#feed shrub

[its-just-shrub]

Almost 9pm and making BLT’s 🤙🏻🤤

[wandaslittlepsycho]

Precious

pairing: 𝚌𝚛𝚊𝚣𝚢!𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚊 ༝༝ 𝚏𝚎𝚖!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

summary: your bunny slips through the crack of your front door and you run after her in hopes of catching the pet again. You get lost but your time still ticks, nightfall inching closer and closer as you inevitably sink further into the woods. Luckily, your eyes spot a cabin, and you become acquaintances with the unusual redhead that resides there.

warnings: dubcon, filthy smutty smut smut, HEAVYYYY dacryphilia, groping, dry humping, praise kink, thigh riding (r receiving), mid writing, wanda is lowkey a sadist, slightly unhinged crazy yet loveable and sexy cabin wanda, age gap > r is 20 w is 32

A/N: first fic!!! hi… im very new to writing fics so please be nice ૮꒰ྀི >⸝⸝⸝<꒱ྀིა (i wrote this listening to a true crime documentary idk)

kind of a messy plot but I still hope my little freaks enjoy…… and I’m also sorry this took longer than expected I just kept contemplating if it was good or absolute shit </3

+

this is a dark fic. 18+. wlw. men & minors dni!

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

It’s getting pretty late…

You think to yourself, hugging your shoulders as you look up at the overcast sky.

How did I end up here in the first place?

✦

You move a leaf to the side and pick the fresh strawberry that was stashed there, rinsing it in your small bucket of water and taking a mouthful of the delicious treat.

You hear a shuffle beside you. Turning your head, you see a white bunny hiding behind one of your sunflower pots. You smile and place another strawberry onto the ground before slowly walking away. Your eyes relish how cute the little animal is as they chomp away at your colourful fruit.

You stand in the corner of your garden and decide from then on, you’d feed the hungry bunnies that would stroll into your neighbourhood.

A few days pass and you quickly became friends with two specific bunnies who you named Clover and Daisy. You eventually took them in as your own, rottenly spoiling both of the creatures. You loved having them around because living alone in a small town that was an hour away from the city can definitely become lonely.

“This tastes like candy to you doesn’t it Daisy?” You say as you hold out your hand and watch her nibble it up. The fur around her mouth is stained purple, you laugh at the sight.

“Okay that’s enough blueberries for tonight! You’ll get sick if you keep eating those.” You click the plastic container shut, standing up and walking into your kitchen. You place the container in the side compartment of your fridge for tomorrow and stroll back into your living room.

Your brows furrow. Daisy is gone. Daisy and Clover are such good bunnies, they never leave your sight for more than a minute. You assume she ran to her sister Clover, but your eyes widen in horror when you see your front door slightly more cracked open than it was before you left.

You anxiously open your phone and dial your best friend Frankie. You ramble to her about how stupid you felt for leaving the door open, like you are an irresponsible parent who’s no smarter than a bag of rocks. She calmly tells you to go look for Daisy and that she’ll come over as soon as she can to watch Clover.

“Thank you so so much, Frankie. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You sigh in relief, a hand pressed over your chest. You feel your heart jump underneath your palm and your lips trembling with every breath.

“It’s no problem, Y/N/N. Now go look for that bunny, I’ll be over in 5.”

“Bye, thank you again..” You hang up the phone and dart out the door. You frantically look through your shrubs and call her name, but a bright white spot in your peripheral steals your attention.

There she is, bouncing her way into the open forest across the road from you. As soon as she hops out of your view you race towards her, carelessly running past two moving cars. You ignore the frustrated yelling and the beeping horns, continuing to boost into daisies direction.

“DAISY! WAIT!!”

You yell, but your shouting only seems to spur her on. You run after her and neither of you lose pace. You turn corners, run through mud and almost slip doing so at least two times. The animal suddenly picks up it’s speed, turning abruptly and disappearing into a thick bush. You get on your knees and practically rip this bush to shreds, but she was already long gone. Daisy is no more.

You feel tears sting your eyes, ears and cheeks becoming hot from your stress. You sniffle and wipe your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. You knew it was impossible to look for her now. That bunny became your life in just a couple of days, she felt like a childhood pet. The thought of never seeing her again made your heartstrings tie themselves into knots.

You lose the path you were on but you couldn’t care less. You lost your beloved bunny baby; life is no longer worth living. You wonder if Clover’s okay, and how exactly you’d break the news to her.

So lost and full of woe, mind not even switched on, you didn’t notice the thick tree root in front of you until you stub your foot against it and fall forward. You wince and slowly stand up again. Dusting the crunchy leaves off of your clothes, you use the back of your hand to wipe the dripping bead of blood from your cheekbone.

Great, a cut. I’ll have to clean that up when I get home..

You wonder aimlessly with your head hung low. A brisk breeze that brushes past you is what makes you finally look up.

You hug your shoulders as you stare at the gloomy airspace. The sun isn’t beaming, only a variation of different grey clouds flood the sky.

A person? This far out on in the woods?

Wanda thinks. She watches you with a deranged, curious look as you weave yourself through the webs and bushes, seemingly extra careful about tree roots.

You look up from the ground, scanning the area around you and pause when you see the warm glow of her cabin.

My god, she’s gorgeous.

She takes a swift step back so she’s not in the frame of the window anymore, her brows furrowing. She stares at the wall, she hasn’t seen an actual person in so long.

What is a girl like you doing traipsing in the woods?

She peeks again and now you’re making your way over, big wary eyes cautiously examining your surroundings. A shiver rocks through you as you cough into your elbow, then using that arm to place three firm knocks on the door.

You sigh while you wait for someone to answer the door. You switch from tippy toes to the heel of your feet in a nervous manner. The cabin looks great, almost pristine, there’s no way it’s abandoned.

You feel stupid for going into a cabin in the woods. It’s like some dumb movie; you’re just hoping you don’t end up dead. You expect to see an old, wrinkled man the size of a third grader, but your eyes widen when a tall red headed woman swings the door open. You stutter, stunned that a woman like her would live in a place so isolated.

Holy shit, she’s fine.

“Hi, um.. I know it’s a lot to ask but can I stay here for a little bit? I… got lost.” You fiddle with your fingers. She chuckles as she crosses her arms, biting her lip and letting her eyes run up and down your fidgety figure.

“No it’s not asking anything at all. It’s not like I get visitors very often.” She moves to the side and welcomes you in. You look up at her and mumble a small thank you, slowly stepping inside her warm homestead.

The smell of firewood burning and sweet lavender conquer your senses. The comforting atmosphere relaxes you despite how unfamiliar it is. You kick off your boots and grab them so you can neatly place them next to the door. She shuts the door and clicks it locked, quietly making her way over to what looks like her kitchen.

You drink in the sight around you. A tall, cobblestone fireplace lined up against the wall with wood already burning inside of it. A soft lounge suite with a fluffy mat sitting right underneath it. There’s a short hallway and two doors, one you assume leading into her bedroom and the other probably being her bathroom.

One thing you notice in particular is a painting, one with two women sitting on a red velvet couch. One is dressed in white, the other is dressed in black and they both have lace blindfolds wrapped around their heads.

Their Victorian dresses were detailed and long, their lips so close but afraid to touch and give in.

You look away and clench your fists. Your face is now hot, when you entered a remote cabin in the woods, a gay victorian painting was the last thing you expected.

“Take a seat, make yourself comfortable.” The woman’s hoarse voice echoes through the room. Your ears perk up when they catch a touch of an accent.

Is she some type of Russian? That’s hot.

Your anxious form shifts over to her couch to sit down. You sigh in relief, your aching bones melting into the man made cloud that was this woman’s sofa.

“So what’s your name, milaya?” The woman hands you a cup. Your cold fingers feel fuzzy against the hot mug, shuffling back further into her couch so you can sit up comfortably.

“Y/N. You?”

“Wanda.”

A small smile sits on her face that is on some level, disturbing. It’s such a beautiful smile but you can feel something is not right with her. Your intuition has never made itself more distinct, it was less noticeable when you were walking alone outside.

The room feels like it’s getting smaller, the claustrophobia whips the air right out of your lungs. Your eyes flicker between hers. The room starts to spin. Your ears start to ring. Before you could pass out cold, she cups your chin, the gentle gesture pulling you out of your panicked state.

“That’s a nasty cut isn’t it? Would you like me to take care of that?” She says, her tone coaxing. Your curious eyes linger on her,

Why is this stranger being so generous?

If someone entered your home and needed to stay the night, you’d tell them to get lost. She caresses your face softly while she stares at the wound.

“No it’s oka-“ She suddenly pushes a finger to the fresh cut, forcing you to wince and pull away from her. She looks at you in a way you can’t describe, your reaction seemingly piqueing her interest. Her pupils dilate but not enough for you to notice. You look at her with fearful eyes and think to yourself,

Who would do that?

“Actually, that would be nice. Thank you..”

~

Your eyes switch between the steaming drink in your hand and the obviously unhinged redhead sitting next to you. Her aura is intimidating, but you convince yourself it’s paranoia.

I’m in a remote cabin deep in the woods.

Who wouldn’t be unsettled? She’s nice and she helped you…stop being dumb Y/N!

“Thank you again for cleaning my cut, Wanda.” You try to strike up a conversation, but all you’re met with is painful silence. She watches your lips touch the ring of the porcelain teacup, then moving her eyes up to meet your own.

“You’re very observant aren’t you?” You refer to her endless stare, disguising your discomfort with a small chuckle. Her smile widens.

"Fascinuješ ma, miláčik.” “You fascinate me, darling.”

Your brows squeeze together. You wish you could understand what she said, but it felt rude asking her to repeat that in English. You result in shyly looking away and focus on your dangling feet.

Her hand occasionally runs down your back or strokes your arm. Her icy featherlight touches cause goosebumps to ride over your skin. She notices your eyes following her fingers, a mischief smirk hiking up her cheeks.

“You’re so lucky I’m here to help you, dear. What was a girl like you doing in the woods all alone?” Her hand lands on your knee, slowly climbing up closer to your heat and lightly massaging the flesh there. You squirm when she inches closer to your mound, but you’re in her home. She could do anything to you if you said something that upset her.

What if she’s just being nice? I don’t want to offend her…

“I- uh- I was hunting?” You try to paint yourself as tough but fail spectacularly; you can tell by the way she squints her eyes when she hears your answer.

“If that were true, you’d have hunting gear on you, sweetie.” She moves your hair to the other side of your neck to expose the milky skin there. She gawks at your neck like a predator creeping on her prey, ready to pounce on you at any given moment.

The thought of kissing and licking at your silky skin and the vivid image of you biting your plush pink lips made her tremble with desire.

You shrink, staring at the drink in your hands and feeling a strike of vulnerability as you quietly say the words, “I was chasing a bunny..”

“Aww aren’t you precious?” She praises. She toys with the soft threads of your hair, your cheeks glowing a rosy pink from her comment. Her hand squeezes your thigh more roughly, the unexpected act making you jump.

“Such a pretty thing.” She whispers to herself. You don’t catch her words, so you hum and tilt your head, showing your confusion in hopes she would repeat herself.

“Oh… nothing.” She quickly replaces her shock with a crooked grin. Your lips stretch into a small and nervous smile, slowly putting the cup to your mouth again.

A few more moments of silence are present. The crackling of burning wood and the crickets chirping in the distance gave you a chance to finally breathe, although you still struggle to ignore her invasive presence.

“Put the drink down.” You look at her in surprise. You stutter, taken aback by her orders but don’t dare ask any questions. You lick your lips and shuffle, leaning forward to sit the drink on her coffee table. You then move back against the couch and stare into the orange flames in front of you.

“Do you like when people are rough with you, angel?”

You freeze hearing her question. She tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear ever so gently, grinning when she sees the sheer terror written on your face. There was something eerie about the way she had asked you, a corrupted little twinkle beaming from her eyes.

“Well, no.. N-Not really why?” Your voice is shaking. You know for sure now that this woman is not in her right mind. She could be capable of doing anything and you wouldn’t expect it. She flashes you a charming smile as she continues to twirl and play with your hair, leaning closer to you before whispering,

“Can I tell you a secret?” Your breath hitches softly and your body tenses at the close proximity. You refuse to look at her. You cement your eyes to the flickering fire in front of you. Her hand smoothly travels from your thigh to the zip of your corduroy jacket, slowly pulling down at the metal teeth to reveal your white v-neck shirt and ruby necklace. The sound of your zipper in the unsettling silence makes your skin crawl. You could almost hear the ominous, suspenseful background music. You don’t know what would happen if you deny her, so you hesitantly nod your head.

“I like hurting people… Especially pretty toys like you. I haven’t done it in a long time though.” Her eyes hungrily take in your chilled expression. You gulp when she pulls the jacket off of your shoulders and throws to the side.

“I love to see girls cry, tears running down their sweet little faces…” Her hands rub your upper arms soothingly as she rubbed her nose into the nape of your neck, inhaling your scent. You found yourself unable to move or respond, giving in to her game and listening to her sick train of thought.

“Can I make you cry, please, sweet girl?” She mumbles into your neck, gently nipping at the sensitive skin there. Your breathing becomes heavier, needing her so very badly you start to tune out the blaring alarms in your head.

“Wanda listen-” She moves on top of you. She situates herself between your legs giving you no chance to close them, running her hands up and down your thighs. It all happened so fast.

“Pretty please? You’d look so good..” She becomes breathless at the thought, lunging forward and forcefully pushing her lips onto yours. Her lips feel pillowy and soft against yours, she smells of sweet vanilla and a smoky but subtle cinnamon; the mix makes your brain go dizzy with want. She tangles her hands with yours so she can pin your frantic ones onto the couch. Butterflies dance in your stomach, adrenaline rushing through your veins. Her kiss is rough but somehow so soft at the same time, the conflicted feeling makes your heart flutter.

She puts all her body weight onto you, grinding her crotch into yours as she murmurs praises into your mouth. “You’re so fucking cute,” “It’s gonna feel so so good, just let me touch you..”

She slides her tongue across your lip, silently telling you to open your mouth. She angrily tightens her grip on your hands when you groan and clench your jaw shut, forbidding her access.

“Open your mouth, or I’ll find another way to make it stay open.” You whine quietly, slowly opening your mouth and letting her slide in. You whimper and squirm when her hands land on your hips, guiding you to grind against her knee.

“There you go, so so pretty grinding on me like that..” You grab handfuls of her sweater, the fabric of your cotton panties rubbing against you creating the perfect friction. You softly moan her name, back arching while hiding your face in her neck, ashamed how riled up you are from being taken advantage of. One of her hands move from your hip to your thigh, exploring the rest of your body before snaking up your stomach to grope at your breasts.

“Fuck,” She whimpers before biting down on your lip. She twists and teases your nipples between her fingers, feasting on the sight of your pathetic writhing.

“Wanda!” Your movements against her thigh become more frantic, so blissed out you couldn’t care about how needy and dumb you must look.

Your hands advance to her biceps, clutching onto her as you try reach the high you so deeply crave. Your heart thuds in your chest, sweat glistening on your forehead and gasping for air. Your tears soak her shirt, hating yourself for giving in to her but also not willing to stop.

“Cum, make a mess for me bunny..” Her hand grabs your chin and holds it still. You foolishly kept trying to turn your head, but your actions cease when her hand moves from your chin to wrap around your throat.

“Look at me when you cum.” She forces her face impossibly closer to yours, jutting out her jaw and admiring the sparkling tears falling from your eyes. Her breathing becomes ragged listening to your whines and sobs, the throb between her legs intensifying.

“I don’t want to..”

“I don’t care if you want to or not. I won’t let you move until you do.”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes roll to the back of your head, her cruel words somehow pushing you over the edge. Everything becomes white, your thighs shake and your body tenses. Waves of pleasure crash down on you, the euphoric feeling pulsing through you from head to toe.

She eagerly watches you fall apart from your first climax, knowing that she’s not even halfway done with you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, eyes struggling to stay open and arms spread over the couch.

