#dogs frock

[wri0thesley]

npc fontaine fashion stay winning

[feddy-34]

For your ship ask game, perhaps some Fred/Brock ?

see below, pt. 2

2. look at that size difference yo (brock's massive ass balances it out tho they have equal mass) (call that physics)

3. cat people (derogatory)

[ourfag]

if you could give ed (and stede, if you like!) exactly 1 stuffed animal of your choice (each) what would it be?

[art-portraits]

Lord and Lady Twemlow

Artist: William Barraud (British, 1810 - 1850)

Date: Late 1840's

Medium: Oil on Canvas

Collection: Yale Center for British Art, New Haven, Connecticut

[teaboot]

Kinda gotta admire the tiktok instagram cottagecore tradwife hoes a little bit.

Like. THEY know that the perfect pretty obedient natural-makeup gently-coiffed rural June Cleaver, barefoot-and-pregnant in a sweet little peasant dress, baking fresh bread24-7 housewife doesn't exist.

They KNOW she doesn't exist. They know she CAN'T exist- that nobody can maintain that façade without burning out eventually-

but they also know that the political divide between men and women is deeper than ever in North America, that men as a demographic are getting increasingly angry and conservative and lonely (fuck off terfs and radfems i can sense your bioessentialism coming), and that women aren't legally beholden to them anymore.

This is one of the first generations in North America where women aren't entirely reliant on finding a husband and keeping him happy to survive, to hold a bank account or live apart from their parents, and so what men are dealing with is several hundred years of being told that REAL men have hot fuckable agreeable wives and...a present reality where nobody is lining up to apply for that position.

So what these shills have done- and they ARE shills- is that they've seen that divide, that niche that isn't being filled, that role that's so unpleasant but so desired- and they've constructed a caricature for profit.

Women aren't naturally more gentle, or parental, or submissive. Women aren't naturally, effortlessly smooth and soft and hairless and desiring of simple tasks to fill their time and a big, strong provider to protect them.

But generations of marketing and media have told us it's POSSIBLE, if not for those pesky man-hating feminist libs and their oversensitive woke culture lashing out at Normal Folks for no good reason.

Like- they're selling themselves, the characters they're playing, as an IMAGE, as a FANTASY, and they rely on people BELIEVING in that fantasy to keep the money rolling in.

The people who buy into it sincerely, the women who give up their degrees and careers and financial freedom for this "simple, peaceful life" we ALL desire in some form, away from stress and technology and horrible things on the news... only to get trapped with six children and a partner with all the power who could up and strand them at any moment... they're just collateral.

Like, "Shame it didn't work out for you, have you tried losing weight and trying harder? Maybe some extra Adult Time? He wouldn't have to chase someone younger and prettier if you'd just take care of yourself and put out more."

I on't hate this faux-humble faux-simple wannabe-amish bullshit just because I grew up rural and know it's fucking stupid, hard work and blood and shit and cow piss and placement in the rain kinda crap.

I ALSO hate it because these women are straight-up class traitors, selling off not just their own image as people, but everyone else's, just to make some paper on a grift.

You know Marie Antoinette used to wear sweet little milkmaid-style dresses and play with lambs in the field, just like the poors?

Never mind that she OWNED the land, and the field, and the people, the cute little frocks, and didn't help the sheep birth, or bury the dead premies, or slaughter for meat, or fight off wolves and dogs, ferrets and foxes and rats with a stick in the winter.

It was just fashionable to pretend.

Sweet and coquettish and Quaint.

THAT is why I hate that shit, and THAT is why I give a fuck.

[wrapinfur-petcare]

Clothing for dogs is becoming increasingly popular, with a wide variety of options available. Dog clothing ranges from practical items like raincoats and boots to fashionable items like frocks and t-shirts. Pet owners should consider their dog's comfort and needs when choosing clothing and ensure it fits properly to avoid discomfort or injury.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more words for worldbuilding (pt. 2)

ANIMALS

Animal: adult, beast, buck, cat, chicken, cur, father, frog, goat, half-breed, horse, hybrid, litter, mongrel, monster, parasite, pig, stock, young

Bird: bird, chicken

Fish: aquarium, aquatic

Group of animals: drove, herd, insect, pack, stock, team

Insect: bee, grub, pest

Limb or appendage of: bill, coat, feather, fur, mop, pelt, scale, trunk, wing

Mammal: cat, dog, father, goat, hound, mother, pig

CLOTHING

Accessory: bag, belt, buckle, collar, pocketbook, purse, satchel

Clothing: apparel, array, bathing suit, cape, clothes/clothing, costume, dress, dungarees, falsies, frock, garment, girdle, gown, hat, jacket, negligee, nylons, pajamas, pants, quilt, scarf, skirt, suit, swimsuit, thing/things, trappings, underwear, veil, wash, wrap

Part: collar, crown, pocket, strand, tiara

State of dress: bareness, nudity, try on/try out, wear

FOOD & DRINK

Beverage: alcohol, coffee, drink, potable

Beverage, alcoholic: beer, liquor

Change in: curdle, turn

Food: appetizer, bite, brew, bun, casserole, condiment, cracker, diet, doughnut, feed, frosting, grub, helping, hors d’oeuvre, leftover, macaroni, meat, nosh, nurture, nutrition, pastry, produce, refreshment, seasoning, stew, subsistence, support, sweet, treat, vittles

Food part: morsel, nip, taste, tidbit

Meal: banquet, bite, buffet, diet, fare, picnic, repast, spread, table

Produced from animal: comfort food, feed, food, frosting, grub, hero, macaroni, sandwich, submarine, vittles

Produced from plant: condiment, doughnut, loaf, pastry, produce, sweet

Quality of: acerbity, baked, done, edible, mellow, nourishing, perishable, rare, ripe, salty, short, stale, strong, sweet, unappetizing, weak, wholesome

NATURAL RESOURCES

Electricity: beam, spark

Energy: electricity, fuel, nuclear energy, petroleum, power

Expression of energy: blast, bonfire, chill, concussion, discharge, fire, flash, noise, thunder

Natural event: eclipse, meteorology, weather

Resources: fuel, resource, rock, substance

PLANTS

Flower: bloom, bouquet, flower

Fruit: berry, produce

Growth or death of: bloom, bud, germinate, growth, wilt, wither

Part: bark, branch, cereal, flavoring, foliage, grain, juice, limb, nut, pod, scion, shell, stalk, trunk

Plant: algae, bramble, bush, crop, fossil, grass, harvest, hybrid, organism, produce, wreath

Tree: timber, wood/woods

Vegetable: produce

WEATHER

Object connected with: avalanche, breeze, climate, cold, dew, film, flurry, frost, gust, haze, hurricane, meteorology, moisture, puff, thunder, weather, wind

Quality of: breezy, clear, close, crisp, dismal, fair, fiercely, fine, furious, gloomy, hazy, humid, intimidating, misty, oppressive, raw, rugged, soft, stormy, sultry, temperate, thick, tranquil, turbulent, wild, wintry

Type of: blizzard, cloud, drizzle, fog, hail, mist, puff, rain, shower, tempest, torrent, tremor

NOTE

Excerpted from Roget's 21st Century Thesaurus, Updated and Expanded 3rd Edition, in Dictionary Form, edited by The Princeton Language Institute.

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary.

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

[moonspirit]

Armin with accepting gifts: 2/10, overthinks, visibly struggles

Annie goes, "So hey, your birthday's coming up, is there anything you want?" but the silly boy just says "hehe nothing, I have you!" Which is honestly, an expected response, so she asks, "I saw that silver pocketwatch you've been wanting badly... The one with ocean waves engraved on it. I can buy it for you."

And you know what? Mentally, his puppy dog tail is going WILD. His girlfriend! Buying him a gift! Buying HIM a gift!!! His girlfriend buying him a gift!! HELL YES!

But he's also having a mini mental breakdown, because oh god??? If he says yes, is he making her buy it for him? Of course he's making her buy it for him, he's forcing her to buy it for him, he's mooching off his girlfriend when he should be buying her cute stuff oh god OH goD he's mooching off his girlfriend!!!!!

Annie with accepting gifts: 9/10, absolutely stellar recipient of tens of thousands of soft toys and hoodies and other stuff, drowns in them before she can even get a word out

"Annie!!! These earrings reminded me of you, so I bought them (〃 ω〃) I think they'll look so pretty on you. And um-I-I really want to see you wearing them and... huh? Your cheeks are so red-" - Armin

"Annie!!!! Here's a weird-shaped stuffed squirrel I found, it's got stupid fat cheeks like you have when you eat!! hahahaha!" - Connie

"Annie! Here's a hideous thing. I don't know what it is. But it reminded me of the day I saw your titan the first time. Brrr. Shivers. Anyway. You can have it if you want. But you don't have to. You know, just throw it away if you don't want to. I totally won't be sad or anything. I don't care, ya know. I-" - Jean

"Annie! Uh- hahaa, so I saw this cute pink frilly frock thing from the medieval ages so... you like these types of things right? frilly pink frocks? Right? I think you'll look great in it. Wait, why do you look mad-wait-" - Reiner.

