#about the snails on my windowsill

[theinkchild]

turning this blog into a snail blog

[a-leg-without-fear]

No Fucking Way (pt.1)

have some absolutely adorable interactions with you and the students at the mansion (and a surprise guest)

Ship: Logan Howlett x Mutant!Fem!Reader 🩸

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 4.1k

Warnings: cursing, mentions of animals neglecting their babies, and a story so sweet my teeth hurt

Inspiration: This scene from X2: X-Men United

Series: No Fucking Way

Your feet pounded against the gravel path beneath you. Small rocks and dirt were kicked up by your well-worn sneakers. Warm sweat dampened the cloth of your sweatshirt around your arms and chest. The sun beat down on your flushed face as a cold breeze bit across your nose. 

It was an absolutely gorgeous, autumn day. Occasional spotted clouds glided at a snail’s pace across a great blue sky. Soft breezes made the great trees surrounding the mansion dance like sheets of amber linen. Red and orange leaves skittered across the yellowing grass fields.

You saw a handful of students out on the lawn enjoying the early morning air. Sybil, a brunette with the ability to see through others’ eyes, sat beneath a large willow by the fish pond with a notepad in her hands. Vienna sat beside her. A strawberry blonde, bright eyed girl who could channel electricity into the palms of her hands. The two exchanged ideas about whatever Sybil was jotting down in her notepad.

Yuna sat not too far from the whispering pair, fingers twirling above a quickly constructed tower of stones and blades of grass. Her usual deep brown eyes now glowed a subtle violet. The maroon hijab she wore wrapped around her neck matched the crimson hues of the changing leaves in the trees around her. 

Jane, a kind-eyed tracker, Matt, a red glasses-wearing fighter, and Mads, a short-haired plant bender, sat in a circle, enjoying their morning coffee and tea together. You gave Mads a quick wave as you jogged past, receiving a warm smile and a shower of flower petals left in your wake.

The gravel path led along the left side of the mansion. Emerald ivy crawled up the brick walls like arms reaching from the earth. An occasional window broke up the light colored bricks. Most had their curtains drawn, which you attributed to a large portion of the students being late risers. One or two had the curtains open to allow fresh sunlight into the shared rooms.

You caught a glimpse of Sapph through one of the windows. Her bright smile and blue eyes were almost radiant as she basked in the streams of sunlight. Vases of sunflowers sat on the windowsill in front of her. The light seemed to bend, refracting from Sapph’s palms and hitting the sunflowers’ leaves.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. The students were happy, the day was beautiful, and you only had one more lap of the mansion to jog before you’d call it a day.

“MAAAOOOWWW!”

You stopped just short of the empty basketball court. The crimson asphalt was covered in crunchy leaves and green brush from the nearby bushes. Corded nets hanging from the steel hoops swayed in the breeze. You looked around you, trying to find the source of the noise.

“MaaooOOW?”

There it was again. Closer than before. It sounded like it came from an incredibly small source, whatever it was. Your sneakers crossed onto the asphalt, toes kicking at leaves and twigs. You let your eyes scan the area around you. The court was surrounded by a wall of hedges. About waist high to you, it helped keep the court clear of too much debris from the trees. 

The mansion sat against the hedges. Large, bay windows looked into a sitting area. Hira, a telepath, sat in one of the plush leather armchairs with a novel in her hands. A white hijab wrapped around her head, glasses peeking out over light brown eyes. Daniel, a light-haired strongman, and Jacob, a bearded speedster, sat on the green-clothed couch across from Hira. Dice and rulebooks laid on the coffee table in front of them.

A rustle in the hedges to your left drew your focus from the students inside. The lowest branches shuddered, small green leaves shaken off and falling to the ground below. You knelt on the asphalt and strained your eyes to see through the dense foliage.

“MoowwWOAAOW!”

That was the only warning you got before a tiny gray and white fur ball burst out of the hedge and landed five feet in front of you. Pointed ears folded back, blue eyes widened, arched back covered in long fuzz.

A kitten. A small, angry, fluffy kitten. No more than a few weeks old. 

You remained where you kneeled on the asphalt, palms upturned and resting on your thighs. You kept a neutral expression on your face as you blinked slowly at the small creature.

After a few moments the kitten relaxed. Its ears faced forward, tail sticking straight up as it approached you. You gingerly extended a hand for it to sniff. Its tiny, pink nose ran across the tips of your fingers as it grew acclimated to your presence.

“Hi, little one,” you said through a barely subdued, ecstatic grin. You had always wanted a cat. Ever since you were a kid, you dreamed of a tiny ball of purrs curled up in your lap and effortlessly improving your mood. Not to mention they were ridiculously easy to take care of.

The kitten took a few more moments to sniff at your fingers. Its tiny eyes squinted as it seemed to devote its entire being to assessing your threat level. Once it seemed satisfied, it rubbed its chin across your thumb. You could already feel the purrs rumbling in its throat.

It took everything in you to not explode from the cuteness overload. This little thing, this tiny itty bitty little thing, chose you. You could feel a swell of pure adoration overtake your chest, the gentle warmth spreading from head to toe.

The cat continued to rub on your hand, occasionally nibbling on your fingers with the sides of its mouth. You lifted your free hand in an attempt to pet the kitten. Moving slowly to not startle it, you gently ran your fingers across its fluffy back. An explosion of purrs, like a hive of angry bees, met your affection. The cat dug its little head into the palm of your hand. You took the hint, giving it gentle scratches on the soft spots by its ears.

“You are the cutest fucking thing I’ve seen in my life,” you breathed in astonishment. The cat seemed to enjoy the compliment, pawing at your hands and attempting to climb closer to your face. You scooped its tiny body in your hands and lifted it to your chest.

Tiny paws kneaded at the fabric of your sweatshirt. Little needle-like claws pulled at the threads. The kitten looked up at you with squinted eyes. You carefully rose to your feet, doing your best to not jostle the miniature creature cradled to your chest.

The cat nestled into the crook of your neck. Its tiny nose puffed against your skin while a category-5 purricane buzzed in your hands.

You would die for this cat and you just met it a minute ago.

Mentally saying “fuck it” to the rest of your jog, you began to gingerly walk back inside. You avoided walking on the gravel to make as little noise and sudden movements as possible. The cat seemed to appreciate the gesture, with what miniscule amount its tiny brain could comprehend, as a small lick from its rough tongue passed over your neck.

You garnered a few sideways looks from the students on the lawn as you walked by again. Mads cocked her head, fairy themed earrings jingling, at the gentleness in your step and the backtracking in your path.

“You alright, ma’am?” she called out. Jane and Matt perked up at Mads’s exclamation. Jane looked up at you with curiosity written in her features while Matt’s dark brows furrowed.

A quick gesture to the buzzing fur ball in your hands was all the trio needed. Their expressions quickly shifted from confusion to utter joy. They whispered among themselves about the newest addition to the mansion as you passed by.

That method is how you seamlessly moved through the bustling early-risers inside the foyer. One perplexed look was met with a nod to the kitten in your hands and the students parted like the Red Sea. Excited murmurs spread through the students like wildfire. “Is that a cat?” “Oh my god, kitty!” “It’s so cute!” “I hope we can keep it!”

The last student you passed before reaching your destination was Bella, a time manipulator. She was just on her way out of the professor’s study, closing the heavy oak door behind her. A kind smile met yours when she looked in your direction. 

“Morning, ma’am. Need to see the- Wait, is that a cat?” she asked, eyes widening.