She carefully pushes her knee further into your pussy, your pleas and protests only making her more excited for what she plans next.

“I’m going to have so much fun with you, angel.”

⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘ ⫘⫘⫘

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - July 8-14

Like these weekly compilations? Tip me at $Kaybarr1735! And if you tip me and give me a way to contact you, at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week!

1. Zoo welcomes birth of four endangered horse foals

“[The Marwell Zoo in GB] said it was "delighted" to welcome the arrivals to the endangered Przewalski’s horse herd. All four are female and said to be "doing well" after two were born in May and two in June. […] “These horses, that were previously listed extinct in the wild, are an example of how zoo breeding programmes can help restore threatened species around the world.” […] All the Przewalski’s horses alive today are descended from just 12 individuals. Current estimates suggest there are 178 mature individuals living in the wild.”

2. Restoring woodlands and planting trees for sustainability success

“In 2023, [the Marwell Zoo] planted 9,000 new trees […] both within the zoo and on our surrounding land. […] Marwell tries to encourage natural feeding behaviour and nutrition by including leafy material [in animals’ feed] as much as possible. […] Planting more trees and enhancing management of our existing woodlands, prepares the way to further self-sufficiency in browse production in the future. Plus, it creates new habitats for wildlife in our woodland areas.”

3. Inclusive Playgrounds Allow Children Of All Abilities To Play

“With ramps allowing children in wheelchairs to ascend the central play structure, as well as numerous other swings and apparatus usable for children of all abilities, the 16,000-square-foot P.K.’s Place is St. Paul’s first fully inclusive playground. […] To be universally accessible, a play area must have at least 70% of its play features fully accessible, far more than required by the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA). […] Play areas should allow parents and grandparents with disabilities to participate as well.”

4. Combination treatment can increase human insulin-producing cells in vivo

“[Diabetes-model mice] were treated with the combination therapy [of a plant product called harmine and “a widely used class of type 2 diabetes therapy”] and their diabetes was rapidly reversed. Strikingly, human beta cell numbers increased by 700 percent over three months with this drug combination. "This is the first time scientists have developed a drug treatment that is proven to increase adult human beta cell numbers in vivo. This research brings hope for the use of future regenerative therapies to potentially treat the hundreds of millions of people with diabetes," said Dr. Garcia-Ocaña, the paper's corresponding author.”

5. Decades of Dedication: Australia’s Largest Ongoing Urban Restoration Project

“[Friends of Lake Claremont] has transformed the area into a thriving ecosystem, re-establishing native habitats and fostering biodiversity. This year, 800 native seedlings (100 trees, 350 shrubs and 350 ground covers) have been planted on the northwestern buffer of Lake Claremont. Volunteers replaced a large Port Jackson fig (Ficus rubiginosa) affected by [beetle] infestation with native plants to enhance the local wildlife habitat, thereby benefiting insects, frogs, birds and brown bandicoots. […] Overall, the project contributes to the area’s function as a regional ecological corridor, linking inland bushlands, the Swan River and the Indian Ocean.”

6. Important habitat for fish in Heart of the Fraser now conserved

“British Columbia’s iconic salmon now have more protected spawning habitat in the lower Fraser River, thanks to the Nature Conservancy of Canada’s (NCC’s) conservation acquisition of Carey Island. […] Carey Island and its gravel channels offer calm and crucial spawning and rearing habitat for the river’s fish and aquatic species. […] The Pelólxw Tribe […is also] actively working to restore the resilience of aquatic habitat within this stretch of the Lower Fraser. NCC is exploring opportunities to collaborate with the Pelólxw Tribe in support of their vision for stewardship of the area, which prioritizes both ecological and cultural values.”

7. Prime editing efficiently corrects cystic fibrosis mutation in human lung cells

“[R]esearchers have developed a gene-editing approach that efficiently corrects the most common mutation that causes cystic fibrosis, found in 85 percent of patients. With further development, it could pave the way for treatments that are administered only once and have fewer side effects. The new method precisely and durably corrects the mutation in human lung cells, restoring cell function to levels similar to that of Trikafta [the standard treatment since 2019].”

8. Montana’s High Court Considers a Constitutional Right to a Stable Climate

“At issue was the appeal of a decision last year, when a Montana judge blocked a state law that prohibited agencies from considering climate impacts when deciding whether to approve fossil fuel projects such as new power plants, pipelines or mining. The ruling, by District Judge Kathy Seeley, was prompted by a lawsuit filed by 16 youths who argued that the law violated Montana’s constitutional right to a “clean and healthful environment.” It was the first ruling in the United States to effectively establish constitutional rights to a stable climate[….]”

9. The US is about to get its first solar-covered canal

“The first canal-based solar project in the U.S. is nearing completion on tribal lands south of Phoenix, Arizona. […] The long, narrow solar array design would snake along the line of the canal and tap into the local electrical distribution grid every 1,000 feet, or every one megawatt. […] “Canal solar allows for greater power production per land size, cleaner water, less power transmission losses, and significant reduction in evaporation[….]” Covering the entire 8,000 miles of canals and waterways managed by the Bureau of Reclamation with solar panels could generate over 25 gigawatts of renewable energy and reduce water evaporation by tens of billions of gallons[….]”

10. Camera traps offer glimpse of first beaver born in Northumberland for 400 years

“"It’s such a relief that they have bred successfully and to see a new fluffy kit swimming with the family[….]” In just one year [since releasing the beavers], there has been a noticeable increase in resident trout, says the National Trust, along with more regular visits from kingfishers and grey herons. There are more insects at the site, too, thanks to the organic matter that builds up behind the dams, which in turn provides food for Daubenton’s bats. […] Beavers also play an important role in creating habitats that are more resilient to the effects of climate change[….]”

July 1-7 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[floylia]

ELYSIAN ♫

18. Am I wrong? ✎

“So my manager leaked my information.” It’s not a question anymore.

Scara nods apologetically as if he was at fault, eyes gleaming with genuine sincerity. This is the third time, he’s been vulnerable with you. He guides you up the cobblestone path, leading you closer to the Estate’s courtyard. The sun has already grazed its goodbye, only the moon rests above, gleaming at you and Scara. The darkness along the trees, shrubs, and boulders around the garden is eerie but something about his presence soothes your worries—something about his rare smile, hushed voice, and messy hair.

Perhaps it’s everything about him.

You pause in your tracks, watching over the waves on the beach—hands on the wooden fences standing around the courtyard, “Do you think they’ll believe me?”

“They’ll believe you once you tell your side.”

Doubt lingers, “What if they don’t?”

“Then they’re all fuck heads with no hobbies,” He swerves his head, now facing you with narrow eyes, and brows pulled together, “It’s stupid, how some of them graduated with degrees but have no basic sense of empathy or respect. They’re all entitled, gullible, and hypocritical assholes who use every opportunity to deflect their insecurities on others. It’s a crazy world we live in.”

The scowl on his face is almost laughable—how angry at the world he is on your behalf. You take note of Scara's wrath, experiencing it is not for the weak. Although, you don’t need to worry. His patience for you seems limitless.

“I can’t believe Jean lets you handle your social media accounts. You have no filter.”

He scoffs, “She doesn’t, but I find my way. They have to change the password every other week or else I might be permanently banned on every platform.”

You chuckle at his smug expression, “I want your confidence.”

“You already have it, you just need to use it.”

You avoid his gaze, “You sure do have a lot of faith in me.”

“Because I believe in you.”

For how long? You heard those same words before and they never kept their promises. Your agency, your manager. It was blind trust. Funny how life works.

“You blindly trusted me.”

You didn’t mean to say that. But it can’t be helped. What if one day you disappoint him? Will he leave too, like your manager? Or your fans?

“I knew you wouldn’t do that.”

No he didn’t. What did he know?

“There’s always a possibility—“

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” He sighs before running a hand through his hair, “Am I wrong for trusting you?”

You shake your head in guilt, realizing you let your doubts slip. Overthinking kills the mood, “It’s just that—“

“Am I wrong for wanting to be with you?” His voice softened.

You squint your eyes, unsure of what he means. You open your mouth to say something, anything to fill the silence, but nothing comes out.

So he inches forward, his left hand rests on your cheek, the other latches down to your waist, gentle and warm—you lean in to his touch, “Is it wrong to be this close?”

“No but—“

“For once please,” He sounds desperate, “Fuck what they think, focus on me and you. They can all go to hell.”

“So tell me: Is it wrong to need you at every moment?”

Once again you shake your head, this time with no interruptions.

“Is it wrong to be with you? To wake up every morning knowing I’m yours—knowing I can flirt shamelessly without doubting your feelings? Knowing I can write songs about you without hiding my love. Knowing I can feed you my favorite dishes without asking: am I doing too much? Or buy you things that remind me of you because not a single day goes by without your presence in my fucked up head.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes. Everything is blurry but your gaze remains on Scara. Only him, because it has always been him.

“Am I wrong for feeling this way?” He whispers softly—so gentle that you want to apologize for trying to push him away.

You wrap your arms around his neck, “Kiss me.”

“Can I really?”

“Please.”

He does.

He does like his life depends on it.

Notes:

im on vacation but nothing will stop me from writing 😃

sorry for grammatical errors or spelling mistakes

Synopsis: After 7 years of enduring the media’s relentless pursuit of painting you as a villain, you’re forced to go through an indefinite hiatus with a tainted reputation on your head. However, just when you thought your career was over, a certain 5WIRL member wants you to feature on his solo career. Surely, this won’t affect your reputation once more, would it?

Scaramouche x fem!reader

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[hedgehog-moss]

The story of my 3-year-long quest to identify a very rare bird

So I've been trying almost since I moved here to figure out what bird made this strange call that I sometimes heard near my house:

I tried to google "european bird that sounds like a laughing hyena?" and also to imitate the noise over the phone for a friend who once took an online bird course, but she had no idea. (Well, she said "that's a hyena." I said, "but I hear it all the time! Near my house!! Wait I'll do it better." She said, please stop making a hyena noise :(( and I stopped because the cats thought I was losing my mind)

Eventually I managed to record the actual bird call on my phone, and used a Shazam app for birds—but once again, no luck. The first app I tried just assumed it was being trolled and was like "it's you, isn't it? That's not a bird that's your stupid human laugh, you're making fun of me. I'm not an idiot"

The second birdsong app was more insecure and apologised a lot for failing to identify my bird. I thought it must be a rare bird! (The only uncommon bird I know of in this region is the vulture but it sounds less like a hyena and more like if elephants were birds.) Every time I heard the call (usually during the day) I opened the window trying to a) get a better recording so my app would finally have an epiphany, and b) see something flying off a tree.

At one point I was cutting brooms in the pasture and heard the call very loudly, as if the bird was just a few metres away, and it wasn't coming from the sky. I googled every possible version of "flightless (?) bird that nests in thorny bushes?" and found nothing, and started wondering if it was actually a mammal. But I couldn't think of any plausible local mammal that would make this sound—definitely not a fox or badger, who say WAOOHHH, and nothing like the polite whistle of marmots. We've got pine martens in the woods and I found a video called "mating pine marten scream bark" and thought oh!! that must be it! ... but then I listened to it and it sounded like yiiiaaaaaeeeeee, like if you stepped on a baby banshee's toe, nothing at all like the heheeheuruurhh of a hyena who just heard a good joke.

Anyway, this morning I was in the pasture and I once again heard the hyena laugh! I was standing by the moose butler tying up the hay net, away from any trees or shrubs and the call came from just behind me. I turned around thinking there was absolutely no way for the mystery bird to hide, it had landed on the ground behind me and this time I was going to see it!

And

it was HER:

Absolutely no doubt. I saw Pampy's throat vibrating along with the last echoes of the hyena laugh. All these years I've been saying that llamas are very quiet animals who just make cute little "hum-hum" sounds (I rarely hear adult llamas humming to one another, it's mostly for mother llamas to communicate with their baby and with me) and I had no idea that the shrieking hyena-bird I occasionally heard outside my house was Pampelune! I googled "llama alarm cry" and immediately found youtube videos featuring llamas making this exact sound. There was a stray dog nearby this morning that Pandolf eventually chased away, so maybe Pampy was the first to hear him and sounded the alarm. Maybe she uses this cry to tell Pan to go do his guard dog job, because he left the pasture and ran into the woods when she made the sound (while I was turning round like "aha! you can't run, hyena-bird!")

I wanted to share this discovery! I've had llamas for nearly 4 years and I'm only now finding out that they can laugh like hyenas when the situation calls for it. I feel bad for the poor birdsong app that I've repeatedly gaslighted feeding it a llama call and insisting that it identify this bird for me while it hung its head in shame like "I swear I don't have your bird in my database. I'm so sorry. I'm a bad app."

Llamas are fascinating creatures. Please experience their majestic alarm call again, and be alarmed:

[vestaignis]

Мейеров или желтоплечий длиннокрылый попугай. Он же попугай Мейера(Poicephalus meyeri).Назван в честь немецкого ботаника и орнитолога Бернхарда Мейера (1767—1836). Различают 6 подвидов, с незначительными различиями в окрасе и в ареале обитания.

Мейеров длиннокрылый попугай - самый маленький представитель рода длиннокрылых попугаев. Длина тела 21—25 см, хвоста 5—6 см .Он один из наиболее красивых представителей рода длиннокрылых попугаев. В окрасе головы, шеи, груди, крыльев и хвоста преобладают коричневые или теплые серые тона с желтыми вкраплениями. Крестец и внутренняя сторона хвоста могут иметь цвет от ярко-зеленого до ярко-синего. Спина серая. Клюв чёрный. Радужка оранжево-красная. Приблизительный возраст птицы можно определить по окрасу радужной оболочки глаза: у молодых птиц она коричневая, у взрослых - оранжево-красная. Самец и самка по окраске не отличаются.

Обитает попугай Мейера в Восточной и Центральной Африке. Населяют разреженные леса, акациевые рощи и кустарниковые заросли вблизи водоёмов, саванны, встречаются на высоте до 1300 м над уровнем моря. Питается семенами различных растений, цветами, соцветиями и плодами, вегетативными частями растений.

Мейеров длиннокрылый попугай гнездятся в дуплах деревьев на большой высоте. В кладке обычно 2—4 яйца, которые насиживает самка в течение 25—30 дней. Самец охраняет гнездо и кормит самку, а впоследствии участвует в выкармливании птенцов.

Meyer's or Yellow-shouldered Long-winged Parrot. Also known as Meyer's Parrot (Poicephalus meyeri). Named after the German botanist and ornithologist Bernhard Meyer (1767-1836). There are 6 subspecies, with minor differences in color and habitat.

Meyer's Long-winged Parrot is the smallest representative of the genus of Long-winged Parrots. The body length is 21-25 cm, the tail is 5-6 cm. It is one of the most beautiful representatives of the genus of Long-winged Parrots. The color of the head, neck, chest, wings and tail is dominated by brown or warm gray tones with yellow blotches. The rump and the inside of the tail can have a color from bright green to bright blue. The back is gray. The beak is black. The iris is orange-red. The approximate age of the bird can be determined by the color of the iris: in young birds it is brown, in adults it is orange-red. The male and female do not differ in color.

Meyer's parrot lives in East and Central Africa. They inhabit sparse forests, acacia groves and shrub thickets near water bodies, savannas, and are found at an altitude of up to 1300 m above sea level. It feeds on seeds of various plants, flowers, inflorescences and fruits, vegetative parts of plants.

Meyer's long-winged parrots nest in tree hollows at high altitudes. The clutch usually contains 2-4 eggs, which the female incubates for 25-30 days. The male guards the nest and feeds the female, and subsequently participates in feeding the chicks.

Источник://t.me/roundtravel,//pofoto.club/9310-popugaj-mejera-44-foto.html,//dibird.com/ru/species/mejerov-dlinnokrylyj-popugaj/, /poknok.art/6044-popugaj-mejera.html,/www.berl.ru/article/birds/ popu/pop/meierov_dlinnokrylyi_popugai.htm,/ru.ruwiki.ru/wiki/Мейеровдлиннокрылыйпопугай.