"Annie! Here's a hoodie. I know you have about 124216483 of them already but a girl can never have too many hoodies. Love you~" - Pieck

[glassrowboat]

Vampire hunter AU (2/4)

Chapter 1 here

Summary: Having everything taken from him, there was only one path left to pursue: revenge.

He would follow that path until the end, Diluc promised himself the need to see a head of blue hair separate from its body all consuming, even as he stumbled. His limbs tried to tell him he couldn't go on, not even as he trekked through a forest path trying to put space between the vampire who had left his shoulder dislocated and body bruised as he followed a lone light up ahead- safety, maybe, or his undoing.

Right now, it didn't matter, for there was a path left to pursue, and he would keep marching on until dawn.

The introductions you promised him had been, to say the least, brief.

Diluc's hair was still damp from the bath after he came downstairs to the sight of the messy frock you had been wearing haphazardly thrown on the back of a chair as you fill empty bottles with the contents of the cauldron, you told Diluc to get off his feet and sit down.

He acquiesced.

You barely looked back at him as you kept yourself busy with grabbing a ladle, scooping up the contents of the cauldron, and pouring it with a surprising amount of care as you made sure not to waste a single drop. Given the state of your home Diluc would have thought you would shrug off a small mess and decide to leave it until later, but here you were eyeing your process with a keen eye. The fact you were using a stack of books as a step stool to reach more of those colorful, empty bottles you had hanging from stringing ropes certainly didn't help his previous opinion when Diluc could tell they were ancient just by looking at them, but you didn't seem to mind them getting ruined by your trampling.

“Go on, then.” You said as you stepped back down. “Tell me your name.”

Diluc's mouth opened only to pause when he was stuck trying to figure out if he should give you one of the many aliases he has picked up or simply...the truth. You had welcomed him in, dressed his wounds, let him use your tub and your towels all while being gracious enough not to openly pry- much- so surely that meant a little trust was permitted. You, however, didn't appreciate his hesitance. “I won't have a complete stranger living in my home, young man. So I'll say it again: ‘tell me your name.’”

In the end he chose to share the same graciousness you've given him. “Diluc.”

“Diluc,” you repeated with your head tilting to the side. “Like diluculum. Dawn.”

Clearing his throat Diluc asked for yours. Your answer helped him shrug off his discomfort at hearing his name said aloud for the first time since he started his solitary sojourn across the nations. It left a warmth blossoming in his chest with the way you pronounce each syllable; not that he would admit to noticing it.

It left Diluc with nothing better to do than to focus on your finger currently pointed down at the familiar. “And that's Wrio. Or Wriothesley. Or-”

The dog you were pointing to snorted, cutting you off before you could call him a mutt again.

“Yes, Your Grace, too.” You patted the dog's head when Wriothesley looked like he was going to bark at you again.

You turned your attention back to Diluc. “You are familiar with what hellhounds are, yes?”

Clearly you were asking because you knew he lacked certain bits of knowledge. It was salt in the wound, really, being rubbed in as Diluc confirmed your statement, much to his own chagrin.

“To put it shortly, they're demons.”

Diluc immediately looked down at the hellhound, who was currently trying to paw at the single flipped over corner of a carpet. He, with all his fur and wagging tail, looked like the complete opposite of the image The Church had once ingrained in Diluc. There were no horns protruding from anywhere, and Wriothesley certainly wasn't walking around with his body alight with flames. Diluc could almost hear a man's teasing tone, feel an arm on his shoulder as a single eye looked at him while the words “Well, isn't that disappointing” filled the air at the sight.

Back then he would have agreed. Said something cheeky as his elbow met Kaeya's side and they would have laughed until someone snapped at them to stop and pay attention to that day's lesson. Just like how your voice pulled Diluc out of his reverie.

“In this particular instance, Wrio became a demon because he’s a murderer.” And you kept talking like nothing was wrong. “Though, he likes to joke it's because he was dating a man.”

And kept talking.

“What was his name again?” You asked.

With Wriothesley's bark, you nodded. “Right, Neuvillette.”

You continued on like that for what had to be a solid five minutes. During which Diluc learned that this “Neuvillette” is a dragon, a woman named Gold had made a dragon- if not multiple-, and that the two were not related by any capacity. All as his eyes flicked back from you to the hellhound.

This was even more confusing than when he first had to sit down in the rows of old wooden pews and listen to a man with a receding hairline talk about the price all sinners must pay one day. If you don't pray every day to show God your devotion? Hell. Sex before marriage? Eternal damnation….

No, actually, the preaching was worse.

Wiping his inexplicably sweaty palms on his borrowed pants, Diluc awkwardly interrupted your conversation. “I can't imagine you two are used to company.”

You let out a questioning “oh” before realization seemed to set in.

“Oh, right, you can only understand me. Heh. Sorry, when you live so far out of reach of everyone else, it's either talk to this one or make dinner aga-” You stopped short, eyes going wide before exclaiming "wait, dinner!”

Immediately you were running off, your skirts trailing after you as you tried to dodge around everything in your way to the kitchen. Pots and pans started banging together after you disappeared from his sight, and for a moment, Diluc looked down at Wriothesley like he was waiting for an explanation. Of course, he didn't receive one.

“She does that more often than not, doesn't she?”

The hellhound barked in response.

With another clatter (Diluc could only hope it was nothing serious), you came back into the room with three plates full of food. A stack of toast, bacon, and two eggs you had somehow managed to burn to the point the outside edges were bubbling up and tinted black was placed before him with a heavy thud. A piece of bacon seemed to flake off onto the table when you did. Below the porcelain, now with a bit of food laying on it, hid away a single stained envelope with the name Scarlett written on the back. It had signs of aging after going unsent for years, but for now, it was being used as a placemat for Diluc’s meal you were currently urging him to chow down on.

“A good meal is important for a healing body, so eat up.” You declared, giving the third plate to Wriothesley on the floor.

With the fork you had placed on the plate ready for his use, Diluc used the prongs to poke the egg for a moment. It wavered, just like the smile Diluc was wearing as it hid away behind the messy strands of his still damp hair.

Under his breath, Diluc whispered “A home cooked meal.”

“What was that?” You asked.

“Nothing. Just- Thank you.”

You flashed him a grin, and with little wrinkles forming in the corners of your eyes, you said “You're welcome, Hunter.”

Diluc's fork met the eggs again, stabbing through the slightly charred ends to avoid the nagging feeling telling Diluc how he wished you would have addressed him by his name again.

After dinner you sent him to bed with a quick pat to Diluc's shoulder and shoved what he could only guess was the potion the note was referring to earlier before you left him to his own devices downstairs with the lumpy cot.

Wriothesley followed after you, claws scratching at the wood flooring before stopping halfway to shoot Diluc a look when he uncorked the bottle with a soft pop.

By the time it was emptied, both the hellhound and the witch were gone.

That's how things settled into place for the next few days, like stones slotting together brick by brick to build something new he couldn't quite make out yet as his routine slipped into resting, sharing tea whenever you were willing to deal with his inquiries, and asking the occasional question. (Ex: why there's salt on all your windowsills).

You, apparently, didn't like to feel like you were being heckled.

Then, of course, there was the matter of sleeping. Diluc woke up when you did, no matter the time of day or night. It was that or you would deem him unfit for any moving at all and threaten to tie him to the cot for the sake of his recovery; the obvious option was to get out of bed. Besides, after the few short years he spent as a hunter always on the move, it wasn't a big adjustment to get used to. It was simply a new routine.

One that now includes you.

And the hellhound.

With nothing better to do most days Diluc was left to read from the multiple stack of books. In those moments he would run a finger over pages so old he could have sworn they would crumble to dust at the slightest touch as latin was laid bare before Diluc's eyes. Snippets were processed, certain words here and there recognized as he tried to retain every last snippet of information revealed to him.

But even an injured man gets restless. Something you seemed to pick up on as you waved Diluc off when he started pestering you too much for your liking with a “Go chop wood or something,” which led Diluc to standing outside, sweat coating his brow as the ax he was holding swung down. Its blade cut through the logs with ease as they splintered off from each other and fell to the ground with a soft thud when they met the grass right next to the slowly accumulating pile of firewood.

He had been at this for a while, long enough to have you come out of the cabin with gloves and a large wicker basket you had placed down next to the patches of turned soil. Plants were already rooted with sprigs of green leaves with a blue tint from the floating lights peeking our. Every now and then the lights would chitter to you before promptly being swat away while you tended to the garden.

Wriothesley was basking in the sun's rays cast across the front porch as Diluc approached you, a limp still in his stride from his injured leg. Surely you already knew about it, but Diluc forced himself to fix his limp regardless when he joined you under the shade being provided by a lone apple tree. During this time of year the apples were ripe for the picking, bright red and drawing in multiple flickering lights that seemed to dance around them in excitement. A few even had little bits of their peels dug into, almost like little mouths had bitten at them in hopes of getting the juice stored inside.