“Shhh. Yes, it is. Could you open the door for me?” you whispered. Bella lifted her first finger to her mouth, winking to indicate she understood, then twisted the brass knob and swung the door open before you.

“Good luck,” she whisper-yelled after you.

A grand office stood before you. Comfortable leather settees were positioned in front of a solid, mahogany desk. Rows and rows of bookshelves filled to the brim lined the walls. Trinkets and remembrances decorated available surfaces and empty wall space.

The professor, or Charles Xavier as you knew him, sat in his motorized wheelchair behind the large desk. His hairless head was lowered, blue eyes darting across the pages of a copy of House of Leaves. A single finger raised next to his aged face to acknowledge your presence.

“One moment, please. From both you and your new friend,” he said. A minute passed, seconds counted by the paws kneading into your shoulder, before Charles closed the book and met your gaze. A warm smile matched your enthusiastic one, “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I found this little guy outside,” you began. The cat perked up at the mention of itself, eyes blinking up at you then looking at the professor. You ran a finger under the kitten’s chin as you continued, “He was an angry little fella, all bushy tailed, but he warmed right up to me. He was hiding in the hedges by the basketball court.”

“Ah, I see,” Charles replied. He lowered a hand to maneuver his wheelchair. The low buzz of the machinery heralded his movement as he rounded the desk to sit in front of you and the cat.

“I didn’t see any other cats around, but the good news is he seems to be old enough for solid food,” you said. The cat blinked slowly at the professor, its little nose sniffing the air in front of it.

“It seems his mother abandoned him. Weaned him off her too quickly and left him stunted. Poor thing,” Charles said, head tilting and lips pulling into a slight frown. You gawked at him.

“You can read the cat’s mind, too?” you asked. The abilities of the mutants around you never ceased to amaze. Especially one as powerful as Charles Xavier.

He smiled at the kitten, oblivious to your gawking, stretching out his hands to you, “May I?”

You gently lifted the cat off your chest, prying the tiny talons from your sweatshirt, and placed the furball in the professor’s hands. Charles lifted the cat to his chest and ran a gentle hand down its back.

“You’ll need to wake Rogue and Bobby, have them run to the pet store down the road. This one will need plenty of love and nourishment if he’s to thrive,” he said. You stared at him, dumbstruck.

“We can keep him?”

“He can stay, as long as he likes. Much is the same with the rest of those who live here,” Charles clarified. The little gray kitten nuzzled against Charles’s chin, the professor’s smile growing.

“Okay. Okay! Yes! I’ll go get Rogue and Bobby,” you said, absolute jubilation filling your lungs. 

You left Charles and the cat to continue their telepathic conversation as you raced up the giant, double staircase. Ornately carved wooden banisters ran along the edges of the stairs, polish shining in yellow circles from the chandeliers hanging on the ceiling. When the stairs divided into two sets, running opposite directions, you cut to the right. Your feet skipped over carpeted steps in your haste to reach your destination.

Once your sneakers landed on the second floor, you broke into a jog down the hallway. Door after wooden door flew by you on both sides of the hall. Paintings of peaceful landscapes and glowing sconces lined the wooden walls. A large window sat in the white wall at the end of the hall. Daylight streamed in and cast golden spots on the wood floors.

You stopped at the last door on the left. Rapping three quick knocks on the door, you bounced on your toes. There was a cat in the mansion. A cat! One that would live with you! You silently thanked whatever god it was that decided for you to be next in the cat distribution system.

It took another set of knocks on the door for you to hear movement on the other side. Bleary groans and rustling sheets leaked through the cracks in the door. You bit your lip in an attempt to quell your excitement.

The doorknob turned and a ruffled-looking Rogue appeared in the doorway. Dark hair just barely smoothed down, eyes squinted, robe hastily thrown over a nightgown.

“Vampire? Shit, what time is it?” she asked, grogginess laced in her tone.

“Doesn’t matter. We have a cat,” you said. Your smile widened as you waited for her response. Rogue eyed you, up and down, as she assessed her living alarm clock.

“Logan’s not a cat. We’ve been over this,” she said. She exhaled a puff of air through her lips to blow at the white bangs that fell over her eyes. You rolled your eyes playfully at the jab.

“Not Logan this time. An actual cat. A kitten,” you explained. Rogue’s eyebrows rose as her eyes widened.

“Wait, there’s a cat?” Bobby called from beyond the door. His blonde head popped up beside Rogue’s. The couple seemed to be much more awake now.

“Yup,” you said, annunciating the p. Bobby and Rogue looked at each other, smiles growing, before looking back to you. 

“Where is it? Can we see it?” Rogue asked.

“Charles needs the two of you to run and get cat stuff first. Like food, litter, toys. Anything you can think of,” you replied. At the first sign of them objecting, you continued, “You guys can get literally anything you want. Treats, cat towers, little obstacle courses. Just make sure it’s safe for a younger kitten.”

“We’re on it, boss!” Bobby said, happiness palpable and blue eyes sparkling, as his hand clapped on Rogue’s clothed shoulder.

“100%. This cat will be spoiled rotten,” Rogue confirmed. With that situation squared away, you gave the pair a quick nod, beaming at them, then took off back down the hallway.

The run back to the professor’s office was an even shorter journey due to you jumping down several steps at a time. A few students looked gravely concerned at your acrobatics. Especially Ash, who helped Jean with patching students up by being a walking pain-reliever.

Your hand caught on the doorframe of Charles’s office and you swung into the doorway, breathless. He and the cat were much like how you had left them. Tiny gray body tucked against his neck, both having their eyes closed.

“Bobby and Rogue are on their way out,” you said. Charles hummed in response, eyes falling open.

“This one’s taken a shine to you, my dear. Says you’re the first to treat him kindly,” he said, a proud smile painted across his face. You let out an incredulous laugh.

“Guess he really is one of us, huh?”

“More than you know,” Charles said through an amused chuckle. You approached the professor and ball of cuddles carefully, attempting to not disturb the little creature.

“Mrrpp?” the cat trilled. It squinted at you from beneath Charles’s chin, paws kneading into the back of the professor’s hands. You could almost hear its purrs from where you stood.

“Does he have a name?” you asked. You scratched beneath its furry chin as the cat stretched out its jaw into your hand. 

“I was hoping you might know one,” Charles said. He pressed the cat into your hands and you gladly scooped the little ball of love into your arms. You could feel the purrs emanating from the cat’s belly vibrate against your chest. Tiny, thin whiskers tickled along the underside of your jaw.

“Jeez, uh. I don’t know. Let me think on it,” you responded. It was hard to think when all of your focus was drawn to the fluffy creature cradled in your hands. Charles chuckled at your indecision.

“I’m sure whatever you choose, our newest student will happily respond to it,” he assured. He used his now free hands to dust cat hair off his crisp, navy blue suit. As you turned to walk out, Charles said, “Make sure to give him a bath. This young one’s lived outside for far too long.”

“Will do,” you said. You shifted your arms so you could better support the cat on your chest, then set a course for the upstairs bathroom closest to your and Logan’s room.

It seemed the news of a cat on campus had spread throughout the student body. A large crowd had gathered outside of Charles’s study. Students, an array of ages and stages of dress, craned their necks over their peers to try and catch a glimpse. 

“I wanna see!” Addie, a platinum blonde seven-year-old who could speak any language, called up from the space next to your hip. Your legs were framed by her and Ryan, a nine-year-old brunet with impenetrable skin. 

“Guys, the cat is very small. He needs quiet!” you said, voice coming out as a stage whisper. A hush fell over the group in front of you. Wide, hopeful eyes blinked up at you. You sighed, untucking the cat from the crook of your neck and holding him in front of you. At the sight of the small bundle of fur in your hands, a buzz of excited whispers passed from ear to ear. 

