#black cats from the fishing pier

[paradiseatoll]

Alas, Paradise Cookie’s story + sneakpeak of her 6 adopted sisters is finally here! I hope you enjoy learning more about my oc Paradise Cookie, her dad and her sisters! 😊

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 2: I’m The Son Of Rage And Love]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Jesus Of Suburbia” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.2k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

On the shores of the Susquehanna River, just north of Harrisburg, you find a Wawa with no gas: bags on all the pumps, cars with their fuel caps unscrewed and dangling. This is a common courtesy adopted en masse, like rationing during the World Wars or flying American flags after 9/11. It signals that a car has already been siphoned, no gasoline to be found here, no transparent flammable gold made of eons-past decomposition. You wonder if in a few million years, some unfathomable new apex species will be drilling your liquefied remains from the lightless layers of the earth to power their spaceships.

“Then we got sent to Joint Base Anacostia-Bolling,” Rio continues, gnawing on a piece of beef jerky, Jack Link’s in a red bag, teriyaki. Mercifully, whoever took the gas left some of the food. You are sitting in the parking lot, a quaint zombie apocalypse picnic, trail mix and Rice Krispies Treats, Herr’s potato chips and Tastykakes, warm soda sipped from plastic bottles. Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the Tahoe. Jace is tearing the convenience store apart; he is convinced the employees must have kept a gun somewhere in case of robberies. You know he’s fine. You can hear him banging around and swearing in there.

“Then we built some schools and a hospital in Djibouti,” you say.

Aegon is baffled yet intrigued. “Djibouti…?”

“It’s on the Horn of Africa, near Ethiopia and Somalia.”

Luke snorts. “It’s nice of you to assume he knows where Africa is.”

“Huh.” Aegon tosses a green M&M into his mouth. “Djibouti is horny.”

Rio says: “And after that we spent like six months in Key West, and then we got shipped to Corpus Christi, where Chips very narrowly avoided getting impregnated by, marrying, and inevitably acrimoniously divorcing a Marine.”

Everyone laughs except Aemond, who gives you a teasing smirk. “Did you really?”

“Uh, no. He asked me out, I ghosted him, that’s as far as it went.”

“Why’d you ghost him?” Baela says, crunching on Utz Cheese Balls.

Aegon turns to Rio. “You want a Honey Bun?”

“You’re my Honey Bun,” Rio replies. Aegon smiles, his sunburn flushing darker.

You shrug, eat a handful of candied almonds, tell a half-truth. “I just didn’t like him enough.”

Rhaena yelps and points: a snake, black and maybe five feet long, is slithering across the parking lot. It passes beneath the shade of the Tahoe and then continues towards the bushes. A moderate amount of panic erupts.

Helaena glances up from her notebook. “Rat snake. Not venomous.”

Rhaena shudders. “Well, I still don’t like it.”

“Where were you stationed next?” Daeron asks Rio.

“Chinhae, South Korea. Wicked cool place. The people love Americans, the food is incredible. We were there to rebuild a pier that got wrecked in a typhoon. They have these cute dolphin-looking things, they’d swim right up to the edge of the water with fish in their mouths to try to give to us. Like cats bringing home mice for their owners.”

“Finless porpoises,” you say.

“Yeah, those. And after Korea, it was Diego Garcia.”

“Diego…what?” Rhaena says.

Aegon turns to Luke. “Try to act like I’m stupid for not knowing where that is.”

“Diego Garcia is a tiny little island in the middle of the Indian Ocean,” you say, a bit wistfully. “It’s technically owned by the British, but we share a base there, we use it for airfields and to refuel submarines, things like that. We were renovating the housing facilities for Camp Thunder Cove. At night we’d go to the beach, have a few beers, look out into the ocean and it was just…nothing. Wide open dark nothingness for as far as you could imagine.”

“That’s what we need now,” Helaena murmurs as she makes elegant cursive annotations in her notebook, the cover picturing different species of spiders, a pinktoe tarantula, a green lynx spider, a black widow. “Someplace to go where no one will find us.”

“So you’ve known each other since basic training.” Aemond’s remaining blue eye shifts between you and Rio, like he’s still trying to puzzle it out. There’s really no mystery. You’re friends, and you’ve always been friends, and you’ve never been more than friends, despite many of your fellow seamen’s jokes to the contrary.

You tear open a Slim Jim. Aemond rebandaged your hands this morning, though they barely hurt anymore; he touches you with a clinical, focused restraint. “Not quite that long. Rio enlisted a few months before I did, so we weren’t at Great Lakes together, and then carpenters do technical school in Gulfport, Mississippi near Biloxi, and electricians train at Sheppard Air Force Base in Texas. We met after we were both assigned to Naval Mobile Construction Battalion 1.”

“The First and The Finest,” Rio quotes the motto, grinning. “The original Seabees, founded during World War II. People called our battalion the Pioneers, which…is kind of ironic now.”

Aegon says, munching noisily on trail mix: “It’ll be so appropriate when you end up dying of a broken leg or the flu or in some other totally preventable way.”

“It’s so crazy, people died of anything back then,” Luke marvels gravely. “Tuberculosis, pneumonia, infections, starving, freezing, poisoning, getting kicked by a horse, giving birth…”

Rhaena shoots him a fearsome look and Luke shuts up, but of course he can’t take it back. There is a long uncomfortable silence punctuated only by birdsong and Jace’s muffled outbursts from inside the Wawa. Everyone looks at Baela, concerned, pitying, entirely unable to do anything to improve her situation. She is still eating Cheese Balls with one orange-stained hand, but the other rests on her belly.

“Clearly, the timing is less than ideal,” Baela says after a while, and if she’s terrified she doesn’t sound like it. “It wasn’t planned to begin with, but I was determined to make the best of things. I figured that I could still finish up my master’s degree with a baby, and Rhaena and our parents could help, and Jace would be done with law school soon, and it might be stressful for a while but we’d all get through it. And now…” She shrugs wryly. “Now all those plans are gone. Just gone.”

“You’re going to be okay,” Aemond says; a fierce low determination, a promise, a vow.

Baela smiles at Rio. “How old is your baby?”

He is caught off-guard, clears his throat, averts his gaze. Aegon looks over at him, alarmed. “Oh, he, uh…he’s little. Really little. He…” And Rio, so rarely at a loss for words, can’t continue. He eats his beef jerky instead.

You explain for him. “Sophie’s due date was right around the time the phones and internet went down. The last we heard, she was headed to Odessa to stay with Rio’s parents.” Aemond and his companions nod and don’t say what they’re thinking, but it’s swimming in their eyes: Sophie could have died, the baby could have died, they both could have died, you and Rio might be risking your lives to cross the continental United States for nothing. “Rio’s parents live in this…well, I joke around and call it a doomsday prepper cult, but that’s not really what it is, it’s just a farming community out in the middle of nowhere. People who have their own chickens and gardens, churn their own butter, don’t wear deodorant, make medicine out of tree bark…and a lot of them have kind of a survivalist mentality, they stock pantries and collect guns. So we figure we can reunite Rio with his family and then carve out lives for ourselves in relative peace.”

Rio reaches over to bump his fist against your shoulder. He is grateful. You punch him back, fairly forcefully; it’s like hitting a brick wall. Rio is as tall as Aemond but probably outweighs him by a hundred pounds.

You ask Aemond: “What’s in the Bay Area?”

“Our parents have a beach house. It’s up on a cliff by itself, pretty isolated, and surrounded by state parks. That’s where they were when everything shut down. I assume they’re still there.”

“Beach house?” Rio raises his eyebrows. “On a cliff?”

Rich kids. REALLY rich kids. “Your parents couldn’t just fly you to California in a private jet or something?” you say.

“Our pilots stole the jets,” Aemond replies, not realizing you were joking.

“Oh.”

“Jace and Luke’s parents were home in London, so getting there isn’t really an option, and then Baela and Rhaena…”

“Mum and Dad were on a business trip to Moscow,” Baela says. “I’d like to think they weren’t eaten, but…they were probably eaten.”

“I am so sorry,” you manage awkwardly.

A single zombie goes shuffling past the Wawa on the main street, a woman in a floral church dress, hair falling out of its curls, one pink high heel that clicks on the pavement, blood all over her mouth and chin. She notices the nine of you and begins to hiss, lurching closer. Daeron shoots her down and then trots over to retrieve his arrows, yanking them out of her cheek and eye socket. Rhaena winces. Aemond, distracted, bites into a Nature Valley granola bar. Aegon opens a can of Pringles, pizza-flavored.

Luke is peering through his binoculars, looking south towards Harrisburg. Faintly, you can see sunlight glinting off the gilded statue of a woman—the Spirit of the Commonwealth—that tops the green clay tile dome of the state capitol building. “What is that?”

“The sculpture?” you say.

“No. Farther away. Those big concrete towers, right on the water.”

Now you know exactly what he means…and you’d forgotten all about it. It’s an oversight you hope doesn’t cost too much. “That’s Three Mile Island. And we should leave so we can put more space between it and us.”

“Oh, fuck me…” Rio mutters.

Now everyone else is squinting to see the facility, barely visible from the Wawa. “Why?” Aemond asks you.

“Because it’s a nuclear power plant. And since the electricity is out everywhere, as soon as its backup generators fail, it will melt down and the whole area around it will become radioactive.”

Aegon puts two Pringles into his mouth so they look like a duck bill. “How do you know?”

“Did no one else go through a Chernobyl obsession phase in high school?��

“The professor mentioned it in one of my chemistry classes,” Aemond says, but he sounds doubtful; this must have been years ago, when he was consumed by med school prerequisites and had no space left in his brain for mere curiosity.

“Okay, listen up.” Rio knows the key points; he’s had to study different sources of electrical power. He demonstrates with dramatic hand gestures. “You have super radioactive reactor fuel, usually uranium or plutonium. You have a pool of water around it that circulates continuously. The heat of the fuel evaporates the water, which makes steam, which spins turbines, thus creating power. But if the external electricity fails, the water stops circulating, and the heat vaporizes all of it, and when there’s no more water the reactor fuel overheats and melts through the floor and poisons the earth, air, and groundwater. Any questions?”

There is a chorus of distressed chattering as people swiftly rise to their feet, clutching armfuls of snacks for the road. Jace comes trudging out of the Wawa, conspicuously not in possession of a firearm.

“No luck?” Daeron asks.

“Obviously not.” Then Jace snaps at Aemond: “Why were you stomping around all pissed off in the medicine aisle earlier? What were you looking for?”

“Nothing,” Aemond says quickly.

“Seriously, dude, what was it?”

“Nothing!��

“Damn, Plankton, calm down.” Jace shields his face from the sun, following Luke’s nervous eyeline towards the concrete cooling towers to the south. “What’s that?”

“Three Mile Island,” you say. “And we’re leaving now.”

Aegon yawns loudly. “I’m so full! Rio, can you carry me to the car?” And before anyone can tell Aegon to shut up, Rio has crouched down to let him scramble onto his back. Aegon cackles and waves his can of Pringles around as Rio sprints to the Tahoe. Now there are a few more zombies stumbling up the street, but you don’t waste arrows or bullets on them. Baela runs them down as she swerves out of the parking lot and drives northwest, heading towards Clarks Ferry Bridge where you will cross the Susquehanna River in a less populated area and commence the long slog to the Ohio border. She turns up the volume on the CD player: London Bridge by Fergie. Immediately, Rio, Aegon, Daeron, Rhaena, and Luke are singing along.