Without bothering to look up from the few carrots you had just pulled from the ground you said “Hello, Hunter.”

“I can help you with that.” Diluc offered.

“I take it you got tired of chopping?”

Diluc looked up at the lights, swearing he saw a tiny face in the ball of luminescence before turning his gaze from it as he crossed his arms. “Something like that.”

Another carrot was pulled and promptly tossed into the basket. “They're fairies. Loud buggers. Energetic, too, but they're denizens of the forest.”

With the few ripe vegetables already plucked, you pulled your gloves off and set them to the side. They nestled neatly against you, looking almost out of place next to your dress. Just like many of the things in your house, it looked like it had been plucked right out of the past.

With half a mind to ask for your age knowing witches could live a good few centuries without issue, Diluc knelt down next to you with a single knee pressed to the ground in his attempt to favor his one good leg.

“It's a nice day out, isn't it?” Your eyes strayed over to Wriothesley, watching the hellhound as he laid on the porch only a few feet away, taking in the sunlight, keeping him warm. Every now and then, his ears would twitch as fairies got louder. “During this time of the year, it usually is. Hopefully, it will be just as nice when you finally depart.”

“Right, when I depart.” Diluc's jaw tensed, almost locking in place when he chose to ignore the implications of your statement. At least, for now, anyway. “I haven't asked yet, but do you expect me to repay you for helping me?”

You shook your head. “How about you consider this as…you owe me a favor instead?”

You chuckled softly as Wriothesley tried to scare a fairy that came up to him off, all while Diluc became keenly aware of a heavy ache stirring in his chest right where his father's- his badge was resting. “Owe you… a favor?”

“Before you protest, how about we take a walk?”

You dusted off your skirt as you got up, making sure any bits of dirt still clinging to you were properly shaken off before starting to walk, clearly expecting him to follow. Wriothesley, on the other hand, was told to stay the moment his head started to lift up to look over at you.

This witch clearly expected people- or dogs- to obey anything she said, it seemed, and given his current predicament Diluc didn't have much choice except, to the detriment of his pride, do as she asked.

It took a moment to get back up on his feet, but Diluc quickly caught up to you as you slipped through the underbrush of the forest. A stray twig tried to catch on his pants, and another cracked under his foot as you talked.

“I think I should explain something about this place to you. I was not the one that made this place, Hunter. In fact, it was another witch.”

Looking around the forest again, the fact this place is widely known to be cursed came to mind again. “The one who could read minds?”

“No. No, not her.” You lifted a stray branch, one hanging low enough Diluc was sure it would hit him if you let it go as he ducked underneath it. “I'm talking about my Master.”

When Diluc stood to his full height once again, he was stopped short at the sight of a headstone. The original inscription was barely legible, either from age or improper technique from when it was made, leaving only indents of possible letters. The name was illegible, but there wasn't a need to stop and try to read it when you were whispering the name as you brushed off a few leaves from the stone’s surface.

“I. Ivanovna N.”

“My condolences.”

The moment Diluc's head started to bow in reverie you reached up and titled it back up with a single finger to his chin. “Don't apologize and pick your head back up.

It's not like it was your fault.”

“Still…” Diluc said, his voice trailing off. He, too, knew what it was like to lose the person who took care of you, taught you, guided you, and it was far from a feeling he wished anyone else to become acquainted with.

“I didn't show you this for an apology.” The wind blew past you both, stirring up your hair and his together in its breeze. “So, none of that ‘sorry’ business or I'll think that weary voice of yours is a sign you're coming down with a fever and send you back to bed.”

Diluc’s eyes narrowed on you and he reached up to take your hand in his own to pull it away from its grasp on his chin. He knew rest is important, and he's been giving it the time, but even he couldn't stay huddled up in bed while there were still matters to be handled. “I don't think that's necessary. I can't afford to wait around all day doing nothing.”

A smirk twitched at your lips. “Oh, there he is.”

The way you spoke led him to believe you were expecting that reaction.

“Wait..why did you say that?”

“Well, Hunter, I'm sure you're familiar with the rumors of this place, yes? I hate to be the one to break it to you, it's just that this place isn't cursed at all. It's enchanted.”

Your hand slid from his, fingers grazing against Diluc’s worn and calloused ones as you pulled away. He jolted slightly at the feeling only now realizing he had never let it go.

“You see, I've met a few of your colleagues in my time. They were all young, raring to go, full of conviction. Yet all you've done since you got here is lay around and toss a ball whenever Wriothesley comes up to you- not that he doesn't appreciate it.”

“Your point being?” Diluc asked. He was almost certain you would wave him off at any moment again, and your crypticness certainly wasn't helping that assumption.

“My point is: my late Master made this place what it is today. She enchanted it so anyone with a great, undeniable desire can find my home. Those that lack this trait are turned away and returned to the edge of the forest with a hazy memory and only a faint recollection of uneasiness.”

“She,” Diluc paused, trying to find the right words, “must have been a highly skilled witch, then. It's a praise worthy accomplishment.”

“She was.” You agreed, a hand reaching out to trace the faintest hints of an ‘I’ left in the moss covered stone. “And as for any trouble that might come to the person along the way? It's handled by the faeries in exchange for spare bits of my dinners, hence their friendliness. It's a handy trick, really, and keeps all those pesky door to door salesmen going around these days away. After all, this is my paradise lost to the masses, not theirs.”

Diluc's arms crossed when you looked up at him.

“And I think the desire that brought you here was the need for safety. I mean, you were... uh…”

“In dire straits?” Diluc offered to which you agreed.

“Unless you have any other ideas.”

His eyes met yours when you pushed the topic onto him, but the question he was asking himself strayed from what you were asking, leaving his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions.

“My goal isn't just to kill a vampire or two, but to eradicate all evil in this world. They must be purged for the sake of every normal being in this world. It's just…”

Crepus had once told him the world would never turn its back on the faithful before he died. Those words had once rang true in Diluc's heart the same as any oath, only for them to sour at the face of his father's passing. It's likely Crepus would have trusted this witch in a place like this, the promises it gave of being a so-called haven for those who needed salvation and would pat Diluc on the back on his way to the glade full of fairies and a grumpy hellhound. The only issue is: Diluc isn't his father. He wouldn't blindly jump forward again without first asking himself if he's ready to have his faith trampled over again.

“Diluc?”

The same warmth you had spurred in him before awoke again, sparking alight.

The answer was simple.

“I believe it was a desire for help.” He paused. “I need your help to become an actual Vampire Hunter, not a Paladin masquerading around with a badge.”

You hummed, letting his words settle on your mind as another gust of wind passed rustling the leaves around you. One fell from its branches, now turned orange with the coming of fall and catching along the breeze before landing in your open palm. “If that's the case, come back to me and ask again when you're fully healed, Hunter.”

Your fingers closed around the leaf as Diluc promised he would.

Despite the peaceful air he had thought you two had settled into that day, you looked far from pleased as Diluc stood before you now.

“I was hoping you would forget about this…venture of yours.”

“You were the one who said to ask again when I was healed, Miss.”

Your face scrunched up, clearly not liking having your own words thrown back at you. “Fine. Fine. I swear, making that vow about helping the people who come here to my Master was one of my biggest mistakes.”

You quickly turned on your heel, letting your heels stomp across the floor of your cottage with Wriothesley barking something at you.

“Yes, Wrio, I really would have healed him even if you hadn't pressure me into it. I'm not an animal.”

That recived another bark.

“Sorry.”

Then the kitchen door slammed shut right after you told Diluc dinner would be ready in thirty minutes.

Overall, an eventful evening.

Almost all of the trees surrounding the glade had become barren as their leaves had long since fallen to the ground to coat it in a blanket of oranges, yellows, and reds that would stir with every step you took as you walked back and forth before a straw dummy. It was tied loosely to a pike shoved into the ground with its arms held up by rope tied in haphazardly done knots Diluc couldn't help but want to go over and fix as you busied yourself with lecturing him on whatever you thought would be useful; trying to list off various facts about not only vampires, but any creature he should be wary of. You were counting them all off, each fact, each creature, on your extended fingers as you continued your pacing.

“He's trying to be a vampire hunter first and foremost, so wouldn't it be best to stick to that?” Wriothesley had asked when he pulled up a chair for you to sit yourself in.

“He needs to be fully aware of what danger he could get into, you mutt.” You shot back. The regular banter you shared with the hellhound seemingly neverending.

“So what, you're trying to make him a”- Wriothesley looked down at you as you sat down with your legs crossed- “witcher?”

The look you gave Wriothesley clearly implied you didn't like that name and Diluc’s surety of that fact was only further set in stone when you waved Wriothesley off to go into the nearby town to pick up groceries.

“Groceries...and?”

