outstretched.

"Joel!" Tommy echoed, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and joy. The brothers collided in a rough, tight hug, years of absence, longing, and relief compressed into that moment.

For an instant, everything else faded away. The biting wind, the bustling commune, the cold air – they ceased to exist. All that mattered was the warmth of Joel's embrace, the solidity of his brother in his arms. Eventually, they pulled away, their faces reflecting the disbelief and joy etched upon them.

"You son of a bitch," Tommy laughed, his voice trembling. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Joel grinned, his heart swelling with warmth. He clapped Tommy on the shoulder. "Ain't getting rid of me that easy," he retorted, the words carrying a sense of resilience that went beyond the temperature surrounding them.

Ellie watched as Joel and Tommy pulled away from their heartfelt embrace, a mixture of emotions stirring within her. She tried to offer a small smile, her lips trembling for a moment as conflicting feelings tugged at her heart. There was a hint of sadness in her eyes, a longing for the kind of connection and history that Joel and Tommy shared. At that moment, she yearned for a family bond, a sense of belonging that went beyond their shared survival.

But as quickly as the flicker of sadness appeared, determination took its place. Ellie straightened her shoulders, her gaze was unwavering as she looked at Tommy. She recognized the reflection of Joel in his eyes, the echoes of their shared experiences etched in his features. It was a silent acknowledgement of their connection through Joel, a wordless understanding that they both held a somewhat significant place in his life.

Tommy returned the smile warmly, his gaze shifting from Joel to the young girl. His mind was already racing with questions, but for now, he pushed them aside. It was enough to know that Joel was here, safe and alive. For the first time in a long while, Tommy felt a surge of hope.

Joel's reunion with Tommy was a whirlwind of raw relief and stark disbelief. They stood in silence, their eyes communicating the depths of their emotions more effectively than words ever could. As the initial shock of seeing Tommy dissipated, a flicker of worry creased Joel's brow.

But then, something caught Joel's attention beyond Tommy's shoulder. The doors of one of the main buildings swung open, and his gaze shifted. His bloodshot eyes widened as they landed on a distant figure. Despite the passing years, her silhouette remained unmistakable—a little leaner, but the determined set of her posture gave her away. A surge of emotions coursed through Joel, a mix of joy, disbelief, and a twinge of fear.

"Tommy," Joel's voice wavered with a tinge of apprehension. "Did she... Did she make it out to you? Here?" His words hung in the air, weighted with hope and trepidation. His heart leapt within his chest, pounding a frantic rhythm that threatened to escape its confines. His hands, usually steady and sure, trembled ever so slightly, betraying the storm of emotions that raged within him as he braced himself for the answer, steeling his resolve for whatever lay ahead

Tommy's sympathetic gaze met Joel's, understanding passing between them. They shared a moment of silent connection, the bond of brotherhood unbroken despite the years of separation. The silence enveloped them, the world reduced to a mere backdrop to their shared anticipation.

In that suspended moment, Joel's breath caught in his throat. Disbelief momentarily froze him in place, his eyes fixed on the distant figure. There she stood, against all odds—Charlotte.

She stood alive and frozen like him, her arms full, as a gust of wind swept across the square, lifting strands of her dark brown hair that escaped from her hat. Dressed in worn, practical attire, she was a far cry from the business attire she once wore before the outbreak.

Joel's mind struggled to comprehend the reality unfolding before him—it was all happening too fast.

First Tommy, and now Charlotte. She had survived.

The woman who had once shared his home, his life, and his love was standing there. After years of silence, of not knowing, she was here.

It was the softest of sounds, barely a whisper on the wind, but it carried all the raw emotion that had built up within him over the years. And he spoke a name he hadn't uttered aloud in more years than he cared to remember, "Charlie."

—

A gust of wind whipped through Jackson's main square, piercing through Charlotte's worn green plaid shacket, sending shivers down her spine. The frigid air clawed at her, but it was nothing compared to the cold dread that gripped her heart. Stepping out of the dining hall, a stack of supplies she had promised Maria she’d drop off at the school cradled in her arms, she turned to investigate the commotion that had drawn everyone's attention in the main square.

Squinting against the wind, her brown eyes narrowed as she scanned the figures in the crowd. One of them seemed familiar, yet so distant. It couldn't possibly be...

Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in the worn jacket, the tired features, and the unmistakable posture of the man who had once been her entire world. She would recognize Joel's stoic figure anywhere. The wind whipped her hair around her face as she stood frozen in place, her heart pounding a desperate rhythm against her ribs.

"Joel..." She mouthed his name, a silent prayer carried away by the howling wind. The world seemed to shrink down to the solitary figure of the man who had shattered her heart, the man who had left her in silence for years.

Yet another part of Charlotte, a primal and deeply rooted part, recognized him. It remembered the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his touch, and the way he used to call her "Charlie" with such affection. That part grew louder, waving its flag of certainty, drowning out the cautionary whispers that echoed in her mind.

Every fibre of her was being urged to run into his embrace, to hold him tight and never let go. But doubt gnawed at the edges of her resolve, whispering cautionary tales of heartbreak and loss. The wounds from their past still stung, etching scars on her heart. Yet, as she caught sight of Joel's weary face, a flicker of vulnerability danced in his eyes, and her defences crumbled. The fear of potential heartbreak waged a fierce battle with the longing to feel his warmth again. Swallowing her doubts, she stepped forward, dropping the supplies in her arms to the ground, embracing the uncertainty that lay ahead.

Her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out the sounds of Jackson. All she could focus on was Joel, standing motionless. With each step she took, the years of separation dissolved, replaced by memories of shared laughter, tears, and a life they had once built together. The echo of Joel's voice whispering "Charlie" grew louder with every stride, a steady beat in harmony with her racing heartbeat.

As she drew closer, she launched herself into his waiting arms. The force of her movement threatened to unbalance him, but his arms instinctively reached out to catch her. They clung to each other, their bodies colliding with an impact that transcended the physical. Joel's arms wrapped tightly around Charlotte as if he feared she would vanish in an instant as if she might prove to be a figment of his imagination.

Her face buried in the familiar warmth of his chest, Charlotte listened to the rapid, erratic rhythm of Joel's heartbeat, mirroring her own. His woody and inherently Joel scent enveloped her, grounding her in the reality of the moment.

She was here, and so was Joel. And he was real.

The reality of their reunion hit Charlotte harder than the cold wind ever could. Joel's grip tightened, his hands clutching the back of her coat, as their hearts thundered in sync, a chaotic rhythm that spoke volumes. His gruff voice whispered her name into her hair, "Charlie," and that single word shattered any lingering doubt.

Joel's grip on Charlotte tightened for a moment, his fingers reluctant to release her. He studied her face intently, tracing the lines and weariness that time had etched upon it. A flood of memories and unspoken words surged through his mind, overwhelming him with a whirlwind of emotions.

There they stood, in the midst of the bustling town, oblivious to the curious onlookers. Holding onto each other as if they were the only solid things in a shifting world. As Joel and Charlotte lost themselves in each other, the world seemed to hush, the noise fading into the background, leaving only the two of them and their desperate, lingering embrace.

However, their intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a distinctive sound—the unmistakable throat-clearing of Ellie. Startled, Charlotte turned to find the young woman standing a few steps away, her gaze a complex blend of curiosity, awkwardness, and subtle understanding.

The intrusion of reality into their reunion hit Charlotte like a bucket of ice water. Self-consciousness surged within her, the weight of her raw emotions becoming too much to bear under the watchful gazes of the crowd. In the presence of others, her personal feelings and reactions suddenly felt exposed, as if she had revealed more than she intended.

Reluctantly, Charlotte pulled away from Joel, the warmth of his embrace slipping away as quickly as the cold rushed in to fill its place. Her eyes, a reflection of her conflicted emotions, glanced briefly at him before she dropped her gaze.

"Joel," she acknowledged simply, her voice barely a whisper carried by the cold wind. It was an acknowledgement of him, of their shared past, and of the overwhelming rush of emotions that threatened to overflow. A sting at the corners of her eyes signalled the onset of tears, emotions she had suppressed for years. She quickly blinked them away, unwilling to expose her vulnerability to the prying eyes around them.

Overwhelmed by the weight of it all, Charlotte took a shaky step back. The crowd, the scrutiny, the flood of emotions—it became too much to bear. She needed solitude, a moment to gather herself.

"I...I can't do this," she murmured, her voice choked with the effort of holding back her tears. Without another word, she turned and hurriedly walked away, seeking solace in the refuge of her home.

As Charlotte retreated, the crowd watched her figure recede, their hushed whispers barely audible over the rustling wind.

[awesomelittleprincessjess]

Helen's Uni Diary: Year Two

September - Back to Basics

Spill the beans, diary! Nikki and I plotted a full-fledged age regression for Jasmine. Imagined her as a teen, then slowly… even younger. September was teen vibes. Shopping spree for cute school-like outfits - think tartan skirts, knee-high socks, and adorable blouses.

October - Autumn Antics

October's treat? The age play went deeper. Got Jasmine hooked to cartoons and sleepovers. Nikki even did these hilariously juvenile braids! Picture this: Jasmine, in pigtails, clutching a teddy, having a Saturday cartoon binge.

November - Frosty Frolics

Snowy days are for young fun, right? Slid down the age slope further with Jasmine building her first snowman. In a kiddish red coat, mittens, and a beanie, she looked straight out of a children’s winter book.

December - Christmas Craziness

December had to be special. Painted Jasmine as a giddy child awaiting Santa. Her in fuzzy pajamas, leaving milk and cookies, and sleeping under the Christmas tree? Priceless!

January - Playtime Ploys

New year, new plot! Nikki and I pushed Jasmine into more childlike fun. Jump ropes, hopscotch, and dolls. Watching her jump in a poofy jumper with ankle socks and Velcro shoes? A trip down memory lane!

February - Valentine’s Ventures

Went all cupid-crazy for Jasmine! Arranged a kiddie Valentine's party. Picture a room full of hearts, giggles, and kiddish games. Jasmine, in a pink ruffled dress, was the centre of all mushy mischief.

March - Dressy Delights

Alright, diary, March was BIG! Sent Jasmine off to primary school. The hard bit? Convincing the school she was ‘special’. A bit of sneaky hypnosis, and voila! Took her shopping for her uniform - a pastel blue gingham dress, white ankle socks, and black Mary Janes. Getting her in the school spirit? Hypnosis played its part, making her believe she was the school's newbie.

April - Easter Escapades

Easter was classic kiddo fun. The garden was all eggs and giggles. Jasmine, in a bunny-themed dress, hunting with more enthusiasm than any kid on the block? Snap-worthy moments all the way!

May - Sun, Sand, and Surprises

Sun’s out? Beach day! Jasmine, playing with her pink mermaid bucket and spade, wearing a childish one-piece with ruffled edges? Oh, and let’s not forget that messy ice-cream face. She was the beach's darling cherub.