“Does he have a name?” Ryan asked. An echo of agreement sounded around the crowd.

“Not yet, so everyone start brainstorming!” you said. A renewed vigor filled the conversation as names were debated back and forth between students. You used the distraction to slip away, climbing back up the stairs and baring left this time.

This hallway was nearly identical to the one on the opposite side of the stairs. Wooden paneling covered the walls, patterned red carpet stretched down the middle of the floor, potted plants sat here and there. You knocked once on the first door to the right. Receiving no answer, you pushed it open.

Inside was a full bathroom. White tiles lined the walls and floor, the grout a cool gray. Warm patterned shower curtains hung from a steel rod suspended between two walls. A vanity mirror hung on the wall opposite the door. You flicked on the light switch, making the three globes above the mirror glow and send dancing reflections throughout the bathroom.

“Alright, fella. Let’s get you clean,” you said as you sat the cat in the sink. His little, furry body looked like a small sponge sitting in the white porcelain. A confused face looked up at you through squinted eyes.

“Mraow?”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not gonna like this part,” you responded. You leaned over, opening the white cabinets below the sink, and pulled out the unscented shampoo Logan liked to use. Straightening up, you noticed the cat had remained where you sat it. Prim, proper, posture like a little gentleman.

You smirked, scritching the top of his head between his ears. His face tilted up into your touch. 

“Such a sweet little guy,” you cooed. You gave him a few more well deserved pets before scooping his little body and turning on the faucet. You made sure the handle was turned to a warm, not hot, setting and the pressure was nice and low. 

The cat startled a bit in your palm at the sudden rush of water. A little paw raised, batting in the air between him and the running water. You dipped a finger in the water and brought it to his nose for proper inspection. A few sniffs, a couple licks, then his chin was rubbing on your fingertip again.

You took it as a good sign, dipping the same hand back under the faucet and letting the water coat your skin. Once enough water had gathered in your hand you lifted it to the cat’s back. He tracked your movement. Small, squinted eyes followed your hand as you placed your palm on his back. You felt the water droplets sink into the fluffy, gray fur and soak into his skin.

“This ok?” you asked, like the cat could give you an answer. The small creature blinked up at you. He seemed unbothered by the moisture. You gave him another palm-full of water to get him adjusted to the temperature, the sensation. Not a peep from this little sir.

You set the cat back in the sink, just the tail end of his back beneath the running faucet. He hunkered down into the smallest loaf you’d ever seen. Front feet tucked under his fuzzy chest, tail curled around his side, eyes blinking slowly up at you. You cupped water in your palm and let it run through his fur. Before too long you had a drenched, buzzing kitten in the sink.

“You are the strangest creature…” you wondered aloud. You popped the lid open on Logan’s shampoo and lathered up your hands. Thankfully, you didn’t spot any fleas or other parasites hopping on the kitten’s body. Washing out the dirt and grime shouldn’t take too long.

“Why are you hunched over the sink with my soap?” a gruff voice said from behind you. You smiled, looking over your shoulder.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” you greeted. Logan leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded across his chest. He wore his trademarked white tank top and loose jeans buckled with a brown belt. His dark hair was fluffy and unstyled, long strands hanging in front of his wrinkled eyebrows.

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. He pushed off the wall and stepped up next to you, his boots clipping on the tiles.

“Right. So, funny story,” you began. You ran your soapy fingers through the cat’s soaked fur. Logan’s hip leaned on the counter as he continued to stare at you. Jutting your chin down at the sudsy feline, you continued, “I found this guy outside and he made me think of you.”

“Made you think of…” Logan trailed off when his hazel eyes landed on the kitten.

“You know, with his cat ears,” you explained. You scrubbed at the kitten’s purring body while Logan spluttered next to you.

“Cat ears?!” 

“Yeah. Those hair floofs you get when you style your hair. They look like cat ears,” you said. You pretended to ignore the pure indignation spouting from the man next to you. A knowing smirk stretched across your lips.

“I do not have cat ears,” Logan argued.

“Yes you do!” Rogue shouted, voice echoing down the hall.

Your indifferent mask broke as you doubled over, cackling. The cat’s head tilted as it watched your face disappear below the counter. Logan huffed, arms folding over his chest again.

It took you a few moments to regain your composure. Giggles bubbled up your throat everytime you glanced back at Logan next to you. He rolled his eyes at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” he grumbled. But, because you knew him so well, you could see the smile tugging at the edge of his lips.

You cleared your throat, squaring your shoulders to rinse off the cat sitting patiently in the sink. Warm water trailed through your fingers and washed away the suds gathered on the kitten’s body. Squinted eyes watched you, blinking slowly and serenely, purrs vibrating against your hands.

“Happy little fuzzball, isn’t he?” Logan said. The kitten turned its head to peer at Logan. You ran a wet finger between its ears, smoothing the fur back and washing soap away.

“He certainly is,” you hummed. When an idea popped in your head, you felt your grin widen and your gaze slip over to Logan next to you, “You know, he still needs a name.”

“So name him,” Logan replied instantly. A tentative, large hand reached into the sink and ran two fingers down the cat’s soaked back. The kind and delicate gesture only further solidified your idea.

“Actually… I was hoping you could name him.”

Logan’s eyes snapped up to meet yours, relaxed expression melting into pure confusion.

“What?” he asked.

this short story is kind of a tribute to the lovely, lovely folks in the murdock tuna team. i have nothing but love and an endless stream of thanks to give to them. you all have inspired me to be a better artist, a better author, a better person. love you, blob blob 🐟

Want to be on the taglist? Fill out this form!

[fanaticsnail]

Hello Snail! Hope you’re doing well 🫶 I’ve been a fan of your writing for awhile, and had a little au idea pop into my head that I thought you would enjoy :)

Shapeshifter!Mihawk who wants to get closer to Reader, yet can see that they are intimidated by him. One day, while flying about the island to keep an eye on things, Mihawk is injured in bird form and crashes into a bush. Reader witnesses this and goes to rescue the “poor birdie,” not realizing this hawk is really Lord Dracule himself.

Shenanigans ensue, including:

- attempting to feed him seeds or worms

- miHawk bringing flowers to the windowsill or little trinkets and jewelry he “finds” (he’s sweating in the treasury to find something you would like)

- helping preen his feathers

- ranting to your new bird friend about the scary, attractive warlord who seems to just stare from a distance (Mihawk sees this as a green light to court you)

- “wow those eyes are SO familiar..”

- protective bird following you around/on your shoulder (he pecked someone who was flirting with you)

Keep taking care of yourself! And have a lovely rest of your day ✨

- bird brained anon 🪶

Oh my gosh, I need this. I need this so bad. I can see him being such a beautiful little raven or obviously a hawk. First thought: Diaval from Maleficent. But it's Mihawk, and he can switch at will.

Allow me the courtesy to write you an epilogue to your thoughts, I have been thinking about this for about 20 minutes and I needed to get it out. I'm not sure of the word count, it's just a little thing. Also, forgive the dodgy Photoshop. Raven was a stock photo edited on the Polish app on my phone and superimposed in front of Yoru from OPLA and I added some flowers to it.

Pretty Bird

Masterlist Here

Themes: fairytale creature au, avarial!Mihawk x reader, shapeshifter!Mihawk x reader. Part 2 here.

Little thought: If he's injured in his bird-like form, what if he can't switch back for a while? What if he's forced to remain nestled in the roofing of your country cottage until you manage to hear his hiss-like, pained squawks.