“I know what you want me to say, Wrio, but there usually isn't a good supply of fabric during this time of year when everyone is buying it all out for the coming winter.”

With Wriothesley's grumbling, you heaved out a sigh and said: “I'll figure something out. Now shoo.”

Immediately the hellhound perked up, causing Wriothesley to let go of the back of the chair he had been holding onto and walk towards the forest line with a relaxed gait. “I'll be back later, you two, so don't do anything I wouldn't do.”

It took Diluc a moment to wish Wriothesley a safe return as he told the other a simple goodbye, half expecting the two legs to once again transform into a quadrupled nature all the while.

You clapped your hands together. “Back to the point. You know how to fight, yes? As an ex Paladin, I would sure hope so. So, go on.”

The dummy you were gesturing to was still slumped over before him, just waiting to be knocked loose by a few well aimed strikes. It wouldn't be hard, especially not with the claymore Diluc summoned. Just like always, it fits into the palms of his hand perfectly and swung with an arch.

You sat nearby, watching every movement Diluc made as the sun fell.

You would be back out there again when it rose; day after day.

Combat lessons were typically in the afternoons when the sun was at its highest to combat the natural chill in the air. The few hand sewn purple shirts made of vaguely familiar fabric you had dropped in his lap and told Diluc to start wearing instead of borrowed clothes helped keep him warm, but certainly not warm enough when frost started to cling to the grass and the dummy alike.

Wriothesley didn't seem to mind the chill. In fact, he was eager to offer to spar instead when all the cold seemed to do was weigh Diluc down.

….The first time the two exchanged blows Diluc certainly wasn't expecting the dog to throw hands. That had been an awkward moment they both agreed not to talk about again after Wriothesley had finished laughing at him.

As for early in the morning? There would be lessons with you and a book laid out before his eyes as you go over the contents with him.

“And here it says that while vampire's can be affected by holy water, it only deters them. None of that banishing them to hell nonsense.”

As you spoke your finger traced the lines in an attempt to guide Diluc along with you, forcing him to stay on track even when you were leaning over him. He could feel the skirts you chose to wear today brushing against his ankle every time you moved closer to turn a page before continuing to recite the script in a steady tone, like you already knew everything it had to share.

“Can you believe such absurdity, though?” You scoffed. “Nothing in life is that easy.”

“It would certainly make my life easier if it was.”

“Oh, I bet. Although…magic sounds much the same, doesn't it? Our entire lives would sound like a novelty to those unaware of what's truly out there.” Your words rang true, coinciding with how Diluc had been only a few short years ago; naive. Even when he knew about the existence of creatures unlike human beings, Diluc had been taught they were manageable under God’s ways. That The Church would ensure the safety of all. In the end, that turned out to be nothing more than a joke. “I was much the same when I came here.”

Diluc stopped short, watching you turn to the next page. “You didn't come here with your Master?”

He could feel your hair moving, hitting against him as you shook your head. “No. Ivanovna had already settled into this place long before I ever met her. The cabin was already erected and the apple tree she planted in her late husband's honor was nothing more than a bush.”

Apple tree…you had to be talking about the same one the fairies decided was fair game in feeding their appetites. Back when he was still busying himself with chores, Diluc would take a seat under its cover and relish in the shade it provided.

“That tree is far from a bush now.”

“I know that.” You laughed. “After all, I was the one watering it and watching it grow for… what? Around five hundred years now?”

You leaned in closer to turn the page again, your finger already going up to find the first word in the text like your chest wasn't pressed to Diluc's back. “Now, will you read this part for me, Hunter?”

Clearing his throat, Diluc tried his best to read along with you, even as he was shrinking back at the slight crack riddling his voice. He’s a grown adult, not a teenager going through puberty again, but here he was trying not to look up at you even as you spoke in his ear.

“Actually…I should be calling you my student, shouldn't I?” You pondered over your question for a moment, letting it settle between you both.

“S-should I be calling you Master then?”

“Oh, no, not ever. You say that and I'll be looking around for my own teacher.” Immediately you were ready to chastise him again, that same tone he had heard almost a hundred times by now quickly registering. “Just call me….oh I don't know…”

“Miss witch?”

“That feels a little impersonal.”

“Ah..then”- Diluc paused to lick his lips- “my witch?”

Diluc was finally able to properly breathe again as you pulled away to sit across from him. Glass bottles hung between you both, swaying slightly without clicking together as they warped your expression, but even then, amusement was clear in your face. “Your witch?”

Diluc’s brows furrowed, forming a crease between them. “That's not-”

“Okay. I can work with that, my dear student.”

His head ducked down in an attempt to hide his face away in the messy curls of red hair he currently had tied up, hoping and maybe a little praying (old habits die hard) you wouldn't notice; to no avail.

“Diluc? Hey- Diluc. Pay attention.”

Your fingers snapped in front of his face, startling Diluc to the point he was jolting back as you stood over him again. He hadn't even processed you walking back to his side, but there you were lecturing him about paying attention in class instead of spacing out. You even added an “This is why I don't go into the village myself to deal with all the people there” before guiding Diluc’s head back down to the texts before him.

Months had passed like that. To the point there was emerald green grass being crushed underneath the now very battered and abused body of the straw puppet you had once upon a time pulled out of storage for him; the blades of dead brown grass a thing of the past.

“Well, that method would certainly work if you were looking for a needle in a haystack.” You kicked at the puppets head, watching it turn the other way so its nonexistent eyes could see the man who had just cut it down.

“I think a vampire could be considered as the needle here.” Diluc breathed out as he tried to catch his breath.

“The lesson from ‘Dele malam hoc': Vampires can easily blend in with humans. To the point you might not even notice the existence of one until their fangs are at your neck.”

“Exactly.”

“It seems I've taught you well.”

“Is this when you say my progress has almost brought a tear to your eye?”

“Cheeky. And no.” You rolled your eyes. “Just what kind of teachers did The Church have for you to think that would be my first reaction?”

“No, it wasn't a teacher.” Diluc’s weapon met a makeshift weapon rack as it slotted into a secure position. He watched it glint in the sun as he spoke. “It's something a fellow student I used to know would have said.”

His phrasing had your eyes narrowing on him, prompting an explanation from Diluc. “It's been a while since I first arrived here, so I used to know a lot of people.”

A half truth, but it satisfied you nonetheless.

“Well, you'll have a chance to catch up with them now that you're planning to leave the glade.”

“I suppose I will.”

Standing off to the side with an arm hang hanging loosely by your side and the other tucked against your chest, you said something Diluc couldn't pick up, prompting him to ask you to repeat yourself.

“Nevermind that. Instead, are you sure you're ready to leave?”

“I'm certain. Someone has to be out there to handle these monsters running around daring to lay their hands on people. As long as The Church won't, I will.”

“So resolute.” Your gaze went from him to the spot in the grass you had once found Diluc. There wasn't a single visible drop of blood left by now as it had all been washed away by the rain. There was nothing to indicate what had happened, but the dirt still nourished off of it nonetheless. “Some would even call you needlessly stubborn.”

“I know someone who would.”

“That fellow student of yours again?”

“No.” Diluc shook his head “You.”

“Ah…looks like you caught me red-handed. Not that I'm happy about it.”

Diluc chuckled, agreeing with you.

“Say, dear student of mine?” After a moment, your eyes tore away from the spot to land on him. “Stay a few more days. Please? After all, you should depart after a giant feast and share drinks. We can even make that...peculiar meal you like so much with the cheese and steak.”

Please, you asked. After all the times you had given him an order and expected Diluc to follow it without delay or lorded the fact you still hadn't cashed in that favor yet over his head when Diluc was being a bit too set in his ways for your liking, you were imploring him.

Diluc's hand fell away from the hilt of his claymore to place it over his chest. Under his fingers, he could feel each heavy thud of his heart. “Of course I will. I owe you that much.”

“Good. I wasn't actually planning to give you a choice.” You waved towards the puppet, signaling Diluc to pick up his weapon and get back to training for what could possibly be the last time. “Now, continue.”

He didn't get a chance to say even an “Okay” before you were back inside, the front door swinging shut behind you.

After a few hours Diluc followed you in with a towel pressed up against his forehead to wipe off the healthy layer of sweat coating his skin only to be greeted by the sight of you picking through all the spices you currently had and making a grocery list. Smoked paprika was scrawled out under your quill.

The same scent filled the cabin a few days later, along with steak, buttery mashed potatoes, and wine. Diluc could only guess you splurged on it.

The drinks poured.

The food was enjoyed

Wriothesley threw his arm around Diluc's shoulder at one point and told him to “Try and keep your guard up so you don't come back to us a bloody mess, alright?”

You promptly told Wriothesley to stop with the nonsense.

Dessert, talking, the lights slowly turning on as night approached, and then came the time for Diluc to pick up the insubstantially light bag he packed. After all, he couldn't afford to be weighed down. Not much, anyway. You had double-checked earlier, slipping in the leftovers from tonight's meal to assure yourself he would have something to eat so Diluc would leave the containers be. Even if they dug the strap of his bag into his shoulder just a bit more than usual.