[thenerdykneazle]

Amorous Tension

Summary: Poppy is quite sure her best friend has feelings for our favourite heir of Slytherin. MC is quite sure she doesn't, despite abundant evidence to the contrary. When Ominis asks MC to help him study for an upcoming potions exam, she jumps at the chance. TL;DR: Two idiots in love brew amortentia together.

A collab with the lovely @darch7995, who created the audio version of this story. Listen to the first part here and the second here.

Ominis Gaunt x F!MC

Warnings: the mildest of hand kinks, kissing, a surprising amount of schoolwork, stressing about exams, failure to communicate

Word count: 4185

You tapped your quill anxiously on the edge of your parchment, forming an ever-growing blot of ink in the margin. You were re-reading a paragraph in Flesh-Eating Trees of the World on a South American anteater-eating shrub. The words made as little of an impression in your mind as they had the first time.

A hand settled on top of yours, startling you.

“You’re going to put a hole in the table if you keep that up. And I doubt Madam Scribner would be pleased,” Poppy said teasingly.

You sighed, setting down the quill before dropping your head onto the table. “I’m going to fail. I know nothing. Less than nothing, even. Garlick is going to laugh me out of the greenhouse,” you said hopelessly.

Poppy rubbed your back comfortingly. “No, she’s not,” she assured you.

You let out a frustrated groan. “I’m never learning the difference between Jacaranda muscipula and Delonix geogalinivorae. They’re both just bloodthirsty ferns.”

A smooth voice came from behind you. “Jacaranda muscipula is native to South America, and its diet consists largely of deer mice. Delonix geogalinivorae is found in Madagascar and feeds exclusively on tenrecs.”

Your head shot up off the table. “Ominis,” you said in a higher pitch than you’d intended. You twisted in your chair to see your aristocratic classmate standing there looking effortlessly flawless.

“Hello, MC, Poppy,” he said with a pleasant smile. “I take it you’re dreading Garlick’s exam as much as Sebastian is.”

You scrunched your nose. “More, probably,” you said dismally.

“Well, I had come to see if you might be able to help me study for Sharp’s exam on Monday,” he said. “I could help you with herbology after. Of course, I’d be happy to help even if you don’t have time for potions practice.”

You gaped at him. He was asking you for help? Amit and Sebastian both had top grades in potions. You’d taken to it quite well, but the two boys had several more years of experience than you did. Garreth knew every ingredient and recipe inside and out, though he almost never stuck to the instructions – you could see why Ominis wouldn’t have asked him for help.

Your stomach leapt at the idea of spending time at the bench – just you and Ominis, brushing elbows at the cosy workspace. It was always dizzying being in such close proximity – the effect of his expensive cologne, surely.

Poppy would probably argue differently. She’d just been pestering you just that morning about your alleged feelings for the sarcastic Slytherin.

“You’re the biggest flirt I’ve ever met, MC,” Poppy said, rolling her eyes as you walked to the Great Hall.

Garreth had just been talking to you out in the courtyard about needing to acquire Thornback Matriarch venom for a new potion he was working on. You had told him he’d probably be better equipped than you were at charming the ladies into giving him what he wanted.

“I think you’re jealous and just need to ask the Gryffindor out, already,” you argued, shooting her a quelling look. “I was just being funny.”

“Mhmm,” she replied sceptically. “Well, I think it’s funny how I’ve seen you flirt with Garreth, Leander, Sebastian, Amit, and even Imelda, but when a certain serpent with stormy eyes and chiselled cheekbones comes around, you turn into a frightened little puffskein. You go all ruddy-faced and start stammering.”

She was poorly suppressing a smirk as she looked at you.

You scoffed. “I do not stammer!”

“Yeah, and I don’t fancy Garreth,” she replied sarcastically. “Admit it, you’ve got a crush on Ominis.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you asserted, glaring at her.

She raised a hand to her lips to stifle a giggle. “Then why’s your face match Garreth’s luscious locks right now?”

“Oh, shut it!” you said, increasing your pace so that Poppy fell behind.

She just laughed at you. “You’re only proving my point, you know!” she called after you.

Poppy elbowed you sharply between your ribs. You’d gone far too long without replying. “Ow!” you hissed at her.

Ominis had a nervous look on his face. “Sorry?” he asked.

“Oh, no, that wasn’t at you,” you said quickly. “I mean, I’d love to study with you.”

His expression immediately brightened. “Wonderful! When are you free?” he said.

“How about now?” you suggested as you began to pack up your things.

“Oh, I don’t want to interrupt,” Ominis said.

“No, it’s fine,” you insisted. You shot Poppy a reproachful look. “I’m suddenly feeling unsafe here in the library.”

Poppy stuck her tongue out at you. “Yes, I need to go help Professor Howin feed the thestrals, anyway. You two have fun,” she said much too giddily.

You sent her one more glare as you slung your bag over your shoulder. “So, shall we use the Room of Requirement?” you asked Ominis.

“That sounds perfect!” he replied brightly.

You led Ominis out of the library and started the long climb up to the 7th floor of the astronomy tower. You were glad to stretch your legs after sitting in the library for so long.

“I don’t know how you can keep those carnivorous trees straight in your head,” you commented as you strode down a long corridor. “They look exactly the same to me when they’re not in bloom.”

“Do they?” he replied, sounding intrigued.

For a moment, you wanted to sink through the floor. Obviously, the fact that the two trees looked alike was of little consequence to him. “Sorry, I wasn’t even thinking.”

Ominis chuckled. “It’s all right,” he said, clearly amused. “It’s strange to think that they seem so similar to you. They feel quite different. The jacaranda tree has very rough bark, and the geogalinivore has waxy leaves. Plus, it has a sweet smell – sort of like oranges.”

“That’s actually very helpful. Thank you,” you said.

He smiled softly at you. You couldn’t help but notice how one of the beauty marks on his left cheek disappeared into his dimple when he smiled. “I’m glad to be of service,” he replied.

You could feel your face flush, though you had no reason to be blushing. You were relieved when you reached the 7th floor and the door to the Room of Requirement appeared. You cleared your throat. “Right, well, we’re h-here,” you said, cringing at yourself for tripping over the words.

Ominis held the door open for you as you entered the Room of Requirement. “I appreciate you helping me practice. Sharp’s class was hard enough when I knew what I’d be expected to brew. Having to prepare to make any one of four potions has been quite stressful.”

“It is a bit ridiculous,” you agreed as you started pulling ingredients out of your cabinet.

“Honestly! It’s hard enough keeping the ingredients for one potion straight – let alone for the Elixir to Induce Euphoria, Draught of Living Death, Veritaserum, and Amortentia,” he said.

“It is a lot,” you said. “Where should we start?”

“Hm…Well, I don’t think I would be very productive after testing potions for sleep or euphoria. We’d best leave those for later,” he replied. “What do you think? Amortentia or Veritaserum?”

“Amortentia’s easy enough to test. We can tell if it’s right just by how it looks and smells. Let’s start with that,” you suggested.

Ominis smirked. “You just don’t want me getting you to spill all your secrets,” he teased.

You chuckled. “You’re right; I don’t,” you agreed honestly. You weren’t exactly a secretive person ever since you didn’t have to hide your ancient magic anymore. However, the thought of not being ableto hide anything if you wanted to was terrifying.

“Amortentia it is, then!” Ominis said. “It’s the one I’m best at, anyway.”

He lit the flame to heat the cauldron before beginning to grind the moonstone with a mortar and pestle.

“So, what does Amortentia smell like to you?” he asked, chatting as he worked.

“I’m not sure,” you admitted as you leaned a hip against the bench.

“What do you mean you’re not sure? Were you holding your breath when we brewed it last week?” he teased. He cracked two ashwinder eggs into the cauldron before adding the powdered moonstone and stirring it together.

“No! I just…Well, I guess it’s that it doesn’t smell like anything to me,” you admitted.

“You must be joking. Surely you smelled something,” he replied incredulously.

“Just the usual musky dungeon,” you joked. “I thought I’d just brewed it wrong at first, but yours didn’t smell like anything to me, either.”

His brows drew together. “That is curious. I know I made mine right, because it…Well, it worked for me,” he said, his cheeks colouring a bit. “Do you just not find anyone attractive, then?” he added casually as he began cutting the thorns off of some rose stems.

“I don’t know. I mean, I used to think I did, but…now I’m not so sure,” you replied. “I don’t know what could be wrong with me to not smell anything if I did like someone.”

“I’m certain there’s nothing wrong with you, MC,” Ominis replied.

You sighed. “I hope not,” you replied before biting your bottom lip anxiously. “I thought maybe everyone was lying about smelling different things, and it’s really just an odourless potion. But I checked three different texts in the library, and they all said the same thing Professor Sharp did about the smell being unique to what each person finds attractive.”

“It’s definitely not odourless,” Ominis replied with a smirk. He shook his head as if to snap himself out of something before clearing his throat. He turned his attention back to the potion.

He added the thorns to the cauldron before beginning on the petals. You watched his hands as he plucked the petals off the stems, stacked them neatly, and rolled them together before slicing them into thin, even strips. He was quite skilled in his technique. Despite sharing a bench in potions all year, you’d never really noticed how fluidly he worked. There was an almost entrancing nature to the graceful movements.

“So, what does it smell like to you?” you inquired as you forced yourself to stop staring at the veins winding over his wrists and across the backs of his hands out to his slender fingers. You had always thought there was something nice about his hands.

“Oh, there is no way I’m admitting that,” he replied.

“But I told you when you asked,” you argued.

He rolled his eyes at you. “Nothing doesn’t count as an answer.”

“But it’s the truth! I can’t help that I didn’t smell anything,” you argued.

“I’m still not telling,” he insisted. He added the rose petals to the potion. His brow furrowed as his fingers skimmed over the fronts of several bottles. “Which is the pearl dust?”

“Third from the right,” you said before letting out a laugh as a realisation struck you.

“What?” he asked a bit defensively. “Did I grab the wrong one?” He shook the sealed bottle by his ear to listen to its contents shift within.

“No, that’s the pearl dust. I just…” You giggled again, and his scowl deepened. “I just realised that’s the last ingredient and the first thing I’ve helped you with. Seems like you barely need me here.”

He relaxed almost instantly, even laughing a bit himself. “Well, it’s much easier to brew here,” he explained. “I know which ingredients are which when they’re in my own containers – and even most of yours at this point – but almost all of Sharp’s bottles are identical. I have to figure out what’s in each one every time I pick it up. Sometimes it takes four or five tries to find what I’m looking for. It wastes so much time.”

“That sounds extremely frustrating,” you said sympathetically.

“It is,” he lamented as he added a spoonful of pearl dust to the cauldron. He stirred it clockwise three times before lowering the flame. “There! It should just need to simmer for a bit, and then we’ll see how it turned out.”

“I’m sure it’s perfect,” you said as you settled into a high-backed chair, kicking your feet up on the ottoman in front of it.

“I appreciate your confidence in me,” he said. “You know, I was even worse at potions when I was younger. I tried summoning the ingredients to myself in the early years, and it was usually a disaster. In first year, we had to brew a burn salve during our exams, and I simply could not find the dittany, even after sifting through all the ingredients on my bench three times. I gave up and summoned it, and it knocked over all the bottles in front of it on its way to me. They rolled all over the bench, and I had nearly plunged my hand straight into my cauldron trying to put them back in order. During another exam, I tried to summon flobberworm mucus, and all the bottles of the stuff came flying towards me at the same time.” He laughed. “It was all over me, my bench, the floor. Amit nearly slipped in it trying to come over and help. Professor Sharp was livid, but I think he felt too badly for me to give me detention.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, as well. “Oh, I’d have died on the spot!” you said.

“I nearly did. It was utterly horrifying,” he said. “I pretended to be sick for three days after that because I couldn’t stand the thought of facing everyone. I even had Sebastian bring me food so that I didn’t have to go out to the Great Hall. But I’ve learned to bounce back from my Blind Boy Moments quite quickly since.”

“Could Sharp not just label the ingredients for you?” you asked.

Ominis scoffed. “No, he insists that every good potions student should be able to identify the ingredients on their own,” he said, exasperated. “He wouldn’t even let me come in beforehand to label them myself because other students might see them. He also won’t let me use my own containers because it’s all got to be ‘standardised’ so it’s fair.”

“Well, that’s quite the opposite of fair! He’s putting you at a disadvantage,” you said. You could feel yourself getting angry on Ominis’s behalf.

“I am perfectly capable of identifying the ingredients. Just because I can’t see them doesn’t mean I’m incompetent,” he said bitterly.

You were taken aback as his ire turned toward you. “I wasn’t trying to imply that you are, Ominis, I swear!” you said earnestly. “It just seems unreasonable that he won’t accommodate you at all. It’s so frustrating. I have an uncle who’s blind. He wasn’t born that way – he had an accident. And he’s a Muggle. So…it’s a bit different, obviously. But he’s worked in kitchens all his life. When he first went blind, he couldn’t cook anymore. But his boss’s wife, Marjorie, was blind, too. She taught him how to navigate the kitchen again without being able to see. They made adjustments to things so he could keep working there.”

“You have a blind uncle?” he asked, seeming shocked.

“Almost all my life. He married my aunt when I was just a baby,” you explained. “He cooks even better than a house-elf, too! Don’t tell Feenky I said that, though. Or Deek, for that matter.”

“I can’t believe you have a blind uncle,” Ominis said, still stunned.

“Really?” you asked. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I’ve never met another blind person,” he said.

“Never?” you said, surprised.

“Not once,” he confirmed. “My parents weren’t exactly looking to find me a support group. It’s exceptionally rare in the wizarding world, anyway. So, they sort of just kept me hidden away until school. They hadn’t even expected I’d get a letter even though I clearly had magic. It wasn’t until I figured out how to navigate by wand that they stopped treating me like a doll instead of a child. Even my Aunt Noctua was rather overbearing. No one ever believed I could do something myself until I showed them I could.”

“I can’t imagine how difficult it was going through all of that on your own,” you said.

Ominis gave a haughty huff. “Yes, well, I think I’ve done all right for myself,” he said firmly, crossing his arms protectively over his chest.

“You’ve done more than all right, I’d say,” you argued. “Which reminds me, you still have to tutor me in herbology after this.”

He chuckled. “Don’t worry; I haven’t forgotten,” he said.

“You’d better not have,” you said sternly. Your severe expression didn’t last, though. You couldn’t help but smile around him. “Wait, so, if you didn’t have anyone to help you figure things out, did you invent the spell that lets you read books?”

“Ah, well, I suppose I wasn’t entirely on my own. Sebastian found that spell in an old tome in the library. Some languorous 17th-century scholar grew weary of having to keep his eyes open whilst reading,” he replied. “It worked quite well in my favour.”

“If there’s one thing Sebastian excels at, it’s research,” you replied.

“Yes, and it’s been both a blessing and a curse in my life,” he said irritably.

“I feel the same,” you said wearily.

Ominis spun back toward the potions station. “It smells like the potion’s ready,” he announced.

You got up and walked over to inspect it. “Mother-of-pearl sheen. Perfect spirals of steam. Excellent work, indeed, Ominis.”

He blushed at your praise. “Any essence of musky dungeon emanating from it?” he joked.

You laughed. You leaned over the cauldron and breathed in deeply to play along. “Oh,” you said, caught off guard by the smell. “Yeah, actually. It…” You took in another breath. It was masked beneath the cologne Ominis was wearing, but you could distinctly smell the cool, earthy scent that permeated the lower levels of the castle. “It does.”

“Merlin, MC! You don’t have a crush on Professor Sharp, do you?” he asked, aghast.

“Gods, no!” you replied immediately. “It’s not the dungeons, anyway. It’s different. But…familiar.”