The bird is angry. He doesn't want to accept aid, but at the offer of a small piece of stewed meats, and drink by the warmth of your kitchen fire, who was he go resist such comfort? You name him: "pretty bird," and coo affectionately as you look over his feathers and insure there is no ache in his broken, hollowed bones.

Is he frightened? If he is, he surely cannot say. He is just a bird, after all. You bring him offerings of a wooden crate used to carry your homemade vintage of brandy-wine you produced from your country garden, and he accepts it immediately as his personal resting nook.

When your back is turned while you're washing up, you could've sworn you witnessed him dip his onyx beak into the goblet of brandy on your countertop. There was something in the way his golden eyes rolled in his head at the flavor that almost seemed human. You offer him a small thimbleful of the brandy, and he seems to bob his head and shake his tail in gratitude.

You hum to him, and he echoes the tune in a pleasant, deep warble back at you, coaxing a giggle from your throat. You offer him chin scratches as a reward for allowing you to check over his wounds, and his entire body leans into the gentle touch.

As his wounds seem to heal, you're almost remorseful at the prospect of never seeing this beautiful bird again. Such creatures are not meant for captivity, and you ensure to tell him as such as you unwind his bandage and remove his splint.

The last night you spend in the company of your pretty bird, you offer him an anecdote of your childhood: wandering the halls in the the high keep gallery on Kuraigana mountain when the former lord reigned. You longed to return, but you were not certain of the new lord's temperament.

You were unsure of what happened since the old man's natural passing, just as you were unsure of the Draculean man who now ruled thereafter. Was he kind and courteous as the ruler before him, or was he simply a man who now reigned where a kind man once homed: you were certainly too shy to ever approach him to ask.

All you could do is enjoy the splendor of your cottage, trading in handmade crafts with the former staff of high keep Kuraigana when the new lord retired them. They were elderly, and you were grateful of the Draculean man's kindness.

As you slipped into peaceful slumber by your open fire beside the crate, enjoying the warmth while laying on your sheepskin tapestry, the soft bob of talons was barely audible beside your slumbering body. Cloudy vapors of scentless, black smoke shrouded the bird's form and in its place was a creature native to the land, an angelic figure from the fables of old.

The winged man crouched beside you, cocking his head inquisitively to the side as he studied your features in his natural form. His amber eyes held curiosity and gratitude in its honey-like hue as he whispered gently beneath his breath a soft repetition of your name. Now that his tongue could claim your title, he was going to praise your kindness by rolling it over his palate at every moment he spent thinking of you.

"I will not forget your eagerness to aid me when my body was broken," he gently hovered his human like hands over your face, his taloned claws desiring to give you a gentle caress, but his thoughts of your comfort and consent to his touch pulls his urges from his mind. "I was just a bird to you, and you homed and treated me with not a semblance of payment in return."

The soft shudder of his onyx wings was silent, as if testing to see if they had healed before he slowly crept from your door and flew back to his castle in the dark of the night.

When you awoke, you heard a soft rap at your door and a slot of a letter beneath the iron frame of your letter slip. You first gazed to the brandy-wine crate, sighing off your soft sorrow at your pretty bird slipping away without saying goodbye.

Rising to your feet before stooping to collect the letter from the floor, you notice the wax seal was embroidered with the stamped letter "D" on its back. You cocked your head inquisitively to the side before using your blades letter opener to coax the waxy shell from the page. The letter was curt and brief, but the lettering was careful and almost loving.

"I would formally desire to extend an invitation to the premier reopening of the Kuraigana Gallery, by the bequest of Lord Dracule."

And who were you to refuse such an invitation from your new lord, regardless to how intimidating you found his reclusive nature? Donning your best formal garb, you make the lengthy trek towards the high keep with your nerves depicted by your heart jumping to your throat, and the swell of your tongue feeling heavy behind your teeth.

As you wander to the gray slate steps, you are blissfully ignorant of the amber gaze of your pretty bird watching over your every move with a soft curiosity in his eyes and a smile on his beak. He was so excited you accepted his invitation, and he was looking forward to showcasing his home and offering you sanctuary within his walls, just as you did to him when he was but a humble raven.

He was smitten, and he could hardly believe he had fallen prey to expressing adoration of a mortal being as yourself. One thing he was certain of was the fact he was to begin his romantic pursuit of you immediately, intensely and passionately. He could only hope you would not shy away from his winged form, and instead receive his affections with your heart and mind open to it.

[strawhatbougie]

A thread of my zosan fics thus far that nobody asked for:

(All rated E)

Tongue Like a Knife (Or in This Case, A Sword)

"While the deep and dangerous voice of Pirate Hunter Zoro has made probably hundreds cower in fear, it made Sanji inexplicably and undeniably turned on. A horrifying realization that had him waving his own internal white flag time and time again before his knees gave out from embarrassment (or arousal, but he’d rather die than admit that)."

https://archiveofourown.org/works/56562154

Kissgate

Nami starts a rather calculated game of truth or dare to get Zoro and Sanji to realize their pent-up sexual frustration--and hopefully relieve their friend group of the constant petty arguing.

What Nami didn't factor in was how wrong she'd be to think what follows would be any better.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57011413/chapters/144984268

Those Damn Fingers

The usual suspects either busy or unwilling to help, Zoro enlists Franky and Luffy to help pick out a shirt for his first date with Sanji. Zoro's canonically 110cm chest ensues.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57644626/chapters/146687353

The Knight Shift

Sanji was a royal failure. Literally.

Deemed beyond redemption for being the only Vinsmoke with humility, Sanji is appointed a personal knight to keep him under surveillance. That position soon becomes a revolving door of noblemen when the young prince decides to force them into reassignment by being as intolerable as possible. The first two folded quickly, Sanji believing that one more would disappoint his father enough to retire the position entirely.

Unfortunately for the third prince of Germa, three was this knight’s lucky number.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57980884/chapters/147604246

Kiss Me Thru the Snail

Sanji looks at his own snail, and wonders if it dreams of being set free in the lush greenery of Kambakka Kingdom. Maybe he could set it on his windowsill and let it slither out into the night, Zoro’s idiotic goading slowly but surely being lost to the trees.

For if a marimo speaks in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it even make a sound? 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58384315

Lost in Translation

His tone lowers, frustration curdling every word. “You wanna take this outside?”

Zoro’s half-hard dick twitches under his haori. “Right now?”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58680220

Couldn't Care Less

Zoro didn’t care.

Unbothered. Unconcerned. Indifferent. Nonchalant.

Zoro couldn’t give less of a shit that Sanji was gone.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58726597

Slip of the Tongue

Sanji had to admit, though, it was getting more and more difficult during times when islands were few and far between. It left him even more sensitive and riled up when Zoro did get his hands on him. In combination with Zoro’s Three Kink Style: Moaning Cook technique—where the swordsman does exactly what he’s fucking doing right now, crooning dulcet encouragement and ‘baby's in his ear—there wasn’t anything Sanji wouldn’t do to get that oaf’s stupidly big cock in or around him.

Including embarrassing the ever-loving shit out of himself, apparently. 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59061058

The Bet

The mosshead became in charge of planning their next date.

Sanji should’ve seen this coming. Standing here now in their bedroom, knowing Zoro even better than he knew himself, it comes as no surprise.

Did he pick a nice place to eat? Maybe a fun new activity that they can become overly competitive about?

Of course not.

No, Zoro takes the one filthy desire that Sanji accidentally hinted at on a whim and fucking runs with it.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59233723

Man Spreader

Sanji was sure he heard the idiot incorrectly. It was the only possibility.