It shifted as Diluc stepped outside into the cold air, a red jacket keeping him warm. Just like almost everything else on him, it was a gift from you. It was flexible but sturdy, even with the choker with a single ruby gem in the center digging into Diluc's neck- Apparently Wriothesley had picked it out.

He stopped to simply take in the glade, letting its air pierce his lungs with a cold sting.

“And you're sure you're all set?” Came from behind him, just barely loud enough to hear over the chittering this clearing was always filled with.

“I believe you've asked me that already.”

“Double checking is hardly a sin.” You huffed. You were still acting a little off since your first glass of wine, walking into things just a bit more often than usual and staring off into space like there was something you were gazing at. The same wine lingered on his own tongue, leaving an odd feeling in Diluc's mouth from when you shared your glass. At the time, you were giggling away like nothing was wrong, a stark contrast to the frown you were currently sporting. “So, leaving under the cover of the night, huh?”

“It's more efficient this way. I'll have to get used to being awake at night again or I'll miss the prime hunting hours for vampires. They're always waiting to strike.”

“I guess I was wrong about you leaving on a bright sunny day then. Color me surprised. Or…” Your fingers tapped on the box you were holding, drawing his attention to it. It was resting on the dining table earlier, wrapped up and topped with a neat bow. He hadn't asked about it then, but now you're presenting to Diluc like it's his for the taking.

“This isn't what you wanted to talk about, is it?”

You were making that clear as you were basically trying to shove what you were holding into his hands. “Not necessarily. This, though? Yes.”

Diluc's eyes went back down to the box, trying to avoid the look you were giving that screamed he was being, as you liked to call it, edgy again. “You have already done so much and-”

“The proper response is a thank you.”

“But-”

“No, none of that. Just open it.”

With your assurance, Diluc pulled on the bow. It came undone with one simple tug flowing in the air as it fell to the side when the lid was opened to reveal multiple golden gadgets with a soft luster to them. In their reflection, Diluc met himself, now bearing a familiar determination reigniting with assurity rather than his need for revenge.

“They're made by Alice, a skilled craftsman. I trust they're made to the best of her ability, so I won't say ‘I hope they aid you out there, in the human world’, because I know they will.” As you talked, you fiddled with a strand of hair, tucking it and untuckling it from behind your ear. “You know, convincing her to make them was quite the task. What, with my relationship with the Hexenzirkel being as strained as it is…well, never mind that.”

Reaching over, the box still in his other hand, Diluc pushed the strand back behind your ear again. “Thank you.”

“I don't want a thank you. I just wanted you to stop relying on that Evil Eye so much. But if you really want to thank me, I need you to say something else.”

“And that is?”

“A vow. I made one under the guidance of my Master before she passed on, and now it's time for you to make one as well- it’s different from mine, but the principle is the same. More or less.” One of your eyes closed slightly, forming wrinkles in the corner of your eye as his hand fell from the strands of hair to your cheek. “Promise me you will take care of those who need you, unconditionally. You will be the one to purge the doubts from people's minds when it comes to their safety as you become the dawn you were named after. Nestle those people away from the evils of this world until they're purged, my dear student.”

“I promise.”

“Good. Then consider us even. No more favor, no more��needing to be here. Just go accomplish your goal, Diluc.”

“Then, it's time for you to witness my resolve.”

A heat seemed to sear into his hand as Diluc pulled away. It left his fingers twitching, aching to soothe the burn with the cool touch of your skin only to be denied as he placed the box down and took out what he deemed useful. You were giving him a stink eye the entire time Diluc was attaching the golden items to his belt; no doubt you wanted him to take it all.

The same tools shined in the moonlight with every step he took towards the forest's edge. A fairy, glimmering as brightly as ever, floated past him. Already, she was set to lead him through the barrier of the enchantment to the safety of the nearby village. It would be a quiet night for them to the with a tavern and a single inn hoping to welcome anyone into its doors all while Diluc would be slinking through the shadows of their alleys with ease until the sun rises; even when it crests the sky bringing light across these plagued land he wouldn't sleep, not when Diluc has a place in mind for where to start.

It seems, after all the time he's spent avoiding it, there was no option left but to go back home.

The fairy floated past Diluc's head, its blue light coating the endless rows of mangled tree trunks with an unnatural hue as he left this newfound home for another day after looking back at you one last time.

Just like always, you were beautiful as ever waiting up there with the front door propped open, almost like you were waiting to welcome Diluc in again as he walked away.

Your elbow met the salt covered window sill of your bedroom as you sat down to stare up at the full moon, taking in each crater and the hollow smile the floating rock seemed to wear. The cushions below you seems to breathe out dust as you sat down, clearly in need of some airing out and a good whack or two to release every grinded up herb and hellhound dandruff it has collected throughout the years, but that was a task for later as you bathed in the silvery moonlight.

Usually you would be hovering over your cauldron trying to throw a bunch of ingredients into the bubbling pot while you take advantage of the natural magic in the air werewolves barked at as they run around under the sky you both shared, but the idea of picking up your mortar and pestle lacked its regular appeal tonight.

With nothing else to do, you leaned back against the window seat to allow Wriothesley room as he jumped up to join you. His head fell to your lap easily, and you moved to pet his furry head without a second thought. This is just how things used to be. Everything was back to normal.

Gone were the clings of a sword as it met a straw puppet you had gone out of your way to stitch up for him again and again. At this point, you had fixed it so many times it looked like a warped copy of what it once was, but you still were proud of it nonetheless. After all, it served its purpose well.

There was currently a tear in it you would have to fix for when- if- Diluc came back and took to swinging that behemoth of a claymore around again.

The hellhound in your lap, despite the fact he's far too big for this behavior, nudged at your hand as your petting faltered. “Are you thinking about how you made a mistake not telling Diluc he’s free to come back whenever he pleases?”

Roughly tugging at his fluffy ear, you tell Wriothesley to shut up, and just because he has a good nose, it doesn't mean he can stick it in everyone else's business.

Wrio drawled out a long “sure” in response before you two fell back into the same old routine, but for some reason you just couldn't get used to it.

You blamed it on the few items Diluc left behind now resting on your work table. A shame, really, you paid good money for them. They ought to be put to use instead of gathering dust like everything else in your house; they would keep him safe in this idiotic journey of his if nothing else.

“Wrio,” you said,” tell me, how long do humans live again?”

“Seventy, maybe eighty, years. Depends on the person, really.” He grumbled, clearly not happy with your harsh treatment.

“And how long do human vampire hunters tend to live?”

Wriothesley didn't answer you, only letting the unspoken words fill you with an almost choking sense of dread. Through all your years of your long, long life you couldn't ever recall a time when silence was so loud. Not even as a wolf howled in the distance, sending shivers down your spine.

The feeling urged you into doing your best to force out a laugh you managed a simple “Master would have liked him.”

That was your one reverie from the silence that returned now that your student was gone.

[girlactionfigure]

A NEW FRIEND

A little Israel story

LEE KERN

OCT 29

We are our own civilisation. We don’t need to entertain or be entertained by anyone else. Because there are a million stories taking place inside the Jewish universe. Today I had a sweet encounter. I met a friend in Neve Tzedek. Then when I left them I was walking through the streets and passed a cute old synagogue. A chassid came out. Black hat. Black frock. The works. He asked me something but I replied in Hebrew that I spoke Hebrew like a child. He then asked in Hebrew if I spoke any Yiddish. I said the one Yiddish phrase I know about having tsuris. Then we just walked not speaking the same language but enjoying each others company. Using broken Hebrew we managed to communicate. I pointed to an old building and he explained it used to be a synagogue and he showed me where the men would sit and where the women would sit. We saw a dog. I told him I had to work later. He said something which I managed to interpret as Adam being banished from the garden and man having to earn bread by the sweat of his brow. I told him that the snake in the garden of Eden was a nudnik and that all snakes are nudniks. He laughed. I asked him what his favourite festival is. He said his favourite chag is Purim. I told him mine was Yom Kippur. Then he typed into Google translate on my phone the words: “If you believe you came out clean, then don’t mess up.” It turned out he was a satmar chassid. I teased him for being anti-zionist and he typed “76 years and there hasn’t been a single quiet day here yet.” I told him that even Eden had its crazy days. He lives in Jerusalem. He was here for a reason I didn’t quite understand. I asked what he was doing for the rest of the day. He said he was doing nothing. So we just strolled a bit. We walked down Park HaMesila whilst hipsters and hot women strolled past. But we weren’t noticing that. By now we were talking about watermelons and schnitzel. Then we swapped phone numbers and said we should stay in touch. He had this tiny little phone from a bygone era. I felt that I should go and do some work but I also felt that he was just wandering around and that he kind of wanted company. So we walked a bit more. He said that he needed to keep moving as he was in pain. I asked what pain? He tried to explain but couldn’t so he typed into Google translate and showed me the phone. “Hemorroid pain” it said. It was hilarious and I started laughing. He was so innocent and sweet, casually telling me he had hemorrhoids as if it was no big thing to tell someone. And the reality is it wasn’t. Finally I walked him back to a synagogue he wanted to go to. I told him I was a writer. He told me he was a printer. He printed posters that the chassidim put up in their neighbourhood. Announcing weddings and deaths and other such things. I said I hope he will get more work for weddings. We shook hands and parted company. 