Baela checks the fuel gauge and looks at Aemond in the rearview mirror. “We have half a tank left.”

“We’ll find gas somewhere.”

“Aemond, it’ll be alright. Don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not going to be able to walk to California.”

Baela can’t think of a response. He’s right. Outside, the miles roll by in a blur of radiant, reptilian, early-summer green.

~~~~~~~~~~

Each time the interstate is blocked by a snarl of crashed vehicles or a backup too thick to navigate through—both common occurrences—Aegon digs the folded map out of his shorts and charts a new course for Baela to follow. This particular divergence might prove fortunate. The Tahoe has rolled into Distant, Pennsylvania, an Appalachian speck of a town, churches, coal mines, dilapidated old sheds. On the outskirts, perched on a hill and surrounded by oak trees, you find a small single-story brick house with a myriad of banners on the flagpole: an American flag, a Confederate flag, a black POW/MIA flag, Don’t Tread On Me, Trump 2024.

“Yeah,” Aegon says, scratching his scruffy chin as he peers up through the windshield. “I feel like they probably owned guns.”

“How do we know they’re not still home?” Baela asks warily.

“No car in the driveway,” Aemond observes. “No windows boarded up. They probably ran into trouble while they were out somewhere and never made it back.” Then he waits, the question upspoken. Are we going to risk it?

“We’re down,” Rio says after exchanging a glance with you.

Aemond turns to Jace. Jace—curly dark hair down to his shoulders, eyes on the house, chewing his full bottom lip apprehensively—doesn’t reply at first.

“You said you wanted a gun, Jace. All the Walmarts are cleaned out. This is what shopping looks like now.”

“Fine. Okay. Let’s go.”

Baela parks the Tahoe in the gravel driveway and tells Rhaena and Luke to stay inside with Helaena until the property has been cleared. The rest of you climb out, afternoon sun and mountain wind, dandelions crushed under your shoes. There’s a barn behind the house, you see now, gaps between the wooden boards and flaking red paint.

Luke is standing up through the open sunroof, inspecting the scene with his binoculars. “No movement.”

“We’ll take the house, if you want,” Rio tells Aemond. You’re clutching your borrowed baseball bat with bandaged hands, though it still feels unnatural; your M9 is in its holster in case of emergencies. Jace, Baela, and Daeron start plodding across the yard towards the barn. The grass is tall and mostly shaded, the oak trees decades old, massive, weaving a patchwork canopy of leaves.

Aegon trots over and slaps Aemond on his left shoulder, his blind side. Aemond says without looking at him: “I’ll go with them. You wait out here.”

Aegon drives an imaginary ball with his golf club. “I’m very sensitive to rejection, you know.”

“You’ll survive.” Then Aemond follows you and Rio to the house.

Rio tries the knob, locked. He doesn’t waste a bullet by trying to shoot the lock off the door, something that is far less reliable than movies would have you believe. He kicks it open instead, three tries and then the screws that secure the latch give way and the door swings ajar. You wait, counting seconds in your head, listening for growls or footsteps. There are no sounds except the breeze sighing through the trees, the warbles and wing flaps of birds. You steal a glimpse of the barn. Jace, Baela, and Daeron have unhooked the rusted iron latch and are venturing inside, Daeron last and glancing around watchfully, his compound bow already drawn. Rio steps into the house.

It’s hot, stifling, all the windows shut. But this has its advantages. You inhale deeply: no trace of decomposition, no black swampy nauseating rot, just dust and lemon Pledge and old-people staleness.

“Smells fine,” Rio says. And then, loudly: “Anyone home? We’re just looking for supplies. We don’t want to hurt you. If anybody is here, just let us know and we’d be happy to leave. And, uh, sorry about the door.”

You stay close to Rio as he sweeps through the living room—floral couch, television turned off, crosses on the walls—and then the kitchen, where bananas are turning black on the counter. Aemond is to your right; he’s placed you on his blind side. He trusts me, you think. When did that happen? You haven’t heard anything from Aegon or the barn. That must be going well.

In the bedroom, Aemond pulls the curtains open to let some light in. You search the drawers, the closet, under the bed. No weapons. The bathroom has 1950s-style pink porcelain, the dining room table is set for a meal that never happened. There is a deer head mounted on the wall, ten points, not bad.

“I can’t believe these fuckers didn’t have guns,” Rio says. “But where the hell are they?!”

You have always watched more than you’ve spoken. That’s why you’re good at shooting things, and why you’re still alive. Rio talks and you listen; Rio acts and you reflect. “Wait.” You turn to Aemond. “Did you see a cellar outside?”

“A what?” He is perplexed. “Like…a wine cellar…?”

“No. A regular cellar.” You walk back into the midday heat and circle the house, Aemond and Rio hurrying to keep up. Over by the barn, everyone else is stretched out across the grass, joking, relaxing, Baela with her hammer on the ground and her hands laced over her belly, Helaena cradling a praying mantis in her palms and showing it to Rhaena. Aegon is teaching Luke how to smoke with a pack of Marlboro Golds he found at the Wawa. Luke, game yet somewhat anxious, takes a puff and then immediately coughs until he starts retching.

“I want to try too,” Daeron says.

Aegon shakes his head, taking a nonchalant drag off his own cigarette. “Nope. Not for you. Illegal. You’re under eighteen.”

“I want to try!”

“Shut up, you can’t even vote.”

“Nobody can vote, the government has collapsed!”

You find it at the back of the house: a pair of large metal doors leading down into the underground cellar. The weeds have begun to encroach on them, wild violets and black nightshade.

“Awesome!” Rio says, lifting the doors open one at a time, the hinges shrieking. They’re heavy, but they cause him no trouble. Underneath is a staircase and a room dark with shadows; you can see a light switch that won’t work, the electricity long gone. Rio unclips the flashlight from his  belt—taken from Saratoga Springs, waterproof with a 90-degree head so it doesn’t roll, known as a Moonbeam—and ducks down into the cellar. It’s a small room, easy to clear, and then you can start inventorying your findings. Rio is laughing, ecstatic. There is a workbench, a coil of thick rope, an array of tools—screwdrivers, wrenches, hammers, saws—some homemade leather wallets and holsters, cans of Brillo color spray…and then a treasure trove of weapons mounted on the walls.

You scan the collection. “We got Marlin .22s, we got Ruger Magnums, we got Remington 12 gauges, we got hunting knives…and one Glock 20.”

“A lot of ammo under here, Chips,” Rio says, yanking boxes out from beneath the workbench and stacking them on the floor, organized by caliber.

“No scopes?”

“Not that I’ve seen yet.”

You lift one of the Remingtons off its hooks and examine it: dusty, unloaded, vines of rust on the receiver. “We’ll have to go through and sight all of them. I don’t think they’ve been used in a while.”

“That’ll be a lot of noise. But here’s the place to do it, I guess. Low population, and we’re not staying.”

“Exactly.”

“Sight them for close range, like ten yards?”

“Yeah, that should work.”

Aemond says, eyebrow raised: “I didn’t know the Navy used shotguns.”

“Everyone hunts where I’m from.” You put the Remington down on the workbench then pick up the Glock, a box of 10mm ammo, and a can of Brillo. “Come on. Grab one of those hammers. I’ll show you how to shoot.”

You bound up the cellar steps and out into the shade of the oak trees, not stopping until you are at the edge of the property. Across the backyard where he lounges on the grass, Aegon gestures to the barn and asks Luke: “What’s in there anyway?”

“Nothing. Saddles and a few dead horses.”

“Oh, dynamite, I gotta see the dead horses.”

Jace says: “Aegon, man, what is your diagnosis?”

You use the can of Brillo to spray a large chocolate-colored circle onto a tree trunk, then make another two feet above that. You count your steps as you walk back towards Aemond: approximately ten yards. You load a single bullet in the Glock, aim for the bottom circle, and fire. A hole appears at the very edge of the circle. You take the hammer from Aemond and give the rear sight a few knocks. “This isn’t recommended, but it usually works.”

Aemond is smiling. “Okay.”

You load the full magazine and try again. The bullet hits closer to the middle this time. “Here. Both hands.”

Aemond takes the Glock but hesitates. “Is…my eye…?”

“It shouldn’t be a problem. A lot of people close one eye anyway when they’re aiming. I always do.”

He is relieved. “Oh. Good.”

You tap the underside of the Glock. Aemond obediently lifts it. “The line of sight is slightly higher than the barrel, so you have to account for that. And then gravity will pull the bullet lower, and the longer the range of the shot, the more it will drop. So when you fire, the barrel should be angled upwards just the tiniest bit, not horizontal.”

“Like throwing a football.”

“Yeah, exactly. It’s an arc, not a straight line. At first it’ll feel like you’re trying to do all these calculations in your head, and it will be overwhelming, but then it becomes muscle memory and you don’t even have to think about it.” Jace, Baela, and Daeron are now eagerly crossing the yard to help Rio carry the guns out of the cellar and receive their own lessons. “Alright, we’re going to start with a really terrifying enemy. I want you to shoot that tree.”

“What a formidable tree.”

“Aim for the top circle. And if you hit it, then you can practice on Jace.”

Aemond laughs, butter-yellow sunlight filtering down through the trees, the shadows of leaves flickering over his skin, a mosaic of flesh and earth. You ghost your open hand down the length of his arm as if adjusting the angle. Really, you just want to touch him, to feel his warmth and his stillness, the tension of his muscles, the rhythm of his pulse. He’s watching you, lips parted, goosebumps rising beneath your fingertips. Birds are chirping, sparrows and blue jays. High above, squirrels leap and scrabble through the branches. You pull your hand away.

“Look through the sights. The rear sight at the back of the barrel is shaped like a U, and the one at the front is an I. Is the I in the middle of the U?”

“I have no idea.” A pause as he reconsiders. “Yes.”

“Right, it is, and the bullet should go exactly where you want it to because I already sighted that Glock. I’ll show you how to do it later. Now shoot the tree.”

Aemond aims but doesn’t pull the trigger. He’s nervous; he doesn’t want to seem incompetent, pathetic. You imagine it is rare that he isn’t the one with the solutions.

“Hey,” you say softly, and he looks over at you. “You don’t judge me for not knowing how to cure people. I won’t judge you for not knowing how to kill them. Deal?”

Now he’s smiling again. “Deal.” He returns his attention to the tree, lets a few more seconds tick by, and fires. He hits one of the branches. “Oh, that is…embarrassing.”

“It’s not that bad. You hit something. Try again.”

More seconds, more birdsong, more wind through the grass and the leaves. Aemond’s second bullet pierces the trunk about six inches above the top circle. “Yes!” he cheers, boyish triumph on his scarred face.

You resist touching him. It is startlingly difficult. “That was really good.”

He lowers the Glock, and you click the safety on for him. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you say.

“Why’d you ghost that Marine at Corpus Christi?”

“I told you. I didn’t like him enough.”

“Okay, sure, but actually. What was wrong with him?”

“I’ve known you for like twenty-four hours. You think you’ve earned all my secrets?”

“Well, not all of them,” Aemond says, grinning. Rio is showing Jace, Baela, and Daeron how to load the .22s. Aegon is swinging his golf club in circles as he follows Luke into the barn. Helaena and Rhaena are giggling as butterflies land on their outstretched fingers. “But our time together could be very finite. It seems unwise to waste it by trying to preserve some amount of mystery.”

“You’ve convinced me.” You want to be known by him, you want to be understood. That is a frightening thing to realize. It’s like handing a stranger the keys to your home. Will they visit graciously, or will they rob you, ruin you, burn you down? “I haven’t seen many examples of love working out for people. I’ve seen couples who hated each other, and couples who split up, and a lot of women having to raise kids all on their own and turning into these…bitter, exhausted, hollowed-out versions of themselves. I never wanted that to be me. And for as long as I can remember, I’ve felt like that was just one wrong choice away from becoming my life. I don’t want men to disappoint me. So I don’t give them the chance.”