June - Festival Frolics

June’s jive? Making Jasmine the youngest at the summer fest. Dressed in a daisy frock with a matching sun hat, she danced around, spreading childlike cheer everywhere.

July - Movie Mayhem

July's jam? Kids’ movie marathons! Got Jasmine in a kiddie cinema, watching animated classics. Popcorn fights, laughter, and her in a polka-dotted dress? Cinema's tiniest diva.

August - Sweet Endings

August's endnote? Reflecting on the whirlwind year, turning Jasmine from teen to toddler. But hey, diary, the journey isn’t over. Nikki and I have wilder plans, trust. Stick around!

[strengervinay]

Lakeside Whispers at Kareri So Serenading!

Nestled in the embrace of the Dhauladhar range, Kareri Lake is a serene haven that lures adventure seekers and nature lovers alike. With its pristine waters reflecting the surrounding snow-capped peaks, it offers an unforgettable escape from the chaos of city life. Beyond its captivating beauty lies a thrilling trekking journey that starts in Kareri Village and unfolds through dense forests, rolling meadows, and tranquil streams.

Kareri Lake Camping: A Starry Affair

The highlight of the Kareri Lake trek is undoubtedly the overnight camping experience. Picture this: a cozy tent pitched beside the shimmering lake, the stars painting the night sky, and the gentle whispers of nature providing a soothing symphony. The Kareri Lake night promises an unforgettable connection with the wilderness, leaving trekkers rejuvenated and at peace. Ensure you pack warm clothing, as the Kareri Lake temperature can dip to a chilly -6°C during the night, adding a frosty touch to the adventure.

A Walk Through Kareri Village: The Trek Begins

The trek commences at Kareri Village, a quaint hamlet that serves as the perfect starting point. With its charming vibe and friendly locals, the village sets the tone for the adventure ahead. As you ascend through pine forests and cross sparkling streams, the raw beauty of the region reveals itself. Each step brings you closer to the serene expanse of Kareri Lake, making the effort truly rewarding.

Kareri Lake Trek: Nature’s Masterpiece

The Kareri trek is a blend of moderate to challenging trails, making it ideal for those seeking a balance of effort and reward. The trek distance of 10 km (one way) takes you through lush landscapes and steep climbs. Along the way, you'll find yourself pausing to take in the mesmerizing vistas of the Dhauladhar range and the unique flora and fauna that thrive in the region. The breathtaking views at the lake are worth every ounce of effort put into the climb.

Kareri Lake Weather: Unpredictable but Enchanting

The weather around Kareri Lake is as dynamic as the landscape itself. During the day, the Kareri Lake temperature ranges between 12°C and 18°C, making it ideal for trekking. However, as the sun sets, the mercury can plummet significantly. The unpredictable weather adds an element of excitement, so trekkers are advised to carry proper gear, including thermal wear and sturdy shoes, to ensure a comfortable journey.

Beyond the Trails: Stories of Dharamshala to Kareri

The journey from Dharamshala to Kareri is a scenic prelude to the trek. As you travel through winding roads surrounded by verdant hills, the anticipation builds. The proximity to Dharamshala also makes Kareri Lake an accessible and popular destination for trekkers visiting Himachal Pradesh.

A Finale to Remember

As the trek concludes, you’re left with memories of sparkling waters, vibrant landscapes, and a sense of achievement that lingers long after you leave. Whether it's the thrill of camping under a starlit sky, the challenge of the climb, or the enchanting beauty of Kareri Lake, this adventure is a soulful retreat into nature’s lap. Ready to embark on your next great trek? Let Kareri Lake Trek be your inspiration.

[jpptech]

Protecting Your Home's Exterior: Weather-Resistant Painting for Gates and Doors

Your home’s exterior is its first line of defence against the elements. From scorching summers to frosty winters, your gates and doors face constant exposure to harsh weather conditions, dust, snow, and dirt. Weather-resistant painting is an essential investment to protect your house and ensure its longevity and curb appeal.

At Hinkle Painting Services, we specialise in exterior and interior painting solutions that provide unmatched protection and style for your home. Here’s why weather-resistant painting is a must for your gates and doors, along with expert tips for maintaining their beauty and durability.

Why Weather-Resistant Painting Matters

1. Protection Against the Elements

Your gates and doors are constantly exposed to UV rays, rain, snow, and wind. A high-quality weather-resistant paint acts as a shield, preventing moisture penetration and reducing the risk of rust, warping, and peeling. With proper painting, you can protect your house from the damaging effects of weather and maintain its structural integrity.

2. Resistance to Dust and Dirt

Dust and dirt can dull your home’s exterior, making it look worn out and neglected. Weather-resistant paint forms a smooth, easy-to-clean surface, ensuring your gates and doors remain vibrant and attractive with minimal maintenance.

3. Enhanced Aesthetic Appeal

Painting your gates and doors isn’t just about protection—it’s also about style. A fresh coat of weather-resistant paint can dramatically enhance your home’s curb appeal, helping it stand out in your neighbourhood.

4. Long-Lasting Results

Using weather-resistant products ensures that your exterior painting lasts for years, saving you money on frequent touch-ups or repainting. Durable paints withstand cracking, fading, and peeling, even under extreme weather conditions.

Tips for Effective Weather-Resistant Painting

Choose the Right Paint Opt for high-quality, weather-resistant paints that are specifically designed for exterior surfaces. Look for options with UV protection and water-resistant properties.

Prep the Surface Proper surface preparation is crucial for a long-lasting finish. Clean the gates and doors thoroughly, remove any rust or old paint, and sand the surfaces to ensure the new paint adheres well.

Apply primer. Using a primer before painting creates a smooth base and enhances the paint’s adhesion and durability.

Hire Professionals For the best results, rely on experienced professionals like those at Hinkle Painting Services. Our team ensures meticulous preparation and application to deliver flawless, weather-resistant finishes.

The Wilder Group’s Painting Expertise

Whether you need exterior or interior painting services, we’re here to help you transform and protect your home. From vibrant colours to subtle tones, we provide customised solutions that match your style and needs.

Weather-resistant painting for your gates and doors is a practical and aesthetic investment that protects your house from dust, snow, and dirt while boosting its overall appeal. Partner with Hinkle Painting Services for expert advice, premium materials, and superior craftsmanship that ensure your home stays beautiful and resilient for years to come.

[vijayalakshmitravels]

TOP TRAVELS IN MADAMBAKKAM-1

Top Travels in Madambakkam In the heart of winter, as frosty tendrils danced across the landscape, I embarked on a journey that transcended mere physical distance. It was not merely a trip from one place to another, but a voyage through time and space, a pilgrimage through the corridors of history and the expanses of imagination.

My travels began in the cobblestone streets of an ancient European city, where the echoes of centuries whispered tales of conquests and revolutions. Each step I took seemed to awaken the spirits of the past, as if the very stones beneath my feet retained the memories of bygone eras. I wandered through narrow alleys lined with quaint shops, where artisans plied their trade just as their ancestors had done centuries before. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the aroma of brewing coffee, enveloping me in a comforting embrace of tradition and nostalgia.

From the old world charm of Europe, my journey propelled me into the bustling metropolis of a futuristic city, where skyscrapers pierced the heavens and neon lights painted the night sky in vivid hues. Here, the rhythm of life pulsated with the energy of progress and innovation. I marveled at the sleek architecture and technological marvels that seemed like something out of a science fiction novel. People hurried past me, their faces illuminated by the glow of their devices, lost in a world of virtual connections and digital realities.

But my travels were not confined to the realms of the past and the future. I found myself amidst the untamed wilderness of a rugged landscape, where towering mountains kissed the sky and ancient forests whispered secrets as old as time itself. Here, the air was crisp and invigorating, and every breath felt like a communion with nature. I hiked along winding trails, following in the footsteps of explorers and adventurers who had come before me, seeking solace in the embrace of the wilderness.

As I journeyed through time and space, I encountered a tapestry of cultures and traditions, each one weaving its own unique thread into the fabric of human history. I shared meals with strangers whose languages I could not understand, yet whose warmth and hospitality transcended the barriers of communication. I witnessed celebrations and rituals that spoke to the resilience of the human spirit, reminding me of the enduring power of tradition in an ever-changing world.

But amidst the diversity and complexity of the world around me, there was one constant that remained unchanged—the human capacity for connection and compassion. Across continents and centuries, I encountered kindness in the most unexpected places, reaffirming my faith in the inherent goodness of humanity.

As my journey drew to a close and I returned to the familiar comforts of home, I carried with me the memories of my travels—the sights, the sounds, the sensations—all woven together into the tapestry of my existence. For in the end, it was not the destinations themselves that mattered, but the journey—the journey through time and space, the journey of the soul. And in that journey, I found not only adventure and discovery, but also a deeper understanding of myself and the world around me

[markopoloadventures1]

🌬️ Embark on a mesmerizing journey through the icy wonderland of the Arctic with "Northern Charms: Explore the Enchanted Beauty of a Scenic Arctic Drive"! ❄️🚗

🚀 Brace yourselves for an epic adventure that transcends the ordinary! Join me as we traverse through the breathtaking landscapes, where every turn reveals a new spectacle of nature's grandeur. The Northern Charms video captures the essence of the Arctic, showcasing its pristine beauty in all its glory.

🏔️ From snow-capped mountains to vast expanses of frozen lakes, this visual masterpiece takes you on a virtual expedition, unraveling the magic of the Arctic's serene charm. The snow-covered trees and the dance of the Northern Lights create a symphony of colors that will leave you awe-inspired.

👀 Prepare to be spellbound as the camera captures the intricate details of this frosty paradise. It's not just a drive; it's a poetic dance between the vehicle and the untouched wilderness, narrated by the silence that only the Arctic can offer.

🎥 Kudos to the creators for encapsulating the essence of this Arctic odyssey! Share this video with your friends and family to transport them to a world where nature paints its own masterpiece.

👉 Don't just watch, immerse yourself in the Northern Charms! Hit play and let the Arctic enchantment begin. ❄️✨ #ArcticAdventure #NorthernCharms #NatureMagic #MustWatch

[joshvandervoort]

Joshua Vandervoort | Seasons of Serenity - A Nature Lover's Reflections

Joshua Vandervoort, a dedicated steward of the land, currently serves as an APHIS-PPQ Tech at the U.S. Department of Agriculture. The federal institution, founded in 1862, is committed to the conservation and sustainable use of our nation's natural resources and boasts an estimated workforce of a million individuals. In his non-managerial role, Joshua contributes significantly to the organization's mission. Today, Joshua resides in Lockport, United States, but his heart remains firmly rooted in the rich tapestry of nature that first inspired him in his native Rochester, New York.

Spring arrives with a flourish, awakening the earth from its winter slumber. It's a time of rebirth and renewal, as delicate green shoots pierce the frosty ground. The air is filled with the sweet aroma of blossoms, and the sound of birdsong permeates the early morning hours. It is in the tender buds of spring that I see the promise of new beginnings, a reminder that life, like the seasons, is a perpetual cycle of growth and transformation.