You tried to smell it again, but it was still too hard to tell. You hadn’t realised earlier just how strong Ominis’s cologne was that day. Usually, you found the scent rather pleasant, but, currently, it was making it extremely difficult to smell anything else. You grabbed a phial and poured some of the potion into it. “I can’t tell what it is. I need to smell it in fresh air.”

“Are you trying to tell me that I smell foul?” Ominis demanded as you walked away from him.

“No, not at all,” you said before taking another sniff of the potion. “It’s just that your–”

Your voice died in your throat as two realisations struck you simultaneously. The first was that the earthy scent you had identified was the exact smell of the Undercroft. The second was that you still smelled Ominis’s cologne just as strongly even though you were on the opposite side of the room from him. The phial slipped from your hand and shattered on the wood floor.

“Are you all right?” Ominis asked, rushing over to you in a panic. “Did the potion burn you? I heard glass break. Did you get cut?”

He took both of your hands in his to feel for any injuries. The tips of his fingers brushed gently over your skin, and it sent a shiver up your spine.

“Sorry, no, I’m fine. I just–I hadn’t realised…something,” you said. You heart felt like it was beating out of your chest. Poppy had been right. You did fancy Ominis.

Ominis released one of your hands to raise his to your cheek. “Are you certain that you’re okay, MC?” he asked.

Your skin burned hot under his touch. “Y-yes, of course. I was just surprised when I placed the smell,” you said.

He tilted his head in interest. “Oh? What is it?” he asked.

You bit into your lower lip, keeping yourself silent as you wavered on whether to confess. He did seem to be rather doting at the moment. You wondered if he might return your affections.

“Perhaps I should’ve brewed the Veritaserum first, after all,” Ominis joked. “Maybe then I could finally get you to tell me what you smell.”

You laughed. “That’s not necessary. I just…Well, I’m pretty sure it’s, um…the Undercroft,” you said. Your nerves increased with every word, but you felt a flood of relief after getting them all out.

“Oh,” Ominis said uncomfortably. His whole body went rigid before his hands dropped away from you. “I…I see.”

“Ominis, I…” you started, trying and failing to figure out how to take the words back. You imagined the mortification you were experiencing was similar to how he had felt standing covered in flobberworm mucus in front of his peers.

“Well, I suppose I should still tell you what I smell, since you told me what you do,” he said sombrely. “Though, I can’t imagine it will be all that surprising.” He took a steadying breath. “It smells like old parchment, like those dusty pages Professor Weasley had you collecting last year. And I smell the mallowsweet you always carry around with you. And your shampoo. I always smell it when you hug me or fall asleep with your head on my shoulder.” He cleared his throat. “So…there you have it.”

“Are you upset about this?” you asked, bewildered by his tense reaction.

He forced a laugh. “What? No, of course not!” he insisted, but it wasn’t quite convincing. “I’m happy for you.”

“Happy for me?” you repeated, even more confused.

“Both of you, I mean,” he clarified, giving you a pained smile. “Although I’ve never asked Sebastian about his feelings toward you, with the way he flirts with you, I’m sure he reciprocates.”

“You think I fancy Sebastian?” you asked.

“Well, he’s the one who showed you the Undercroft,” he replied simply.

“Ominis, you’re the one he learned about it from. You’re the one I hang out with there. It’s rosewood and jasmine from your cologne that I smell in that bloody potion!” you said.

His brows knit together in confusion. “I thought you just smelled the Undercroft?” he said.

“Well, that’s what I thought when I was standing next to you – and in class last week,” you said. “You were right there, so I didn’t realise the smell of you was coming from the cauldron instead of…you know…you.”

His features went slack. “Oh…” he said awkwardly.

“Yeah…” you replied similarly.

“I’m a massive idiot,” he said, shaking his head at himself.

You smiled. “Yeah,” you said. “We kind of both are, aren’t we?”

“It would appear so,” he agreed. He laughed as he stepped closer and wrapped his arms around your waist. “Well, this has certainly been an illuminating study session.”

You melted into him instantly. “Indeed, it has.”

“You smell wonderful, you know,” he said as he nuzzled his nose against yours.

You giggled in response. “You smell quite nice, as well,” you replied.

“I taste even better,” he said cheekily.

Your gaze immediately dropped to his lips. “Is that so?” you asked, your voice coming out husky.

“I can prove it if you’d like,” he said. His breath fanned over your lips as he spoke.

“Yes, I think you should,” you replied. “For…educational purposes.”

Ominis’s lips brushed against yours almost tentatively before he leaned in to interlock them. His heat sank into your body as he held you firmly against his chest. You snaked your arms up behind his neck as you kissed him back. Being held by Ominis – and kissed by him – felt right. You wanted to stay wrapped in his arms forever. If you could’ve, you would have fused into him so you never had to be apart again.

You didn’t know how long it was before Ominis broke the kiss, but you knew it was too soon. “I still have to return the favour for you helping me with potions,” he said.

“Yes, right. The herbology,” you replied, still breathless from the kiss. You had forgotten about those bloody shrubs altogether.

“Actually, I was thinking we should work on divination, instead,” he said innocently, but there was a hint of a smirk on his lips.

You arched a brow at him. “Oh?” you asked. “Are you even taking divination?”

“No. I can’t exactly read tea leaves or look in a crystal ball,” he stated. The smirk spread on his lips. “But if I could, I’d see me in your future.”

You laughed. “You’ve been spending too much time with Sebastian,” you chided. “His terrible jokes are rubbing off on you.”

“You’re absolutely right, darling!” he said with a false gravity to the words. “I’d like to fix that as soon as possible by spending more time with you, instead.”

“I’d like that,” you said, unable to stop beaming at him.

“Me, too. Especially if it involves kissing you again,” he said.

You blushed. “I think that could be arranged,” you replied.

[birdstudies]

April 10, 2024 - Purple-backed Fairywren (Malurus assimilis) Found throughout much of Australia, these fairywrens live in shrubby habitats. They feed on arthropods and seeds, foraging in pairs or small flocks in shrubs and on the ground. Females build domed oval-shaped nests with side entrances from grass, twigs, bark, fur, and feathers in bushes, trees, fern clumps, or other vegetation. They incubate clutches of two to four eggs. Helpers from previous broods assist the parents with feeding the chicks.

[minaturefics]

Head and Heart

Request: Could I request an Aragorn x Reader fic maybe where they have to separate during the trilogy, and when they’re reunited they both want to confess their feelings but they each think it’s unrequited?

A/N: It's here.... finally here.... I honestly don't think this is my best work, but I've gone over it so many times and I think it's time to just get it out here! I hope you enjoy it all the same, and thank you for your patience. I think I've lost my writing mojo - this might be the last fic in a long time (｡•́︿•̀｡)

Aragorn x Reader

Gender-neutral reader

Non-graphic mentions of wound treatment

6.6k words

---

There was an unsettling sillness to the forest. Darkness curled around the little campsite, only kept at bay by the small fire. There were no croaks or squeaks from the shrubs, no hoots or chirps in the trees. There was not even the slightest whisper of wind to rustle the leaves. Behind you, the company slept, breaths loud in the silence, while you kept watch. The fire had burned low, the warmth of the flames barely reaching your back, and you glanced behind, wondering if you should refuel it, but Aragorn was already kneeling by the smouldering flames, feeding it sticks and twigs.

It had been a tense couple of weeks with the long treks at night and the fitful sleeps in the day, the unyielding wind and the unforgiving landscape, the cool indifference between the emissaries of Gondor — you and Boromir — and Aragorn.

When you had first laid eyes on him at The Council, you had noted his handsomeness — his dark hair, his piercing eyes, his short beard flecked with grey — but then came the revelation of his lineage. So this was the king come to claim the throne of Gondor. This was the man you would have to swear fealty to and serve under. This was the man who would inherit the land and people that the stewards have long since cared for. 

As though sensing your gaze, Aragorn looked up from the fire and met your eyes. He stood, eyes only flickering away for a moment to check on the others, and walked towards you slowly. You straightened, muscles tensing, and he brought his hands up in a placating gesture. 

“Peace,” he whispered. “I have only come to smoke.”

He settled on the ground next to the boulder you were perched on. Strange, for the king to willingly choose the cold earth when there was more than enough space on the rocks nearby, to willingly choose to be lower than you were. 

He brought out a pipe from his pocket, filled the bowl with leaves, and soon the air was filled with the sweet scent of pipeweed. 

“Do you smoke?” he asked around the stem of his pipe.

You shook your head. “Though I am fond of the plant they once used to be. In Gondor, you can smell them in the wind in summer when the flowers bloom. The scent of them followed Boromir and me to the borders of Rohan when we journeyed to Rivendell.”

He hummed. “You and Boromir must be close. There are not many who would be trusted with such a task.”

“We have known each other for many years.” You shrugged. “My family has long been loyal to the stewards of Gondor.”

You glanced at Aragorn, wondering if he had picked up on your subtle dig. It was not the throne, or who might fill it, that you were loyal to. Aragorn may be the heir, but he was still a stranger. And only a fool would trust another so easily, especially when it came to the country’s land and its people.

You expected him to frown, to grow grim and silent perhaps, but instead a small smile pulled on his lips. “I do not think you care for crowns and titles.” He took a long draw from his pipe and blew it out in a steady stream. “Your heart is with the people and the land. I do not think there is anything you would not do for Gondor.”

Your stomach flipped. How had he read you so easily?

“Of course,” you said, irritation rising unbidden within you. “We have lived in the shadow of Mordor for many years. We have supported and defended the people. We have shed sweat and blood for them.”

“I understand,” he said, serious. “I am aware my presence is an uncomfortable one. But we are not enemies.”

“You do not understand. Gondor may be your birthright, Aragorn, but it is myhome.”

“And I swear to you, I will defend her.”

“You swear to me?” You scoffed. “As a king?”

“As a man.”

You met his eyes. The firelight flickered in them, but there was nothing fickle about his gaze. Something stirred in your heart, a softening, an awakening, and you nodded, short and sharp. “Alright.”

-

Aragorn watched you as you tried to cheer the hobbits after dinner. They were seated in a circle around you on the soft moss, between the great roots of the Lothlorien trees, listening to your stories. There was a fire in your eyes, a merriment, a wildness, and warmth in your voice.

“And then,” you said in a hushed whisper and the hobbits leaned in, “Faramir and I pushed him into the river! Oh, Boromir was furious. He crawled right out and dragged the both of us by our ankles and pulled us in with him.”

Pippin snickered and glanced at Boromir who was seated beneath another tree root.

“You should tell them about the time you got stuck in the bell tower!” Boromir called, grinning.

“The bell tower?” Pippin’s head whipped back and you let out a long groan.

Your eyes darted to Aragorn’s, lighting up in surprise, and you flashed him a smile before turning your attention back to the hobbits. His heart gave a little lurch and he grimaced. He did not have time for such things.

Ever since that evening, you were quicker to smile at him, more likely to walk beside him and talk. He had thought  you beautiful before, stoic and stalwart, seated at The Council, but now, thawing, warming, it was like the first flowers of spring beginning to bloom. Beauty was one thing but spirit was another. And he could not help but admire yours. How you tried to encourage the hobbits through the snow on Caradhras, how you helped Gimli up from his knees in Balin’s tomb, how you stood, crying but defiant, after the Balrog took Gandalf. 

He knew, just as well as any, that it must have been grim, gruelling work as a ranger in such times. Many of his men had grown serious and solemn over the years, and a part of him envied the Gondorian rangers for having your light when he had none. 

He glanced down at the forgotten sword and whetstone in his hand. No, whatever fledgling feelings he might have for you had to be halted. He had just barely earned your esteem; it would be madness to think of earning your affection.

“That’s it,” you said, deflating a little, “I’m out of stories.”

Pippin and Merry gave disappointed groans, and Sam and Frodo flashed you grateful smiles. They went off towards their beds, fluffing the pillows and straightening the blankets, and fell into a quiet conversation among themselves. You stood up and wandered in Boromir's direction and he turned his attention back to his sword, running the whetstone along the edge with a satisfying shink. 

He lost himself in the motion, driving away thoughts of Gandalf, thoughts of the ring, thoughts of you. 

“Are you alright?” You asked and he blinked out of his meditative trance. Your eyes were soft and concerned. 

He nodded. “I am just burdened by the future. I am anxious to carry on with our errand.”

“It has been a harrowing few weeks,” you said, coming to join him on the soft ground. “It would do us all some good to rest here under the protection of the elves.”

“We do not have time.”

“We have time for this,” you said firmly. And then more gently, “Aragorn, we have all suffered a great loss. You more than most. You knew Gandalf the longest among us, have you not?”

“I have,” he murmured, the corners of his eyes burning. He sniffed and swiped his tears  away before they fell.

“Would it… would it ease your mind to speak of him?”

He was uncertain anything would ease the tightness in his chest and the hollowness in his stomach. Still, the words flowed from his lips, low and stilted.

“It was Gandalf who introduced me to pipeweed,” he said, memories of the mischievous wizard filling his mind. “Elrond was most displeased.”

You laughed, a hearty, sweet sound, and he let out a long sigh, muscles loosening. 

“He showed me how to fill the bowl and tried to teach me how to blow smoke rings.”

“Can you?”

He smiled a little, remembering sitting next to Gandalf, practising. “Not quite. It is harder than you think.”

“Well, perhaps next time you could show me.”

He nodded absentmindedly and shifted, laying his sword and whetstone aside. His pipe, in his pocket, jabbed him in the thigh with the movement. It would be nice to take a moment, to have a smoke and relax, just like you said. “Or perhaps,” he said slowly, “I could show you now.”

You glanced around, eyeing the ethereal flets high in the trees. “Is that permitted here?”

He grinned. “I’m sure they will permit it. In the memory of Gandalf.”

He prepared the pipe and lit the leaves. The smoke filled his lungs, sweet and soothing, and he leaned back against the tree root. After a few long draws, he attempted the smoke rings. The first few were short lived, more like coughs of smoke rather than rings, and then one or two vaguely ‘O’ shaped.

“Gandalf would be disappointed,” he murmured with a chuckle. 

“Have another go,” you said with a smile.

He inhaled, long and slow, the smouldering leaves glowing. He relaxed, Gandalf’s scolding instructions filling his mind, and exhaled. Two clouds, and then, to his amazement, a perfect smoke ring. 

You grinned at him, eyes bright, and warmth spread through his stomach. 

-

You tugged at the borrowed robes and wished you had some sort of mirror. They were soft and fine, the pale blue fabric iridescent in the starry elvish lanterns. It was gracious of the elves to extend the invitation of a formal dinner to the fellowship, but it seemed like everyone except Legolas and Aragorn felt a little ill at ease at the prospect of dining with the elves.

“Come on,” Boromir called, “we are waiting for you, my friend.”

You smoothed the fabric down and stepped out from behind the changing screen. The rest of the company were standing around, already changed, by the base of the steps. You walked towards them, forcing your eyes to stay trailed on Boromir instead of straying to Aragorn.

No, it did not matter what he thought of you. It did not matter at all.

The past couple of weeks in Lothlorien felt strangely like a dream, a world removed from everything else. Sheltered by the elves and swathed in trees, it seemed as though Aragorn could lay down his sword and rest. It had been odd, seeing him joke with the hobbits, egging their bickering on with his wry comments, or watching him laugh with Legolas while they spoke in Elvish. 

Was this who Aragorn truly was? He had more than shown his valour and strength in the past few weeks, his firm words to Boromir on Caradhras in the presence of the ring, his unwavering patience and calm in Moria, but this… 

Boromir clasped your shoulders and grinned. “You look amazing. These robes are more difficult to put on than our formal wear, but more comfortable I should think.”

You nodded, your eyes darting to Aragorn anyway. His eyes swept over you, expression barely changing as he inclined his head, and continued his conversation with Legolas. Disappointment pooled in your stomach as you followed the rest of them up the stairs towards the dining flet.

 Disappointment? At what? There was nothing to be disappointed about. He was a companion, just another member of the fellowship. It would be a foolish notion to expect his regard of you to change simply because yours of him had.