You think Aemond is going to say something cheap, flirtatious, awful: Give me a chance, baby. I won’t disappoint you. Instead he says: “I haven’t known many happy couples either. I mean…Luke and Rhaena would be the closest, I guess. But they’re so young. I’m not sure if they count.”

“Rio and Sophie seem happy. But they’ve also barely seen each other in five years.”

“It does things to you, when you start to believe love might be doomed to end or tear you apart or turn to hatred. If it’s just an evolutionary mirage to trick us into reproducing, what’s the point of giving someone that power over you?”

“Exactly.”

“I feel like one of us should be trying to talk the other out of being so fatalistically cynical.”

“Yeah, totally. Okay. You talk me out of it.”

He chuckles. “No, I don’t think I can. You talk me out of it.”

You’re watching Aemond, realizing you like everything about him—his smirk, his height, his hands, the clear direct blue of his eye—and wondering what the hell you’re going to do about it. Then there is a scream from the barn.

What?? Who??

“Luke!” Aemond shouts, and takes off across the yard. Now you’re all running, even Rhaena and Helaena who don’t have anything to fight with. Everyone is yelling, their lungs heaving in wild June air, their shoes pounding against the earth.

Inside the barn, on a wooden floor strewn with hay, Luke is shrieking as he tries to push a zombie off of him with his bare hands. She’s an older woman, grey hair in rollers, yellow nightgown stained with gore. Something has happened to her feet. Both of her legs end in exposed tibias and flapping strips of purplish, rotting skin. Aegon is beating her with his golf club, but he can’t get a good shot at her head. If he accidentally hits Luke, he could make it worse, he could stun him or even knock him out, and he’ll be bitten in the few seconds it takes anyone to remove his undead assailant. Rio lunges to grab the zombie. She snaps at him with bared teeth and he retreats, drawing his M9.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace is saying. The air is putrid: dead horses, dead people. “You’ll hit Luke!”

Your own M9 is suddenly in your hands, the safety clicked off, one eye closed. “Luke, don’t move.”

“Kill it, kill it!” he pleads hysterically, pushing the zombie as far from him as he can, his palms sinking into the decomposing bruise-colored tissue of her chest and throat.

“Don’t shoot!” Jace orders, but you ignore him. He fades into the background with all the other frenzied voices. Your finger on the trigger, a boom like thunder, bits of bone and brains against the wall. Luke shoves the corpse away, trembling, sobbing. Rhaena flies to him.

Aegon spots the fresh blood on Luke’s right hand and panics. “Is that a bite?!”

Luke notices the wound for the first time. “I don’t know!”

“What do you mean you don’t know?!”

“I don’t know!” Luke wails, tears flooding down his pink face.

“I thought you cleared the barn!” Aemond roars at Aegon.

“It fell out of the loft, we didn’t think anything was up there!”

Luke is blubbering: “I hit my hand against one of the stalls, I think that’s how I cut myself, I was just…I was pushing it away…I didn’t think it bit me…oh my God, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t want to die…”

“It only takes once, kid,” Rio says grimly, fidgeting with his M9, looking at Aemond as if for permission.

“Don’t touch him!” Jace hisses, stepping in front of his brother and clutching his bat. “No one is going to hurt him, it’s not a bite, you can’t prove it’s a bite!”

You reach for Luke’s bleeding hand. “Can I see—?”

“Get away from him!” Jace swings his bat. The tip of it connects with your skull, just a graze fortunately, but still enough to rattle you. Rio charges Jace, tackles him to the floor, starts throwing punches. Baela has apparently forgotten she’s heavily pregnant and is trying to pull them apart. You join her.

He’s going to demolish Jace. He’s going to break his nose or jaw or something. “Rio stop, I’m fine, stop!”

There is another gunshot, a cataclysmic earth-shaking explosion that makes the pain in your head surge from a ripple to a wave. Aemond is aiming his Glock skywards; a hole has appeared in the roof of the barn. “Stand up!” he commands. Rio and Jace reluctantly comply. You help Baela to her feet.

“Aemond,” Jace says. “You have to stop them, they’re going to kill Luke—”

“No one is killing anybody.” Aemond lowers his Glock. “Maybe he’s been bitten. Maybe he hasn’t been. And even if we knew for sure that he was going to turn, we don’t just execute people like this, threatening them when they’re terrified. We have humanity. We have compassion.”

There is a silence that strikes you as heavy, laden, holding meaning that escapes you. Aegon points at Luke. “So what the fuck are we going to do about him?”

“We’ll tie him up,” Aemond decides.

“What?!” Luke exclaims.

“There’s rope in the cellar. We’ll tie his arms and legs so he can’t do anything and keep him like that for a few days until either his hand heals up or he turns into a zombie. Someone will always have to be with him to help him eat and take a piss and also…you know. Deal with it if he turns.”

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says immediately.

Aemond’s voice is now gentle, sympathetic. “I don’t think you want this.”

“If Luke has to die, I should be the person with him.”

“You’ve never had to put someone down before.” And in this statement lives another: Aemond knows what that feels like. Aemond has had to kill someone when they turned.

“I’ll stay with him,” Rhaena says again, this frail harmless doe-eyed girl, and you see a steeliness in her that you hadn’t thought existed.

“Okay,” Aemond relents. “When you’re asleep, Jace or I will take over.”

“It’s not a bite,” Jace murmurs, like he’s trying to convince himself.

“We’ll all find out soon enough,” Rio says, casting him a glare, then goes to fetch the coil of rope from the cellar.

Aemond cleans and bandages the wound on Luke’s hand. Then the weapons, ammo, and newly immobilized Luke are loaded into the Tahoe. Aemond asks you once everyone else is inside: “How’s your head?”

“Fine, I think.”

“Hurts?”

“Just a little.”

“Dizzy? Double vision?”

“No, nothing like that.”

He takes a quick look, parting your hair with his fingertips, feeling gingerly for blood and swelling. And this is becoming a serious problem: every time he touches you, you want more.

“Aemond…who did you have to kill?”

He doesn’t answer. For another moment his hand lingers by your temple, then Aemond turns away and climbs into the Tahoe. This time, no one sings along to the next song on the mixtape. Heads rest on windows, eyes are vacant and misty. Baela steers the Tahoe westbound on Route 1004, the Chainsmokers drifting through the speakers: All We Know.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Pick a card, any card,” Aegon says when he’s done shuffling. He fans out the entire Uno deck face-down and offers it to Rio, Aemond, and Jace. They each select a card, then Aegon picks one for himself. Finally, he holds out the deck to Luke, who stares up incredulously from where he’s still bound with rope and sitting on a curb in the parking lot of a Burger King just outside of Yarnell, Pennsylvania.

“Are you serious?”

“You’re an adult male, aren’t you? You think being in the middle of transforming into an undead murder machine exempts you from gasoline siphoning duty?”

“I’m fine!” Luke insists.

“Great. Then pick a card.”

“I can’t move my hands, you idiot.”

“Pick it with your mouth.”

“I hate you.” Luke bites his card of choice and waits with it clasped between his teeth, glowering.

“I want to pick a card,” Daeron says cheerfully.

Aegon refuses. “No. Too young. A baby.”

“Aegon, I’m seventeen!”

“Can’t enlist, can’t do jury duty, can’t buy lottery tickets, can’t sign up to drink gasoline. Okay, everybody show their cards.”

“I got a three,” Jace says, then yanks Luke’s card out of his mouth and reads it. “He got a skip.”

Aemond’s card is a nine, Rio’s a five, Aegon’s a reverse. “That means you lose, Jace,” Aegon announces, admittedly rather gleeful. “You had the lowest number.”

“This is bullshit, I had to siphon last time!”

“Then stop picking bad cards.”

“Jace, I can do it,” Aemond says.

“And get to be the martyr, as usual? No thanks. Give me the damn hose.”

Aegon roots around under the Tahoe seats and produces a long, semitransparent siphoning hose. “All the ones with the little pump attachments were sold out everywhere by the time we thought that might be useful,” he explains to you and Rio.

“That sucks, Jace,” Rio says. “I mean, literally, it sucks.”

“Next time we cross a bridge, I’m pushing you off it.” Jace takes the hose from Aegon, pops open the gas cap of the Dodge Ram 3500 you’ve found, and threads the hose down into the tank. He sucks on the other end and then shoves it into the Tahoe once the gasoline starts flowing. The fuel gauge was hovering just above E. Hopefully you can get at least a few gallons out of the Ram, another fifty or a hundred miles, maybe even two hundred, enough to get you across the Ohio border.

Jace is bent over and vomiting gasoline onto the pavement. Rhaena and Baela sit with Luke as Aemond feels his forehead and peers into his eyes. Daeron accompanies Helaena as she goes to scavenge inside the Burger King, her burlap messenger bag slung over one shoulder. Rio is now holding the siphoning hose and watching the liquid gold pour into the Tahoe, his smile growing with each passing second. Your eyes fall on Aemond and stay there, his careful hands, his brow knitted with concentration.

A whisper from behind you: “We could fake date to make him jealous.”

You whirl to see Aegon, mischievous smirk, neon green plastic sunglasses. “That is a super generous offer and I appreciate the thought you put into it, but no.”

“Why not?”

“It’s dishonest. It’s manipulative. If something is going to happen with Aemond, I want it to be real.”

Aegon sighs. “No, you’re right, it was a dumb idea. I just figured I have a lot of experience.”

“Experience with what?”

“People pretending to love me.” He flashes a strange, sad smile, then follows Daeron and Helaena into the Burger King.

[miadefender]

was inspired by @grilde1chesse to make a resident evil headcanons post :p so here is that with some of my favorite characters :3 this is incredibly unorganized and bad, sorry in advance

this'll have leon, piers, ashley, mia, and wesker in it:3c

leon ; transmasc, he/him ; homoromantic & pansexual

- born in new york, grew up in boston (drives like a bostonian too (thank you to my irl friends for creating the bostonian leon headcanon))

- doesn’t cry often but when he does he’s an ugly cryer. leon was more sensitive as a kid but was forced to toughen up quick

- likes the the, the doors, crosby, stills, nash & young, nirvana… mostly 70s rock. likes mcr because of ashley

- has auburn hair naturally but is mildly embarrassed by this and dyes it

- hasn’t gotten top surgery as the recovery time would take too long for him

- absolutely a cat person. if he could he’d have five

- autistic & chronically depressed. very bad at socializing and yet a lot of his self esteem hinges on performing well in social situations

- often forgets to do basic things like eating or drinking water

- has always hated loud & bass-y noises but this was worsened after the events of re2

- bites his nails and cuticles as a self-regulatory/stress relieving behavior. starts painting his nails black after vendetta to try and combat this habit

- was on the field hockey team in his junior and senior years of high school

- has become somewhat of an older brother figure for ashley. she gifted him kandi soon after they got home from spain and he’s kept it safe ever since

- the plaga left behind some physical changes. this includes sharpened canines, a tapetum lucidum (eyeshine like a cat), and heightened hearing. leon dislikes these traits but hasn’t done anything to get rid of them for ashley’s sake

- his main love language is acts of service. he’s bad at talking people through things and prefers to just do instead of explaining himself

- leon’s commitment issues go craaazy. the only prolonged relationship he’s managed is with chris (or piers. or sometimes a polycule with both of them. yeah i’m a multishipper)

- gets sick a lot but it’s often mild enough that he powers through it or ignores it until it gets bad enough to put him on bed rest

- used to have a big appetite around the time he started t and was self-conscious about it as when he was younger he was a bit chubby. as he got older this has flipped to a certain degree, he doesn’t eat very much unless someone else made the food for him

- enjoys writing poetry but would rather die than share it with anyone