[spunsugarmusings]

Mirrormask (2005) Starter Sentences

Starter sentences based on the 2005 film Mirrormask. Change pronouns as necessary!

"You'll be the death of me!"

"All of those kids in there, they want to run away and join the circus!"

"I want to run away and join real life!"

"You couldn't handle real life!"

"I am a very important man. I've got a tower."

"If I were to say something apologetic it would reflect my feelings in this matter."

"I shall slip unnoticed through the darkness, like a dark, unnoticeable slippy thing."

"We often confuse what we wish for with what is."

"If we put little wheels on the bottoms of our shoes, we could just roll around everywhere."

"I understand this must be quite painful for you, but really it is a chicken."

"Rocks and logs can bite like dogs, but words will never hurt me!"

"It's like trying to find a needle… no, not a needle. Something SMALLER than a needle, in a haystack, when you don't even know if you're in the right field!

"My mum always said: "It's a dog-eat-dog world, son. You get them before they get you. Eat your greens. Stop embarrassing me in front of the neighbors. Maybe it would best if you leave home and never come back!"

"She wasn't even my real mum. She bought me from a man."

"You can't run away from home without destroying someone's world."

"How do you know if you're happy or sad without a mask?"

"Don't let them see you're afraid."

"LOOK! AN IDIOT!"

"I don't want to be a waiter!"

"I'd rather be juggling bananas."

"It's just a drawing, it's not "called" anything."

"I wasn't worried until you told me not to worry!"

"It's not anybody's fault. These things happen, it's just life."

"You know, sometimes it helps to apologize to others, even if it isn't your fault."

"You need a pretty frock and a happy smile."

"What's the matter with your face?"

"Dangerous, not dangerous, same thing."

"As propositions go, I have to say it is completely, unarguably, quintessentially hopeless."

"We'll do what rich people do! Bathe in fish, eat our weight in chocolate buttons, learn to play the concertina!"

[melancholicstation]

jack schlossberg with just an 'normal' girl, not a model, not anyone famous, absolute zero online presence because everything is privated. Literally just an accomplished woman, a university graduate, a humanitarian that does charity work in her free time (animal shelters/rehabilitation), won medals from academic bowls. Nothing to her name except ambition and a good heart. People are slamming against the follow request button in hopes of getting anymore personal details into Jack's love life, but her Instagram account is literally just her posting about her hobbies, books, and random moments in her life. And only one very blurry candid photo of Jack.

right, like she is just a quiet humanitarian (kind of like how meghan markle was back in 2016 pre-prince harry era) that has a private instagram with 46 followers and no profile picture, maybe she has a blog on the side that people scour for jack related clues/insights but her feed is just like food and her dogs. very down to earth and when she makes her first appearance with the kennedy folk she's dressed in like a target frock but somehow makes it look undeniably chic and (i detest this word and this whole trend but it must be said) old money adjacent, pairing it will dainty cute star jewellery. she definitely is part of UN somehow, but not brazenly annoying about it. her and jack kind of do that thing that taylor swift and joe alwyn used to do where they wouldn't post pictures together but they'd post pictures in the same location hours after each other ... very demure

her whole feed looks like this very laid-back, very chill girl:

they also do get into an iCloud leaking fiasco like taylor and joe did too ...

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

Catfish and Dog Cemeteries

Chapter Nine of Sweet Home Alabama

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd), Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x OC (Linley Mitchell/Floyd)

Description: The Annual Pigeon Creek Catfish Festival is always your favorite event of the summer. Being back here after seven years feels different. It should be a consolation that you're only going to be in Pigeon Creek for a few days more. But instead, another encounter with an old friend makes you question everything you thought you knew about your soon-to-be ex-husband. A chance encounter with the man himself makes you question everything else in your life, too.

Themes: love, attraction, angst, sex, cheating, lying

Warnings: discussions of grief, discussions of miscarriage, discussions of animal death

Word Count: 2665

A/N: This chapter is one of the saddest in this entire fic. I know, I know. It's awfully hypocritical of me to say that when most of Sweet Home Alabama (the movie) is really really sad. This is the chapter I sobbed while writing. It's also the first time Jake and Linley address the pain they have put each other through. I hope you love it!

Thanks to the gorgeous @desert-fern for reading over this chapter and smacking my imposter syndrome demon when it refused to give up.

AO3: Cross-posted here!

Wattpad: Cross-posted here!

My Masterlist

Previous Part | Series Masterlist | Next Part

Pigeon Creek's Catfish Festival is busier than you've ever seen it when you pull up and park your rental car on Main Street the next day. The festival used to be your favorite day of the summer, the one day during summer vacation when you could run free and eat as much candy and fried things as you wanted. You walk through the crowd on autopilot, walking down the line at the buffet until your plate is filled with all of the things you never actually let yourself eat anymore, and slip a twenty into the donation jar at the end of the table. The fried fish and steaming french fries had looked so good that you couldn’t stop yourself. 

But as you stand in the grass with your plate in your hand, it reminds you of something else. Nobody in Pigeon Creek likes you very much. Everyone you know is chatting and laughing and enjoying the good food. Yet you’re still the outsider. Like you were before Jake became your best friend like you have been every minute of every day since you left town. Not a single person wants to meet your eyes. A part of you understands why. Jake was the golden boy of the town. Jake is still the town hero. You’re just the girl who threw him away.

Of course, what you don’t expect to see is Dorothy sitting at one of the tables with a baby in her lap. She’s the only person who doesn’t glare at you as you walk up.

“D’you mind if I sit here?” Gone is the confident Linley who took New York by storm. In her place is the four-year-old with a lisp who used to get pushed off of picnic tables because she was too different.

“Sure.” You sit silently, gratefully, smiling at the chubby-cheeked baby in Dorothy’s lap.

“I, um..” You’re captivated by the shocks of tiny dark hair and big eyes and the way the little sweetheart is waving their fists around. “I didn’t know you and Mickey had a baby.”

“Aww, yeah. When you came around the bank the other day, there wasn’t much time for us to catch up now, was there?” She hums to the baby for several long moments before turning all of her attention to you.

It occurs to you at that moment that maybe you were more than a little prejudiced yourself as a kid. You have more fun with Dorothy than you’ve had in years. Getting to eat good food and just be yourself probably helps, too. Every time you see her snuggle her daughter, it feels like your heart breaks a little more. You can’t turn back time or change history. Seeing the baby squeal as a calf licks her hand makes you smile.

“Y’know he went up there?” There’s a secretive smile on Dot’s face as she rescues the baby from having her frock eaten by a goat.

“Who?” You drag your eyes away from the kids playing in front of you and focus back on Dorothy. “Dot, who went up where?” When she just looks at you, the lightbulb goes off in your head. “Jake? When?”

“About a year after you left.” That little tidbit of knowledge hits like a dart hitting a bullseye on a dart board. “He doesn’t know that I know, but Mickey let it slip once.”

“Jake was in New York?” You sound like a stuck record, but you can’t believe that Jake ever went to New York. Jake has always hated the idea of the big city, much preferring the country to the city. 

“He told Mickey he'd never seen anything like it.” Your heart is six feet under the earth.

“He realized straight off…” You’re leaning in despite yourself, some sick sense of curiosity expecting you to know, “That he'd need more than an apology to win you back. He needed to conquer the world first. He's been tryin' ever since.”

You didn’t think that you were so cruel a few days ago, standing in the middle of that fashion show back in New York. But now? Now, you feel like the worst person on the planet. 

“That's why he kept sending the papers back.” Is the world spinning off of its axis, or is that just you? How is it that you can know someone for most of your life and that they still surprise you every time?

“Yeah, it's funny how things don't work out.” The baby starts fussing in Dot’s arms, and the sweet burble of sound puts a smile on your face.

“It’s funny how they do.” 

You spend the rest of the day hanging out with Dorothy, smiling and laughing like a fool while playing with the baby. But it’s as night falls and the kids all go home to bed that excitement starts to course through your veins. The first twang of the guitar sets your feet tapping. For the first time since you came back to Pigeon Creek, you feel like you’re at home. With good music and even better alcohol in your hands, you finally feel free. 