Summer, with its vibrant hues and warm embrace, is a season of abundance. The world is painted in vivid shades of green, and the sun bathes the landscape in its golden light. In the heart of summer, there is a sense of timelessness. The days stretch long, and the world feels suspended in a state of tranquil equilibrium. Nature's symphony is at its peak, and I find myself drawn to the cool shade of a forest or the serenity of a sun-kissed meadow, where I can bask in the gentle chorus of the natural world.

As summer fades, the transition to autumn is a poignant reminder of the impermanence of all things. The leaves transform into a brilliant array of reds, yellows, and oranges before drifting to the ground like a gentle rain. It's a season of melancholic beauty, where the earth lets go of its vibrant exterior, preparing for the stillness of winter. In the brisk air and the crackling of leaves underfoot, I find a sense of serenity in embracing the transient nature of life, knowing that, like the seasons, change is inevitable.

The arrival of winter marks a time of introspection. The world is veiled in a hushed stillness, and the landscape shimmers under a blanket of snow. In the depth of winter, there is a profound sense of serenity that arises from the silence. It is a time for quiet contemplation, as the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for the first signs of spring. I am drawn to the purity of freshly fallen snow and the elegance of frost-covered branches, finding in them a reflection of the serenity that can be found in solitude and simplicity.

Indeed, the tranquility and peace offered by nature is timeless, and it is this timeless quality that Joshua Vandervoort cherishes the most. From the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind to the serene flow of rivers, every aspect of nature provides a soothing solace that cannot be found elsewhere. It is in these quiet moments of reflection and connection that Joshua feels most at home, a testament to his deep-rooted love for the wilderness and his ongoing commitment to preserving it for future generations.

Nature's seasons also serve as a mirror for our own lives. Just as the earth transitions through its cycles, so do we. We experience the highs and lows, the growth and the letting go, and the moments of quiet contemplation. In the ever-turning wheel of time, we can find solace in the constancy of nature's rhythms and draw upon its lessons to navigate our own journey with serenity. Josh Vandervoort

Joshua Vandervoort's love for nature is not confined within the borders of his homeland. His appreciation extends to every corner of the globe, where he finds inspiration in the diverse landscapes, the survival instincts of the wildlife, and the resilience of the ecosystems. This universal appreciation fuels his commitment to preserving the beauty of Mother Earth, making him a true global steward of the land.

The act of observation also plays a crucial role in the experience of serenity. To truly appreciate the beauty and intricacy of the natural world, one must cultivate a practice of mindfulness. Whether it's studying the delicate patterns of a flower's petals or watching the play of light on a tranquil lake, there is a profound sense of calm that arises from immersing oneself fully in the present moment. In this state of mindfulness, the mind becomes uncluttered, and serenity flows in.

Joshua Vandervoort's passion for preserving nature extends beyond mere appreciation; it prompts him to take action. He actively engages in local conservation efforts, forest clean-ups, and wildlife preservation initiatives. Even his hobbies, such as fishing and sailing, are rooted in a deep respect for the environment and a commitment to sustainable practices. As both a professional and a nature enthusiast, Joshua embodies the profound connection between man and nature, highlighting the essential role each individual can play in safeguarding our planet for future generations. Josh Vandervoort Rochester New York

In the face of climate change and environmental challenges, it is also a call to action. We must protect and preserve the natural world that offers us so much serenity and inspiration. Our relationship with nature is symbiotic, and as we care for the earth, it, in turn, nurtures our souls with its timeless wisdom.

For Joshua Vandervoort, the mission to preserve nature is a deeply personal one. His love for the environment dates back to his early childhood in Rochester, New York, where he spent countless hours exploring the beauty of the Southern Tier region and the Finger Lakes. These experiences nurtured a deep respect for the environment and a strong desire to protect it. Today, this mission continues to drive his professional endeavors and personal pursuits, reminding him of the invaluable lessons he learned as a young steward of the land.

[universaladventures1]

Nag Tibba Trek: The Best Season To Discover The Beauty Of Uttarakhand!

"Embarking on a trek: Where wanderlust and wonder meet."

Embarking on an Alpine Adventure:

Experience the magic of Uttarakhand's wilderness as we delve into the enchanting Nag Tibba Trek. A picturesque journey awaits, where every step leads to breathtaking landscapes and memorable encounters with nature.

Amidst the misty embrace of Nag Tibba, where the winds dance with the trees and the sun gently caresses the land, the Nag Tibba weather weaves its own enchanting tale of nature's symphony.

 A Symphony of Seasons

Discover how each season adds its own unique hues to the Nag Tibba experience. From vibrant wildflowers in spring to a snow-covered wonderland in winter, every season paints a new canvas of beauty.

Springtime Spectacle: As winter bids adieu, the mountains come alive with a burst of colour. Delve into the vivid tapestry of blooming rhododendrons and oak forests, creating a surreal backdrop for your trekking adventure.

Summer Serenity: Escape the sweltering heat as you ascend to Nag Tibba's cool embrace. The pleasant summer temperatures and clear skies make it the perfect season to explore the meandering trails and revel in the panoramic views.

Monsoon Magic: Experience the mountains veiled in mist as the monsoon casts its spell. Trekking through lush greenery, you'll witness cascading waterfalls and listen to the symphony of raindrops, creating an ethereal atmosphere.

 Autumn's Golden Touch: Fall in love with autumn as the foliage takes on a golden hue. The trek becomes an artistic journey through a landscape painted in warm tones, offering unparalleled tranquillity and beauty.

Winter Wonderland: Embrace the cold and witness Nag Tibba's transformation into a snow-dusted paradise. A winter trek promises an exhilarating experience, with crisp air, frosty panoramas, and the thrill of conquering snowy trails.

Embarking on a spiritual journey to Nag Tibba Temple:

A haven nestled amidst the majestic Himalayas. In the heart of the Garhwal region, this ancient temple beckons with its tranquil aura and breathtaking vistas. Join us as we explore the history, mythology, and awe-inspiring trek that leads seekers to this hidden gem. Discover the serenity of the surroundings, the echoes of legends, and the sense of fulfilment that accompanies every pilgrim's visit. Unveil the magic of Nag Tibba temple - where spirituality meets nature's grandeur!

 A Glimpse into Local Culture

Engage with the local communities that call the hills their home. Immerse yourself in their customs, cuisine, and way of life, adding a cultural dimension to your adventure.

 Nature's Therapy

Reconnect with nature and rejuvenate your senses as you tread through untouched landscapes. The Nag Tibba Trek offers not just physical challenges, but also a soul-soothing escape from the hustle and bustle.

The Nag Tibba temperature drops significantly as the evening approaches, bringing a chill to the air.

Your Nag Tibba Expedition Awaits

Whether you're a novice hiker or an experienced trekker, Nag Tibba Jaunpur range Uttarakhand welcomes all to bask in the glory of Uttarakhand's changing seasons. Pack your bags, lace up your boots, and get ready to uncover the hidden gems of this mesmerising trekking paradise!

Here are some frequently asked questions (FAQ) about the Nag Tibba trek:

Q1. What is Nag Tibba trek?

Nag Tibba is a popular trekking destination in the Indian state of Uttarakhand, known for its scenic beauty and relatively easy difficulty level.

Q2.Where is Nag Tibba located?

Nag Tibba is located in the Garhwal Himalayas of Uttarakhand, India. It's about a 6-7 hour drive from Dehradun.

Q3. How long is the Nag Tibba trek?

The Nag Tibba trek is typically a 2-day trek, covering a distance of approximately 10-12 kilometres.

Q4. What is the best time to do the Nag Tibba trek?

The best time to go for the Nag Tibba trek is from the month of April to June and then from September to November. It's suggested to avoid trekking during the monsoon season.

Q5. What is the level of difficulty of the Nag Tibba trek?

The Nag Tibba trek is considered to be of moderate difficulty, suitable for beginners and experienced trekkers alike.

[midnightprelude]

Thanks for the tags @noire-pandora, @in-arlathan, @hexcore-juggler, and @pinkfadespirit!

Here’s a little piece from a piece of post-apocalyptic original fiction I’m working on with @oftachancer ! It’s really interesting for me to write a highly religious character. I hope I’m doing her justice!

Snowflakes kissed her eyelashes as she climbed, satchel slung over her shoulder, her picks and pitons digging into the jagged cliff and holding her steady. Foot by painstaking foot, her arms aching, shoulders searing, until at last, finally, she pulled herself up onto a ledge and looked out over the vast, lonely valley.

Metal monsters poked out of the snowbanks, their fingers stretched towards the sky in silent exhalation of the aurora that swept across the land, painting the sea of white in a myriad of shifting, spectral colors.

Ineth bless, she loved the view. The mesmerizing shades that dazzled, moving across the sky as though pulled by a great sled through the clouds. So beautiful and wondrous that it was easy to forget just how many ways a careless fool could die in the frosty wasteland she called home. So warm and embracing that Zaya could almost remember what it was like to have one. A real home, with a hearth and cookfire and people to tend them. People who had supported her, lifted her up, taught her to survive in the wilderness on her own.

Until she had failed them and lost her face.

She unwrapped the thick wool from around her cheeks, her nose, catching snowflakes on her tongue and letting them melt there.

Just for a moment, to have a face again. To be free where only Ineth and Riala could see her skin from their seat above.

[btsmosphere]

Snowstorm | MYG

~summary:

Strange things happen in the woods when you return home for Christmas. And why does your mum insist you stay away from Min Yoongi?

Yoongi x female reader

~word count: 6k

~magic au, jack frost au, childhood friend au, angst, fluff

Rating: pg

Warnings: overbearing parent, rumours and gossip, swearing, storms and bad weather

~a/n: this is a repost, I put this up this morning but for some reaason it hasn’t shown up in the tags so I am trying again. ~original a/n: got this one out just in time... this is my fic for November keyword ‘magic’ for @thebtswritersclub​!! This started from the bingo square ‘jack frost’, one I wasn’t sure whether to write, but it was perfect for a magic au, so I hope you enjoy it! Keep a lookout for more festive fics from me over December,, I’ve just realised quite how many fics I have to find time to write among my end of term essays yAy

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

It’s not as young as it once was, but neither are you. You come back to it every year, these woods. Someone needs to look after it. Not like you do that, but at least taking the time to come back and see it makes you feel a little better.

Maybe you aren’t looking after it, but at least you’re looking.

Being home from college is… fun. Mostly.

You love your family, but you sure as hell love these woods too, for when you’ve had enough. There’s one tree that forks into two, right at the heart, that you cried under countless times throughout your childhood.

Now it’s more for nostalgia. Coming home for the long college holidays, you’ve grown up and your family let you do your thing, so you don’t generally have a need to sob your heart out in the wilderness anymore.

Wow, this is making your childhood sound really bad. It wasn’t.

But whenever it was, the woods were there.