- has sensitive skin and an incredibly thorough skincare routine

- starts needing glasses around the time of re6 but refuses to get them for years

piers ; transmasc, he/him ; mlm

- born and raised in northern minnesota

- was a complete tomboy before realizing he’s trans, actually

- loves fishing and archery (and dragging his friends out into the woods with him to do these activities)

- grew up on a farm, joined ffa and raised goats as a teenager

- gets emotionally attached to things very easily. this tended to be a problem during fair season as he’d always raise goats for meat pen

- very short. like, 5’4. takes the piss out of it but is privately a little insecure about it

- a bit camera shy, as he ends up looking awkward in most of the photos he’s in

- dyslexic and has adhd

- really enjoys math. got in trouble during school multiple times for trying to help his friends when they struggled on tests

- big fan of dogs. grew up with shelties

- left-handed

- broke his arm four times throughout the course of his time in elementary school

ashley ; cis, she/her ; bi

- born in upstate new york, moved multiple times throughout her childhood

- was a scene kid (pretty much canon but i love this about her). huge fan of invader zim and made leon watch all of it with her

- born in 1989 (this is for the sake of a crackship and also so some of my other headcanons make a little more sense. this makes her like 15 or 16 in re4)

- obsessed with warrior cats, asked for the new books that’d come out each year for christmas five years in a row

- has “childish” interests unashamedly and makes sure everyone knows

- collected beanie babies when she was younger, held on to most of them into adulthood

- she loves getting dressed up just for the fun of it. transitioned into a more himekaji-esque style during college

- ashley actually really likes what the plaga did to her physical appearance, namely the sharp canines. her parents were. mildly mortified

- loves sailor moon. her favorite character is luna

mia ; transfem, she/her ; bi and aroacespec

- born and raised in texas

- born in 1987 (see the explanation in ashley’s section)

- goth during high school and college

- loves strawberry switchblade

- she’s scared of birds after a goose attacked her when she was six

- mia enjoys the macabre and collects leather-bound horror anthologies

- has bpd and ocd. she’s incredibly concerned with her own morality and constantly fears that she’s a bad person

- does watercolor painting in her free time. she doesn’t think anything she creates is very good, but holds onto them because ethan loved her art

- so so protective of her friends and family to an overbearing degree. this ends up pushing people away, which is the opposite of what she wants

wesker ; transmasc, he/him ; aroace

- thinks listening to music is a waste of time and focus. enjoys a few instrumental jazz standards in private

- autistic. doesn’t get why people don’t view things exactly the same way he does and is incredibly frustrated by it

- keeps his hair slicked back because he hates when he can feel it touching his forehead

- sensitive to bright lights

- gets headaches very easily and has chronic migraines

- genuinely passionate about virology

- likes bugs and had a collection of mounted moths and beetles during the s.t.a.r.s. era

[snippychicke]

u asked for kuro ideas to write to riddle me this bestie:

some girl ate a devil fruit that gave her shapeshifting animal abilities so while shes in cat form kuro kinda..... adopts her, as a cat, not knowing.... OOPS THAT CAT IS ALSO HUMAN!

You're the best bestie for coming when I call. 😘 (And I mean, I was the one to pull you into One Piece Fandom anyways)

So here you go!

(Edited Sept. 29-- I needed more of this, so I finished the story. Hints of Spice but nothing to terribly nsfw)

--Set at a random port after the events of Syrup Village

We can all agree Kuro, more likely than not, loves cats.

Like, certified crazy cat dude. Especially black cats, but loves all cats to be honest. More relatable than humans, and far more reliable.

Then we have you, our animal-shifting devil fruit eater. Lingering around ports as a cat was a lot easier than being a human, and being a black cat typically guaranteed that you were more or less left alone by the superstitious sailors.

This makes it very easy to pilfer goods as a thief. You could scope out who has what and easily slip in and out without any questions

When you meet Kuro, you didn’t initially think anything of it other than he was one of the kind ones. You were used to many going ‘pssp pssp pssp’, but instead of an empty hand promising head scratches, Kuro actually had some smoked fish for you.

And well, you weren’t going to turn down a free meal. Or the scratches from ears to tail. The animal instincts that were usually wary of humans settled around him, so you weren’t to worry. He didn't even try for your belly as you laid on your side to enjoy the sunlight.

Unbeknownst to you, when you flopped down by his side as he sat on the pier (finding the ocean a nice place to figure out a plan for the future after the disaster of Syrup village) he decided right then and there that you were his.

Once he picked out which ship to steal, he plucked you from your sunbathing by the scruff of your neck and ran.

Before you realized what was going on, you were dumped on the deck of a small boat, the port drifting away. Yet instead of transforming then and there, you decided to hide as shouts and gunfire filled the air.

(Unfortunately, the fight-or-flight instincts were too hard to ignore in animal form.)

You weren't sure how much later it was when Kuro found you and tried to coax you from your hiding spot with food, but it was long enough for the island to be little more than a speck.

He was not expecting his new companion to shift into a human after they wiggled out of their hiding hole, their eyes narrowed in anger.

"What the hell?"

After a lot of confusion, arguing, and maybe some tense feelings, you do end up as partners.

After all, you're a thief of opportunity. But between his planning skills and your abilities, the sky is likely the limit.

The Marines are clueless that Kuro lives, and you're unknown considering no one thinks to link the black cat with the thefts.

A new version of cat burglary. You laugh about it, Kuro rolls his eyes, too cautious to believe your good luck will continue.

As it turns out, you both dream of an easier life. You share your dreams during the late nights sailing between islands while he listens quietly.

Part of him can't help but hope that since you have similar goals, maybe he doesn't have to be so cautious around you.

The hull is soon filled with stolen goods that you start selling to black market contacts into a diverse mix of stacks of Berries and precious metals and gems.

There are nights where you can't sleep, and you have been known to sneak into his quarters as a cat to curl up next to him, just to feel less alone.

He is well aware, though won't say anything. In the morning it will be like nothing happened, but through the night his hand will be on your back as you snuggle close to his chest.

He treasures those moments just as dearly as you do.

Kuro won't admit it, but he wishes you felt confident to come to him as a human as well. But he'll take whatever affection you are willing to give, because he is too cautious to ask for any himself.

When you start reaching the targeted goal, your heart starts feeling heavy, as does his.

Both of you had grown closer during your travels, slowly trusting in each other as well as falling in love.

You're not sure who suggested advancing the goal since things had been going so well, but it's unanimous. After all, better safe than sorry, right?

Between raids, you talk more about where you want to retire to, and sometimes will start adding to the others dreams.

Things take a turn when a theft ends up with some alcohol on board. And well, you deserve to celebrate a little.

Neither of you are drunk. Just relaxed. Inhibitions and walls lowered.

Kuro is the one who makes the first move, cupping your jaw like he would if you were a cat, and commenting on how brilliant your eyes are even as human.

One small little kiss quickly ends up with you in his lap, hands roaming each other slowly, studying the other. You indulge in the feel of the muscles he hides with his clothes. Running your hands through his hair.

He calls you beautiful. Claims you as his, calling you his beautiful thief. Kuro enjoys the shape of your body, squeezing and massaging your hips, waist, ass.

When you beg him please and admit that you need him, it breaks him. He carries you back to his cabin, to his bed. Admits to you how he had dreamed of this, how often he wished you would join him as a human, as he worships your body, carefully noting each little sigh and gasp.

Your nails digging into his back is bliss to him as he finally enters you. The careful, cautious part of him evaporates, leaving the pirate captain who takes delight in making you scream and beg. Whose strength and speed threaten to break the small bunk as he plows into you.

He says those three words as he comes, swearing he is never going to let you go. You're barely able to think straight after so many orgasms, and hope that your soft little kisses in the afterglow convey what you mean.

The fact you curl up next to him, human this time, and falling asleep says enough.

You do end up together in a small but bountiful town, a little townhouse with the comforts you both crave (and plenty of cats.)

… you also may take 'sailing trips' when you both feel too wild for your new life. Just once in a while. There are rumors of the ghost of Captain Kuro and an unearthly black cat that spread through the East Blue.

[invisiblequeen]

For @rainymoodlet 's BC: May I introduce...Lyndon Yoneda?

Age: 47

Hometown: Evergreen Harbor

Occupation: Fabricator for SIMply Crafted (with an edge in candle-making)

Aspiration: Master Maker

Traits: Bro, Maker, Gloomy

Likes: Orange, Red, Black, Brown, Fishing, Gardening, Handiness, Fitness, Blues, Ranch, Focus and Jazz Music,

Dislikes: Green, Writing, Cross-stitch, Easy Listening, Pop and Romance Music

Bio: Lyndon Yoneda grew up under a heavy smog filled sky in Evergreen Harbor, to parents that spent their whole lives fighting the dismissive nature of the industrial titans that refused to budge for the people. His father passed down his knowledge of fabrication, specifically candle-making, to his son, in the hopes that he would never have to find a job working under a Laandgraab's company. His Mother imparted her wisdom of an eco lifestlye, from the clothes he wears and self-repairs to the items he uses at home. "We don't make beauty," they told him, "we simply build upon the beauty this world already has."

Lyndon, who has successfully taken that to heart, is now a well-known fabricator who frequently collabs with SIMply crafted for distribution, and also makes custom candles for FREE for whoever knows how to ask for it (hint: say please.) He is a low-key, easy-going, friendly man who lives a modest life under the stormy skies of Whiskerman's Wharf, making friends with all the cats and catching the eyes of all the neighbors.

But they don't know how low his moods get when he's alone. They don't see the tears he sheds over the loss of both parents to pollution sickness. They don't know why he sits at the pier with one candle burning until it's a puddle of wax in his hands. And they will never hear the prayers he sends up to the Watcher for someone, anyone, to ease the loneliness that has plagued him for 40 years.

For the right sim, he would make a thousand candles, a thousand beanies, a thousand of anything. And they wouldn't even have to ask.

Could Jackson Roth be that sim?

What do we think, @rainymoodlet ?

[fluffyzoey]

eyes eyes eyes eyes eyes eyes eyes......

Blinky is not the kind of god you want to be seeing in your visions, ft. my Hatchetfield oc, Estelle, her brother, Callum, and...well, you'll see the rest.

The day started out normally enough. A cup of hot tea, feeding the cats, yelling at Callum to unload the dishwasher because damn it, she can’t take another night of shitty takeout. Just another day in the life. 

And then, all of a sudden, things started to change. 

It started small. An odd shape she hadn’t noticed before carved into the rough wooden floors of the upstairs hallway, a little oval hollowed into the pile of cat food, a button eye falling off an old teddy bear on her shelf. She really didn’t pay much attention to it. By the time 8:00 am hit, Callum had already gone downstairs for work, and Estelle was left alone with the cats for the day. As she sat in front of the living room television, stroking Pillbug’s sleek black fur, something felt…off. She couldn’t exactly describe it, but it almost felt like someone–or something–was watching her. 