Of course, what you’re not expecting, even though you totally should be, is Jake and Bob walking up to the small gathering you’ve found yourself in. It’s almost like once Dot approved of you, everyone else did, too. He looks like sin, his worn jeans clinging to his thighs and a soft red flannel clinging to his broad shoulders. His eyes and hair glisten in the soft light, and if you were a younger, less encumbered woman, you would have climbed him like a tree. But as it is, your soul feels heavy, and your left-hand feels even heavier. The worst part isn’t just how you lost the love of your life. It’s in how you’ve lost your best friend, too.

You can’t look at his smiling face, not when it hurts to see him happy when you’ve never been sadder. So, instead, you fixate on the glass your beer is in. It’s crystal clear and gorgeous, and well, it’s glass like you’ve never seen in New York. Is it any wonder that you lift the glass to see if you can see the manufacturer? Of course, just as you lift up the glass, it’s Dot who notices what you’re doing.

“Oh, honey, you…” She giggles, looking at you, “You drink that from the top.”

“I know that, Dot. I’m just lookin’ to see who makes this Deep South Glass. I wonder if you can get it in New York?" You take a sip of your beer and sigh. "It's beautiful."

"D'you hear that, Jake?" There is mischief in Dot's voice. "Lin wants to know where she can find that snooty-faluty glass." Why's she asking Jake, of all people?

"Why ask me?" See that? That's why Jake Seresin was your best friend. He always knew exactly what you were thinking and had the courage to express the thought, too.

"Oh, I dunno. Maybe it's because…" You've only had a few sips of your beer, so you don't miss the glare Jake shoots at Dot. You don't know why he's keeping secrets, but you have a feeling it isn't for a good reason. "You're all spiffed up and all."

"Wait, y'all." You probably look as confused as you feel. "Am I missing something?"

But all of a sudden, the familiar tones of Sweet Home Alabama by Lynyrd Skynyrd echo across the dance floor. You can count on one hand the number of times you've passed on dancing to this song - and all of them have been when you were in New York. It's a right of passage, a way of life. A part of you is sure every 'Bama baby has been put to bed at night with a crooned-out rendition of this song since it came out. Already, you can feel the beat tapping your toes, but a part of you isn't sure if anyone will ask you to dance. You smile vaguely as Dot marches off to the dance floor, Jake in tow, leaving you standing at the edge of the dance floor yearning.

"Y'know, she says that I've got two left feet, but the truth is she's got no rhythm." You startle just a bit at Mickey's voice, though you smile when you hear the pure love in it for Dot.

"Why don't we show her just how well I can dance, then, Miss Linley?" 

"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Garcia." 

You're smiling from ear to ear as Mickey twirls you around on the dance floor. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel the beat in every hummingbird thud of your heart. But when you open them again, it feels like the world's standing still. The music is gone. There isn't another person on the dance floor other than Jake and you. He's got his hand on your waist, and your heart's not beating in time anymore. Your palms grow clammy, and your tongue feels like it's swollen in your mouth.

There is something unreadable in Jake's gaze as he twirls you once, twice, and then one final time before applauding for the band and walking away. You spend the rest of the night as far away from Jake as you possibly can. You know where he is; you always have. But it's different going out of your way to avoid him. Everyone's cleared out for the night when you finally see the sign for the dog cemetery.

Bear used to love clear nights like this, and something about it makes you remember him. His little plot is the newest, and it hurts to think of the puppy you bottle-fed lying six feet under the ground when you never even got the chance to tell him you loved him one final time.

"Hi there, boy." Your hands shake as you clear away a couple of twigs ensnared in his grave marker. "Sorry, it took me so long. I would have come sooner if I'd known you were sick."

Sitting here tonight, you don't think you can lie. Not to Bear. "Actually, that's probably not true. I've been pretty selfish lately."

Tears track hot down your cheeks as you remember the dog you loved with all of your heart. "Dogs don't know anything about that, do they, though? You were always like a big old pillow. Like when everything went pear-shaped…" Your voice cracks on the words because pear-shaped is an understatement for how your life splintered. "You never left my side. And then I just left you. I bet you sat there wondering what you'd done wrong."

"I told him it was my fault." You stand up so quickly that you nearly fall over. It's Jake because who else would it be when he's so close that you can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off of his skin?

"Quit bein' so nice." 

"It's the truth." It's not. Not in the slightest. It was your fault. Your body, your mouth. Your fault. But you can't verbalize your words or how sorry you were for everything that you did.

"How come it has to be so complicated?" You sigh the words even as you wipe your tears away.

"What?" Despite his hatred for you, his voice is gentle, a melodic hum over the buzz of a summer night out in the country.

"The truth, life…" Finally, you trace your fingers over Bear's name. "This."

"He was one hell of a good dog, wasn't he?" You can only nod, moving to sit on a stone bench nearby. It's quiet for several moments, just you and Jake staring at the graves.

"You looked like you were having fun out there tonight." It's true, you did have fun. But it wasn't quite as easy as he thought it was to let loose.

"I'm happy in New York, Jake. But then I come down here and…” You gesture around you to all of Pigeon Creek. “This fits, too." Who are you trying to convince? Him? Or yourself?

"Since when does it have to be one or the other? You can have roots and wings, Lin." Not possible, not with your all-or-nothing life.

"Maybe I could just fly south for the winter." As if the Honorable Carole Bradshaw would ever let you do that.

He sits down next to you suddenly, warming the left side of your body as he gets close.

"Look." It takes you a bit to figure out what you're looking for, but when you see it, it makes you feel like a kid again. "There. Do you see 'em?"

"Only you. Lightnin' bugs." There's a childlike wonder on his face. This close, you can feel each exhale and can see the specks of amber floating in the green of his eyes

"You know, I still go out there sometimes. I see those big thunderheads rollin' in. It's like a religion." Of course, he still goes out on the beach in the middle of lightning storms.

But his confession has you spilling one of your own. "I had a dream about it the other night." You watch the lightning bugs track pinpricks of light through the dark night.

"It had me thinking, Lin. You ever wonder what would have happened if we hadn't have gotten pregnant?"

Your heart falls to your feet at his words. Please let him regret you, but not that sweet baby. Please, not your sweet baby. Your throat barely pushes out the sound as you whisper, "Jake."

"Just," His eyes are pleading, and the sight of the pain in his eyes blanks all the thoughts out of your mind. "Let me get this out before I can't. I thought that baby would be an adventure."

"And it took me a while to realize that it would have been your only adventure." Yup. The sound you hear despite the blood pounding in your temples is your heart shattering into infinitesimal pieces. "I just guess Mother Nature knew better, huh?"

Your hands make abortive movements in your lap. But you can't reach for him, not with the ring weighing your left hand down. "I was so ashamed, Jake. 'Cause I felt relieved. How selfish am I, huh? I lost our baby, and I felt relieved. I felt relieved. And I couldn't handle that. All of a sudden, I just needed a different life. So I left."   

Your voice is so quiet you're not sure Jake can actually hear you.

"You’ve done really well for yourself. I'm proud of you, Lin." He's so close all you want to do is fall into him. But you can't. You can't.

"I'm just sorry I never danced with you at our weddin'." How does he make your heart feel so full that you're sure it's going to overflow?

"I'm sure this next one's gonna go better for ya." His hands are strong and warm and perfect as they cradle yours. But every press of his hands rubs the ring, Bradley's ring, into your hands. It feels like a brand, the guilt turning into a five-ton weight sitting there. And it's that itchy, heavy feeling that has you yanking your hands from his own. 

"Jake, I can't do this." Who are you trying to convince as you walk away? Like so much of this conversation tonight, you're not really sure.

"I know."

Something about those words has you turning around. It's not a feeling or an expressed desire, but you still stand on your tiptoes and kiss Jake. Just once, you promise your traitorous heart. Just once. But he feels like home and tastes like it and smells like it. The electricity ricocheting through your veins makes you feel so good that you don't break the kiss until Jake does. Your lips are swollen, and you can barely breathe. But Jake? Jake just looks angry.

"Go home." Is it any wonder that you do so with your tail between your legs?

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE, ON WATTPAD, OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

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[djadecutie]

I might as well make an intro card

Howdy My Fellow Bloaks!!!

Name: ??? [call me Jade]

Pronouns: They/She

Sexuality: Aro Ace (Lesbian?)

Age: Minor, in high school

Hobbies: Drawing/art (mainly character drawing), reading, writing(a little bit, hard to get motivation), binging Youtube, messing with my oc's ( I don't think i've posted them much on here but i will if you want me to ^-^) and talking to myself in my room while spinning in a chair (it's fun)

Some little bits of info: Really love weird core music, Adore disability rep in media(like, want it portrayed more), kinda wise and dumb? I think anyway, Find that the queer disasters are fun to play with.