And what was it that changed it? Some promise of caring for your homeland, some moments of laughter and levity, the shared grief of losing a companion? You shook your head. How could you let yourself be swayed by such things? He was still yet to prove himself a good king.

Dinner was an uneventful affair. The food was good and any dips in conversation were filled in by Legolas who told tales of Mirkwood to the elves. Eased by the wine and bolstered by the delicious meal, Pippin shyly asked if there was to be music and dancing, and the company was led to another flet with musicians. 

The hobbits had paired up, and Legolas, cajoling, baiting, and challenging Gimli, managed to get the dwarf to at least attempt the steps. Boromir and you had stood off to the side, choosing to watch first, and Aragorn was speaking to Haldir. The flutes and the harps were clean and clear, but the hand drum beat more rapidly than you anticipated.

“It is like our waltzes back home,” Boromir said.

“But faster.” Your eyes darted between the pairs, trying to puzzle the steps. “And it is to the beat of four and not three.”

“It is not so different,” Aragorn said. “In practice.”

“You know how to dance?” You turned to him, astonished.

“Of course.” He broke into a smile. “I was raised in Rivendell.”

You blinked at him and looked away. How did you forget? It was so easy, looking at Aragorn, to see the wild, skilled Ranger and forget the noble circumstances of his birth. Yes, he was a king. The disappointment from before corroded through you. Yes, you must not forget that. No matter his trappings — a good man, a good ranger — Aragorn was a king.

And a good man did not necessarily mean a good king. And Gondor… Gondor would need a good king.

Boromir nudged you with his elbow. “You should dance, my friend. You were always better than Faramir and I. Valar knows I’ll trip over my feet with this new music.”

“It has been many seasons since I last danced.”

“It is easy,” Aragorn said, offering his hand to you.

For a moment you stared at his palm, the creases in them still smudged with errant dirt despite the comforts of Lothlorien. The hands of a man who knew strife, who knew work. 

Before you knew what you were doing, you placed your hand in his and he walked you to the edge of the dance. He laid a hand on your waist, large and warm, and stepped closer to you. You could smell him, leather and soap and sweet pipeweed.

“Your other hand on my shoulder,” he murmured, breath rippling the errant strands of your hair. 

He led you through the steps, his fingers flexing on your waist, his voice low and close. You stared at your feet, at his chest, at the trees beyond his shoulder. Your heart sped up and you willed your breaths to lengthen, hoping he could not sense the change in you. 

“You are a good dancer. A quick learner,” he said. 

You nodded, not trusting your words. Warmth radiated from him, and it seemed as though your hand seared with the heat of his skin. He was solid and steady, and so, so close.

The dance was blessedly short, and when the final chord rang out, you stepped back from him, bowed stiffly, and walked away.

-

Aragorn cradled your head, his hand growing wet with your blood, and stared down at your pained face. Your breathing was laboured and erratic. Had they come too late? He glanced up to see Gimli and Legolas bent over Boromir. A black arrow stuck out from his shoulder and he let out a weak groan. Slain orcs lay around the clearing, their crude weapons scattered on the ground, and the hobbits were nowhere to be seen.

He looked back down at you, willing you to open your eyes. He couldn’t help but sweep his thumb over your muddied cheek. “Please,” he whispered. “By the Valar, please.”

How was it that it was only a week or so ago that he held you in his arms, warm and close, cheeks flushed from the dance? He had kept that memory close  in his mind, guiltily revisiting it in the quiet of the night, fingers twitching to reach out across the moss to touch you again. You had been strangely distant since that night. You were polite and friendly, but your glances had become fleeting and furtive and you hardly sought him out to talk in the evenings like you had done before. 

Did you catch a glimpse of the affection in his eyes? Were you discomfited by it? Possibly. Why else would you withdraw from him? Perhaps you felt it would be too risky to reject him outright, given his position as the future king, and thought it would be best this way. 

You groaned, brows furrowing, and mumbled something unintelligible. He whispered your name and to his relief, your eyes fluttered open. “Boromir,” you muttered. “The little ones…”

He looked up and saw Legolas and Gimli tending to Boromir, discussing how to remove the arrow. “He is alive. The hobbits have been taken by the orcs.”

“You need to save them.”

“I need to save you first.”

“There is no time… The Ring…”

“No. I will not leave you here.”

You muttered some garbled swear at him but did not protest when he began to inspect your wound. He parted your hair carefully, fingers combing through the matted strands. It was a fairly large wound, but not deep. At least, nothing that would be immediately fatal. It would have to be cleaned and bandaged properly to prevent infection. Legolas was already starting a fire and Gimli had gone off, presumably to camp to gather water and whatever spare cloths they could use as bandages. 

It was an hour later when you and Boromir were finally fully awake. Your wounds were bandaged but the both of you were pale and weak.

“The little ones,” Boromir said. “You must go after them.”

Aragorn looked at you. Your eyes were glassy and glazed, the collar of your cloak still stained with blood. “We cannot leave you like this.”

“Cannot? Or will not?” you asked, lifting your eyes to meet his. Your gaze was strong and defiant despite the pain. “The hobbits need to be rescued. Boromir and I cannot go on in our condition. We may yet live as we are, but Merry and Pippin do not stand a chance if you do not go.”

He exhaled sharply and glanced away. You were right, of course. But how could he leave you like this? Weak and bleeding, at risk of attack, at risk of infection. What would a good ranger do? What would a good king do?

“We could split,” he suggested uneasily. “I could remain while Gimli and Legolas go ahead.” 

But even as he said those words he knew it was not the best course of action. Gimli and Legolas, as skilled and strong as they were, would not be able to confront a pack of orcs by themselves. One glance at Legolas’ dubious expression confirmed his thoughts. 

“We are not on death’s door yet,” Boromir said with a grim smile. “I doubt that the orcs will return to this place; they already have what they came for. We can rest here for a day or two, then make our way back to Minas Tirith.”

The both of you, alone and injured? There were so many things that could go awry and it would be at least a three or four day journey to the city, longer even, in the condition the both of you were in.

“You know Boromir is right,” you muttered, your gaze steely.

It was then that he felt the way he did the night he spoke to you by the fire. That in your eyes there was a right thing to say or do, and anything else would lower your esteem of him.

He nodded slowly. “But we will not leave you here among these corpses. Let us at least get you back to camp with a fire. It will not take us long.”

You shared a look with Boromir and agreed. Between the three of them, it was quick work to help you back to camp. He would see you again, he knew, he hoped, but even then, as he followed Legolas and Gimli away from the camp, he could not help but look over his shoulder for one last glimpse of you.

-

A cool wind blew through the window of your room at the Houses of Healing, carrying with it the sound of the army marching out to Osgiliath. You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, groaning and wincing, and slumped back against the headboard, craning your neck towards the window. If you could not see Faramir off on his deadly errand, then you would at least watch him from your room. 

How had it come to this? Boromir, delirious and incapacitated with fever and infection. Faramir, sent off to Osgiliath, surely to die. And you, weak and helpless, unable to do anything but watch.

Faramir had said he was relieved that you were not coming with him, that if he and Boromir were to die, he could trust that you would ensure Minas Tirith would be well defended and cared for. 

There was no comfort in that. There was no comfort in all of this. 

Duty and honour and calling. What did anything matter if you were left alone in the world? Without Faramir, without Boromir, without… 

Without Aragorn. 

For a moment, you laid any sort of obligation to your station, to your city and country aside, and allowed yourself to indulge. When did he become someone so close to your heart? How? 

It was all those moments of softness. Those rare moments where he was simply just a man, when he set down the mantle of ranger and king. Like when he smoked with Merry and Pippin, nestled between tree roots, discussing the characteristics of the various pipeweed strains. Or when he devoured one of Sam’s dinners of potatoes and wild mushrooms faster than anyone else, shrugging with amused resignation when everyone stared at him. Or when he sat up with you during your turn as the night watch, talking about his boyhood misadventures. 

And that moment when he had danced with you, his strong arms around you, his grey eyes bright in sparkling lights of Lothlorien. He had smelled like soap and cedar, and you were close enough that you could smell the sweet wine on his breath when he spoke. There was something in his eyes you had not seen before. Tenderness? Affection? 

You shook your head and laughed at yourself. Affection? There was little chance of that. You had challenged him that night by the fire, silently made him work for your respect and approval on the journey. It was necessary, perhaps, to prove to him that as a servant of Gondor you were not so easily swayed by someone who claimed to be king. But as a person, as yourself… There was no way that such behaviour would endear you to him. 

He was friendly enough, yes, but he was friendly with everyone in the fellowship. That was all there was to it. Camaraderie and friendship. And it was not as though he had given any indication of… feeling more. And as king, he would have to select a suitable partner. In Rivendell, there were rumours of his long friendship with Elrond’s daughter. Yes… Someone like her would be suitable. And you…

You would stand by as always, the protector and servant of Gondor, and watch him be happy with another.

The bell tolled and you snapped out of your musings. The army was just leaving the gates of the city, their armour gleaming in the sun. You muttered a silent prayer for them, hoping that Faramir would return whole and safe.

Yes, whole and safe. That was all you would ask for Aragorn too. It did not matter if he did not return your feelings, all that mattered was that you would see him again, healthy and smiling. 

-

The cragged stone walls of the narrow path began to look the same to Aragorn. The horses’ clops echoed off the high walls, and Legolas’ and Gimli’s muffled chatter strangely amplified. The air grew cooler and, somehow, more still as they continued forward. He glanced behind and Legolas gave him a short nod. They would be close to The Paths of The Dead soon. 

Andruil bumped his calf with each step the horse took and he felt for the pommel with his fingers. For so many months he had tried to ignore the truth of his heritage. To the hobbits he was Strider, and to the rest of the company he was simply a ranger. But now… there was no hiding, no denying, what he was. Who he was.

Would the others treat him differently now? Would they see him as other, higher, than they were? The thought of Merry and Pippin, usually so affectionate and playful,  growing distant and formal made his heart ache. Would Boromir retreat back into his position of Captain and Steward, rebuilding the walls that they so carefully took apart on their journey? And you…

He thought back to that night by the fire. He had not missed your subtle dig, your silent display of suspicion, and he had tried to reassure you, to show you that he was just the same as you and Boromir. And over the months it seemed that you had softened, sitting with him while he smoked, splitting your rations with him when he had offered some of his share to the hobbits, sharing amused looks with him when Gimli and Legolas were bickering about something inane. 

You even let him dance with you.

In that moment, he felt that you finally saw him as he was. A man. Just a man. But then your eyes had shuttered and you walked away from him. He sighed. There was no hope for him now. With the sword returned to him and him on his way to invoke the debt as the heir to the throne. You would be lost to him, he knew, the moment he was crowned. 

-

The city was in an uproar — singing, drinking, dancing — celebrating the destruction of the ring. It seemed that ever since Aragorn returned from the Fields of Cormallen, there were always people around him. You had recovered enough to return to your own rooms in the Steward’s House in the citadel, though Boromir and Faramir were still recovering in the Houses of Healing.

Aragorn had stopped by your rooms once, expressing relief and joy at your recovery, but had not come by since. So it had begun, then, the inevitable distancing that would happen. He had proven himself a worthy heir and king, marching with the Rohirrim, going to the Paths of the Dead, facing the Enemy at the Black Gate, just as you wished at the start of the journey. Gondor would be in good hands. But what of yourself and your heart? At the beginning, nothing mattered more than his suitability as king, but now… 

You let out a frustrated huff and shook your head. Maybe a walk would clear such futile thoughts from your mind. Maybe you should go see Boromir, he always had a way of cheering you up. It was a short walk down to the Houses of Healing and you found Boromir sitting up in bed, reading through some documents.

“Ah, my friend,” he said with a smile, setting the parchment aside. “You have good timing. I am sick of these papers.”

You peered at them. “Trade agreements?”

He shrugged. “Faramir and I have decided that he will take the post of Steward, but he still values my input on such things.” He took you in, eyes searching your face. “You are upset about something.”

You opened your mouth to protest but deflated instead. You sank into the chair next to his bed. “I am vexed by something. That is all.”

He stared at you for a moment before the corner of his lips twitched upward. “Is it Aragorn?”

“Why would you ask such a thing?”

He chuckled. “We have been friends for many years now, and have been by each other’s side for months. Besides, I have had my suspicions for some weeks.”

You shifted in your seat. “What suspicions?”

“That perhaps your feelings towards him have changed. Softened. I have seen it with my own eyes. I knew for sure that night in Lothlorien.”

You stared at your hands and sighed. “Even if I admit to it, it matters little. He will not return my feelings, and even if he did, I am not a suitable match for him.”

Boromir threw his arms up. “I know you are stubborn but you are being deliberately obtuse and difficult now.”

You bristled and frowned at him. “Do not tease me, I am not in the mood.”

“First, your argument of unsuitability is nonsense — your family is well regarded in the city, and do not forget your own title as Captain. And second, is it so hard to believe that he might return your feelings?”

“I don’t see why he would,” you muttered petulantly. 

He rubbed his forehead and let out a long breath. “I am not usually one to meddle in such… things, but a man can only take so much. You are not the only one who has come into my room, sulking and moody.” You blinked at him and he shook his head. “Aragorn is one to keep things close to his heart, yes, but even he cannot completely hide what is in his eyes.”

Your heart sped up a little. “What… what are you implying?”

“That there is reason to hope. And that maybe Aragron, like you, feels as though his feelings may be unrequited.” Your brows furrowed. “Ah, do not act confused — do you not remember how cold you were to him at the beginning? And how wary you were in the first weeks?”

“But I have been friendly since then.”

“Maybe so, but I would not fault him for being… careful. Some encouragement would not go astray.”

Encouragement? At the risk of looking like some fool? But Boromir was not one to make up stories, and his assessment of character and behaviour has not led him, or you, wrong so far. Perhaps you could… try. Try to show a little more interest, and see if Boromir was right. 

-

Aragorn leaned back against the cool stone wall and took a long drag from his pipe. He had escaped to some high tower in the Citadel, yearning for the open, unbroken sky, and wishing for a moment of peace. The stars winked above him, shimmering just the same as they did in Rivendell, and a fragrant breeze blew from the plains below. 

In a few days, everything would change. 

He had accepted it the moment they entered the Paths of the Dead. His lineage, his duty. He had known since the beginning that he would eventually return to the throne but those decades in Rivendell, those years of roaming the wilds made it easy to forget. He let out a long stream of smoke, watching the pale white puffs evaporate into the night. He inhaled, relishing the sweet scent of the pipeweed, and on a whim, blew some smoke rings.

He smiled a little, remembering that night with you in Lothlorien. It seemed like a whole lifetime ago. His heart had wrenched in his chest when you had opened the door to your rooms, and you stood, haloed in warm light, safe and whole and real. It had been nearly too much to sit in your rooms, talking and smiling, with you so close. The gravity of the mission and the perpetual looming peril during the journey helped keep his feelings buried, but seeing you at home in your rooms stirred his imagination and images of you, of a future with you, plagued his mind for days. 

He had tried to keep his distance, for his own sanity, but for the last week it seemed as though you were determined to seek him out. With the coronation coming up, it was inevitable that he would see more of you — you were assisting with some of the preparations — but you always lingered to talk when discussions were finished. You urged him to take breaks, suggesting he walk with you in the gardens or courtyards, and you even called on him one evening.

It was… confusing. Were you just being friendly? Or was there more to your actions? He knew he was not a man prone to delusion and it certainly seemed as though your feelings had changed. Warmed. But he wished to know for sure. Could he ask you? Would you be receptive to such a thing?

It felt as though he was running out of time. That his coronation would somehow alter things forever. 

He took another drag of his pipe and closed his eyes. He had faced death at the Black Gate but did he have enough courage to face you? To bare his heart, to be open, for the chance that you might reciprocate?

Yes, he thought, or he would forever regret that he did not. 