Winter is making itself felt now, air slowly numbing your face and fingers. You trail them across the bark of a tree you pass before digging them reluctantly into your coat pockets.

This tree doesn’t look too healthy. Though it still felt normal, the bark is thinning. You wonder if it will live to see new leaves in the spring.

Overhead, the dappled grey sky bears a heavier shadow. You should probably be getting back soon. Making your way, without hurrying, towards the edge of the trees, you trod over their forgotten leaves as they faded into the ground.

Soon the soft carpet of the forest petered out and you found yourself on the familiar roads that led back to your house.

No one else really seemed to be about apart from you. Except for whoever that was that just came around the corner. Hold on-

Is Min Yoongi back here? Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod-

Sucking in a deep breath, you did your utmost to avoid staring at him, eyes trailing along the ground instead. As you drew closer to each other, your grew heartbeat louder in your ears.

Now that wasn’t fair. You were meant to be over this.

But of course that was never the case.

Min Yoongi had grown up here too, a boisterous child that grew into a reserved teenager. What he was doing with himself now, you had no idea, but what was important is that he was here right now. Because maybe the monster crush you harboured for him had never really gone away.

In school, you two had been friends. Not the closest, but you would hang out together, always too shy to really talk. Now the course of life had taken you two apart; you weren’t sure you had spoken to him since you were sixteen.

Okay, he was only steps away now. You had to stay calm.

Act natural. Pretend you haven’t seen him.

Wait, no. That would be impossible. There’s only the two of you on this road, how could you not notice him?

You didn’t want to come off as rude if you ignored him.

In your panic, you looked up to find his eyes trained on you already. While your brain was busy short-circuiting, you settled for a small smile and a quick wave.

For one mortifying moment, you thought he didn’t recognise you at all. His eyebrows remained slightly creased, but just as you were nearly past him, his eyes widened.

“Y/N!”

The wide smile that had taken over his face retreated into a small, shy one as you stopped.

“Hey, Yoongi,” you smiled back.

“What are you up to?” he asked, glancing briefly to the end of the road you had just come from. Towards the forest.

“Just out for a walk,” you explained, “getting away from my family for a bit.”

“I can understand that,” he laughed quietly, scratching absently behind one ear.

“I didn’t realise you were back here,” you prompted after he trailed off, “it’s good to see you again.”

“Yeah, and you,” he nodded, “it’s strange being back sometimes, but it’s good you’re here too.”

Despite the cold, your felt heat in your cheeks. What did he just say?

“I-I mean,” he stuttered, “like, it’s weird, when things are different than you remember them , and so it’s nice when you see someone familiar… yeah.”

“Yeah, yeah, I totally get you,” you swallowed, laughing nervously, “like the forest, it’s not the same anymore-“

“Not the same,” he grimaced, then froze, realising you spoke in unison.

Wide eyed, laughter bubbled from both of you

“Are you going there now?” you asked, “it’s a bit cold isn’t it?”

As the two of you had stood talking, the light had steadily drained from the sky.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” he smirked.

Surprised by his sudden confidence, you just smiled.

“Okay, if you’re sure. I should probably be getting home, though.”

“Sure,” he nodded quickly.

“See you.”

Glancing at the inky sky, you turned to leave, hands delving deeper into the warmth of your coat pockets, when Yoongi cleared his throat behind you.

“Um…”

Now a few steps away from him, you looked over your shoulder.

“We should catch up some time. Properly. If-if you’d like.”

“Yeah, sure,” you smiled widely.

“Nice. I’ll, um, see you soon.”

He gave you a wave, smile dancing on his lips. The moment you turned away, you bit your lip, trying to contain your grin. Practically bouncing your way home, your cheeks were burning by the time you reached your front door.

Stiff fingers fiddling with the key, at last you let yourself in.

No doubt hearing you stomping your shoes on the doormat, your mum came around the corner.

“You were gone a while,” she observed.

“Yeah, bumped into Yoongi on the way back,” you begrudgingly explained.

“Min Yoongi?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I remember when you used to have a silly crush on that boy!” she laughed. Kicking your shoes off, you rolled your eyes but followed her through to the kitchen.

“His family’s always been very strange though,” she continued, “they don’t really talk to anyone. Half the time I don’t even know if there’s anyone at home.”

“You’re spying on their house now?” you joked.

“Well, when they’re shut in all summer, you can’t help wondering,” she defended, “very strange, the lot of them… you would do well to stay away from them, Y/N.”

“But-“

“You’re not even friends with him, why should it be an issue?”

“You’re right,” you sighed.

It was easier to let it slide.

They’re cutting the trees down in the forest.

Walking between the ones that still stand, Yoongi’s mind is still full of you. At least someone else still saw this place. Still cared.

And truth be told, he still cared about you. A chance to see the forest and a chance to speak to you were what kept bringing him back. It would be easy to find another forest somewhere, some wide open space, wilder than this.

But there was a soft spot in his heart for his hometown.

Raising a hand above his head, he sent the last few leaves clinging to a branch spiralling down to the floor on a gust of wind. As he lowered his arm, he let his fingers trail across the bark, leaving frost in their wake.

It was hard, having to hide. His mother told him he couldn’t get close to anyone here. Anyone that didn’t know.

Even playing with you as five-year-olds had been crossing the line, apparently.

On the ground, the leaves cleared from his path. The wind blew colder, skeletal branches rattling together as clouds knitted closer together above.

At the heart of the forest, there was a tree whose trunk forked into two. Climbing nimbly up into the gap, he settled himself and planted his palms against the bark.

“Y/N, go and fetch the bin. It’s frosty again.”

Without questioning, you did as your mother said. She was right about the frost. Unlike her, though, you adored it. Just outside your doorstep, you stopped to stare at the thin coating of white that covered the street.

Every house, every garden, every car was painted with the delicate brush strokes of winter.

Once you had tugged the bin up the drive, you found your mother still talking inside.

“Thanks, love,” she smiled, placing a bowl in front of you, “gosh, I can’t wait for summer again. I can’t stand it’s so cold all the time.”

Instead of voicing your disagreement, you hummed noncommittally as you poured yourself some cereal.

Maybe you would go back to the forest later. It was all you daydreamed about as you munched on your breakfast before retreating to your room.

Until someone knocked on the door.

What you hadn’t seen was the fist hovering over wood, raising and lowering countless times before it finally sounded through your house. Frowning, you stood from your bed and peeked around your window frame.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

Min Yoongi was standing in front of your house.

The distinct sound of the door swinging open downstairs snapped you from your reverie, frozen on the spot. Shutting your gaping mouth, you looked around, panicked. Your mother was speaking.

You crossed your room in no less than two strides, throwing the door open and speeding down the stairs.

“What brings you here?” your mum was saying as you dashed up behind her.

“Hi Yoongi!” you exclaimed, panting slightly, “thanks mum.”

But of course she couldn’t take the hint. As you waited with bated breath for her to leave the two of you alone, she just looked slowly between you instead.

“You’re here to see my daughter?”

Yoongi swallowed hard under her stare.

“Yes, he is, mum,” you spoke, tone strained.

Really, sometimes it was like you never left. You felt like you had been transported straight back to your school years, asking your mum for permission to go out.

“And we’re going out,” you said firmly when greeted with silence.

Grabbing your coat, you slipped past her.

“Strange to see him out,” she muttered.

Praying Yoongi didn’t hear her sly comment, you hastily shut the door.

“Sorry,” you grimaced, “where do you fancy?”

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Following his lead, you fell into step, heading away from your house.

“I see why you prefer the trees for company.”

Now that startled a laugh out of you. Clamping a hand over your mouth, you stared at Yoongi walking beside you. He didn’t seem fazed, suddenly confident again beside you, hands buried in his hoodie as he kicked his feet walking along.

Lost quickly in conversation, you walked together until you found him leading you towards a small café.

“Drink?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, hot chocolate?” you answered timidly.

Smiling, he disappeared inside and reappeared very soon with two steaming takeaway cups.

“Thanks,” you breathed, taking one warm cup from his fingers and cradling it between your own.

“Didn’t want you to get cold.”

And it certainly did help. Of course you next walked down towards the woods, without a word passing between you about your destination. With the warmth flowing through you, you were perfectly content to keep going through the chilly air as you ditched the cups in a bin.

“Do you remember when Tae got stuck in that tree?” Yoongi commented.

Looking to where he gestured, you laughed.

“It was that one?”

“Yep, it’s still got that branch snapped off,” he pointed.

“Oh, yeah,” you giggled, “that feels so long ago now, doesn’t it?”

Sighing, he took another sip.

“Yeah. It does.”

Silence settled for a short moment, only your muffled steps sounding in the woods.

“Do you know if the others ever come back here?” you wondered aloud.

“Haven’t seen any of them,” he shrugged.

Way back when, there was a huge group at school, which was how you grew connected to Yoongi. There was still a group chat buried somewhere in your phone, but you hadn’t heard from most of them in a long time.

“It’s just us then,” you mused.

“I guess it is,” Yoongi said, a large smile spreading onto his face.

Then he halted, stooping down to the floor. Beside him, you watched him in confusion.

Until he sprung up, a handful of fallen leaves suddenly finding their way into your face.

“Yah!” you shrieked, throwing your hands up too late.

As the last one fell from your spluttering face, you found the shape of Yoongi several trees away, running. Mouth falling open, you instantly gave chase, quickly reaching down for a bundle of your own leaves.

“Min Yoongi!” you yelled, a reply reaching you in the form of his breathless laughter.

Pushing yourself on, your feet pounded towards him. He slowed, going over a slope, giving you opportunity enough to catch up, launching the leaves at his back.

“Argh!” he laughed, arms flapping from beneath the flurry of leaves.

But you couldn’t revel in your revenge for long, as another faceful of leaves was booted towards you. You only caught a glimpse of his gummy smile for a moment before he saw your glare and bolted again.

A gust of wind hindered you pursuit, throwing more soggy leaves at you.

Up ahead, Yoongi was scrambling up a tree. Just as you reached it, he seated himself on a branch, out of your reach. Breathless with laughter, you still tried, flinging leaves up in the air towards him.

They barely reached his feet, swinging above you, instead floating for a pathetic moment before falling right back on top of you.

Shaking them from your head, you heard Yoongi’s loud laughter above you.

Looking up, you were met with an enormous gummy smile as he slipped back down the tree, dropping deftly onto the ground, shoulders still shaking with laughter.

“Sorry,” he panted.

He reached a hand out towards you then. Frozen in surprise, you watched as his thumb met your nose, quickly swiping across it. Cold lingered there as his hand came away, a slight smudge of mud wiped on it.

Self consciously rubbing your nose yourself, you let out a chuckle, a shiver passing through you only a moment later.

“Shit, are you cold?” his smile faltered.

“It’s okay,” you assured, “we’ve just been running about. I’m fine.”

“Okay,” he frowned slightly.

Turning away a little, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Going with him, you two headed across the woods to the other edge, where you could look over your town as it fell away into countryside. The sky was striped with clouds, yellowish light dimming behind them.