Some things I like/Fandoms Im in: (some Im more into than others) Danganronpa, Saiki K, Wonder over yonder, Sam and Max Freelance police, fairly odd parents a new wish (I engage through ramblings on youtube), Smiling friends, Unikitty! (Im basically only in it for frock), Captain underpants, Dog man(my childhood liturature:] ), Welcome home, Greatings from mayview(its wowiezowiebaby's ocs, not a show or media) Undertale, Deltarune(I know it but my main thing is the Delta rune memes), Fnaf, Poppy playtime, Another crabs treasure (crab darksouls), Hollow night (have not finished playing yet), Doki Doki Literature Club, SMG4, Eddsworld, Animated Inanimate Battle(I've only watched this one[weird amount of overlap within fandom]), ROTTMNT (I have not watched the other iterations), Gravity falls, Sonic, Mario, Murder drones, Monkey wrench (indie animated show on youtube) and TADC

My sona:

Hope your day becomes manageable!

[autumnaaltonen]

What are the names of each alucard form?

The Many Forms of Alucard

For just the average shapeshifting, Alucard has shown to be capable of changing into bats, insects, snakes, a dog, or just large masses of darkness and shadow.

But when you say "forms", I am going to assume you mean the persona's Alucard takes on in his Control Art Restriction System, and other associated persona.

The Control Art Restriction System was designed by Abraham Van Hellsing as a sort of leash for Alucard. He is far too dangerous on his own, so his powers must be contained via six 'levels'. Each of these levels, like a safe, has a designated amount of power locked behind them, effecting Alucard's physical form as a result. We the viewers are not prevy to all of these states, becuase when Alucard sees it necessary to unlock the Control Art Restriction levels (or ask permission from his master), he's really an all-or-nothing kind of guy. The states we have observed are as thus:

Level 6: Referred to as "Count", is the most recognizable form for Alucard, as it is his default. He is often seen wearing is iconic red frock coat and large fedora, with a black pin up suit, long leather boots, white gloves, and somtimes his classic google sunglasses.

Levels 5-2: Unknown, possibly the same as Level 6 or 1.

Level 1: Referred to as "Nosferatu". This form is seen multiple times throughout the series, first when he is discovered by a preteen Integra, as well when fighting Luke Valentine, Tubalcain Alhumbra, Anderson and Walter. He wears a full body, black straight-jacket, with his level 6 white gloves.

Level 0: What fans have dubbed as "Vladcard". This form turns Alucard into his previous human-sefl, Vlad 'the Impaler' Dracula. He wears his 15th century Romanian armour, a tattered black cape and a large broadsword at his hip. And, as pointed out amusingly by Seras, he also has a mustache 🥸.

Other forms not associated with a particular level include:

Girlycard, where Alucard appears as a young girl with stright, long black hair, a white jacket and pants over a black button-up, and a white ushanka.

Bussiness Man (or Dripcard🫠), appears when Alucard travels to Rio with Seras and Pip. His air is gown long, and he wears a slick black suit, gray overcoat, black tie, red button-up shirt, black leather shoes, and his classic goggle sunglasses and white gloves.

For more Alucard info, I always trust in the work done by our fellow fans at https://hellsing.fandom.com/

[marshmallowprotection]

Most outlaws wouldn't put much thought into their get-away, often opting for whatever could benefit them the most in the heat of the moment, but Unknown wasn't like that. He didn't want to leave fate to chance. It was too risky to go in blind, not doing any research for the heist ahead of time because one wrong swoop would have the authorities on his tail faster than they could holler for backup from a partner.

He didn't intend on getting caught any time soon and had those other criminals been smart enough to think twice about it, they'd have done the same. Even his brother knew better than to leave a game of chance on the board. It was better to know where to run, when to flee, and where to hide until the coast cleared of anyone willing to turn them in for a few measly coins.

That kind of forward thinking had saved his skin more times than he could count by this point in his life.

Fortunately, he had something that most crooks couldn't count on to help them out. He had the trust of his loyal horse to help him escape in the knick of time—every time. Begonia had been by his side since he and his brother helped a frock of horses escape from a dangerous situation. If they wouldn't have smashed the locks on the barn, those horses would've known nothing but cruelty on the trails.

Out of all those horses who dashed to freedom, two of them stayed behind as a show of respect to them. Saeran wanted them to run to freedom, but no matter how much he beckoned them to leave, they wouldn't stray. He and Saeyoung had no choice but to take them in, and he named his horse after a flower he once saw in V's old books. Begonia, an element of surprise, danger, and gratitude.

She was a gentle horse, all things considered, and he hoped to one day bring her to a field of grass as far as the eye could see so she'd have all the time in the world to graze and enjoy herself. She'd done her part to keep him safe, gnawing at his sleeve when it was time to make a break for it, whining at anyone who dared to look at him the wrong way, and galloping faster than a bullet when they needed her quick exit out of town.

He didn't have to worry about a messy get-away when she was with him. He was gone just as soon as he went in thanks to Begonia. She wanted nothing more than to look after him as he did for her to begin with. She was there for him when he didn't have another soul to turn to. Out on the range, it was just him and Begonia most of the time. It was easy to fall into a steady pattern with her, whistling a song under his breath as her footsteps dampened the sounds of buzzards.

He couldn't call many people his friends, but Begonia? She was more than his horse, his companion and partner in crime, she was a friend and deserved the best of the best. That's why he didn't turn down the box of fresh vegetables you sent with him on his way outta town. You meant for him to use those in a stew, but he intended to use them for more than just that.

As his dinner pot boiled, he sectioned out a chunk of the carrots for Begonia. It wasn't easy to carry that much food on the trails so the food you offered him had to be cooked as soon as possible... unless he wanted to make friends with the wildlife. He didn't intend to make a friend of the wild dogs, much less the coyotes, but you didn't know that. You always had someone with you to fend off wild animals if the worst came to light.

Unknown didn't.

All he had was Begonia and his guns. He didn't want to risk putting her in danger by carrying around too much food, either. It was better to do what he could every day than to worry about handling food on the trail. Besides... there was more to it than that. As long as he had food to eat, he didn't have to worry about a damn thing. He knew all the best spots to find food if he needed something. His energy levels would never diminish.

He didn't have to live the way he did when he was a little boy... not anyone. If he wanted food, he could find it, and nobody could order him to starve! It was the same for Begonia. She didn't have to work her ass off to earn her keep. She deserved to graze and eat as much as she wanted. They belonged to no man, and they were as free as a gentle breeze.

He couldn't stay healthy like he promised you if he didn't do the same for his horse. He knew just how to do enough for himself, after all. As long as he knew what would fill his guts, he knew what could be left out of the pot to go to her hungry cause.

"Cereus didn't half'ta go this far, I'd'a had a bellyache if I ate all o' this by myself," he grumbled. The repetition motion of the blade kept him busy, at least.

A faint whinny caught his attention just as he went to add the final batch of veggies to the pot.

It wasn't that odd for Begonia to sit with him when he took refuge in a cave, but tonight felt different than other nights. She'd crawled deep into the cave with him to avoid sleeping outside, likely because... she saw something in the distance she wanted no part of, and he wasn't one to tell her no when she did something like that. He didn't have it in him to scold her for something like that.

If something felt wrong with her comfort, then she knew better than to wait around in the dark for something to get her first.

If something found her—it wouldn't take long before it found him.

But, if he didn't know any better, he could've sworn she was inching closer and closer to him. He turned his head to the side and noticed she was only a few steps away from him now. He sighed at her quiet antics and patted the spot next to him. "Come on, girl. If y'ain't feelin' comfortable then y'might as well enjoy the fire."

Begonia took that as a good sign. She worked her way next to him but instead of resting her head on the ground, she tucked her head into his lap and bristled. He stared at her and she stared at him with her big, pleading eyes. If he wouldn't have known she was a horse... he would've guessed that she was trying to be like one of those cats that frequented the church his brother made donations to.

None of those cats liked his brother, much to his disappointment, but... they liked him and Begonia plenty. Unknown figured it was because they didn't get in their way. He didn't like to be crowded around by some fool, either!

He stroked the back of her head. "I don't mind yer' head on my lap, Beg. But m'afraid y'can't crawl on my lap like them cats do, okay? It ain't nothing when it's yer' head 'cause yer' head don't wear nothing to me, but the rest of ya' could crush my legs. Yer' a big girl, y'know that."

She made a noise that sounded akin to a huff. As if I would crush my Papa, he could practically hear her say. You used to sleep with your head on my side all the time!

"Don't make that ol' pouty face," he whispered as her eye brightened. "Y'kept me feelin' safe n' sound when I slept. So, I reckon... I'll do the same for you if y'ain't hungry yet. Go on, take a rest, girl. Sorry y'ain't the right size to sleep like them cats... but I hope this is the next best thing."

Begonia settled in and closed her eyes as he continued to work on his dinner. He didn't mind her attention. If she didn't feel good, she would let him know, and this out of anything else let him know that she only felt safe by his side. He could say she was among the few that did the same for him, so giving up his lap for the night wasn't a problem. She was a good horse, and she deserved to feel safe, too.

I'll have ta' tell Cereus that yer' such a spoiled girl, though... guess that's my fault as yer' Papa. I just can't stand seein' ya sad.