-

You rubbed the smooth fabric of the silks you were to wear for the coronation. It shone in the warm light of the candles and you stepped back to admire the handiwork of the seamstresses. Intricate embroidery decorated the hems of the sleeves and the collar, the design more ornate than anything you had worn before, and you traced it with your finger. It was beautiful, something more fit for royalty than one of the nobility, and you had protested, but Aragorn and Boromir insisted upon it.

You sighed and turned away, wandering towards the window. The city spread itself in front of you, the flickering torches on the parapets forming concentric circles leading down to the plains. Aragorn would take a partner eventually. Would they care for the city and Gondor? Would they appreciate her beauty and her people? 

The city was flooded with visitors, the citadel more busy than before housing the dwarves and elves and other nobles. Lord Elrond’s daughter had come with him and your heart shattered at the sight of her. But to your surprise, Aragorn had made no overtures to her. They were friendly, yes, but the little you saw of them together, they seemed more like siblings than lovers. Was it possible that you were mistaken? Or perhaps the elves had a more modest way of displaying affection?

Boromir still continued to insist that Aragorn had feelings for you but the evidence of it felt weak. True, he had taken you up on all your offers for walks, and had talked long with you when you called on him that one evening, and once or twice you thought you had seen the tenderness in his eyes but you could never be sure. Maybe it was too little too late?

There was a knock on the door and you called out.

“It is me,” Aragorn said, his voice muffled through the thick wood of the door. “I know it is late but I wish to speak with you.”

You opened the door and let him in. His eyes flickered towards your clothes hanging on the wall before he focused on you. He was dressed in one of his more casual tunics, still not changed for the evening, and your eyes darted to the open V of his shirt collar. “I am surprised you have not turned down for the evening,” you said, glancing away and gesturing for him to sit by the fire.

“I could say the same for you.”

He joined you on the cushioned bench and stared at the fire. His face was impassive and his jaw was tense. What was so important that he had to see you on the night before his coronation? Were there any last minute changes to be made?

��Aragorn?” you whispered. “What is the matter?”

“I was thinking about our first few weeks together when we left Rivendell,” he murmured. “You were not very fond of me then.”

You nodded slowly, unsure where he was going with it.

“And as you said, Gondor is your home.”

Your stomach lurched. “Aragorn, surely you know I do not hold any reservations about you anymore. If I had caused offence then, I —”

He shook his head. “No, I understood then, and I understand now. But still, given the coronation tomorrow, I simply wanted to be sure.”

“Then let me be clear,” you said, a little exasperated. “My feelings about you as a king have changed.”

He nodded slowly and stared into the fire. It crackled and popped in the silence. You wanted to ask if he had more to say, but something stayed your tongue and you waited.

“And of me as a man?”

“As a man?” You met his gaze and your heart started to thump.

His eyes were unguarded and soft, the silver steel of his eyes warm and molten. His lips were parted gently, as though he was ready to say more, but was waiting for your reply. What could you say to him? Was he asking what you thought he was asking? 

What could possibly convey the hidden depths of your affection?

You wanted to reach out, to place your hand on his cheek, but the space between the both of you felt like a chasm. Slowly, ready to snatch your hand back at any time, you moved it from your lap and offered it to him, palm up, on the bench. You avoided his gaze, scarcely daring to breathe.

He reached out, fingers curled and uncertain, and softly clasped your hand. His skin was rough and warm, familiar and foreign at the same time. You let out a ragged breath, sounding strangled. How was this possible? Was it even real?

“I was not certain,” you muttered. “But Boromir —”

“Boromir?” Aragorn chuckled and you looked up. He grinned and shook his head. “I did not take him as a meddler.”

“He simply… encouraged me to be open about my feelings.” Feelings. The reality of the situation dawned on you and a smile crept onto your face. “I cannot believe this.”

“I am in greater disbelief than you are. I was struck from the moment I saw you.”

“And I you.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.”

“You are not the only one who knows how to conceal your feelings,” you said with a laugh, shifting closer towards him. 

His other hand came to rest on your cheek. “There shall be none of that now. For too long have I been apart from you.”

He dipped his head and captured your lips. His lips were soft and tender. He kissed you slow and languid, savouring and tasting. He smelled of cedar and musk, and his breath held the lingering sweetness of pipeweed. You tried to pull back but he followed you, his lips seeking yours again. His kisses grew passionate, impatient, as though trying to make up for the time they did not have you.

He paused for a moment, breathless, and muttered, “Join me tomorrow, in front of everyone. Walk with me after I am crowned.”

“You would have me with you then?”

“I would have you with me always, meleth nîn.” He pressed a kiss to your temple. “Will you have me?”

“Yes. Anywhere, anytime, my love. Forever.”

[anipgarden]

Un-Actions, or Restriction of Activities

This is my first post in a series I’ll be making on how to increase biodiversity on a budget! I’m not an expert--just an enthusiast--but I hope something you find here helps! 

There’s a good handful of ways you can help increase biodiversity in your yard that don’t require buying things--in fact, these may actually help you save money in the long run! They may seem small and simple, but every bit counts! Whether you can do these in totality, or just limit how often you do these actions, it’ll make a difference.

Not Mowing, or Mowing Less Often

Turf grass lawns are considered a monoculture, meaning they don’t provide much opportunity for insects to find habitat--so few other creatures find them enjoyable either. An expanse of turf grass is, in many ways, a barren wasteland in the eyes of wildlife--too exposed to cross, with few to no opportunities for food or shelter, leaving them exposed to blazing hot sun, freezing cold, or any predators that may be lurking nearby. A place to be avoided. The simple act of letting your grass grow unbothered gives a chance for wildflowers to grow, and for your grass to grow taller--providing more habitat for insects, which then provides more habitat to birds and other creatures that feed on said insects. Wildlife want nothing more than to skirt by unnoticed, so even leaving the grass tall along the edges of a fence or yard can help a little. Even restricting mowing to every other week, or at a higher blade setting, can be a huge help. If HOAs or city ordinances are fussy about lawn length in the front yard, you can likely still keep grass higher in the backyard. Or, you can create a ‘feature’ where grass is allowed to grow long in a specific area. If it looks purposeful, people are more likely to accept it. Not mowing under trees or close to shrubs not only leaves space for wildflowers to grow, but also means you don’t have to deal with mowing over bumpy roots and other difficulties. Cutting different areas at different times can be an option for letting grass grow long in some areas while still having available places for play and entertainment. I’ve seen some people plant flower bulbs when pulling up weeds, so in the future they'll bloom in early spring before mowing is usually necessary. This could be another fun way of adding biodiversity to a lawn without--or before you--begin mowing in spring.

Not worrying about mowing, or doing it less often, saves you in time, money, and energy. You won’t have to buy as much gasoline for your mower, and Saturday afternoons can be free to be enjoyed in other ways aside from being sticky and sweaty and covered in grass stains. In addition, you’ll likely be lowering your own carbon emissions!

If you do have to mow your lawn, I’ve got ways you can use your grass clippings to boost biodiversity later in the post series!

Not using pesticides, herbicides, fungicides, etc.

One of the next-biggest non-actions you can do asides from not mowing is using fewer fewer to no herbicides, fungicides, and pesticides in your yard. This’ll easily allow for more biodiversity. Allowing more insects and a wide array of plants to thrive will feed back into the entire food chain in your area. In addition, these types of chemicals have been tied to algae blooms, death of beneficial insects, harm to birds, fish, and even humans. Soil is supposed to be full of fungi, especially fungal mycelium that essentially acts as a network for plants to communicate, share nutrients, and support each other--fungicide kills that, and typically makes all other lawn problems even worse in a negative feedback loop. It may take awhile to see the benefits of avoiding these chemicals, but once you see it, it really is astounding.

However! I can’t lie and say that there haven’t been points where I needed to use pesticides at some points in my gardening journey. In these cases, try to use products that are organic--like diatomaceous earth, neem oil, etc--and use them accurately, correctly, and sparingly. Follow instructions on how to apply them safely and responsibly--for example, on non-windy days and during times when bees and other pollinators aren’t likely to be out and about. With some pests (read: oleander aphids, in my experience), a simple jetstream of water is enough to force them off the plant where they’ll be too weak to get back. Eventually, you should have a balanced enough ecosystem that no one insect pest causes a major issue with the work you’re doing to boost biodiversity.

If you can bear to, try handling pests manually. Squishing pest bugs in your hand is a pretty foolproof way to get rid of some problems, or spraying them with a mix of soap and water can do the trick on some insects. Alternatively, picking them off your plants and into a bucket of soapy water is also a valid option. You’ve heard of baptism by fire, now get ready for… baptism by soap?

But also! Try reconsidering what you consider a pest! Tomato hornworms are hated by gardeners, for devouring the foliage of beloved tomato, pepper, and potato plants. But killing the tomato and tobacco hornworm means getting rid of sphinx moths, also known as hummingbird or hawk moths! Hawk moths are vital to the survival of many native plants, and are sometimes even the only species that pollinates them. If you can bear to, consider sacrificing a few tomato plants, or growing a few extras, so we can continue having these beautiful moths for years to come. After all, they may not even do significant damage to the plants!

With that in mind, be friendly to your natural pest managers! Lacewings, ladybugs, praying mantises, wasps, birds, bats, and more will help manage pest populations in your environment! Encourage them by planting things they like, providing habitat, and leaving them be to do their work! Avoiding pesticides helps make your garden a livable environment for them, too!

Letting Weeds Grow

Many of the plants we know as 'weeds' are actually secondary succession species and native wildflowers. Milkweed was regarded as a noxious, annoying weed for a long time, and now people are actively trying to plant them after learning about the important role they play in our environments! Weeds are adapted to take over areas that have been cleared out of other plants after a disaster, so they're doing much of the initial work in making a habitat for other creatures. In fact, many of them will simply die back as the environment repairs itself.

An important thing to note is to please make sure that your ‘weeds’ are not invasive species. Work on learning how to identify native and invasive species in your area, and pull out what’s harmful to leave room for what’s good!

Don’t Rake (Or At Least Don’t Bag Your Leaves)

Many insects overwinter in piles of leaves that we often rake away and bag up in the fall and winter. By doing this, we are actively throwing away the biodiversity of our neighborhoods! If you can, leave the leaves where they fall! 

If you do need to rake, put the leaves in places wildlife can still access it instead of bagging it up. Move your leaves into garden beds to serve as mulch, or along the edge of fences to rest while keeping egg cases and hiding bugs intact and free to release come spring.

Leave Snags Where They Are

Snags are dead trees/dead branches on living trees. They provide an important wildlife habitat--many birds nest in them, or use them to seek cover from rain, and many insects will also live in snags (making them an additional food source for birds and other creatures). Tree cavities are used as nests by hundreds of bird species in the US, and many mammals use them as well, such as bats, squirrels, raccoons, and sometimes even bears. Some trees form cavities while they’re still alive, but in conifers they’re more likely to form after death. Crevices between the trunk of a dead tree and its peeling bark provide sun protection for bats and amphibians, and leafless branches make great perching areas for birds of prey to hunt from above. The decaying wood is home to insects and fungi, who then feed birds, mammals, amphibians, and reptiles.  Do check on the snags regularly to ensure they don’t serve a threat to any nearby structures, but whenever possible, leave them be! 

Keep Your Cat Inside

If you have an outdoor cat, consider making the adjustments to have it be an indoor cat. If you have an indoor cat, keep it as an indoor cat. Free ranging cats impact biodiversity through predation, fear effects, competition for resources, disease, and more. Keeping little Mittens inside does a lot more to help than it may seem from the outside.

That’s the end of this post! My next one’s gonna be on things you can add to your space that aren’t directly related to growing plants. For now, I hope this advice helps! Feel free to reply with any questions, success stories, or anything you think I may have forgotten to add in! 

[sixteenseveredhands]

African Social Spiders: these spiders live in colonies that can contain up to 2,000 spiders, most of which are female; they hunt, forage, maintain their web, and raise their offspring as a group, without any dominance hierarchy or caste system

This communal behavior is extremely rare among spiders, which are normally solitary creatures. The African social spider (Stegodyphus dumicola) is one of the few species that has been identified as a true "social spider," forming colonies and living in communal nests where the spiders work together to hunt, forage, build webs, and care for their offspring.

Above: an African social spider feeding the young spiderlings of her colony by regurgitating food for them, exhibiting a level of maternal/allomaternal care that is relatively uncommon in both spiders and insects

African social spiders can be found in various parts of southwestern Africa, where they will often build a dense silk nest in the branches of a thorn tree and/or shrub. Most of the spiders in the colony are female (more than 85%, according to some studies) and the species itself also has a female-biased primary sex ratio, as researchers have found that female embryos develop in more than 80% of the eggs that the spiders produce.

Above: a group of African social spiders working together to subdue their prey, which will be taken back to the nest so that it can be shared with the rest of the colony

There is no evidence that any dominance hierarchy or caste system exists within S. dumicola colonies. The spiders all cooperate to complete a variety of tasks, such as hunting, repairing the web, foraging, defending the colony, caring for the colony's offspring, etc. While none of them are exclusively assigned to a single task, many have a primary role that they fill, often based on their physical size and condition.

Above: close-up photo of S. dumicola

This species also engages in extreme allomaternal care, meaning that many different spiders (including both mothers and "allomothers") all share the responsibility of caring for the colony's offspring; even the unmated females help out with brood care. The mothers/allomothers tend to the eggsacs, regurgitate food for the baby spiderlings, and even engage in matriphagy, which means that they will eventually be cannibalized by the babies.

From The Encyclopedia of Animal Behavior:

... some proportion of females do not reproduce – sometimes as much as 60% – but remain as helpers, contributing to foraging and brood care (allo-mothering). Both breeding females and virgin allo-mothers regurgitate food for colony offspring and eventually let the young consume their bodies. ...

Young that are raised with both mothers and allo-mothers show higher survival and growth than young raised by their mothers alone, suggesting a clear fitness benefit of cooperative breeding.

Spiders of this species generally measure about 2.5 - 3.5mm long; they can be found in Namibia, Botswana, Zimbabwe, South Africa, Lesotho, and Eswatini.

Sources & More Info:

Science Direct: Social Spiders

Current Biology: Quick Guide to Social Spiders (PDF)

Phys.org: Untangling the Social Lives of Spiders

Proceedings of the Royal Society B: The Age & Evolution of Sociality in Stegodyphus Spiders

Entomology Today: Social Spiders Divide Labor According to Body Size & Condition

Animal Behaviour: Extreme Allomaternal Care by Unmated Females in a Cooperatively Breeding Spider

National Geographic: Baby Spiders Eat their Mothers

University of Portsmouth: Social Spiders Have Different Ways of Hunting in Groups

Behavioral Ecology: Spider Societies Mitigate Risk by Prioritizing Caution

Behavioral Processes: Warring Arthropod Societies

Behavioral Ecology and Sociobiology: Does the African Social Spider Stegodyphus dumicola Control the Sex of Individual Offspring?

[themotherofblood]

Want A Drink?

Vampire!Daemon x Reader x Vampire!Rhaenyra

masterlist | Bloody Baby Series | Vampire AU

synopsis: Rhaenyra finds a doe eyed thing for her and Daemon to drink from, however she has a bad habit of playing with food.

warnings: dub-con? Kinda non-con? Feeding, blood drinking. threesome, oral (F), riding, compulsion.

a/n: I will take requests for this series :)

A masterful event, truly. The rooms of this old castle filled with enough free booze, loosened inhibitions and stumbling younglings draped in what they would consider cool clothing. This was a rather fun way to hunt, the days of random strangers in the forests had long dwindled decades before, this, this was chique - a classic way of finding a pretty someone to feed on and a hell of an excuse for party.

Rhaenyra, leaned against one of the many high tables, her senses working to find the one, if there was one. She shook her head, watching Daemon stumble and dance along with one the many girls that were fawning over him. Even with the wedding band glinting on his ring finger, these young broads didn’t care. Hands in the air as he moved to the beats - if only they knew what he was.