This felt good.

You’ve always liked this forest, hated sharing it with anyone else. But you didn’t mind with Yoongi. After so long, it was odd how quickly you felt comfortable. How fast your feelings resurfaced.

And you couldn’t help wondering…

“Hey, Yoongi?”

“Hmm?”

“Was this… meant to mean anything?”

“What do you mean?” he turned towards you.

You swallowed. Fuck. You might have just shoved your foot in it.

“Er, well, I mean, like, a date or something?” you spoke nervously.

The moment his eyebrows raised, you were certain you had made a mistake.

“Well, no…”

Oh shit.

“But it can be.”

You blinked.

“Say that again?”

“It can be,” he chuckled, warm smile making another appearance.

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure I heard you right,” you said, stunned, turning back to the view. Then you glanced back at him. “So you wouldn’t be opposed to a date?”

“Nope,” he shook his head.

“With me?”

A chuckle responded. “Yes, Y/N. With you.”

In the corner of your eye, a flicker of movement. But then it stopped. Looking around, you saw Yoongi return his hand to his pocket, casting his eyes down.

By the time you were both approaching your driveway again, it was forgotten. You were practically glowing.

Until you saw the figure of your mother in the front window.

The moment she laid eyes on you, she was gone from the window and appeared in the doorway instead.

“Shit, sorry,” you muttered, sharing a glance with Yoongi, “this has been really fun…”

Getting the message, he sent you a smile that squeezed his eyes.

Then he slowed beside you and you carried on, pulling away with a smile of your own.

As you drew closer, your mum stepped out and down the steps.

“Are you alright? Where did you go?” she asked straight away.

She really was worried about this, huh?

“Mum, it’s fine,” you frowned, unable to help the look over your shoulder, “we just went for a walk, what’s the problem?”

If this was her reaction to you spending time with the guy platonically, you thought it safer to leave out the other details for now.

“I told you, something’s not right with him,” she hissed, clearly trying to keep a low voice. Not that she was successful.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” you urged.

Glancing back just before you closed the door, you saw Yoongi turning away. You longed to reach for him, call out to him…

The door clicked shut.

In front of you, your mother stood with folded arms.

“What’s going on?” you asked.

“I don’t know about him, Y/N,” she shook her head, “since he was a child, he’s always been… different.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, whenever there was an accident on the playground, he always seemed to be around. All of us parents knew, it’s why I told you to be careful with him.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. Vaguely, you recalled her saying something like that, but you must have been very small. Either way, perhaps you did stray away from him on the playground.

“No one ever knew for sure, but there were rumours,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead, “maybe he was just troublesome and liked pushing other kids over, but then his family… they never tried to fit in here.”

“And the town gossip has you this worried?” you asked, incredulous.

“I was pleased you were staying away from him in school,” she glared at you, “so where’s this come from? I hoped that silly crush was over.”

“If I was in trouble I would tell you, and you know that,” you stepped forwards, “but I can be with whoever I like! I’m not in school anymore, and Yoongi’s a grown adult too.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards.

“So you’re with him now?”

“…maybe, but what does it matter? It’s what I want to do, mum, I’ll be fine.”

Met with your pleading eyes, she merely glared back, arms tightly folded. She exhaled steadily through her nose.

“Just come and have dinner.”

It started snowing.

You knew your mum wouldn’t want you to go outside in that. But maybe that made it all the more appealing.

She wasn’t over it, and you knew it. Sly comments kept coming your way over dinner, riling you up. Why was she letting schoolground gossip get in the way of you and Yoongi?

By the end of dinner, you were reaching the end of your tether.

If you could just go for a walk, cool off. Literally. Stepping outside, you already hugged your coat a little bit tighter around you.

Just to the forest and back, not far beyond the streetlights, then come back. But as your feet stomped through the newly settling snow, stray flakes catching in your hair, your scowl never lifted.

Your mum had never been too controlling, so why was she so riled up about this one thing? And something that was so important to you? Since school you had had a crush on Yoongi, all those years hanging onto every smile, every laugh, and now something was finally coming true.

Of course that wouldn’t be allowed. Of course, in her book, a bad child grew into a bad adult.

It was true that this town could be very self-contained and you were well used to news circulating. No wonder you hadn’t seen Yoongi back here before. You wanted this to be your chance.

Head turned down against the oncoming snow, you blinked cold flakes from your eyelashes. It was thicker now, blurring in front of you when you looked up.

A gust of wind threaded its fingers through your hair, biting across your slightly damp face. Shoulders hunching, you tried to look around you. Acting of their own accord, your feet had carried you to the forest.

You should head back.

Turning on the spot, you squinted through the darkness for the streetlights at the edge of the trees.

But darkness surrounded you.

Stomach dropping, you rubbed your hands together in front of you. Definitely should have worn gloves.

The white that now coated the forest floor and its branches reflected the precious little moonlight that could reach you here, letting you know you were among the larger trees. Your mind whirled with panic almost as fast as the snow falling around you.

When a shiver shook your frame, you knew you had to move.

If you picked a direction, you would surely find a way back eventually. The forest wasn’t that big, was it?

Maybe they had cut down some trees, but it turned out the woodland was not small. At least, it didn’t feel that way when cold water was seeping through your jeans and clinging to your face and hair. Try as you might to carve out a straight path, the snowstorm was growing, wind forcing you to lower your head.

Still, all you could see was darkness, the ghosts of trees looming from behind the blizzard in the air.

Sniffling, you tried to fight off the panicked tears threatening to spill. This had all been a bad idea. You just wanted to get home.

But unbeknownst to you, someone else was in the woods too.

Not many trees away, perched in his usual spot, Yoongi’s palms met the gnarled bark as he channelled his energy. The storm fell peacefully around him. Breathing deeply, he felt himself letting go.

He knew what this town thought of him. He hadn’t been careful enough, like his parents had told him to. He just never thought that anyone would still remember, not least your mother.

But he couldn’t claim she was wrong. Being Jack Frost came with its dangers, its responsibilities.

And he should have known better. He just wanted you, badly enough that he decided to go for it against his better judgement.

His sadness made itself known in storms like this: not violent or noisy, just cold.

As the white flakes filled the air, he looked out across the darkness of the forest. Wind tugged gently at his white hair but the snow didn’t touch him, evaporating before it hit his shoulders.

He called another gust of wind, threading it through the air, across the land.

When it reached him, it carried something with it.

His eyes opened, looking around through the storm to see where it had come from. It was normal for the branches to rattle, for animals to scurry home, but that wasn’t either sound. It sounded like a person. And not a happy one.

No one else should be out here.

Turning his head left and right, he finally made out a shadowy shape a few trees away.

Quickly and quietly, he slid off his perch, obscuring his body with the trunk of the tree. Around him, the snow calmed a little, drifting calmly once more.

As the person walked closer, he saw them wipe a hand across their cheek. And that sound came again. Were they… crying?

Louder this time, and finally they stepped into a lighter patch…

His eyes widened. What the hell were you doing out here? Assessing you with a flick of his eyes, he knew you must be freezing.

When you stopped suddenly, turning around as your shoulders slumped, he had to force himself to stay behind his tree.

Briefly wetting his lips with his tongue, he looked towards the shortest way out. Why weren’t you going that way? Instead, you were stumbling off in the opposite direction, looking to the ground.

“No,” he muttered urgently, head darting between you and the right path.

Then he made a snap decision.

Pursing his lips, he called up a gust of wind with a quirk of his hand, stopping you in your tracks as it collided with you forcefully. With wide eyes, you whipped around as the wind charged through the forest, carving a winding channel through the trees.

And on the path it tracked, the snow stopped, hovering in stasis along the sides as if lighting the way.

Not daring to breathe, Yoongi studied your face carefully as you stared at the space path he had created. Slowly coming to your senses, you turned your head. He ducked back behind the trunk, breaths falling shallow from his lips.

The snow suspended in the air waited with him until crunching footsteps met his ears.

Peering back out, he watched your form retreating through the woods, perfectly framed between the trees as you trod the right path.

He watched you go, knowing what he had to do.

The snow fell thicker.

Yoongi would come around soon. The day after your little escapade into the storm, he hadn’t shown his face. But that was fine. It would be weird to come back the day after your first… whatever it was. Right?

But today, he would come.

And when he did, you would make sure you got his number. In a town like this, he could easily come knocking, like he had the other day, but you were sick of waiting around like this.

All day you had been restless, failing to keep yourself from the window as you hoped to see him walking down your road. You longed to tell him about what you had seen in the woods that night.

It had taken you a while to decide you hadn’t dreamt it. But the chills running though you and the damp clothes on your radiator said otherwise. Sure, you had always felt a connection with the woods, but you never expected them to do something in return.

That was what happened, though. They had shown you the way home through the storm.

Last night, you had braved the cold to go there again. The snow lay harmlessly on the ground by now, but you had still kept your wits about you and gone before dark.

Nothing.

Maybe it would just be your little secret.

Or yours and Yoongi’s, if he ever turned up.

The urge to look out of the window returned, and you fought valiantly. Staring at the ceiling was a lot less productive than staring outside, so eventually you stood.

And gaped.

He was actually there!

Right on your driveway, biting his lip as he looked up at your house.

Or maybe…

He was looking at your mum. You stilled, having been ready to race downstairs, but now you watched in horror as your mum marched down the drive.

“Sorry, Yoongi,” you heard, “Y/N isn’t in.”

“Oh, sorry Mrs L/N,” he bowed his head, “I just wanted to talk to her-“

“Well you’ll be doing no such thing,” she snapped, “she won’t be getting mixed up with you. I think you should leave now.”

Hands shaking as they gripped the window frame, you were ready to run out to them, when you heard something in response. It was quiet, so you had to strain to hear it, but when you did you could only stare.

“Could you just… could you tell her that I like her? A lot.”

Your mum scoffed, but as she opened her mouth he continued, looking at the floor.

“-and I won’t be seeing her again. You’re right. I’ll stay away.”

Rooted on the spot, you could only gape as the figures of Yoongi and your mother stood still outside. Then your mum broke the silence.

“Very good.”

“Will you tell her?”

“You should leave,” she said firmly.

Shoulders slumping, he turned away, not even looking back. His footsteps carrying him away were what finally made you move.

“Yoongi!” you shouted, tearing down the stairs as the door slammed.

“Y/N,” your mother’s voice warned.

“What is going on!” you asked desperately, trying to move around her only to be blocked.

“He doesn’t want to see you.”

“No! That’s not true! I heard him-“

“He won’t be seeing you then. It’s for the best.”

“Why?” you cried, tears pricking at your eyes, “what is so wrong with him?”

But instead of an equal retaliation, she heaved a sigh. Blinking furiously, you watched her raise her eyes to meet yours.

“His family… they’ve lived here as long as ours. They’re all strange. Weird things happen. Some sort of… magic. And they don’t mix with us. Never have, but that’s how it should be. They’re not like us, Y/N,” she finished with emphasis.