“Gross, dude—TMI,” Usopp grimaces.

“What do you mean? I spread men all of the time!” Zoro shoots back with an indignant scowl.

Okay, then Sanji heard him perfectly.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59003473/chapters/150417478#workskin

Plated

“Which one is this?” Zoro asks, peering down at his plate. He sounds almost bored, like he’s speaking to someone—something—not even worth his time. Something that’s only there to elicit a response so he can properly enjoy his meal.

Rule three: only speak when prompted.

“Hamachi,” Sanji replies.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/59438275

[scorchieart]

Stuck in Traffic Jam

Genre: Comedy

Characters: Clavis Lelouch & the foreign affairs faction

Wordcount: 600

Prompt: Stuck in a traffic jam

A/N: My gift for the 2023 Ikemen Exchange over on @flash-exchange for @spoopy-fish-writes! The request was for Clavis, but I think we can all agree his stories are infinitely more entertaining with the squad in tow.

The carriage lurched left, knocking Clavis’s arm from its perch on the windowsill and jerking him awake. He stifled a yawn and rubbed his eyes, blocking out the sunlight while taking in the familiar scene before him. Over the years he had grown accustomed to road trips passed without words, although those were typically the consequence of indifference among his faction members. But today’s was a stillness Clavis did not often experience in the company of Noble Beasts. 

The shaking disturbed Luke’s slumber for a moment, but whatever the boy was dreaming of proved superior to the aftershock of a bumpy road as he shook his head drowsily and muttered something about a legendary beehive before resting his head against Clavis’s shoulder and resuming his snoring. Nokto slept soundlessly across from the pair completely undisturbed by the wobbly ride, his arms and legs folded so tightly against himself he resembled a hibernating hedgehog. But it didn’t take long to discover why Nokto had squished himself to take as little space as possible as directly beside him sat several miniature towers of books, the steadfast arm of Chevalier wrapped protectively around them. Chevalier’s other arm was preoccupied with keeping the book he was reading steady as the carriage traversed through the rough terrain, and the sight made Clavis heckle on dried saliva as he cleared his throat in disdain.

“We’re not there yet?” Clavis asked, his voice grainy with sleep. Without waiting for the reply Chevalier certainly would never give, Clavis carefully lowered Luke’s head onto the seat beside him and stuck his head out the window. 

With all the jerking and jostling the carriage was making, Clavis was sure their snoozing squad had stumbled upon some obscure mountain path on their way to the Jadean Royal Gala, but one look outside showed flatlands as far as the eye could see. Puzzled, he looked at the ground and watched the thin wheels of the carriage violently rise and fall as they rolled over hundreds of randomly-shaped chunks of wood scattered across the road, each one battered and chipped as if a tree had been ripped apart. The carriage bucked and jolted as it crossed each piece, and as Clavis turned his head to ask the driver why they were taking this path he spotted dozens more carriages lined up in front of them slowly bumbling over the woody route in turn. 

“Apologies, Your Highness!” the driver called when he noticed Clavis’s top half dangling outside the window. “A herd of sheep have broken out of their pen and are blocking the path ahead. This is the quickest route to Jade, I’m afraid, so we’ll have to wait until they settle.”

“How obscene!” Clavis yelled, crawling back into the carriage and frantically poking Luke’s arm. “Get up! No, I don’t have any honey, but this is no time to eat! I bet exclusive selling rights of my next entry in the Lelouch Trap Series on us getting there before Prince Silvio— Nokto! Up, up!”

“How come Chevie doesn’t hafta go?” Luke whined blearily as Clavis latched onto his and Nokto’s wrists.

“He’s not complaining,” Clavis said, forcing open the carriage door with a sharp kick. The carriage lilted at a snail’s pace, but that didn’t stop Clavis from leaping out with boundless flourish and bolting towards the Jadean palace. Onlookers from within carriages watched with awe at the manic prince dragging two half-asleep men in his wake, but in all the commotion Chevalier merely sighed, laid his books out more evenly on the now-emptied seats, and casually flipped to the next page.

I admire and envy anyone with the superpower to read books in a moving vehicle. I nearly vomit when I so much as read a text on my phone.

Tagging: @queengiuliettafirstlady @violettduchess @venulus @thewitchofbooks @leonscape @rhodolitesrose @venti-tangents @dear-sciaphilia @ikesenwritings @myonlyjknight @ladyofcrowsx @otomefoxystar @my-day6

If you would like to be added or removed from my tag list, please send me an ask or a message.

[kalikai]

Astonishingly difficult to get nice footage of the little guy—because to film this I was using my right hand to hold up my phone while using my left hand to hold up a loupe against its camera lens—but look at this adorable flatworm having the zoomies.

So cool how his whole head stretches and distorts to squeeze between the clumps of algae in his path.

This is footage of my freshwater ecosphere. Just a big ol' jug of pond-water from the stagnant creek near my house, plus a big scoop of its sludgy silt and some dead leaves and things that I scooped up with it. Then I screwed the lid on tight, plonked it down on my windowsill to get plenty of light, and have left it be for the past 3-ish weeks.

Initially, the main forms of life were a few dozen tubifex worms, doing their frenetic tubifex dance; plus a couple of aquatic snails, a worm, and many mosquito larvae.

The mosquito larvae hatched over time (and perished in the jar because I didn't open it to free them, so they returned to feed the waters from whence they came), I spotted a leech in there, the snails started breeding, and the tubifex population crashed (I think the leech was preying on them)

Now the water is dancing with copepods, the snails are going ham on the biofilm growing everywhere, and there's so much algae that the water is bubbling with so much oxygen that it almost looks like carbonated mineral water.

And of course there are these cool flatworms zooming around too. (This guy being one of the biggest; about one centimetre long)

Such a cool project, and I'm so glad I started it. All the joys of an aquarium with zero of the effort. 🥰

[vorpalbun]

Witch Machines part 2

In part 2, Deryn says goodbye and gtfo

One the way back home, Deryn considered the proposal from another angle. If no one had ever left Sign before, he would be the first, which would be something worth showing off about after he came back. He stepped over another tree root as the path descended into the valley. It occurred to him that he had already adjusted to the idea of leaving Sign very quickly, given that it was completely unprecedented and would instantly change his life. He preferred not to think about why this might be. Instead, he started to plan the outfits he would need for the journey. By the time he reached the door, he had almost forgotten why all this was happening in the first place.

Kicking his shoes off and pushing the door open at the same time, he revealed his parents sitting on the floor and talking in hushed tones. They turned to look at him with quiet, worried expressions before bursting into simultaneous chatter.

“What did she say? Are you alright?” His mother wrapped an arm around his neck and pulled him down to her level.

“Elder Morlan came round! I told him you weren’t here, but he said—” his father began before Deryn could answer.

“It went better than expected, actually, but listen,” Deryn put a reassuring hand on their arms to deliver what he knew would be difficult news.

-----

The following morning, Deryn threw some of his most practical outfits and other pieces of clothing into a bag and sat on the floor to get ready. His mother poked her head around the door. She sighed. He continued to apply eyeliner, bending over a small mirror propped against the wall. She sighed again.

“It’s just all so sudden,” she said without him needing to say anything. “But if it’s what Neela suggests…”

Deryn’s parents had struggled to understand what leaving Sign would mean since it had never occurred to them that anyone would do so. But the promise that Deryn would come back made it easier for them to accept the prospect.

He straightened up and turned to face her. “I know. But I think it’s best if I got on with it and go now,” he said as cheerfully as he could. He did not want to admit that he was looking forward to leaving almost as much as he was afraid. “And I’ll be back before you know it,” he added.