Estelle was unsettled as she stood up, watching the blind black cat leap to the floor, meowing back up at her, annoyed. She tried to shake it off, glancing at the old grandfather clock in the corner of the room. An hour had passed. She was tempted to go downstairs into the shop to be near her brother, just to have someone else nearby, but bit her tongue and went back to her chair, tucking her legs beneath her. She fumbled for the television remote, a desperate attempt to calm herself down with reruns of I Love Lucy, but when she picked it up, the on/off button had been replaced by a single, yellow, beady eye. She shrieked and tossed it across the room. 

After a moment, she glanced back at it. The eye was gone. She scrambled to pick it up, dusting it off with the hem of her shirt. When she turned back to the chair, a second eye had appeared on the plush seat. Her knuckles whitened around the remote, and she took a step back. She tried to retrace her steps throughout that day and the one before it: the last night had ended with a FaceTime call with her girlfriend before bed. She’d gotten a good ten hours of sleep, having woken up at seven that morning, eaten breakfast with her brother in the kitchen, fed the cats, all the things she normally did. What gave? She never drank, she’d never been high, and this wasn’t some sort of delusion caused by lack of sleep!

Maybe I need some fresh air! She thought. I’ve been cooped up a lot, maybe a nice walk down at the pier will help! 

Estelle pulled on a light sweater, ignoring the fact that the buttons had turned into eyes, complete with lashes and veins. She laced up her black sneakers, trying to shut her eyes and just ignore the freaky little changes in her home environment,  but the visions swam beneath her eyelids like fish below a frozen lake. 

One or two more eyes had appeared, but only for a brief moment. They were in the walls, the staircase, the railing, all the way through the hallway that led Estelle from her apartment to the shop below it. There was a single customer there when she arrived, an elderly man who frequented the location. Callum was behind the counter, and Bumblebee had apparently crept her way down behind him that morning, because she was sitting atop the register with her long, bushy tail tucked neatly around her delicate paws.

“Estelle? I thought you were taking the day off!” Callum looked down at her, concerned. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!”

She risked a glance up at her brother; a terrible choice. For a moment, a third eye appeared in the center of his forehead, the sclera was golden in hue, with a massive, scarlet red pupil in the center, a stark contrast to Callum’s normal, pale blue eyes. 

“I don’t- I don’t-” She bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from screaming, feeling a trickle of metallic liquid ooze out from the wound she’d created with her teeth. Callum blinked once, then twice, and the third eye seemed to retreat back inside his forehead with a wretched squelching noise. She was breathing heavily, unable to even explain to him what had been happening that morning. 

“Estelle? C’mon, talk to me!” He shoved aside a stack of old, leather-bound books on the counter, pushing his way to the other side. He grabbed both of his sister’s hands and squeezed, shaking Estelle, trying to make her snap out of it. 

Eyes were forming everywhere–she counted seven on the wall behind the checkout, four crawling across the windowsill, even a pair on Bumblebee, right on her chest, her fur forming a set of lashes. 

Callum seemed to panic too now, poking and pinching her, trying to get her out of this weird dreamy state she was in, but it was no use. She was too far gone from reality. 

“Oh god, oh god…” He pulled out his phone and dialed a number he would have otherwise never called–Estelle’s girlfriend, Zoey–and tapped the icon to put the phone on speaker. 

“Please pick up, please pick up…” He took Estelle’s wrist into his clenched fist. She was leaning against him as the eyes before her grew in size, more and more popping up. It seemed every time she closed her own set, another would be birthed before her. On the wall behind her, words started to appear in loopy purple writing: Don’t you fucking blink. 

She tried to take their advice, straining to keep her eyes open, but the longer she did, the more the eyes grew. She had completely lost sight of where she was. More letters were written in, this time on the floor: I’m watching you! 

There were so many, and not just the yellow, beady ones she’d come to know. Some clearly belonged to humans, others to animals, others were cartoonish or heavily detailed. She could hear them blinking, a sort of whoosh-whoosh noise as the lashes hit the lids, like a chorus of birds all flapping their wings at once. She could feel them on her body, every twitch and movement they made translating onto a light clap against her own pale skin. Her head throbbed from the noise of the eyes. She never knew something so silent in her everyday live could cause so much pain…here. 

“Estelle!” Callum was still yelling at her, but she didn’t even seem to register her own name any more. Her knees began to buckle beneath her, and he felt her weight transfer onto him, hanging off his arm like Tarzan from a vine. With his free hand, he held his phone up as it rang once, twice, three times, before Zoey finally picked up.

“Uh…I think you should maybe get over here…”

“Eyes…eyes…” She was muttering, over and over again, Callum could barely put together what she was saying, her words were so slurred. She was down on the ground now, having let go of Callum’s arm and crumpled beneath her own weight. She was groaning, immense pain hitting every ounce of her body. 

Estelle didn’t remember anything after that. At some point, the looming threat of being watched from every angle had become too much to bear, she must have passed out. When she awoke again, she was back in her bed, Zoey curled up around her and Callum nervously pacing. Once he saw she was awake, he stepped up to her bedside. She groaned as she felt her girlfriend bury her face against her neck, mumbling into her skin. “I thought you were gonna die.”

“No shit!” Callum barked. “What the hell happened? Did you have a stroke or something?”

“N-no, I…I can’t even begin to explain…” Estelle sat up, peeling her body away from Zoey. “I…there were eyes, everywhere…” 

Zoey frowned. “Eyes? Babe, are you feeling okay?” She set her hand on her girlfriend’s forehead, feeling for a fever. “We thought you were having a heart attack or something!” She grabbed Estelle by the shoulders, and Estelle shuddered.

Zoey was looking at her right in the eyes. 

Estelle shivered and shut her eyes tight, feeling Zoey pull her close again. She felt a movement as Callum sat down on the foot of the bed. 

“We’re gonna get this figured out, don’t worry!” Callum touched her shoulder, just a tap. She shivered, remembering the feeling of the eyes blinking. If she was going to be touched, she needed it to be constant, and so she felt herself nuzzling closer to Zoey. 

“Really? That one?” T’Noy Karaxis tossed his bastard’s box from one hand to the other, staring down at the tiny town of Hatchetfield. His brother, Bliklotep, had an evil sort of grin on his face. “That’s the one! Our little friend needs to uphold her part of the deal.”

“I don’t remember her making a deal!” Tinky snorted, flicking his box back at his brother. Blinky grimaced. “I never said she did it.”

[silversmoke-20]

Yandere Teenage Kraken GenderSwapped!

Ruby Gillman/Ruben Gillman

Shellsea/Shelldon

Contents: Yandere Tendencies, Genderswap au, NSFW content, Dark content, College au, Aged up!, Horny, Cat's are God's!

Ruben Gillman and Shelldon

These two as boys will be nothing more than terrifying. One will be basically a walking horny fish that wants to ravage kiss you and the other is basically clingy and is close to kidnapping saving you from that damn merman, who's making unnecessary glances at your direction.

Shelldon

This merman wouldn't hesitate to well breakup any relationship you were in just to have you. He would demand for you to show him a pic of that gorgeous body so he can Ahem! Relieve himself real quick! In any other situations if you're alone with him get ready for a wild ride.

"Such a naughty Human~, I know you wanted this~"

The moment Shelldon saw Ruben Gillman that kraken prince giving him one of those creepy black eyed stare before heading towards his darling. He knew he had to kill that damn raw calamari bastard.

Shelldon will use all his powers that he cultivated before arriving in Oceanside high and will use his hypnotic signing to have you distance yourself away from the cephalopod or else you can say goodbye to your dear family.

"You've been hanging with that stupid calamari boy. I guess you need to be taught a, "lesson". Get on your knees and let's put that disobedient mouth to proper use~".

Shelldon is a massive control freak and doesn't like it if you disobey him. So he'll blackmail you or use his charismatic and good looks and he'll have you wrapped around his finger.

Be a good little human pet and he won't change your Spotify playlist to only Taylor Swift music.

Ruben Gillman

Oh this sweet summer child is literally down bad for you and he craves your touch, lips, affection and body. Like I'm talking about a touched starve zenitsu begging for any affection, even if it's from inosuke kind cravings.

The moment you rolled passed him on your roller skates with a satchel strapped around your shoulders and giving him a cheeky wink, he knew you and him belong together.

He will try and find out everything of what you liked and Disliked. After Stalking checking out your social media, he discovered you played the drums and guitar and loved to skate. Basically a punk rock darling he never knew he desired.

So after been given an old skateboard given by his father that had a cool blue Cthulhu design on the bottom. He knew he was ready

So noticing this odd blue skinned boy trying to skate on a skateboard had made you want to coach the poor baby how to properly skate. So after teaching him how to skate and do some neat tricks he asked for your number.

"I'm Ruben Gillman, a normal teenage boy!"

Now it's weird that someone half your height has the same dislikes and likes you have would raise some red flags🚩🚩🚩. But humans are stupid you shared more of your interests.

One night he stalked followed you to see you sit out on the end of the pier and writing some lyrics and sketches for some designs and the moment you attempted to get up, your foot slipped on the wet wood and you fell into the water. Ruben knew he had to save you and dove in after you.

"Are you alright Y/n- I mean human?"

Hearing a worried voice, you noticed the voice held your tiny body in his huge rubbery purple four fingered hand. Looking up you see an adorable purple Kraken with a metal crown sitting atop his head. His entire body had this lights stretched across his glowing purple body.

Putting you down on the pier he dove into the waters below and you can only watch the illuminated cephalopod swam away from the mainland.

Now this began your curiosity about this adorable giant sea beast. You decided to head to the pier three nights later and with your guitar, you started playing a song.

Seeing no Kraken in sight you decided to chalk this up to you being delusional and started to pack your things.

Until-

"I like your song, can you play more for me?"

Now this began your friendship with The Kraken and you. Sometimes you had to cancel plans with Ruben and he oddly enough doesn't mind, he also sounds similar to him.

After Shelldon interacted with you, you noticed that Ruben and the kraken had a odd switch to a different personality.

The two separately told you to stay away from that man. But you were human, a stupid little human.

The moment you spent one single day with Shelldon, you're suddenly woken up to see you were in a large cave.

Confused you noticed the rise of water slowly forming nearby and noticed the kraken appearing before you holding something under the water.

Suddenly he throws something out of the water, and too your horror it was Shelldon, who had his chest recently impaled and his lower body in the body of fish tail.

Demanding the kraken to let you go he slowly exits the water with a disappointed look on his face and witnessed him slowly shrinking in size and with a flash of purple light.

Ruben and the Kraken were the same person. And now you could only hope to whatever existing god there is that he wouldn't hurt you.

"Don't worry, I'm going to protect you from those who want to tear us apart."

_____________________

Yooo new teenage kraken x reader content just dropped? Whoohoo!

A gift for @hana-no-seiiki

Also anyone wanna request for more teenage kraken x reader content? Please ask and I'll gladly do so!

[thatgirlissopeculiar]