Meanwhile, a frown had taken over your face.

“That’s- what- that’s ridiculous!” you spluttered, “he’s not magic! And if he is, I don’t care!”

And with that, you pushed past her, tumbling out onto the drive, eyes desperately scanning the bare street.

But you didn’t stop there. Ignoring the defeated calls of your mother, you started running. Yoongi couldn’t have got far; and anyway, you had an idea where he might have gone. You had to catch up. You couldn’t let go of him this easily.

Feet pounding hard on the ground beneath you, you barely noticed the darkening sky above you. Clouds swirled together, looming over your small town.

The wind picked up, throwing your hair back in your face as it tore back and forth across the path. As you dashed at last between the shadows of trees, the floor was practically crawling as leaves tossed themselves along the ground.

Some launched upwards as powerful gusts rushed through the bare branches above, and soon the pummelling of hail joined the rattling of the trees.

Stumbling to a stop deep in the forest, you whirled around, trying to spot Yoongi. Wind continued to assault you, swirling in all directions in the air, trees groaning among the whooshing air.

“Yoongi!” you called at the top of your lungs. Your voice was lost instantly in the cacophony of the storm, stinging hailstones on your cheeks the only response.

Exhaling swiftly, you took off once more, still calling out.

And then you saw him.

Shoulders hunched, his outstretched arms were braced against a tree. Though his head was lowered, you could see the heaving of his chest.

Picking up the pace, you smiled in relief.

“Yoongi!”

Instantly, he sprung away from the tree, head darting around him as he looked for you. But when he met your eyes, they only grew.

And then he was running too.

Away from you.

“Hey! Yoongi!” you shouted after him.

But a roar from the forest drowned you out.

Running faster, hail chucked itself spitefully into your face, the wind surging against you from the darkening sky. Struggling on, you held your hands in front of your face, only lowering them when you trailed to a stop.

Yoongi was nowhere in sight.

Something was wrong. Why was he running away from you?

A loud creak from somewhere above you made you wince. Moving again, you called out Yoongi’s name into the storm.

The hail let up a little as you pressed on, but the raging air only grew more forceful. Creaks and groans from the battered trees surrounded you. Squinting around you, you let your feet stumble on, needing to find him. Among the storm, you could barely hear your thumping footsteps.

An ear-splitting creak made you flinch, head whipping around.

The dark shape of a tree trunk was growing bigger – growing closer.

A blur then, your eyes squeezing shut by instinct, awaiting the crash of the giant hitting the earth.

Nothing.

Cracking your eyelids open, the wind lulled in the air around you, silence buzzing loud in your ears. In front of you, the tree was tilting dangerously, towering directly over you, but caught in mid-air. And holding it up, a colossal sheet of ice, jagged icicles sticking out to one side as if from impact.

You blinked. Let out a breath.

Following the trail of ice, you turned to the side.

There, hand still outstretched, panting slightly, stood Min Yoongi.

“I’m sorry,” he half-whispered.

As you stared blankly back in shock, his eyes flicked back to the tree above you.

“Come here,” he spoke, beckoning you with his other hand.

Obeying, you trod carefully towards him. Once near enough, he gently placed a hand on your sweater-covered arm, guiding you to his side.

As you watched, he lowered his left hand slowly, the wall of ice retracting with it, melting back into the ground. With barely a bump, the tree was lowered to rest.

Returning your eyes gingerly to the boy beside you, your gaze was not returned.

His eyelids shut, lips pressing together as he bowed his head, bringing his arm back to his side at last. He swallowed.

“Y-yoongi?” you whispered.

“I’m sorry, I really am,” he muttered, still not meeting your eyes, “I should never have started anything…”

“But-but I want you!” you protested.

Now he looked at you. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“Did you not see that? What I just did?”

“You saved me.”

A breath.

“But… all the rest? I-I made that tree fall too-”

“The wind made it fall-“

“Y/N,” he stopped you, “your mum is right. I can be dangerous, okay? This storm, that’s me.”

Studying your face carefully, he waited for your reaction.

“Why?”

“It’s always been like this,” he sighed, “I’m… I have storm magic. Winter magic. My family, we’re- I’m… Jack Frost.”

Your eyebrows raised.

“No, but I mean, why the storm? Is something wrong?”

A breathy laugh burst from his lips as he ran a hand through his hair.

“Of course there is! I can’t have you.”

“You don’t have to be scared,” you insisted.

“Don’t you understand? You’re the one who should be scared!” he cried, throwing his arms out.

“No,” you shushed him, stepping forward and slowly reaching out, “you’re scared – of hurting me. You don’t have to be.”

Settling, he watched your hand reach through the air. But as it hovered by his cheek, he pulled away.

“Don’t…”

“Yoongi, I want you.”

“And I want you. But you can’t touch me. I’ll just be cold…”

“Don’t worry,” you smiled.

But as you moved again, his hand came up to grasp your wrist, stopping you.

Then his eye widened, realising what he’d done. But you hadn’t flinched away. Looking at your hands held together, his mouth formed ghosts of words he never spoke, not knowing what to say.

“See?” you encouraged, “it’s not cold.”

Wonder-filled eyes rose, meeting your own. Closing the distance between you, he dropped your wrist and lifted both his hands to cup your face instead, touching you softly as if you were made from porcelain.

A breath escaped his lungs, mouth curving into a gummy smile.

Elated, a smile tugged at your own lips.

Then he surged forwards, lips pressing against yours like a starved man. Moving his mouth hungrily over yours, he held your face firmly between his hands as you eagerly kissed him back. Suddenly his hands were unable to get enough, sliding down to your waist and roaming across your back as he pulled you closer.

Equally enthusiastic, you tugged at his shirt, lips keeping up their mind-blowing rhythm until you were both left panting, foreheads pressed together as your breaths turned to laughter between you.

“Screw what this town thinks,” you grinned, “I’m not letting you go after that.”

“Good,” he growled, smirk adorning his face as he darted in for another lingering kiss.

The trees you stood among had watched you both grow, watched you hurt, and now they finally saw you come together, painted by the setting sun in a clear sky.

Thank you for reading!! Reblog this if you enjoyed, it helps me get exposure unlike likes💜

@aianloveseven​ @preciouschimine​

Message me if you want to be tagged in new work!

Check out my masterlist here

[comfy-whumpee]

Birdhouse: It

@whumptober2021 alt prompt 4: mercy. TW: dehumanisation, BBU. The main character calls themself ‘It’ as a name.

@neuro-whump​, @rosesareviolentlyread​, @whumper-in-training​, @mylifeisonthebookshelf

Morning mist hung low over the grey-green field, stretched like a second layer over the muddied grass as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t wilderness itself, but it was a sheared-short substitute. The air bit and dampened every exposed fibre, and the water leeched more warmth from what it settled on. The sun was invisible behind the fog, casting everything in the same light, dreamlike in its unreal uniformity. There was no sound of road or people, or even cattle. There were only birds singing in the invisible sky.

It had woken up here, on the frosty ground, in nothing but their overalls and boots. There was a bottle of water on the ground a metre away from them, and nothing else.

From here, they had to find civilisation, gather resources, locate their target, and do their job.

Just another day.

-

The ground was soft with moisture under their feet. They walked, one foot in front of the other, eyes ahead. The first task was always to walk, as long as they could. They wouldn’t be too far from civilisation. They would be within reach of a road or farmhouse. There was a way to pass the exam.

The sun climbed in the sky as they went, lifting the fog from the ground and giving them a clearer path forward. As the air emptied of moisture, it identified a telephone pole, and walked until they reached it. The metal struts were cold in the winter air, but they climbed until they could take in their surroundings, knees locked to the wood.

There was a house nestled in an arc of trees less than an hour’s walk away. They fixed its location in their mind, planned their route over the fields around them, and climbed back down to begin the walk.

Time passed with the metronomic tone of their feet trudging against the earth.

-

The house was a small, white-painted building with no car in the driveway and no animals in the garden or visible from the windows. It would be impractical to live here without transport, so at least part of the household was out.

it circled it twice and climbed a nearby tree before deciding to approach. When they knocked on the door, there was no reply. It could have been a holiday home. There was a cobweb on the front porch, though it wasn’t attached to the door.

The lock was easy work. The door creaked a little as it swung in.

It took their last sip of water and called, “Hello?”

There was no reply.

The hall was long and empty, lined with photo frames of landscapes with an empty shoe rack by the door. There was a door to the left, which would lead to the living room. The right-side door was a dining room. They moved to the end of the house, passing the staircase, to the kitchen.

This house was lived in. There was fruit in a bowl on the side, a half-open bag of pasta on the counter, and the fridge hummed in the corner. It refilled their water at the sink, opened the back door for a quick escape, and then raided the fridge. They found a shopping bag under the sink and filled it with everything that could be eaten raw. Stepping out, they hid the bag behind a tree, and their water too.

Then it was time for a more thorough search. A coat was found in the understairs cupboard. Socks were located in the master bedroom, along with a beanie hat. A woollen scarf was hung on the back of the door, and thermal gloves in the pockets of the coat. They snagged a walker’s backpack.

They used the bathroom. They applied some of the homeowner’s makeup.

There was no money in the house.

They left again, closing the door behind them. They collected their bag and bottle, put both in the backpack, and continued walking.

-

The next house was occupied. After that was the road. They walked, and at each passing car, they turned and raised a thumb in request.

It was eighteen cars and about two hours before one stopped. The window of the truck rolled down. “Where you going, love?”

“Town, if you are,” they replied, pitching their voice higher, more feminine. They offered a hopeful smile.

The driver smiled back and opened the passenger door. “You’re in luck.”

They climbed into the tobacco-heavy air of the cab, and closed the door behind them.

-

Ed liked to chat, but when it only ummed and ahhed at his commentary and questions, he gave up. They smiled nicely and folded their hands and let him drive them to whatever town was ‘town’. He asked what they were doing out in the wild and they said a hike gone wrong, gotten lost, but he had found them before too long. He acted concerned. He was a strange man.

He had no wedding ring or personal affects in the cab besides a pair of old number plates and a wicker star hanging from the rear view mirror.

The first person who would miss him would be his employer.

He was a careful and confident driver, balancing those competing attitudes with a veteran’s ease.

It was an hour before they reached a town.

-

It was dropped on the kerbside and left to find their own way home. Ed thought their dad was coming to pick them up, the way a normal person would be rescued.

Instead, they started to mooch through the streets like a layabout and eye up shopfronts, looking for clues to their location. Experienced eyes ran over signs to look for clues, and before long, they found a sign declaring the Elmonton branch of a supermarket chain.

It wasn’t hard to pocket a sandwich and a small can of coffee alongside their purchase of a meal deal. They were good for another eight hours or so. Time enough to find the right area of the city, and somewhere to make connections.

-

The three workers from the shop were gathered around the table in the bar. It had been lingering in the back for an hour or two, nursing a single drink and contemplating which to approach. They were sitting together, heads bent over a single mobile phone, talking in low voices about something It couldn't quite make out.