She smiled fondly. “Well, we’ll be downstairs and when you’re ready we can go over to Neela’s.”

“Do you think a lot of people will be there?” he said as he ran fingers through straight black hair that he did not believe needed brushing.

“I think everyone will be there.”

She left the room as he got up to finish packing. He had not lived in this room long and had not had the chance to accumulate the fossils, snail shells, feathers, and particularly attractive blackened sticks he had magically burned that usually cluttered all of the rooms he had lived in. When moving somewhere new in the village, he would start the collection again. This happened every couple of years, as it did for most people in Sign. Homes were small and packed close in the valley, so it was common to move to new households or swap rooms for a very slight change in scenery, often starting in early childhood. A pine cone sailed through the open window and landed on the floor. Barely hesitating, he picked it up, went over to the window, and threw it back out.

“Ow,” said a young woman on the ground, rubbing her arm. She wore a long blue shirt tied at the waist and loose trousers similar to Deryn’s.

“Looks like my aim is getting better,” he said, leaning lazily on the windowsill. Arianan had started coming to wherever Deryn lived and getting his attention this way when they were children. Back then, they had still needed permission to go into the woods without supervision, and this remained as a fun habit.

“Get down here,” she hissed, beckoning.

Deryn climbed onto the windowsill and reached for a thick branch of the nearest tree. Then, stepping onto the branch below it and the one below that, he jumped onto the ground, cushioned by a layer of leaf litter.

“I saw what happened,” she said quietly.

“Everyone saw.”

So what’s happening now?”

He recounted the conversation he had had with Neela.

“What?” she gasped. “What does that mean?”

“It means I won’t be here for a while,” he said slowly, making what he thought was a clear statement more obvious. “They want me to go find a witch who can teach me more about magic and I’ll get better at it. But I’ll come back.”

“That’s so…” she paused. “I didn’t know we could do that.”

“Leave Sign or get better at magic?”

“Both, to be honest. It’s not like anyone talks about magic unless you’re involved.”

“That’s true,” he said, taking all the recognition he could get.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Not sure, but I’ll come back as soon as I can. I’ll really miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too,” she said, hugging him. He hugged back tightly.

-----

Deryn’s mother was correct, everyone in the village had turned out to see him off, huddled on doorsteps and perching in the surrounding trees. It was difficult to keep things secret for long in such a small community and everything since the fire was the most interesting thing that had happened for a long time, possibly ever.

Normally comfortable being the centre of attention, even Deryn felt embarrassed with so many eyes on him as he climbed up the steps to his aunt’s house. He went inside to receive the map to the witch’s house and shortly emerged with Neela.

“Today we add a new record to our archives!” Neela beamed. She had volunteered to make the announcement, wanting to keep the tone hopeful. “For the first time, one of us will leave Sign to go on a journey and, of course, return.”

Deryn stood by sheepishly. When Neela gestured for him to address the crowd, he straightened up and looked wide-eyed around at everyone he had ever known in his life.

“Um. Thanks for coming everyone.” He scanned the faces to find Elder Morlan, leaning on his daughter’s arm. He knew he needed to leave on a good note, and chose his words carefully, making sure to be both as endearing and serious as possible.

“Elder Morlan, I am really sorry about what happened. I’m also sorry I won’t be here to help fix your house, but it’s my responsibility to find the witch.” He scanned the crowd again. “I miss you all already.”

There was polite applause and murmurs from the crowd. They did not know what to make of what was happening were not sure how to respond.

Deryn went down to his parents at the foot of the steps and embraced them. After a tearful goodbye, he picked up his bag and walked through the crowd to a path leading to one of the many groves tended by the people of Sign. He turned and waved, trying to remain upbeat, then turned back and walked away.

[verpine95]

BDAY GIFT FOR MY FRIEND @mail-me-a-snail HAPPY BIRTHDAY IM SO GLAD I KNOW U

(V/Johnny Silverhand Smut below the cut, very very much NSFW)

Vance wearily laid down in his apartment. The last three days had been spent chasing some fucker back and forth across NC. His muscles ached from the whole ordeal. Vance was glad to be home, even if the apartment was sort of crummy it’d do. Too tired to even change out of clothes, he laid there, waiting for the embrace of sleep to take him away from the conscious world.

Time passed, and after an annoying amount of time, Vance realized his brain wouldn’t stop going. He needed a distraction, he needed to relax.

Flicking on the TV blasted Just AdsTM across the apartment and he quickly shut it off, trash content as it was. He didn’t have anything to read and he wasn’t hungry.

Johnny would have some quippy to say about all this, Vance was sure. But, he hadn’t seen the rocker around in his head for a little bit. On one hand it meant things were a little quieter, but on the other hand, and he was loath to admit this, he missed him. He missed his stupid commentary and that stupid smirk and that stupid way Johnny could get him riled up.

The thought of Johnny started to seep into his gut, putting some heat there. Vance thought about it for a second or two before thinking “Fuck it”.

His brain danced around Johnny’s voice, his cocky attitude, and what they could get up to with a few drinks in their system.

With a few buckles undone, Vance slid his hands down to his crotch, starting to grind against his fingertips over his pants.

His nerves lit up, this was what he needed right now, and he needed it badly.

The man let out a groan, and pressed harder against his cock, “Fuck.” He slipped his hand into his pants and touched his eager cock. He was hard and wet, his body more desperate than he had even realized.

Vance slicked up his fingers and ran them against his cock, seizing pleasure from his body as best he could. His head felt foggy, but that felt good. As he did so, his wrist began to cramp from the confined space. He couldn’t quite touch himself in just the right spot.

With a frustrated noise and an unsteady hand, Vance unzipped his pants and pushed them down to his knees. They didn’t need to be all the way off, he just needed a better angle. Pressing his index and middle fingers against the tip of his dick did it, he bucked his hips into the sensation.

An electronic shimmer flashed, and Johnny Silverhand leaned against the windowsill by the foot of the bed. He looked down at Vance with a smirk.

“Having fun there?”

“God shut the fuck up, Johnny. You’re such an ass,” Vance breathed. He had a heady fog in his head, and despite the compromised position he was in for Johnny to see, splayed out on his bed with his dick in his hand, he wasn’t unhappy to see the rocker.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, a heated silence between them. Vance couldn’t quite stop his hand from rubbing his dick however, and his hips rocked to show their approval.

Johnny pushed off the windowsill and stepped closer, “You look desperate, V. Almost like you’re happy to see me or somethin’.”

Vance’s dick ached at that.

“You don’t know anything, Silverhand,”

“You forgot we’re in the same head, Samurai. I know what you were thinking about earlier.”

Vance could feel himself getting closer to cumming, pent up as he was, and Johnny wasn’t helping him last any longer.

“You’re just rutting your dick against your hand, V,” Johnny went on, “You look like you’d be fun to play with.”

“If you’re gonna do something then do it, or get out,” Vance said, trying to maintain authority.

Johnny came down onto the bed, placing one knee between V’s legs, leaning over his torso, putting his face close to V’s. Vance could smell the sweat, and grease from Johnny which just turned him on more. His fingers were a blur, he was getting so close to cumming.

Johnny whispered into Vance’s ear, “I’ll do something V, you just gotta let me,” and he placed his chrome fingers barely against Vance’s hand, waiting for his answer.

Vance paused and looked at Johnny before nodding and moving his hand. Johnny placed his fingers on V’s tip and went to work. Johnny played his strings like a guitar, plucking just the right notes to make Vance sing.