You tore through the thick crowd, all smiles and huffs as you came to rest your head on the table Rhaenyra stood by. The air so thick within, you needed to pull away for a minute. The smell even beyond the sweat and the booze, she could smell you. Even more so hear the running blood under your skin, lavender? No jasmine, that’s what you smelled of. You took deep breaths, trying to find air within the thick ambience of this room. You couldn’t - tequila, it had to be the tequila making you feel this way.

“You doing alright, love?” Rhaenyra’s voice boomed over the music in front of you.

You looked up, confused and a little dazed. Gosh, she’s so pretty you thought dumbfounded “I- yeah, it’s hot in here,” you replied, you looked up once more trying to breathe through your mouth this time as you lift your hair in your palm to ease away the heat.

“Come with me,” this time you hadn’t realized that she came to stand next to you, her frame towering over your as you came to stand straight. You looked back to where your friend was dancing with her boyfriend, just go, you nodded, taking her hand as she led you outside the grand room.

You mindlessly followed her, such naivety - crawling along with her to the monster’s den. She led you to a balcony, the crisp air of the night prickling goosebumps against your skin as you took yet another deep breath before your lungs fully let your chest to clear. You leaned against the balcony columns. Below in the courtyard, people stumbled over to trimmed shrubs, chatters and giggles echoed with the muffled thud of the music with every door opening and closing.

You giggled, shaking your head as it turned to chuckle. You had forgotten about the pretty woman still standing against the other column. She looked at you quizzically, what sweet sounds the corners of her lips up turned, wondering what intoxicated thought had you musing so. “What’s so funny?”

“This palace,” you coughed to halt your giggles “whatever fat lord had this made, I doubt he envisioned rowdy peasants fornicating in its bushes.” you laughed one more, pressing a hand to your belly.

“I’m sure he had many debauched plans, sweetheart.” Rhaenyra smiled, this time approaching you. Her little words of endearment didn’t go amiss as your cheeks flushed.

“He had three wives,” you blurted, the only thing you could do under the intimidating gaze of her purple contacts.

Rhaenyra’s brows waggled, she looked curious, a little knowing. “history student, are you?” She tucked a piece of your loose hair behind you ear.

“Hobby really,” you shook your head, feeling sandwiched between the marble column and this - this angelic lady dressed in maroon.

“What else do you know,” she whispered, her thumb still grazing over your cheek.

“There lived a Queen here, once, with her husband and his three wives,” your breath hitched as she grew closer “he died for her and she died in grief.”

“How terrible,” Rhaenyra murmured, you’re so pretty your mind began to scream so loudly that your actually said it. She pulled back looking amused, her thank you?

She finally closed the space between the two of you, one hand snaking around the small of your waist as the other held you cheek. The smell of vanilla and wood was hit against your nose as her lips moulded against yours. You squeaked into the kiss, frozen for a moment until you gave in. Letting her lips melt your to putty in her hands as she explored your mouth. Breathe, breathe - so overwhelming as you gasped breaths of air within the short pause.

“Enjoying without me, my love?” A man’s voice tore you away from the daze Rhaenyra was lulling you into.

A man with silver hair stood leaning against the glass paned balcony door, his cream shirt unbutton to his sternum, “Isn’t she just a beauty, Daemon,” Rhaenyra chides, before pecking your lips once more.

You looked between both of them confused, were you a home wrecker now? “I’m sorry- I- I didn’t know you were married,” you said eyeing the ring on the woman’s finger.

“Shh- sh It’s alright, Daemon doesn’t mind. Do you honey?” She began nipping at the expanse of your neck.

“My…you really are pretty,” Daemon said approaching you. Your mind seemed to have been in a trance, the way they looked at you, smelled, the hold of their fingers in each wrist.

“You are going to be a good girl for us, aren’t you?” Daemon asked, his thumb grazing your lip. it felt like a demand, your on consciousness slipping. You nodded, letting his thumb push in as your suckled around it.

You were in and out after that, but mostly you were warm. So very warm, perhaps it was the giant fireplace in their bedroom, the only warm yellow light of the room. There were spurts your remembered.

“Such a good girl,��� Rhaenyra moaned as you kneeled between her legs, lapping away at her cunt with your nose pressed up against her clit as she rolled her hips against your tongue “just like that.” Daemon’s grip on your hair was tight as he kept your face against his wife’s pussy, admiring the scrunched look on her face you licked away at her needy bundle of nerves.

The mere moments of lucidity passed once more as your mind dwindled to the warmth, the next you were straddled and Daemon’s hip. His cock deep within you as you rolled your hip and bounced on his cock, “can we keep her? I want to keep her?” Daemon groaned, feeling the vice grip of your cunt milking him.

“Hmm, she would make a fine pet. Look at her.” Rhaenyra whispered from behind you, she hands pinching and rolling your nipples in between her finger as you pleasures her husband.

You felt her pressing kisses onto your neck as you weight fell back against her, exhausted and wanting as Daemon yet agains began rubbing your clit, hood pulled back as he flicked against the reddened bud. You felt a sharp graze, maybe the woman’s fingernails. You whimpered, dazed as your felt the warmth in your belly stir, you were close and all three of you knew it. Daemon thrusted his hips upwards, his fingers unrelenting as you played with your bundle of nerves “that’s it darling, come for him.”

Rhaenyra sounded desperate, her eyes blown as she watched Daemon face scrunch up. She was hungry, she wanted to taste you against the blood rush. You squealed once more, a moan stuck at the back of your throat and Rhaenyra gave in. Sinking her fangs into your jugular and moaning when the thick crimson liquid hit her tongue. Blood dripped from the opened wound down your torso as you thrashed against their tight holding. The initial scream still ringing in your ears as you felt Daemon’s tongue flatten on your sternum and lick up the dripping blood. The fear has blown your eyes wide, tears polling around them.

Your heart thudding as you tried to fight against them, barely making any headway “Shh- you’re alright,” Daemon wiped at your tears, his eyes dilated and then calm, your heart was no longer thudding “you are safe.”

“I am safe,” you mumbled as Daemon lifted your wrist to his mouth before he too sunk his teeth in deep.

When you woke up next morning, messed hair and aching in a soft (too soft) bed, one unlikely to be yours. You groaned pulling yourself up, a gentle sting running down your body as you took in the silk pink nightgown your body was dressed in. Your mind wavered for moment until it focused in on their faces, the silver woman and her husband Da- Daemon. Your friends would surely freak out when they find out you fucked two people in one night. Your fingers grazed at your lip and then it all came crashing back.

Teeth, your neck. The bandaging on your wrists, heart thudding against your heart, praying that perhaps it had been a bad dream. You stopped at the giant body length mirror, multiple bite marks down your thighs and legs. One on each side of your neck, what the fuck, you winced ripping the bandage from your wrists. Yellowing bruise and two distinct wounds sunken into you skin, still bleeding. You had to get out of here, you had no idea where your phone or your clothes were but all you did was run.

Rhaenyra and Daemon sat in their dinning room, the cleaners already having returned their palace to its pristine nature. They looked rather pleased with themselves and the events that took place last night. “We should have dried her out,” Daemon groaned, eyes fixated on his glass of scotch.

“We should have,” Rhaenyra agreed, “we could just keep her.” she repeated Daemon’s words from the night before. It had been nearly a century since they shared a companion together. The end wasn’t so pretty for the last one but perhaps this time it would be different, Rhaenyra had become far more capable at curbing her blood thirst.

Daemon dryly chuckled “What? Should we just ask her to be our human blood bag?” A stale joke since they had much other plans to be within your company. You were far too warm, to sweet to let go. “Looks like Ms Blood bag is awake.” Daemon notes the distinct sound of footsteps hurrying along the grand staircase. He downed his cup of scotch before signing.

You were running, unsure which way to go at first but the hallways were organized enough to lead your straight to the enterance. Barefoot and naked another this flimsy night gown, you didn’t care you just ran. Just as you were about to reach the main door and push past it. You crashed into a hard body, stood looking unimpressed at your little attempt at escape. You screamed as he held onto you.

“No! No no- please let me go.” You yelled “Let me go!”

Daemon just stood there, hoping your outburst would heel on it’s on, unwanting to compel you once more. He needed the fear to subside on its on. Rhaenyra walked along calmly from the dinning room to the enterance, watching your frame thrash as your screams echoed through the palace. Daemon sunk to the floor, trying to shush you but looking extremely irk. Rhaenyra bent to your level as she pushed your hair away from your face. She too didn’t want to compel this away.

“Please, please don’t kill me,” you begged “I’ve barely lived.” Tears fell past your eyes that she wiped away.

“We don’t want to kill you, darling.” She hummed.

“No?” You whimpered, confused at her soft demeanour.

“We want you to be ours.”

I’m thinking of making this a Dark! AU, like eventual Stockholm Syndrome kicks in vibes and maybe she is actually happy. I will take requests for this AU right now. So if you have any ideas with Ms Blood Bag and Daemyra don’t me afraid to send a request ;)

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

🧁 cupcake analysis 🧁

YES, YOU READ THAT CORRECTLY 🤡 I’m still fixated on the cute character-themed cupcakes we got from the recent TsumTsums x TWST collab… so I’m going to talk about more things I noticed in the cupcake designs by dorm + by individual characters!

Mmm, cupcakes… 🧁 I would make these if only I had the tools to make all of the painstaking little details—

Heartslabyul

They all have checkered cupcake liners with a half-painted white rose. Famous Heartslabyul iconography!

Their names are written out in a white cursive font. Not the wackiest they could have gone with, but it fits the whimsical style of these cupcakes.

Riddle

Of course, we have strawberries—a fruit from Riddle’s favorite dessert, his beloved strawberry tarts (which also have personal significance to him, being as it was a strawberry tart’s taste that entranced him and made him late to return home as a child). The ring of frosting piped around the strawberries kind of creates the illusion of a tart’s puff pastry with the fruit nesting inside.

Red frosting made with a piping tip to resemble a big rose! Again, more famous Heartslabyul iconography.

IT HAS RIDDLE’S HEART AHOGE 😭

The cupcake also has the crown and a ribbon similar to the ones he wears in his Dorm Uniform~

Unlike the other Heartslabyul cupcakes, Riddle’s is predominantly one color: red. This could be referring to how Riddle is the most rigid in the dorm and someone who demands uniformity and preaches absolutism (“follow the rules”, “paint all the roses red”, etc.).

Even so! There are still little gold and blue sprinkles (though still in a neat arrangement)! I like to think of them as sprinkles of hope and a willingness to change… the first step he’s taking outside of his comfort zone!

No card; this makes sense since Riddle is also the only one without a card suit mark on his face.

Trey

The cookie iced to look like his hat…

Another cookie iced to look like the three of clubs heart (for obvious reasons)!

Trey’s cupcake looks kinda fuzzy like moss, so that leads me to believe the frosting got dipped in sanding sugar to give it texture or something. This makes the cupcake look like it’s an unassuming shrub—and really, isn’t that what Trey claims to be? He’s not an exciting red rose like Riddle, he’s the mild-mannered “normal” guy there to support the flower as the leaves and shoots.

Sugared violets as a topping! Nice way of incorporating Trey’s favorite food into this.

He has a little dusting of sprinkles too; maybe because it was him that showed Riddle “a whole new world”.

There seems to be a layer of jagged chunks (maybe crushed pistachios) along the rim. Feels quite different than the rest of the cake—maybe it’s to represent the less kind side of himself that Trey sometimes alludes to.

Two cookie sticks, which remind me of like two spears crossing to block off a path to the queen. On-brand for Trey, who initially follows Riddle’s orders to a T and kicks out his rule-breaking underclassmen.

Cater

There’s a LOT going on here, and I wonder if that’s in part because Cater is a Magicam fiend and in part because he’s using his flashiness to distract from looking deeper into him. This cupcake reflects that idea well, especially with the colorful sprinkles in the center (as opposed to spread out like Trey or Riddle’s) to make the otherwise mainly orange and red cake pop out more on a social media feed. It also could mean that Cater really keeps to himself, as the sprinkles are not spread outward.

If you look closely, the frosting vaguely resembles Cater’s hair. There’s a larger dollop in the middle which sort of looks like the middle section of his hair that’s pulled back.

There’s lots of little decorations that resembles the decorations on Cater’s phone case—an item near and dear to his heart.

The orange slices can be sweet—the impression that Cater tries to give off—but the pretzel implies a savory taste—what he actually prefers to eat.

There’s a squiggle of darker orange under his name. Is it to call attention to his identity? Cater tries to seek validation and attention from socials, so maybe this is a call to action.

Cater’s cupcake is the only one in his entire dorm that has TWO cards (both four of diamonds). One is probably a cookie and is in full color whole the other is one solid color (brown) and made of chocolate. Most likely this is referring to his UM, which allows Cater to create clones of himself. I wonder if the second card being chocolate alludes to something else too… Namely, the more melancholy and downtrodden part of himself that Cater usually does not let his peers know about 😔

Also two cookie sticks! Similar meaning as Trey’s, especially given that Cater was the first upperclassman to toss Adeuce out (after he gets them to paint the roses for him).

Ace

Ace of hearts card!

A sprinkle of hearts… Are any of us surprised??

His frosting is very ruffled and playful, much like his personality.

The cupcake is more on the simple side compared to many of the others; this is also very “Ace” of him, as Ace is commonly described as “the average high school boy” and has indicated himself that he has no particular goals or ambitions yet.

There’s a cherry on top! Very bright and cheeky, just like Ace—oh, and let’s not forget, cherry pie is his favorite food!

There’s also what appears to be almond shavings on Ace’s cupcake; almonds are actually very closely related to cherries so it’s a great pairing! If we really wanna stretch it, maybe it’s a reference to how Ace is skilled at mimicking or copying others, as the taste/smell of almond and cherries can be commonly mistaken for one another.

Deuce

Two of spades card!

Deuce’s cupcake has a very different texture to it. Unlike the others, his is very smoothed out and almost shiny (like a mirror glazed cake!). It makes me think this is to help him stand out as someone who is trying to reform and reinvent himself into something sparkling—especially seeing as the blue part of the cake seems to be covering up/glooping over the body of the cupcake itself.

Little candy eggs (one with a crack in it) and a baby chick! A callback to him liking egg dishes and the utter despair he experienced when he first learned that supermarket eggs aren’t fertilized…

The light blue squiggle makes me think of Deuce meandering and not knowing where he wants to go in life, representative of his delinquent phase or perhaps struggling to stay on the straight and narrow path of an honors student.

Finally, we have the grey marks on the cupcake which look like tire marks left from skidding around on a magical wheel/blastcycle, Deuce’s preferred mode of transportation!

Deuce's cupcake goes from blonde/yellowish to blue, which probably refers to him going from bleached hair as a delinquent to his natural hair color as he tries to reform himself.

Savanaclaw

Golden yellow cupcake liners with Savanaclaw’s signature horizontal zigzag pattern.

Their names seem to be done in a blocky text on chocolate. Fits the tough, somewhat rigid hierarchical feel of the dorm.

Leona

A crescent moon-shaped candy invokes the imagery of Scar singing the final line to Be Prepared as he and the hyenas ready themselves for the coup.

The darker frosting swirled on the side be interpreted as his scar or maybe the end of his tail.

Cacao nibs kind of remind me of rocks, perhaps to symbolize the hard childhood Leona had, desperately trying to prove himself to people who didn’t like him in the first place. There’s notably also golden specks there—a ray of hope for him to be better? Or maybe a nod to his noble lineage.

The chocolate sauce makes this cupcake feel very decadent but also adds to the dark look of it. I would say it resembles blot, but none of the other OB boys have this same feature. Maybe a hint at Leona’s depressive traits?

Wishful thinking on my part, but Leona’s cupcake is the only one in his dorm with a large splash of green (thanks to the leaves there). I like to think it’s him “turning over a new leaf” and turning his sights onto his internship + working toward helping to help preserve nature and discover energy efficient methods to help his country.