One of them was a tall, bulky man in flannel, with blond hair and a trimmed beard. It was his phone. He would probably be the most direct option. On his left was a taller but thinner woman with dark hair and eyes, who was rubbing her neck compulsively. She seemed nervous, perhaps vulnerable to persuasion. The third man was average height and build, pale, with a shaven head and small glasses. He was the one who was either distracted or keeping watch, habitually running his eyes over the rest of the room. He knew It was there, and could perhaps be tempted to approach.

It wasn't until their conversation ended, and the blond man put his phone away, that It rose and went to the bar to get a glass of water. The bartender gave them an unimpressed look, probably unhappy about how little they'd spent for the privilege of sitting on a chair. But he granted their water, and while they were turning, they saw the pale man rise. They caught his eye, glanced away, and smiled. They glanced back, and he was approaching.

"Hey, how's your night going?" he asked, confidently opening the conversation. They smiled a little at him again, noting the notes of his accent, placing his birth as somewhere Midwest.

"It's going alright," they told him, matching the accent effortlessly. "My friend just bailed on me, so I was about to head home."

"No need to head home yet," the man said. He offered a hand. "I'm Byron. Let me keep you company."

The asset fluttered their eyelashes and looked bashful, but placed their hand into his. "Mia. I'd love that."

-

Byron's phone password was his own birthday, which was on his ID when he showed it to the bartender to get himself another drink. In the bathroom of the bar, scrolling through his messages, It learned the names and numbers of the other two men. They were also able to access his group chats, where he was discussing their plans and even, on a quick search, the relevant addresses. They copied these down into their notebook, slipped it back into the bottom of their bag, and then went back to continue the conversation and quietly replace the phone into his pocket.

-

The blond man was called Jay and It arrived at his house after the bar had closed and Byron had driven them 'home'. The windows were all closed and there was a blinking security light just inside the front door. This wasn't a man who would be easy to steal from. But this was just another stepping stone across the river, and It would not fail.

Climbing the fence into the garden yielded a back door with no warning light. They picked the lock with a hair pin and a needle. The first click came soon. They had practised on dozens of locks like this.

The family dog was upstairs asleep, if the usual nightly photos on Jay's Instagram were anything to go by. They tiptoed anyway, leaving the door open. They paused in the kitchen to find some meat in the fridge for a distraction, and headed upstairs to find the office they had identified from the window view outside.

The office was unlocked. They didn't linger before finding a diary, a laptop, and a file left on top of the desk, and tucking all three prizes under one arm. That was enough to make a start on finding their target.

The dog emerged as their foot hit the first step back down. They froze, and gently tossed the raw strip of bacon dangling from their hand. The dog, a golden Labrador who clearly wasn't trained to be dangerous, followed the trajectory of the food with its snout before shoving its face into the carpet to eat, while It made a light-footed escape.

-

Jay’s client lived in the next town over, and It lost the cover of night in the process of the journey. They watched the house from across the road, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. A couple of hours passed before they could determine with certainty that there was nobody home to worry about.

They circled the house and found that the back garden was fenced off to the edge of an alleyway. The fence was easily scaled. The backdoor lock was easily picked.

The door swung quietly open to reveal a small, completely spotless kitchen. Even the dishcloth was pristine. They were in the right house.

It kept one hand on the door handle as they cleared their throat and called, “Pet!”

There was a pause. It looked at the owl-shaped clock hanging on the wall. Five seconds, then ten, went by before there was the sound of movement upstairs. The pet was in the attic; two sets of steps before she became visible in the hall, long black ringlets falling elegantly around a small, doll-like face. Her eyes were wide and confused, but her mouth pulled into a neat, perfect smile. “Hello. I’m Agate.”

“Hi, Agate,” It said gently. “Is anyone else home?”

Agate shook her head. She would have been told not to open the door, but not what to do if someone opened it for them. “Are you here to see Miss Peri?”

“I’m here to see you,” It replied, smiling an identical smile that made recognition light in Agate’s eyes. They let the back door swing closed. “Your master sent me, Agate.”

Agate’s smile vanished and she stepped backwards, knees almost buckling before she caught herself on the counter.

It moved forwards, reaching out to take Agate’s marked wrist. “It’s time to go home. These people can’t change what you are. There’s only one person who wants you.”

Agate whimpered, but didn’t pull away. It led her towards the front door without letting go of her wrist. It was straightforward to unlock from the inside, the key hanging above the curtain rail, available in case of emergency. Pet liberation workers had terrible standards for security.

They paused before taking Agate outside onto the road. Their grip loosened. “Do you have shoes?”

Agate was crying silently, but nodded, obedient above all else. “Miss Peri got, got me some.”

“Put them on.”

It picked up the landline phone on the wall and dialled for transport. Agate whimpered again when the handset clicked back into place. “Please,” she ventured, voice soft and edged with pleading. “You’re – you’re like me, you could – you don’t have to take me back.”

It brushed their fingers over the tag strapped around their thigh. Life was never that simple. “Quiet. It’s time to go.”

“Please—”

“Shut up.”

Agate’s beautiful face crumpled in despair, and It didn’t look. They only grasped the other pet’s wrist again, and led the way outside, to meet the car that would take Agate back to captivity.

Another job completed.

[theparanormalperiodical]

The Less-Than-Sweet TRUE Stories That Inspired Candyman (1992), And The Other 5 Scariest Urban Legends That Are Still Haunting The USA

In 1987, Ruthie Mae McCoy was found dead in her apartment.

As a mentally-unstable resident of the ABLA housing project - one of the most violent on the Chicago south side - her death is far from the only one to have taken place there. But her death is one of the most well documented.

So well documented, in fact, it’s legacy stretches back to the present day.

McCoy first reported strange occurrences taking place in her apartment when returning from the psychiatric unit at Mount Sinai Hospital. She claimed someone had threatened her life to a fellow passenger in the van next to her.

They urged her to seek help, but she chose to take shelter in her fear.

In April, the local police received a phone call from a frightened woman from the ABLA housing project who was claiming someone was trying to come through her bathroom cabinet. When the police finally entered the apartment, they discovered her on the floor of her bedroom with 4 gunshot wounds peppering her torso.

Her death would be just one of the threads that weaved the horror film icon, Candyman (1992).

Today we unpick the fabric, from the twisted history of the Jim Crow South, to America’s darkest urban legends.

Clive Barker never intended to create one of the most iconic Black horror films of all time.

In fact, Barker didn’t even create the feature length film that would change the face of cinema in 1992. What he did, however, was pen a short story about life on the breadline in Liverpool.

The Forbidden (1984) followed a graduate student in the UK who was studying graffiti. Among the garish curse words splashed on the walls of the run-down council estate she investigated, Helen discovered references to an urban legend that have been sprayed onto the concrete.

A legend called the Candyman.

As explained by the later films, Candyman is a pretty standard urban legend: you say his name into a mirror 5 times, and before you would appear a man sticky with sweet honey and with a hook for a hand.

Helen followed the trail back to reports and rumours mutilations and murders in the local area, failing to get any information out of the locals. She then became a victim of the Candyman himself.

Despite the short story closely mirroring the plotline of the film we know and love cower away from today, there is one crucial difference aside from the setting:

In the 1992 film, and in the upcoming 2021 reboot, the Candyman is African-american. Helen’s original encounter with the urban legend in Liverpool, however, was with a pale, waxy figure bearing all the traits of a dead white man.

When Clive Barker first conjured the Candyman from his imagination, he wanted to explore the theme of class in 1980s Britain. Bernard Rose, the director of the 1992 rendition of the tale, on the other hand, wanted to explore the theme of race in America, rewriting the characters on the other side of the pond and deepening the dark story Barker first put before horror fans.

Most importantly, he focused on developing the character of the Candyman.

Where he came from, what he did, and how he did it informed the entire plot, and would span 2 sequels shortly after.

The Candyman Of Cabrini-Green

Rose set the 1990 films in the Cabrini-Green public housing projects in Chicago’s North Side. Originally built in 1942 to home thousands of African-americans fleeing the Jim Crow South during the Great Migration, the housing project captured a snapshot of racial divides in America.

It doesn’t take a historian to understand that racism fuelled the neglect of the housing, and by the time the movie hit the theatres in the early 90s, only 9% living there were actually employed.

But Candyman didn’t just capture the poverty and racism inherent in American society; it pulled us through the mirror, and showed the viewers just one of the many origins fuelling the complex and corrupted history of the USA.

So Who Was The Candyman Based On?

Tony Todd was a pretty important part of the film.

Ok, aside from being one of the few black actors that managed to score a role in a horror movie that didn’t die in the opening credits, and yeah, as well as donning a prosthetic hook, he actually developed the character of the Candyman.

But most notably, he developed the backstory for the urban legend.

And the story starts in the 19th century.

Daniel Robitaille - an established painter - was commissioned to paint the portrait of a white woman. From there began an interracial relationship that was not accepted in this era.

When she fell pregnant, a lynch mob sought out Robitaille to make him pay for his alleged crime. They severed off his hand for touching a white woman, and covered him in honey, leaving him to die by being stung by bees.

What’s really striking of this tragic and terrifying image, however, is that this did happen.

Interracial relationships were scarce in the 19th and early 20th centuries in America and typically featured white men marrying black women (and consequently freeing them if they were slaves), and fed into deep-rooted racism that still haunts the country. One of the pillars of historic American racism and Western Imperial ideas of race was the ‘protection’ of white women from the ‘lustful’, ‘violent, and ‘savage’ black man.

In fact, marriage and politics were both considered the most important arguments supporting segregation, linking the freeing of slaves and interracial relations.

This fear became especially prevalent in the US after the Civil War; the influx of freed slaves would result in an increase in the forbidden relationships, bringing us back to the era Daniel Robitaille’s life was set in.

This timeline is made ever more accurate by the manner of his death: lynch mob activity peaked in the 1830s, 40s and 50s, proving that Robitaille’s story is unfortunately far too common. Although being stung to by bees and insects probably was used as a form of torture and murder, I can only trace a form of this execution method to Persia (approx. 6BC).

But what’s really quite striking is the transformation of Daniel Robitaille, an innocent and very much alive black man, to the Candyman, an urban legend who is seeking vengeance for his murder.

It’s the racial terrorism committed against Robitaille which make him so terrifying. The crimes committed against the innocent black man still tailor him into the image of a ‘scary black man’, the image that we are still haunted by today.

Urban legends are so petrifying because of the outlandish, outrageous monsters at the centre of the story that appear in ordinary places. And that’s exactly what we find here. But here’s the twist: the Candyman charted the original racism that founded the Cabrini-Green housing projects, and the racism still inherent in it.

In fact, that’s the sub-plot of the movie: Helen Lyle discovers more of the everyday realities of being African-american in the US throughout the movie, witnessing poverty and police brutality as well as the garish image of a hooked man smothered in honey.