“Johnny, I’m gonna-”

Pleasure rocked through Vance’s body as he came, his legs tighten around Johnny’s hand preventing it from moving from that perfect spot that could drag out his orgasm. His body stuttered with each wave that rode through him. Eventually they began to lessen as his orgasm faded.

The two men laid there for a minute before Vance let out a breathe and said “Jesus, Johnny.”

Johnny let out a barking laugh and stood, “We should do this again sometime, V. Have fun cleaning up,” and vanished.

[new-york-manga]

Smoked Meatloaf

A SpongeBob SquarePants Steamed Hams

Ah...

Bikini Bottom. Home of some of life's important stories. Such as the time Patrick burnt his hash for him and SpongeBob's Saturday Dinner before their weekly cleaning of the town...

Spongebob knocks on the door...

Patrick: *Lifts his rock* Hey there buddy! Are you ready for our Saturday Dinner?!?

Spongebob: *Holding Sparkling Apple Cider and his pet snail Gary* You know it!

As they both walk inside, and SpongeBob takes his seat next to Gary, Patrick walks into his kitchen and finds...

OH GOODNESS!!! HIS BAKED HASH IS ON FIRE!!!

Patrick: *Desperately runs over to his buring pan* Oh no! *Stands over his ruined hash with his hands on his head at both sides* My hash is ruined! *Shuts off the stove and walks to his secret opening that is emitting a savory scent that he starts to sniff*

As he opens up his secret compartment, he sees Squidward's house. On the windowsill sits a succulent, sweetly sauced turkey meatloaf.

But what if, Patrick were to... AHEM... "burrow" the dish from his good friend Squidward?

Patrick: Hey! *Snaps his... fingers? And then looks up at the "sky"* Thanks disembodied voice! *Hops into his compartment and runs towards Squidwards house*

As he sits under the window, Patrick listens for Squidward to start painting as he waits for his meatloaf to cool. Once the splashing starts, Patrick quickly nabs the platter and sprints for his rock. He slides into his hole and then into the dining room to stand up and serve the entrée.

Spongebob: *Sniffs the air with his snail in unison before looking up at the meatloaf* Is that a barbecue sauced turkey meatloaf stuffed with mozzarella and baby swiss cheese?

Patrick: *Snaps and looks into dead space* That's what I made... *Shakes his head and then closes his eyes with confidence* I mean yes. *Sets the plate down onto the table before serving a now calm SpongeBob and Gary.*

As they sit and feast, SpongeBob tastes something familiar about this particular meal...

Spongebob: *Chewing and looking up in curiosity before harshly swallowing* You know... *starts to look down at his plate* This meatloaf tastes quite fancy compared to your usual can of hash.

Patrick: *Lifts his glass* I know right? Pretty exquisite, eh buddy?

Spongebob: *Shrugs* Oh who am I kidding? *Opens his eyes and looks backward while laughing to himself* It's insulting to judge by appearance.

Patrick: *Losses focus for a second* uhhh...

*Snaps back awake by sniffing smoke* Huh?

*Looks back to his kitchen before looking back at SpongeBob who is now staring back at him*

I just remembered that my stove is on. I'll be one second. *Stands up and walks into his kitchen*

Spongebob: *Holds his hand up with a concerned smile* Sure Buddy. *Sets his hand back down*

Patrick: *Steps into a burning kitchen and stares for a few seconds before casually walking out and closing the door* Welp, that was something.

Spongebob: *Stands and picks up Gary* Alright, I'll see you tomorrow Pat– *Glances at the roaring flames of Patrick's kitchen before holding Gary to his chest desperately and pointing at the fire in fear* Lord Neptune! WHAT'S THAT!!!

Patrick: *Standing casually* Aurora Borialis.

Spongebob: *Calms down* In there?

Patrick: Yes

Spongebob: *Smilies patiently* May I see it?

Patrick: Nah. It's too hot in there.

As Patrick walks SpongeBob and Gary to the Opening of his lifted rock...

Squidward: *Panicking out of his house's left eye window* SOMEONE HEEELLLPPP ME!

Patrick: *Looks up at Squidward* No Squidward! It's just the Northern Lights saying hello to you! Try telling him to leave! *Looks back at SpongeBob*

Spongebob: *Carrying his snail* Well Patrick, you've really surprised me and Gary tonight. *Pats Patrick's shoulder* Take care. *Begins walking to his house and waves goodbye*

As Patrick waves back at his friend, while a certain Squidward continues interrupting the gesture with his annoying screams of pain...

Squidward: *Puts his hands at his sides* Hey! *Goes back to screaming for help*

AHEM... watches as him and his pet, assuring that makes a safe stroll back to his hou—

*Firetruck quickly runs over SpongeBob, forcing him to throw Gary at his Pineapple*

WHERE DID THIS MYSTERIOUS FIRETRUCK COME FROM?!?

*Enter the "The End" screen end credits*

[corecarnis]

what i think the hollow knight characters taste and/or smell like (influenced by autism and also just their ingame location) (inspired by @awditizm 's post about what it thinks we happy few characters taste like) in no particular order

the knight

dirt and river water and vaguely like rot

hornet

rocks and lemon and smoke

salubra

rosemary leaves that are wilting

jiji

rotted eggs

iselda

dust and cold air

leg eater

citrus and death

nailsmith

metal and ash and the color red

lemm

dust and damp corpses

last stag

baby powder and towels

sly

rusty metal and fizz

oro and mato

these two are put together because they both smell like heating blankets and taste like green

sheo

old water that's been sitting in a windowsill for a minimun of seven days

cloth

snow and room temperature blueberries

cornifer

batteries

quirrel

tap water and cedar

tiso

orange flavored things that dont taste like oranges

bretta

the air when it rains in evening time specifically

brumm

fire and cotton candy

monomon

gloves

lurien

the color purple and mechanical pencil lead

herrah

tumbled rocks and blood

seer

sand and paper towels

the hunter

dead leaves and overcooked meat

grimm

fruit flavored alcohol and my basement

elderbug

construction tools

snail shaman

carbonation

midwife

fruit gummies with funny shapes

emilitia

when someone puts a dandelion in your mouth

mask maker

chewing pencils

white lady

dust and pink and rubber bands

pale king

salt and dust and dirt

bardoon

phone cases and tree bark

the hollow knight

like the knight (dirt, river water) but more like rot and also iron

i moght do this with enemies later and maybe the other characters i forgot or bosses

[theinkchild]

so, i've had this jar full of snails and algae on my windowsill for 2 years now. only today, i just started seeing some strange activity.

started seeing some dense translucent fluid sink down in little strands?

i would assume it's the snails breaking down the new dead plant parts i placed ontop. just figured i'd talk about this here briefly incase remotely anyone knows what that is.

didn't want to get too far into detail since i can't be bothered rn lol

[archiveblogcoretwo]

This weekend me and a friend brought a jar to the river with us. We’ve been planning on bringing this jar for a while now but this was the weekend we remembered to bring it. We filled it with mud, sand, small plants, and a couple snails. Making a mini ecosystem in a jar has been a trend on the internet but we hadn’t done much research on the topic. To make this mini environment sustainable of course you need organic life and organisms to eat the plants. We didn’t want too many snails because me and my friend didn’t want to become parents to thousands of snails. We made sure to only put three in (we found out later that there are actually four). When it came to picking plants we made sure to not pick any of the rice plant that grow in the river because it’s protected. So we put small lily pads and some kind of floating plant. When we put it all together and put the snails in last we waited a while for the dirt to settle and we could already see small little river organisms swimming around. I then took it back to my dorm and put it on the windowsill so it could settle some more and get a good about of sunlight. It’s important for the jar to get enough sunlight so the plants can grow and the snails can eat them, or it might fail and we just kill a couple of snails. The next day the water was completely clear and I could see the snails moving through the plants and sticks. I’ve been keeping an eye on it for a couple days now and the snails are still alive so I hope that’s a good sign because I’m not sure exactly how I would be able to tell if it fails. Unless it starts smelling bad maybe.