Dream’s dnf fanart likes

August 23rd

George and Dream bts of the Everest music video, George wearing the too big cat ear beanie

two different versions of baby!Dream telling the moon to wake up and kid!George waking up

various doodles of behind the scenes of the Everest music video, top left: George and Dream, George wearing the too big cat ear beanie, bottom left: Dream putting a lei around George's neck, right: the DTeam looking at Mt Everest

three versions of itt!dnf hanging from a dandelion

itt!Dream looking at itt!George, who is upside down from the top of the image (plus a tweet Dream liked of the artist celebrating him retweeting the art)

itt!George getting flustered while taking a picture of itt!Dream

Dream laying in the snow, George on top of him from the bts of the Everest music video

itt!George calling the the spectral fish they're riding on 'beautiful', itt!Dream looking at him and agreeing

George and Dream looking at each other, in black and white

a pencil drawing of George and Dream from the Everest music video bts, George in the too big cat ear beanie

Dream leaning his chin on George's shoulder, both wearing star cat ear beanies

soup!George and roll!Dream

itt!Dream and itt!George holding hands

Dream and George bts of the Everest music video, George in Dream's cat ear beanie

soup guy and cinnamon roll guy

a gif of 'Dream' and 'George' in front of the Eiffel Tower, 'DNF' and blue and green hearts above them, a big subscribe button below them

Dream holding an umbrella out over George

blob!dnf in a field, under a rainbow

close ups of band au dnf, George with blue in his hair and blue make up in a star around one eye, Dream with green in his hair and green make up in streaks under his eyes

Dream, mask on, ruffling George's hair, hearts above his head

itt!Dream and itt!George reaching out to each other

George and Dream, George wearing the too big cat ear beanie

cinnamon roll!Dream and soup!George

c!George in a mushroom hat, c!Dream in a green hoodie

a puppy and their green and blue art <3

various little blob!dnf doodles

a redraw of a screenshot of George and Dream from the DTeam Santa Monica Pier stream

tiny!dnf standing beneath some mushrooms, holding hands

various Everest music video bts moments, including Dream leaning super close behind George

Manager Ken and Dream in the studio, Dream sitting on the floor writing in a book, Ken holding a guitar and telling Dream to tell 'him' how he feels

[jeyne-stark]

☆☆

“So, a long time ago, all the Ironborn lived underwater, with the fish. The Drowned God wanted them to stay close, and safe, while he fought all the sea monsters. But the Ironborn refused. They wanted to fight as well, and they planned to sneak out of the Drowned God’s halls. But he caught them, and forbade them to go. Some of them heeded his ban, but most refused, and that night they snuck out when he came back after a fight.

“They traveled far, and finally came to a great land, full of monsters for them to fight and treasure for them to take, and they set themselves up as kings and that’s where the Ironborn came from.”

full name ultimatum

There is a secret (not actually secret) bonus story attached to this, as to why Ironborn cats have no tails (as much like Manx cats they are all tailless, and also like Manx cats they are prized ship cats)—the Drowned God opened the door for them to go out into the world, but they couldn't decide in or out or in or out…eventually they took so long that the Drowned God closed the door. The cats were mostly out, but their tails got caught in the door. And that is why Ironborn cats have no tails.

Also this is just showing my Tolkien fandom roots.

She feels the wind on her face, and opens her eyes. She stands on a rocky shore. The ocean waves crash and break against the rock, the sky grey and the sea storming. A pier stretches out into the dark water, barnacles clinging to the wooden posts. Overhead, a flock of sea-birds cry and call out, their black wings fluttering madly in flight, the white bands on their under-wings flashing as they swoop and dive in the strong wind.

no more on the docks i'll be seen

I grew up sailing, which is not necessarily why I latched onto the Ironborn like a barnacle but probably is part of it. The birds in question in this passage are storm petrels, who I fully thought were made up folklore birds until I was in college, because I only heard about them in the context of sailing lore (as they're not native to where I am). They're omens of storms, due to them using the high winds to fly, and it's terribly bad luck to kill one because they're the souls of drowned sailors. So I thought they were fitting for the Drowned God to keep around.

[cadrenebula]

Prompt #4: Off the Hook

Alexois sighed softly as he carefully baited the hook for some fishing. Shadow was busy winding around between his feet where he sat, the cat eager for fish. Finally getting the line ready before throwing the line out into the water.

"Learn some patience, cat." Alex rolled his eyes as Shadow now decided to sit at the edge of the pier to watch the fishing line. "Don't make me have to fish you out of the water instead."

Earning him a yowl from his companion. The black cat wasn't quite scruffy anymore. At least definitely not scrawny. Still missing a tip of an ear of course since that wasn't something that could be fixed. But food and living with the Jackals had fixed what could be fixed for the once stray cat. Tail lashing back and forth as golden eyes peered back towards the duskwight.

Alex leaned back in his seat and made sure his sunglasses were comfortably situated. He didn't expect any immediate bites but didn't mean he had to sit hunched over waiting. The fish would bite soon enough. An once they did he would have fresh fish to try a new dish for dinner. As well as he'd make sure to catch some to feed the cats. Shadow wouldn't forgive him if he didn't give Shadow and Tyranny some fish for dinner.

[akwolfgrl]

PART 20 LFT

Zoro felt such relief when Sanji said yes. He was tempted to stay here, ero cook looked too damn cute and cozy in his fluffy blue robe. The cat curled up by his head, a book by his side. However, Sanji was already getting up and taking the bouquet from him. The blond touched his cheek before pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“Should we get a hotel room tonight? I wouldn't mind My first time in a bed to be with you, I mean you do clean up nice marimo,” Zoro watched as Sanji stripped out of his robe, then the man's words caught up with him.

“What! Are saying that you were a virgin when we fucked in the galley?” Zoro couldn't believe it, that couldn't possibly be right.

“Of course not!” Sanji glared at him as he pulled up a pair of black pants. “Look I don't want to get into it but let's just say I was using sex and alcohol to grow up faster,” he pulled a gray sweater over his head. “Shall we stop by the galley first to put the roses in some water, can't have them drying out before I decide what to make with them.”

“You can cook with flowers?” Zoro asked, looking at the roses in his hand.

“Some flowers are in fact editable,” Sanji slipped his socks and fancy shoes on before holding out his hand. “Ready to go?”

“Yah let's go,” Zoro took the outstretched hand in his own. Sanji's hands were softer than his own, but he could still feel the tough, raised callus at the base of the index finger. From all the chopping he must do every day. This was their first time holding hands.

Sanji led him to the galley, with one hand, Zoro wasn't ready to let go, he took out a jar and filled it with water. Zoro placed the roses in the jar.

“Shall we find somewhere to eat?”

“Nami said she made reservations for us,” Zoro replied as they headed down to the docks.

“Oh? She was busy today, I suppose it all makes sense now. She and Usopp kept asking me questions, and also why she insisted on me getting new clothes. So what is the name of the place?” Sanji asked him, turning to look at him.

“I forgot, it was a bunch of letters,” Zoro couldn't believe he forgot what restaurant Nami told him, he really didn't want to go and ask her. She'd just charge him for the info.

“Really mossy? Is your head so full of roots you forgot some letters? It's fine we can just ask a local for a good spot,” Sanji looked around.

“There's someone sweeping over there,” Zoro pointed out.

“Excuse me sir, can i ask you a question?” Sanji asked the man Zoro had pointed out.

“Sure whatcha need?”

“What is a good local place near-by? Something with fresh seafood.”

“Nico's pier38, it's owned by a couple and it's also a fish market in the morning. He is from the north blue and she's from Shimotsuki Village,” Zoro perked up when he heard the name of his village.

“How did someone from the north blue end up here?” Zoro asked the guy. It wasn't often that you'd find someone from a different sea here, unless they were from the Grand Line hoping to take over a weeker sea like with Arlong.

“It's not that unusual Marimo, I'm also from the north originally, so where is this Nicos?”

“Well you're in luck, this pier is number forty so it's pretty close by,” The man rattled out directions that Zoro quickly forgot about.

“All right thank you sir,'' Sanji began to lead Zoro thire, their hands still linked together.

It didn't take very long for them to get there, people were sitting outside laughing, eating and talking. Zoro could hear the music coming from within. The smells were almost as good as what came from the Merry’s own kitchen due to the man he was holding hands with. They walked in, there was a large oval shaped bar right in the middle of the restaurant. It was mostly in warm shades of tan but the ceiling with a deep blue that reminded Zoro of the depths of the sea.

“Hello, do you have a reservation?” A woman with curly brown hair stepped from around a tall podium.

“Hello, no I'm afraid we do not, my dear,” Sanji gave her a smile, not quite as large and love stuck as the one he usually gives Nami. “I do hope that won't be a problem. We were told how wonderful your food is and are very excited to try it,” The lady giggled at Sanji's flirting, and Zoro rolled his eyes.

“Well if you don't mind outdoor seating I believe I could squeeze you in,” She offered.

“Oh that would be more than fine, you're an angel,” Sanji replied, counting with his flirting. Zoro would get Curls back for that latter. Perhaps a good edging would remind Ero-cook who he belonged to.

“Follow me,” She led them to a table outside with two menus tucked under her arm. “Your waiter will be right with you.”

[princess-of-the-corner]

Toontown: Corporate Clash Recap: Barnacle Boatyard Tour

Okay so, something funny I learned: The NPC Toon who runs the Gag N’ Go vans, Reid Stock, will use the “Greened Cat” Sticker if a Toon goes sad on the street near the Gag N’ Go.

This makes her the only NPC to use Stickers.

Additionally, the Derrick Man has unique Friend Request rejection messages:

The Derrick Man pauses before answering, “I can’t draw that kind of attention to myself right now.”

“Not exactly the kind of message I was hoping to send,” the Derrick Man says.

“That’s not in the cards, Toon,” the Derrick Man growls.

The Derrick Man responds with a series of burbles.

But now, for a tour of the new Neighborhood.

Barnacle Boatyard can be accessed via the tunnel at the end of Punchline Place. This tunnel leads out into Buccaneer Boulevard.

The Fisherman for this street is a purple cat named Barney.

Buccaneer Boulevard’s Cogs are 10% Lawbot, 80% Bossbot, and 10% Boardbot.

Every non-Manager Cog that spawns on this street has a 7.5% chance of being an executive.

The street forms a sort of coily, zig-zaggy, boxy, rectangle shape. Not sure how to describe it.

The minimum level for Cogs on the Street is 2 while the level cap is 5. This is true across all of Barnacle Boatyard’s Streets.

Barnacle Boatyard’s Playground has a large body of water in the center, with piers that rise and lower into the water, and an island with a palm-tree growing out of it in the center, where Tumbles will be stranded if you completed his task in Toontown Central.

It is possible to swim UNDER the Toon headquarters and into the fishing pond. Yes, this is one of the few places outside of the Toon Estate with water deep enough to swim.

The S.S. Day-Sea sails around the island, stopping at the piers as she passes them, her captain (a light blue duck by the name of “The Captain”) will announce arrivals and departures and sing shanties while sailing around the Playground’s waters.

Clerks Bill (a maroon mouse) and Will (yellow rabbit) run the Gag Shop.

The fisherman for this playground is a red cat named Furball.

The Pet Shop is red, and staffed by Barky, Bloop, and Purr (who do not have articles on the Corporate Clash Wiki, so I don’t know their species).

The Clothing Shop is primarily red with yellow stripes, and is staffed by an orange cat named Longhorn Leeroy.