We, the viewer, are given brief snapshots of black history and the black present, even if only through a bathroom mirror.

And it’s horrifying.

So Daniel Robitaille Was Based On History - But What Was The Candyman Legend Inspired By?

To summon the Candyman - if you dare - you simply need to say his name into a mirror 5 times. This less-than-innovative manner of conjuring the Candyman is obviously based on Bloody Mary and the act of saying her name into a bathroom mirror a certain amount of times that no one actually agrees on.

It is said she will then appear to either show you the face of your future hubby, scratch your face off, or kill you. You can find out more about this legend here.

But she isn’t the only legendary beast weaved into this horror hit.

His Hook Hand is obviously an aesthetic inspiration:

A couple were busy being horror-movie-villian-bait and making out in a car when the radio suddenly blared out an emergency broadcast.

A serial killer (*gasp*) had escaped from the local mental institution (*eye-roll*) and he had a hook for a hand.

One of them heard something scrape on the car so they drove off. Believing it to be merely a tree branch they take a look and discover a hook in the side of the car.

(Their insurance premiums! Oh the horror!)

The final urban legend explicitly linked to Candyman is La Llorona, possibly the second most famous urban legend after Bloody Mary herself.

This hispanic urban legend is tragic but fiercely popular: a woman had two sons and a loving husband. However, after being convinced her partner was cheating on her or loved her children more, she drowned them. She then drowned herself in grief.

It is said she still roams Latin America, looking for her deceased children and taking those who aren’t hers before drowning them when she realises they are not her sons.

To summon her (not sure why you’d want to) all you have to do is light some red candles in a room full of mirrors and yell out her name.

Candyman is thus clearly inspired by these classic american urban legends that have struck fear into gullible children and drunk teenagers for decades. But they aren’t the only stories that gave inspiration to such a film. And they certainly aren’t the scariest.

So What Are The Scariest American Urban Legends?

*clicks torch on*

#1 - The Alaska Triangle

Did you know this frosty American state is home to something scarier than Sarah Palin?

Also known as Alaska’s Bermuda Triangle, this is an area of untouched wilderness stretching from Anchorage and Juneau to Barrow. It’s earned such a reputation as this is where a lot of people go missing.

Okay, fine, an unknown area of woodland where people go missing - this isn’t a mystery, this is a tragedy. But the thing is, it's the sheer volume of people that go missing here which is so concerning.

It started in October 1972, when US House Majority Leader Hale Boggs, a congressman, and a political aide went missing while flying to Juneau. 90 aircrafts and dozens of boats scaled the area to no avail. No trace of the boat, no evidence of human life - or death. It was truly a mystery.

When more planes went missing, when more hikers didn’t return from their adventures, and when more tourists failed to return to their budget hotels, fears grew. Since 1988, 16,000 have disappeared. The rate of missing people here is more than twice the national average.

The disappearances have been traced back to a number of theories including aliens, energy vortexes, and a Tlingit Native American demon known as Kushtaka. The most popular case, however, is for the swirling vortexes of energy which can cause audio and visual hallucinations and health problems. And this isn’t the only location that allegedly homes them.

Search and rescue workers often report the physical feelings associated with vortexes with magnetic anomalies spiking in certain locations.

Could these missing people be lost in the ferocious wilderness of Alaska? Or is something else at play?

#2 - Turnbull Canyon

We now turn to a sunny California, and the 4 mile loop in the Puente Hills reserve. Aside from being known for the majestic views of the Hsi Lai temple and the Rose Hills Memorial Park, it’s been home to a number of paranormal forces.

But the most interesting thing about this location is that it's been considered an evil location for centuries. Local Native American tribes called it Hutukgna, ‘the dark place’. It was forbidden ground, and they didn’t set foot there. So, when Spanish missionaries came to convert them to Christianity, they did it here.

“Now we are without hope. Now we remain for as long as the sun rises and sets in the sky”

To this day locals and tourists report feeling as if they are being watched, and legend has it Native Americans that were killed there remain as spirits, waiting for the final sunset.

The urban legend amassed a new reputation during the Great Depression. Large groups of men and women in dark robes would partake in strange rituals at night which few witnesses have seen.

One witness claims they saw a young boy strapped to a cross. He was surrounded by a circle of people who danced and chanted in unknown languages. The robed group then flipped the cross until it was upside down, and proceeded to beat the child until he was close to death. He was then taken away. We don’t know what became of the child. But we do know a flurry of disappearances and kidnappings haunted the area throughout the early 20th century.

And then it gets even worse.

In the 1930s, an insane asylum was built there. It mysteriously burnt to the ground 10 years later.

Psychic mediums and visitors report feeling unbearable at the location, from reporting classic paranormal activity such as the feeling of being watched or seeing orbs, to feeling as if someone is rummaging about in your own brain.

#3 - Vampire Comte de Saint Germain

New Orleans already has a paranormal reputation. Jacques Saint Germain only blended seamlessly with this historic location. But the thing is, it is said he would have witnessed most of the history for himself.

Throughout history a man of similar stature and personality has been reported.

He was at a notable wedding in Cana where Jesus turned water into wine, he was an alchemist in the 1600s, and he was in high-society in 1742.

It was an encounter in 1760 with one Countess von Gregory which was really interesting: the Countess was convinced she knew him as the son of a man in 1710 - but he hadn’t aged a single day.

He joked, as he often did, that he was over 100 years old.

Fluent in 6 languages, his incredible abilities and knowledge made him an enviable man - and an impossible one, too.

We do know, however, that he came to New Orleans in 1902 from France and invited the elites for a special feast. He didn’t eat a single bite, but did drink dark, red ‘wine’. He then confirmed rumours of when he kidnapped a local woman, held her down, and bit into her neck.

When the police turned up to investigate, they found the room covered in blood stains. But Jacques was nowhere to be seen.

#4 - Nash Road

Like most titles of urban legends, the Three-Legged Lady gives away the story. But this tale fares just as tragic as the other legends that shape this list:

Just outside of Columbus, Mississippi is Nash Road.

Legend has it if you stop on the road, turn off the headlights, and honk the horn one, two, three times, she will appear. She will knock on the roof of your car to alert you of her presence, and race your car to the end of the road. She will slam her body - 3 legs n’ all - against the car the entire time.

There are many alleged origins of the three-legged lady. Some believe she killed a lover, severed off the leg and attached it to her body, whilst others believe she is holding what’s left of her daughter’s corpse. Alternate versions of the legend even claim she is the spirit of a human sacrifice of a nearby satanic cult.

#5 - The Watcher

The first letter was sent in the summer of 2015.

A family had just moved into a grand mansion in Westfield when they started receiving letters from a person who claimed to be watching over the house. They were eerie, they were menacing, and they were signed by someone only known as ‘The Watcher’.

Numerous former owners have all received other letters from the same person with the same sentiment.

“Who has the bedrooms facing the street?”

“Do you need to fill the house with the young blood I requested?”

“Did 657 Boulevard call to you with its force within?”

The Watcher often refers to the house as if it is an entity, even warning one unsuspecting family not to destroy the house when they brought in contractors.

There are many more details to this story, but what I find most intriguing is a paragraph from a letter welcoming a new family:

“657 Boulevard has been the subject of my family for decades now and as it approaches its 110th birthday, I have been put in charge of watching and waiting for its second coming. My grandfather watched the house in the 1920s and my father watched in the 1960s. It is now my time. Do you know the history of the house? Do you know what lies within the walls of 657 Boulevard? Why are you here? I will find out.”

The stalking is still under investigation.

***

I’ve written about enough ghosts, ghouls, and long-forgotten legends for just over a year now to know what true fear is.

And real life is always scarier.

If you liked this post and want to hear more then go on and hit follow!

Can’t wait to hear more real ghost stories? Check out the Peoples’ Paranormal Archive, the online ghost story collection that is chock-ful of real evidence of the supernatural just waiting to traumatise you.

[syntax6]

What are your must read xf fic? Ones that you’ve read over and over

What a fun question! There are so many really excellent fics out there, including hundreds since I stopped writing. The ones I’ve read over and over tend to be the dated ones by now, those that came out when I was heavily into the fandom. Here are just a few of them, in no particular order:

All the Mulders, by Alloway

I find this short story both hilarious and haunting. Scully embraces her power in the upsidedown post-apocalyptic world.

Strangers and the Strange Dead, by Kipler

Taut prose and an intriguing 3rd party POV make this story a winner, and that’s before the kicker of an ending.

Cell Phone, by Marasmus

Talk about your killer twists!

Arizona Highways, by Fialka

I think this is one of the best-crafted stories to come out of the XF. It’s majestic in scope, full of complex literary structure and theme, and yet the plot moves like a runaway freight train. Both the Mulder and Scully characterizations are handled with tender care.

So, We Kissed, by Alelou

What I love about this one is how it grounds Mulder and Scully in the ordinary. Mulder’s terrible secret doesn’t involve a UFO or some CSM-conspiracy. Scully goes to therapy that actually looks like therapy. I guess what I’m saying is that I utterly believe this version of M & S in addition to just enjoying reading about them.

Sore Luck at the Luxor, by Anubis

Hot, funny, atmospheric. What’s not to love?

Black Hole Season, by Penumbra

Nobody does wordsmithing like Penumbra. I use her in arguments with professional writers when they try to tell me that adverbs and adjectives MUST GO. Just gorgeous, sly, insightful prose.

The Dreaming Sea, by Revely

This one reads like a fairytale in all the best ways. Revely creates such loving, beautiful worlds for M & S to live in, and I wish they could stay there always.

Malus Genius, by Plausible Deniability and MaybeAmanda

Funny and fun, with great original characters, a sly casefile and some clear-eyed musings on the perils of getting older. This one resonates more and more the older I get. ;)

Riding the Whirlpool, by Pufferdeux

I look this one up periodically to prove to people that it exists. Scully gets off on a washing machine while Mulder helps. Yet it’s in character? And kinda works? This one has to be read to be believed.

Bone of Contention, by Michelle Kiefer and Kel

People used to tell me all the time that casefiles are super easy to write while the poetic vignette is hard. Well, I can’t say which is harder but there much fewer well-done casefiles in the fandom than there are poetic vignettes. This is one of the great ones. 

Antidote, by Rachel Howard

A fic that manages to be both hot and cold as it imagines Mulder and Scully trying to stay alive in the frosty wilderness while a deadly virus is on the loose. This is an ooooold fic that holds up impressively well given everything that followed it!

Falling Down in Four Acts, by Anubis

Anubis was actually a bunch of different writers sharing a single author name. This particular one paints an angry, vivid world for Our Heroes and their compatriots. There is no happy ending here, but I read this once and it stayed with me forever.

The Opposite of Impulse, by Maria Nicole

A sweet slice of life on a sunny day. When I imagine a gentler universe for Mulder and Scully, this is the kind of place I’d put them.

Dude, I have about a zillion more but I need to put on clothes and be an adult for a while...