[fanaticsnail]

snail i love griswold so so MUCH thank you for sharing him with us omg 🥹🥹

hehehe i cannot wait to see what you cook up for the miscommunication between fae!mihawk and our dear reader, always love those types of tropes when it comes to cultural differences between two characters which cause the misunderstanding 😼

with love (to you and physics anon),

🪶 anon

Griswold is being incredibly needy tonight. Thank you for asking about him. If you ever want to see the other creatures at my house, I have a fair few available for a gander: chickens, fish, my beautiful rainforest floor scorpion, and my current pet caterpillar that I keep on my kitchen windowsill next to my Aquaponic tank with herbs growing.

It's cooking, I assure you! There's so many things I'm writing right now, it's been hard to keep the ideas in check! A little bit of injury, a bit of aid, comfort and courtship going hand in hand. I can't wait!

[cjlothecastle]

let me in

its febuary, but not the good part (pisces season). we are deep in the trenches of airhead aquarius (no hate but, y'all). two-parter show live on the 8th and the 16th, i am desperately trying to find an apartment it's the only thing i can thinktalkdream about. landlords suck, and brokers discriminate. this picture is from an apartment i was able to visit. what do u think that weird hole / windowsill leads too? basement access i hope.

full episode here ;;;; full playlist here

gold lion - yeah yeah yeahs gold soundz - safeword oh no! - physical congas xxx hungry baby - kim gordon the pest - washing machine loser at best - wallice good guy - crossed wires bring back my dog - this is lorelei steamroller - feeble little horse xxx SNAIL’S PACE - frost children  great DJ - the ting tings gone (clarence clarity remix) - charli xcx, christine and the queens xxxxxxxxxxxx Seether - veruca salt He wasn’t - avril lavigne Loser dust - hole xxx Daddy - baby bulldog Lift off - paris texas Hall & oates - idles Look at my phone - hot garbage Dream death - feeling figures Ripped sheet - motherhood Backyard - leggy Freak - feeble little horse Confusion wants - physical congas Birthday blues - grrrl gang HFCS - PACKS Cat calls - ghost vines Xxx All my exes live in vortexes - rosie tucker Reign - thy slaughter LOSER - frost children Eat you like a pill - cherry glazerr

[theperfectread]

Short story I'm writing, please give feedback!!!

“Ow!” Rain squealed.

“Oh hush, it’s just a little prick.” Mrs. Drew, Rain’s seamstress, scolded. 

Rain Maussant stood on a stool in the middle of her room while Mrs. Drew worked on stitching up her dress, and this was the fifth time she got poked by the needle. She looked out the window and watched the yellow leaves fall from the old trees surrounding her yard. The gardener raked, he had been cleaning the vast lawn since early that morning. He gathered all the leaves into a large pile by one of the trees and walked off in a hurry, wiping sweat off his brow. Rain’s gaze drifted to the giant mountains, far in the distance, and imagined all that could be there. They were majestic, huge, and dotted with millions of pine trees. Snow gave the mountains an iridescent quality. The mountains formed a wall between her town and the world beyond. It was difficult to pass them, and not everyone who made the trip came back alive. 

She was dreaming of all the adventures she could have when her eyes focused back on the yard, and that pile of leaves. Specifically, the tree it was by. Was it shaking? She leaned slightly closer to the window and was promptly jabbed with the needle. Straightening, Rain watched her younger sister, Holly, climb down the tree and hover on the branch right above the leaf pile. This couldn’t be ending well, Rain rolled her eyes. Holly dropped into the pile, scattering the leaves, that had taken the morning to collect, everywhere. 

“Well, that’s about it, miss.” Mrs. Drew set about gathering her supplies, “I just don’t know how you manage to tear every dress I make for you, at 15 years you should be more careful.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be careful. Thank you so much.” Rain twirled in front of the mirror, watching the light blue dress spin. Her long red-orange hair swished around her hips, and the dress brought out the bright blue of her eyes. She thought she looked pretty, if a little overdone. 

Mrs. Drew smiled, assuring her it was nothing at all, and walked off to put away her sewing things.

Rain picked up her dress and rushed down the stairs. Holly was still kicking around the leaves, and Rain whisked her up into her arms. They ran around, chasing each other for a bit before strolling down a well-trodden trail in their woods.

“You’re in so much trouble,” Rain laughed, sidestepping a small snail in the middle of the trail. 

Holly skipped ahead, “Not as much as you, though. Mother will kill you if you ruin another dress.” 

“Is it really my fault they won’t let me wear pants? They should know better by now.” Rain said, but she took care to make sure her dress stayed clean and above the ground, “Now hurry, it’s almost time for tea.”

The girls circled back and made their way to the house. They stopped a couple of times for an adorable fawn and a tiny squirrel but made good time. The house came into view and Rain admired its grand beauty. It was two stories tall, made of gray brick and cobblestone. It had black shutters, and each window had a white curtain and candles on the windowsill. It was a large property, surrounded by woods. Far enough from town for privacy, but not too far to be considered outcasts. 

Walking inside the colossal doors, Rain looked back wistfully at the mountains, just for a moment, then continued into the hall. The walls were hung with countless paintings of past ancestors, great-grandfathers, and great-grandmothers that she never knew. Toward the end of the hall, the last painting was of her own family. Her parents, brother, her and her sister. The Maussants.

Down the corridor she and Holly picked up the pace, finally bursting through the doors into the dining room. All heads turned to look at them. Her father sat at the head of the table, stern-looking and serious. His broad shoulders gave him a strong demeanor, and his hair, despite graying, was still thick and full. But then he smiled, and his eyes softened. He motioned for them to sit. 

Rain took her spot next to her brother, who sat at her father’s left, and Holly sat next to her mother, at her father’s right. Fidgeting with her napkin, Rain waited for the cook to bring out lunch and tea. 

“So, Hawke.” Her mother eyed her brother, “Tomorrow, you should be leaving the house at dawn if you want to make it in time.”

Hawke stretched and grinned, “Of course, mother. But what about…?”

“What? What’s happening tomorrow?” Rain asked, her mind running through possibilities. Was her idiotic older brother leaving to find work?

[that-disabled-princess]

So... hi, I'm the person who sent this ask after a rough couple months. About a week after the response, I decided to crochet a small home for the rock. It now has some friends--a moon snail shell, an olive snail shell, and the little dragon a friend made me for my eleventh birthday!

I even gave it a rainbow for pride month. Picturing this terrarium sitting on a windowsill in the sunny apartment I want to own is what kept me going in the beginning.

I'm nearing four months clean, burned the suicide notes I wrote, have upped my meds, am becoming more confident in multiple areas of my life, am making an effort to read more, and just this week attended a trans author event!

Can you give me some reasons to continue living, please?

I want you to. Me, personally. I want you to live. The world will be darker without you. Every kind thing you'll ever do, no matter how small, no matter how ordinary, will go undone and missed, if you are not here to do them.

Keep the next rock you see. It doesn't matter if it's rough and ugly on the outside or not. It's a rock, and I love rocks. Keep it for me. My rock, from me to you.

Stay. I want you to.