Toon HQ is designed to resemble a hybrid boat, sailor’s cap, and buoy.

Like all Taskline Playgrounds, there’s also a Trolley here.

The playground’s only unique building is a shop by the name of “The Tell-Tale Carp”, run by a black kiwi named Edgar Allen Pole. He’ll sell you Fishing Rods and Fishing Buckets when you’re a high enough Fishing Level, though you also have to buy the Rods and Buckets in order.

While in the Playground, Toons passively regain 2 Laff every second, and by collecting the Starfish Treasures that spawn underwater, Toons can regain 4 Laff per Starfish.

The other three streets are as follows: Anchor Avenue, Lighthouse Lane, and Seaweed Street.

Anchor Avenue connects Barnacle Boatyard to an under-construction tunnel, and has fewer shops than the other streets.

Across the street from it’s Gag N’ Go is the only remaining Street Toon HQ, and behind that Toon HQ is an alleyway that leads into a pavilion in front of an oddly colored Cog Building. If you attempt to enter this building, your Toon will hear the sounds of security cameras and change their mind.

(Note: The Anchor Avenue G.U.M.B.A.L.L. Machine shares its inventory with the G.U.M.B.A.L.L. Machine in the Playground.)

Past this strange building is the both the street’s fishing pond AND the local fisherman, a red beaver named Freshie.

Anchor Avenue’s Cogs have a 10% chance of being executives, and the Cog population is 55% Sellbots, 35% Bossbots, and 10% Boardbots.

Lighthouse Lane connects Barnacle Boatyard to the Brrrgh. Halfway through the street is a lighthouse. Behind this lighthouse is a series of gear sigils in front of a gateway, and behind this gateway is a foggy pier. Going behind the lighthouse to watch this causes ominous music to start playing.

Across the street from the Lighthouse is a fishing pond, and this street’s fisherman is a sienna cat named Shane.

Cogs on this street have a 15% chance of being executives.  The Cog population is 5% Sellbots, 5% Cashbots, 35% Lawbots, and 55% Boardbots.

The fourth and final street is Seaweed Street, which connects to Acorn Acres.

The fisherman is Reed, a coral cat.

Cogs on this street have a 10% chance of being executives, and the Cog population is 30% Sellbots, 60% Cashbots, and 10% Lawbots.

When fishing, this is the best place to catch Dogfish, and the following  fish species can only be fished up here:

Bull Dog Fish

Hot Dog Fish

Dalmation Dog Fish (can also be found at Estates)

Old King Crab (Lighthouse Lane, can also be found more commonly in a later Neighborhood)

Kiddie Pool Sharks (can also be found in a later Neighborhood)

Swimming Pool Sharks (can also be found in a later Neighborhood)

Olympic Pool Sharks (can also be found in a later Neighborhood)

Next time, we go over the new Cogs you can fight here.

-

“THE TELL-TALE CARP, RUN BY A BLACK KIWI NAMED EDGAR ALLEN POLE”

I am screaming(derogatorily affectionate)

[katforll313]

Christmas Ornament Catalog

I had a friend over for Thanksgiving and we put up the tree on Black Friday. As we were decorating they kept having to ask us where each ornament went and interpret our frequently contradictory instructions, and my sister said "Ko I thought we had set rules but you've made me realize it is a weirdly specific case-by-case system." It made me think of all of the family stories and tradition and life that goes into the tree.

The Glass Hummingbird

Top of the tree

A gift from Grandmama Denise from the Greenbriar in West Virginia

Glittery Katie Ornament

Mid to low, side or front of the tree

Homemade by Katie in 2004

This is my favorite picture of me as a baby- my eyes look like blueberry colored pits in my head it’s terrifying.

Small White Owl

High on the tree

A gift from Grandma Harriet to Dad

Porcelain Cherub with Gold Accents, one of five

Mid to high on the tree, far from each other

A gift from Grandma Denise to Mom

For a few years there my grandmother would buy these inexpensive angel ornaments and give them to my mother and her sister every single Christmas. Mom sounded fondly annoyed when explaining this.

Glitter Spider Tree Ornament

Mid back of the tree

A gift from Dad to Abbi

It’s because she had a pet fishing spider named Daisy at the time. This is only the second most terrifying pet Abbi ever had placed in her room by my father. The first were the Madagascar hissing cockroaches, which were an actual horror story to have in the home.

Orange Peel Angels, one of a matching set

Mid on the tree, far from each other

Bought by Mom from Ten Thousand Villages, made by artisans in Colombia

These make everything in the box they get stored with smell like oranges to this day.

Wizard of Oz Rainbow Ornament, part of a set of two

Mid of front of the tree

Bought by Mom for Abbi

Nightmare Before Christmas Mayor

Mid to high on the back of the tree

A gift from Mom to Dad

Nightmare before Christmas is my Dad’s favorite Christmas and Halloween movie. One year we were at the Petco and he found chew-toys, like the ones for dogs, that had all of Boogie’s Boys’ faces and one of the Mayor’s and bought them as decor to go up on the mantle.

Silver Wizard

Low front of the tree

Bought by Mom for Abbi and Katie from Pier 1

Wooly Sheep

Bottom side of the tree

Bought by Mom for Abbi and Katie

By far the softest ornament we have. Mom bought it specifically to have ornaments that the cats couldn’t break that she could hang low on the tree.

Acorn, one of a set of five

Anywhere, spread out from one another

A gift from Abbi to Mom from an antique shop in 2021

Abbi's clay angel

Back middle of the tree

Handmade by Aunt Barbara

Purple Spirals

Cover, in any tall empty spots

Bought by Mom from the Cheshire Cat antique store

We went on a shopping trip with her around 2014 after she bought a purple tree skirt and wanted more ornaments to match it.

Dirty Sock Snowman

Bottom back of tree 

Handmade by Grandma Harriet

“Mom, I know you did not just hang that dirty sock lookin’ snowman at the very front of tree like that’s where he belongs.”

“Don't say that about him Grandma Harriet made him for us!”

“Yeah out of the dirty sock off of her own foot!”

Dude-man's sand dollar, one of a set of two

Front low on the tree

A custom made gift from Ms. Laura to Mom from a Crabtree Valley Mall kiosk in 1989.

We have another that looks like my Dad’s old cat Simon that my Mom bought for him a different year.

The Apples

Cover, in any empty colorless or empty spaces

Antiques from Grandma Denise to Mom when she first moved out

The black airplane

Top of the front of the tree

A gift from Grandma Harriet to Dad

Aunt Sharon’s ugly-ass pink bear egg

Mid to bottom back of the tree

Handmade by Aunt Sharon in 1998

This is by far the most hideous ornament we own, undeniably one of the most memorable.

Gold-tipped lute-playing angel

Front, mid on tree

A gift from Grandma Denise (also during her angel kick)

Star square Abbi

Eye-level on the tree

A gift from Aunt Lisa to Mom, photo taken in a shoot from the daycare

Star Plush Santa

Bottom of the tree

A gift from Aunt Kimmy to Mom for Abbi's first Christmas

Bonus:

The Christmas Slug

❗NOT❗ allowed on the tree!

The Best Gift

Under the tree. Always. She’s difficult to reach. Bear please come out we have to put the lights on.

[bouncingkadachi]

More Breakfast Team headcanons

Been thinking about them again so here’s some more monstie headcanons. Mostly some fighting styles and how they’re doing post Rite of Channeling.

Partially sponsored by Flaming Espinas and whatever genius designed his big explosion. I love it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Ratha

Has retained some of his Razewing and corrupted characteristics. His scales are permanently stained a dark maroon, while those that pattern his face and go down his back are black.

The last vestiges of when he was flightless can be seen in the scales along the arms of his wings. While they are predominantly dark in color, the scales clustered around his spurs seem to be iridescent. 

His coloration and the way he’s been trained to wield fire can result in him being misidentified as a Dreadking by Hunters at first glance. However, even fully grown he is average size for a Rathalos.

Tail was made for SMACKING—tends to swing it wide in a circle to stun and then immediately follow with a second spinning blast of flame.

Trained for higher firepower which has resulted the scales along his neck and his chest glowing when he’s ready to fire. Usually only seen when he’s charging a big attack, but he’s also learned to use it as a threat of impending explosion.

However! He also uses this gimmick occasionally as a sudden flare of warmth for cold days. Great to cuddle up against!

Can and will use his head as a battering ram.

Jam

Enjoys a good chin scritch.

Purrs and purrs loudly. Bites and bites hard.

Wildly flexible as only a cat can be.

For being a creature of shadows, loves a good nap in the sun.

Always smells a little sweet, but don’t be fooled. That’s the poison. It’s concentrated in his claws.

Like all Nargacuga, he is very adept at smacking things with his tail. Unlike most Nargacuga, that tail sometimes catches on fire. The flame flares out from his tail spikes and licks along the length of the tail.

Has sometimes been seen to wave the burning tail around like a torch.

Omelette

Since he’s undergone the Rite of Channeling and has been given ice genes, he’s always a bit cool to the touch. Great for a hot summer day.

He’s the only one on the team of a good size that can be hitched up to a cart, so he’s been trained as a cart-beast. He seems to enjoy the work, and is quite fast trotting up and down the roads.

The cart harness was specially designed for quick release, so that Astrea can release him to attack in the case that they run into trouble.

If they’re doing short stopovers at Rider-friendly villages, sometimes Astrea won’t bother stabling Omelette. Instead, you can find Omelette sitting on the ground in front of the cart, waiting patiently (usually with a snack).

The feathers on his arms and down his back can suddenly become stiff and hard as steel. He’s a chicken who takes “death by a thousand papercuts” rather seriously.

Fish

Mostly likely to let the village kids climb all over him, although such an event rarely happens.

Can sometimes be found flopped on the edge of the pier, watching the fish swimming by the beams. Seems to be fond of pancaking himself flat against the boards for that.

Puffs up like an angry cat when startled. This is kind of annoying when riding him because then you suddenly get a face full of staticky fur.

Seems to compete with Jam in scratching his claws on the same exact tree. Thankfully, it hasn’t resulted in anything more serious than sibling tussles.

Juice

Since he’s usually allowed to roam the seas around the village freely, he’s very rarely harnessed. Instead, he has clan symbols painted along the scales of his neck to denote ownership. The symbols also separate him from other aquatic Monsties that nearby Hakolo Island villages also let use the sea.

Likes to sun himself in warm shallow water.

Occasionally powers excess electricity into his mouth such that it sparks, and even ignites.

That age-old species rivalry with Rathalos still burns in him, so he’ll sometimes leap out of the water to snap at Ratha’s claws. In return, Ratha will try to bop him with a swipe of the tail. While concerning at first glance, it’s less of a serious fight and more of a strange sort of ritual between the two nowadays.

It is, however, 100% serious with any wild Rath that swoops too close to him

Soup

Angry grumpy hissy man

Loves a chained bubble explosion. The stiff fur on the underside of his tail seems to be especially insulating, as he will often set off the chain himself with a heavy slam.

Despite the heavy injuries on his face, his hearing is especially acute. His remaining whiskers are also highly sensitive. In battle, his aggression and instincts keep him as a formidable attacker, and he’s particularly ruthless when guided well with another pair of eyes.

While he is the oldest of Astrea’s Monsties, he is not an exceptionally old individual for his species. The ease of his movements suggests that he’s spent much of his adult life navigating around his blindness. It has been suggested by the Scriveners that he may have been injured in one of his first serious contests for establishing mating rights in his territory, but it’s all just hypothesis.

In daily life, when he’s just minding his own business, he’s more likely to bump into things. Makes grumpy old man noises every time he accidentally headbutts into an obstacle. He’s also not too proud that he won’t play the pitiful old man trick and come whining to Astrea for a scratch and a treat every once in a while following a little bump in the night. Astrea doesn’t know how they got to this point, either.

Doesn’t often go traveling with Astrea individually, on account of his heightened aggression and surly personality. When he does get to go though, he enjoys spending nights at camp curled up around Astrea. All you need is a thin blanket to soften the rough hairs of his tail, otherwise he’s all the warm cover you need. 

Favorite enrichment activity is thoroughly destroying a Bumplepumpkin.

[virtuissimo]

Fox Curio's Floating Bookshop: Ch. 5

Previously on:

Rabbit bookseller Espuma travels down the River towards Rueberry, enjoying some sun and fishing along the way. As the bookshop pulled up to the beautiful Rueberry, Espuma saw that the pier was damaged, and they would not be able to open their shop for the day. They went into town and met Ebenezer, a calico cat lantern-bearer. The next day Ebenezer went by the book shop. He told Espuma about a scary experience he had once, and the voices of children that lure the kids of Rueberry to their deaths. Espuma gets visited by a magician's apprentice. Ebenezer and Espuma went on a date along the riverbank and got sprayed by a blooming flower with a strange effect.

FOURTH DAY OF BIRDSONG: CONFRONTATIONS

Weather: 3, Q Rain on and off till evening, Sunny and windy, pollen is thick.

True to his word, the spores from the flower had me laughing all night. I didn't get much sleep and when the effect finally disappeared, I crashed like a log. My poetry sale was still active & people came in starting pretty early.

First thing was a familiar face: Jenny the skunk, followed closely by her master, Leon, who defying all reason was a bear. His face was kind, but his eyes were empty, like they had retired long before the rest of his body. As a pair, the older man and child matched perfectly. The skunk girl was dressed all in black and navy, with silver earrings & necklaces. Leon, with tiny silver spectacles & a flowing black cloak, was certainly her inspiration.

"Espuma," he intoned. I greeted him & Jenny, and I asked what book I could pull for them. "Jenny was right," he said, "you notice little." This frustrated me; both the presumption and the accusation. If I'm not noticing, I'm not witnessing.

"I am here because you are being sent messages and you are failing to receive them."

"What messages?"

"Jenny is a storyteller. it is the first magic art someone of her talent must master. I am far more than a storyteller, reading the past."

"You read the future?"

"No." Leon did not break gaze. "No one can read the future, & anyone who claims to is a fool. A magician can merely read imperative. Duty. Intention. Cause and effect. I can see the bricks on your path forward, but I cannot know how or even if you will go down it."

"Then what is my imperative?"

"You know it Espuma. To witness."

"Then what am I not witnessing?"

"There is more here than the River. Read the messages left to you, and learn of the history. This is your first brick."

He grabbed a pen from my pencil cup. "Where did you get this?"

"It was left by the previous owner."

"Witness this too." He placed it on the counter with a clack. He turned and left. I didn't know what to make of that. It was a pen. Fairly simple and like any other. What was there to witness? I'd have to find out.

Later in the evening, I saw another warrior. I'd met one in Thistle Down, purposeless after the arrival of peace. I told this warrior about that encounter.

"Foolishness!" she guffawed. "He thinks peace lasts! I can tell you, it will not! That's what he'll learn on the Great Sea, too. As much as animalkind likes to pretend the times of war are over, there is always a need for violence. Always."

"Where are you going, then, that you're in such high demand?"

"For now, I'm protecting Rueberry. The River may seem safe, but that's only because of people like me keeping it that way. It may not be soon, but change, upheaval, is coming. A warrior can tell."

It's hard to tell sometimes between earnest warrior's intuition, and the conspiracy theory of a bitter warmonger. She bought a biography from the times of war.

There was a steady flow of customers after that. I was mainly met with enthusiasm and acceptance, but there were a few who argued with me about the inclusion of both drier subject matters and the frivolous ones. After all, with only limited space and so much beautiful art in the world, why bother stocking historical nonfiction or spoof comedy? I simply said that enthusiasts of nonfiction and comedy often say the same about other types of fiction and left it at that.

Ebenezer came in later in the evening. He brought a colleage with him, who went into the aisles and browsed. He asked how my day went and I told him about the strange folks coming in lately.

"I know Leon. To tell you the truth, I never could get a read on him. Seems like he knows things for real, but not much of it seems actionable. Says he reads imperatives, he knows what you 'must' do, but according to who? For what purpose. I don't know."

"It seems like the river is in a period of change. Things are getting scary and unsafe around here," I said.

"Well, on the whole I wouldn't say it's unsafe. There's that business i told you about with the children, but if the parents are even a little aware, it's not so much trouble. There were a few accidents a few years back, but safety measures were put in place. It's just a shame we need those safety measures in the first place given that the threat is the River itself."

"Listen," he went on, "if anyone comes here scaring you, come find me and I'll give you a hand." I thanked him and brought him the book he wanted (ghost stories and legends... that sounds about right!). I told him I was leaving town on the 2nd day of Sprout, and he said he'd be by to say farewell.

Later on, an older woman entered the shop. She was a regal otter, shiny coat just beginning to fleck gray, long gloves trailing up her arms.

"Mx. Espuma," she said, peering through the halfmoon lenses. "I'm sure you know why I am here."

"No, I don't believe I do. Nor have we been acquainted."

She was Mistress Jacoby, the Mayor of Rueberry.

"Your institution is degrading the moral character of Rueberry, Mx. Expuma. There is no two ways about it. You see, poetry is the very lifeblood of our fair town. it is part of our culture. It is part of our curriculums. Without a mastery of the poetry forms, students are not allowed to graduate from the secondary school. Did you know that?"

"No, ma'am, I did not."

"Well it has born fruit, Mx. Espuma. All of the best poets on the whole River come from Rueberry. The greatest lyricists and balladiers. It is our policy, Mx. Espuma, that our young people focus their creative spirits on song and poetry, and as such, that is what they study. There is nothing else."

"Nothing else-! Why, everyone who has come in here has been thrilled by the selection and variety of books available!"

"Once further influence comes into our art, the art begins to change. And when culture has already achieved the best, change can only be for the worse."

We argued for some time before she issued an order: I should remove the influences from my sale and only promote poets, and poets of the River tradition especially. Then she left. Of course, I will not do it. Such an odd little town.

An old man came in not long after and sheepishly hobbled to the history books. He told me he was a fortune teller, a reeder, and not the lover of poetry that Mistress Jacoby envisioned for her citizens. His interests simply lay elsewhere. As such, he was surprised to learn that my sale, "Poets & their influences," included the particular book he wanted.

One of my all-time favorite poems was by Irving Lupin, a wolf from my home town. It was inspired by the time of the Deluge, when my town deep in the forest was connected to the River by a tributary. The history book explored that history in full.

He offered a barter for the book, which I declined, but he read my cards anyways. I thought of Leon, who warned that those who claimed to read the future were fools.

The mole fortune-teller wrinkled his many-fingered nose and told me: "The danger is approaching. Meet your imperative or else the cosmic forces designed to save you will fail." More abstractions.

I was right about to close the shop when a little stoat boy shyly opened the door. He eyed me silently when I greeted him. After a few moments, I was able to learn what he wanted: a romance book. Precocious child. I took him to the romance shelf and asked if he needed a recommendation. He was silent, and then asked:

"Have you ever been in love?"

"Once or twice," I said.

"Okay." He waited a moment. "With who?"

"Well, my first love was a little bunny names Jessica when I was in school. But the great love was a wolf named Rinn."

"A man?" He watched me. "A man," I confirmed.

The stoat boy eyed me, looked me up and down. He became confused, and then resolved to a smile.

"Thank you," he said, paid for his book and ran out.

I closed the shop and went into town. One thing about Rueberry: everything is expensive. I bought beetroot and a bag of apples (-27c). While there, I met Helo, a beautiful sugar glider who owned Sprout's Grocery. Since I wasn't from around here, she told me about her relative Sprout's disappearance, and with a palpable yet contained chagrin, she told me how the business had fallen to her.

I decided right then and there to host a music night on the night before my departure. Rueberry had many musicians. Heli loved to dance and that was all I needed. I asked for recommendations for bands and got to work.

Late at night, I looked down at my counter and saw a comedy book. It was a silly adventure with no gravitas, little in the way of commentary, and certainly was no improvement to the moral health of Rueberry. I wrote a glowing recommendation and stuck it on the shelf.

Total customers: 76 Books inventory; 207 Till: 317

[thedungeonmother]

Yet Unnamed Sims 4 story

I

Alix stepped off the elevator with the box containing all his worldly possessions. He counted the apartments until he came to the one that belonged to him. The state-side city was different to the smog filled boroughs he was used to. Alix put the box down in front of the door and fished around in his pockets for the key to the apartment. Finding nothing in any of his pockets he groaned. 

The elevator dinged and out stepped the human equivalent to a swaggering rooster among hens. A boyish face with freckles all over his cheeks, dirty blonde hair that was wild. He removed his sunglasses and revealed the bluest eyes Alix had ever seen. 

“Piers?” Alix asked. The constant grin grew even bigger.

“Alix!” Piers called. He threw out his arms and approached. Alix stepped away.

“Please contain yourself.” Alix said, “please tell me you have your key.” Piers stopped and grabbed his chest as if he’d been shot.

“I’m wounded!” He mocked Alix’s posh accent. “All these years only communicating through the internet and this is how we meet.” 

“Don’t mock me.” Alix said. “Your key. I’d like to see the apartment before nightfall.”

“You know, it’s nice to finally put a face to the name.” Piers said, dropping the fake accent. Piers was a little surprised by Alix’s appearance. With cooler toned dark skin and wildly curly tangled black hair that went in whatever direction it wanted. All capped off with a pair of green eyes that glowed in the dark like a cat’s.

“Key.” Alix reminded. Piers fished about in his pockets knowing he wasn’t going to find a key.

“Ah darn.” He said, “no key.” Alix sighed.

“I have the landlord’s number, we’ll call and-” Alix pulled out his phone as Piers looked over the door. He never finished his sentence as Piers pulled out a paperclip.

“What are you doing?” He asked. “Please don’t break into the apartment.”

“It’s our apartment. We paid for it.” Piers said, he laughed and in a second the door clicked and swung open.

“I’m going to pretend it wasn’t locked.” Alix said, putting away his phone and picking up his box. “Where are your things?”

“Right here,” Piers turned so Alix could see the black backpack.

“That’s all?” Alix asked incredulously, entering the empty apartment. 

“I pack light,” Piers said with a shrug. “You came from overseas and all you got is a single box?”

“Do you have any idea how expensive it is to ship a single box overseas?” Alix asked. Putting his box down in the middle of the empty apartment floor. Piers laughed and shut the door behind him. 

“Touche,” He said. Alix offered a small smile despite himself and looked around the apartment. 

“It isn’t much is it?” He said. Looking at the white cabinets and counters. The old fridge and oven looked questionable. 

“Better than I expected.” Piers said. “When scouting out all the apartments I found some real stinkers.” 

“Well the pictures certainly told a different story.” Alix said, frowning at the bright sunflower yellow walls. “But it has all the promised amenities.” Just to be sure, Alix looked in a little door near the apartment entrance and found the bathroom.