His cupcake is the “tallest” in Savanaclaw (because of how high his frosting is)—he’s obviously the leader of the pack.

Ruggie

Very decadent cupcake. A large scoop of ice-cream, nuts, pastries, tons of cream and frosting… it looks like someone just piled on all their favorite desserts (which suits a glutton like him). Even his own cake looks like it’s about to burst out of the liner!

Two donuts inserted in, because 1) they’re Ruggie’s favorite and 2) two is better than one!

The scattered chunks of chocolate resemble the pattern on the coat of a spotted hyena, which is what Ruggie is.

Jack

WHY DOES HIS CUPCAKE JUST STRAIGHT UP LOOK LIKE HIM… The two paler frosting peaks are his ears, the two-tone swirl results in his hair but also results in the high peak of his tail.

This cupcake has a lot of nuts (I see a walnut, a cashew, maybe crushed peanuts, and many whole hazelnuts). Maybe because Jack is “a tough nut to crack” due to his stoic and standoffish attitude? But we all know he’s a sweetheart deep down, perhaps why the most abundant of these nuts is hazelnuts, often used in many desserts and especially paired with chocolate.

xvsjwveiwk This is a slightly unserious note but there’s something whitish that night be dried coconut??? Sprinkled on the cake… I-Is that Jack shedding/j

Octavinelle

Each Octavinelle cupcake has a black macaron decorated to resemble their dorm uniform hats! The filling is purple (like Octa’s usual color) and has candy pearls (since they’re from the sea).

Their names are written in an elegant flowing font, with emphasis on the first letter of their names (slightly bigger than the other letters). It provides an impression that differs from the other letters in their names, much like how the Octatrio themselves can be deceptive.

A bowtie that matches what each boy wears in his dorm uniform.

The sprinkling of little purple pearls could really be nothing, but they could also be all the powers/abilities they have collected together.

Azul

The single chocolate stick (not two, unlike Cater and Trey’s) could pass as a straw, making the whole cupcake appear like a drink. Makes sense, the Mostro Lounge has a 1 drink minimum + his Dorm Uniform vignette is all about how he wants to buy the rights for the popular Mystery Drink from Sam.

A little contract and writhing chocolate tentacles pair nicely together. Together, they represent his UM and how his tendrils reach out to pull people into deals.

Azul also has a scoop of ice-cream, but it is notably VERY different looking than Ruggie’s. Azul’s is much smaller (because he moderates what he eats and how much) and neater too (because he cares about his tidy appearance).

There is a swirl of purple frosting on the bottom but most of the frosting is white and piled high. The former must be Ursula’s skin, and the latter her hair, as it is similar in shape.

His cupcake liner has the widest stripes (because he used to be overweight in the past) and has little purple dots (maybe in reference to the suctions on his tentacles).

Azul keeps the spiral seashell that resembles Ursula’s necklace.

Azul's cupcake goes from purple to white, which may denote his transition from octopus merman to human.

Tweels

The twins have a scalloped seashell that splits in half, representing the other brother. The way the shell divets also makes it look like a heart shape, implying the brothers “share a heart” or perhaps calling back to how both of their UMs involve “the heart” (Shock/Bind the Heart).

Their frosting is the color of their hair, even containing a stripe of black (in opposite directions) to match their hair. The frosting also seems to be slightly textured, which matches the gills and scales on their merforms.

The peak of the frosting resembles the ends of their eel tails flicking in opposite directions.

Three diamond-shaped “scales” on each cupcake; this is ghe same shape and design as the earrings they wear.

A ring of purple frosting is included; this could represent Azul, someone whom the twins closely work with and consider a great source of amusement. It’s telling that the purple frosting is below the teal frosting, as the twins have made it clear before that they’re not his minions or “below” him, they act independently and choose to follow Azul because they want to (and have the agency to leave whenever).

Jade

Jade’s cupcake liner has the most numerous and thinnest vertical stripes. There is also a very fine zigzag running through the liner. Very similar to Jade’s teeth arrangement and how they present as small but frequent.

Jade's cupcake stays a consistent color throughout the creation process.

Floyd

Floyd’s cupcake liner is in the middle of Azul and Jade’s in terms of line spread and thickness. The zigzag is also more elongated than Jade’s, matching Floyd’s more easygoing personality between the two twins. He’s also more likely to show his full teeth!

Floyd's cupcake goes from gold to teal, but Jade does not do the same or even the reverse. Maybe this hints at how Floyd is the more fickle brother?

Scarabia

Scarabia cupcake liners are color blocked with solid black and a deep red with an intricate golden pattern. Matches their dorm uniforms well!

They have snake biscuits with their names in bold, blocky all capital letters for impact. The biscuit shape suits the Sorcerer of the Sands. The text choice… I’m not sure, maybe to match the “casual streetwear” style of the dorm…? Or the dorm leader’s brazenness and overt friendliness?

Kalim

His earrings have been made into an edible version!

Thumbprint cookies that resemble glistening jewels! This, plus the colorful sugar pearls, represents Kalim’s immense wealth.

There’s a bow tied around his cupcake liner, which matches the cloth he wears around his head in many outfits of his.

The feathers that transition in color are for Kalim’s love of animals and willingness to accept others of all kinds (“colors”). This could also be a reference to his Dorm Uniform vignettes, where he pulled off a trick that made white birds appear to be “rainbow”.

At first I thought the white puffy frosting was to look like the Sultan’s turban, but wouldn’t they make it smoother and resemble one cohesive lump in that case…? Then I realized the white frosting actually resembles a CLOUD 😭 which fits Kalim so well, since he takes his friends out on magic carpet rides…

The red peak poking out of the top could be like… the domed roof of a tower, since there is one both for the Sultan’s palace and in Scarabia dorm. The white sprinkles/coconut shreds on the red part also gives the impression that the roof just poked through the clouds www

VERY tiny detail but if you look closely you’ll notice that Kalim’s cupcake is… lumpy… almost as though he tried baking for the first time himself and messed it up a little, so Jamil took over decorating for him to cover up the mistakes. (That’s headcanon anyway, lol)

Jamil

Jamil’s cupcake is a two-tone twirl thar matches the colors of his dorm AND the turban he wears when he overblots.

We have the classic red feather, three golden orbs, and a thumprint cookie (again, resembling a jewel) to match Kalim’s and to match Jamil’s hair accessories!

The little bits of gold sprinkled around are hard to place but maybe it’s to show how Jamil has to put Kalim first and foremost while his own feelings get dismissed/belittled/treated as less important.

Large chunks of chocolate on top! Not sure what this could be, but a part of me wants to believe it’s his depressive or defeatist traits, since Leona also has chocolate, but scattered. (Can you tell I loved these two’s interactions in book 6?)

Finally, we come to the enigmatic and out-of-place golden squiggle. Someone as meticulous as Jamil couldn’t possibly have intentionally placed that there, right…? Allow me, if you will, to circle back to the “Kalim was trying to bake with Jamil” theory… What if, while Jamil was decorating Kalim’s cupcake to cover up the unevenness of the cake, Kalim tried to thank Jamil and repay the favor by decorating Jamil’s cupcake??? And it resulted in… that squiggle… so Jamil had to roll with it and make the rest of his cupcake look as aesthetically pleasing as possible.

Pomefiore

All Pomefiore names are written in elegant script on a chocolate disc that is also stamped with the stars and moons of their dorm.

The cupcake liners have the same stars and moons pattern and has the colors of Pomefiore.

Vil

Similar to Riddle, Vil has a crown to show that he is the dorm leader. His is, of course, a different design to reflect a different queen (the Fairest Queen, not the Queen of Hearts).

The frosting has a slight gradient which is the same as the tips his hair.

The golden leaves match the leaves on the back of his dorm leader tiara/crown.

There are berries on top; notably, a red one still has a bit of leaf and branch stuck to it, making the berry look like a red apple (you know, cuz the Evil Queen used one to poison Snow White).

Vil has golden dust and two types of round candies evenly dispersed on the cupcake. It shows us how clean and yet elegant his personal style is.

Rook

Rook's cupcake has a very unique shape that is not quite like any other student's. Indeed, his cupcake resembles his hat (note the little feather sticking out of the top purple part) and bangs (the lower yellow part).

The purple part looks like it is made with an extruder and results in a texture similar to the top of a mont blanc; this is probably to help differentiate it from the smoother texture of the yellow beneath. Since the purple is a hat, the texture is most likely to make it seem more "fabric-like".

The yellow part + the color change from yellow to purple may also be a reference to how he was originally in Savanaclaw, but then transferred to Pomefiore.

An edible bow and arrow motif befitting of a skilled huntsman!

The squiggle line here seems to be showing the path of his arrow, which always finds its mark. Additionally, Rook himself is a tricky person and usually employs roundabout strategies or misdirecting ways to achieve his goals.

At the end of the arrow's path is a cluster of what seems to be pomegranate seeds, which seems odd and something more befitting of Idia or Ortho (who have ties with Hades; there is a tale about Hades having Persephone eat a pomegranate fruit which dooms her to spending half of her time in the Underworld). However, I think here the pomegranate seeds are meant to be... like... an artistic, abstract depiction of blood once the arrow strikes its target.

There's blueberries on top, an element he has in common with Vil (someone whom he devotes himself to). The leaves here with the berries tie Rook to the wild, both as a huntsman and has an ex-Savanaclaw student.

Epel

The pale purple color of the frosting is the same as Epel’s hair!

Unlike Vil’s sprinkled-on decorations, Epel’s are not spread out evenly and instead cluster at the top. This may be attributed to their different levels of maturity, as Vil and more knowledgable than Epel, who expresses outdated views on gender and has a limited understanding of the world due to coming from a very rural area.

There’s a fine shimmer on Epel’s cupcake—probably because his arc in book 5 was about learning to appreciate and weaponize his beauty.

Two apple slices because… well, when you think of Epel, you think of apples and the Felmier family business!

There seems to be a little bit of yellow peaking out from the cake? Are those more apple slices or an apple filling…?

The pale frilled strip of frosting resembles a lace collar, something which Epel wears in his school uniform.

Epel is the only member of Pomefiore to have a cupcake which LACKS a blueberry (or really any berries at all). This is a subtle indication that he is the “odd one out” within the dorm, as he, unlike Rook, is not conforming to the standards set by his dorm leader.

Ignihyde

The Ignihyde cupcake liner has the same black and blue geometric look as their dorm uniform jackets.

I don’t know how to really describe the font their names are written in, but the way the letters are cut reminds me of a “Greek” style of text (similar to this).

Their names seem to be displayed on Oreos chocolate sandwich cookies with Ignihyde blue fillings. Counting the parts (2 cookies, the cream filling), there’s three in total, which matches the count of the heads of Cerberus, as well as how many Shroud brothers there are.

Both Idia and Ortho have what look to be confetti cakes as the base for their cupcakes, Because of the dark color of the cake and the bright color of the sprinkles, it creates the impression of stars in the night sky—maybe to reference Star Rogue, their favorite video game.

Idia

The skull-shaped technomantic device Ida uses to launch his magic spells tops off his cupcake.

On either side of the skull device are candies (?) that look like the same light sticks Idia is super into waving around at his beloved idols’ concerts.

The blue frosting is meant to look like his fiery hair!

Idia’s cupcake goes from a red gradient to a blue one. His hair actually goes change color like this based (on his mood), We’ve seen his hair go from blue to red from anger and/or determination and passion in both book 7 and in his Dorm Uniform vignettes.

Ortho

This cupcake seems to represent both the deceased Ortho and the current android Ortho.

Not sure what it is, but there’s something with a cybernetic glowing design that implies a circuit board; this is part of the internal parts which make up robo!Ortho.

There’s some kind of sauce with sprinkles over the top of that layer; this could be the blot that makes up phantom!Ortho, since we usually don’t associate the “dripping” of the sauce with robo!Ortho.

The smaller dollop of blue frosting is Ortho’s fiery blue hair. He’s smaller and younger than Idia, so the flames do not consume the entire cupcake. (Alternatively, this could also be the fire-shaped bottle that serves as phantom!Ortho’s head.)

Under the frosting is a cookie and a thin ring which resembles the ring of glowing triangles that appears around robo!Ortho’s neck. A similar pattern appears around the neck of phantom!Ortho.

This cupcake’s cake is a lighter color than Idia’s cake. It also has a larger variety in the sprinkle colors, maybe as a nod to Ortho’s cheerier and more hopeful personality compared to Idia’s gloomier and pessimistic one.

Diasomnia

The Diasomnia cupcake liners are black with a green briar pattern.

Each student’s name is piped in chocolate, with the third years in white and the underclassmen in what seems to be milk chocolate.

The cupcakes seem to be malformed or sort of puffy like Kalim’s is. I wonder if that means Lilia roped all of his kids to bake with him as a bonding exercise www

Malleus

Malleus’s cupcake goes from Diasomnia green to black (the royal color of the Draconia bloodline), symbolizing the eventual transition he must make from student to king of his country.

The frosting on top is the same colors as he night sky sprinkled with silver stars. Malleus likes to take solitary strolls under the cover of night, so this suits him.

Malleus wouldn’t be Hornton/Tsunotaro without the horns! Of course we’ve gotta include a chocolate version of his iconic horns.

Extra frosting in a bright green; these are meant to be Malleus’s apocalyptic green fire that he spouts.

There’s a purple grape cut into two (I’m sure Rollo would be furious/j) to reveal the green insides. How curious! These colors are also considered accent colors for Maleficent. Another nice detail about the grapes is that the veining of the flesh makes the insides resemble reptilian eyes—like those of a dragon.

Lilia

The frosting is black for Lilia’s hair and has magenta (berry?) sauce to reflect his hair streaks.

Lots of berries (Lilia loves his berry juice) and irregular pink sprinkles or candy shards. It’s cute, punky, and whimsical, just like he is.

Chocolate bats for the bats that swarm Lilia in many animations. He’s also shown taking care of a bat in his Dorm Uniform vignettes.

I’ve been trying to figure out what the whole cream is… My best guess is they’re representing Malleus, Sebek, and Silver??? Silver and Sebek are the smaller two dollops since they grew up and trained together + are the most immature of the group. Malleus is the big, textured swirl on the left—he is older and more powerful than Sebek and Silver. This analogy also works when you consider that these three sit upon Lilia (the cupcake), who is the oldest and serves as the father figure and foundation for their dorm to get along with each other and with others.

I don’t know what that ahoge-like thing is supposed to be or mean—

Silver

His cupcake goes from a deep blonde/yellowish brown to silver. This reflects his hair color change following Lilia’s blessing.

Silver’s cupcake has a very dreamy and cloud-like quality to it because of the abundance of pastel-colored cream. The top of the frosting even droops over, sort of like a head dropping in sleep.

Crushed bits of an aurora-colored candy are sprinkled over the cake. They’re the same color as his eyes, as well as the ring gifted to him by his parents.

Two birds and some mint (?) leaves make up the colors of the Three Good Fairies (Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather). They also speak to Silver’s familiarity with the forest creatures.

Sebek

The pastel green frosting for Sebek’s cupcakes is sloped, and it is the only one styled this way. It may represent his lopsidedly views and understanding of the world, as he is easily one of the most rigid thinking within his dorm.

Many different things are sprinkles on the cupcake; it looks like someone threw them on thinking they would look cool with very little thought or planning. It fits how brazen Sebek is and also (funnily enough) matches his struggle with the arts.

Sebek is the only student with triangular sprinkles; is this meant to look like scales?? Or maybe particles of lighting?

There’s a massive chocolate lightning bolt topping off the cupcake. Nothing subtle or tactful about it, much like Sebek’s personality and voice.

There are two pieces of sliced grape to mimic Malleus’s cupcake. Interestingly, the grape halves seem to come from entirely different kinds of grapes: one green (unlike Malleus’s), the other red (like Malleus’s). Assuming the red half (which Malleus has two of) implies fae heritage (Malleus is full fae), then the green half is one’s human heritage. The grapes, then, denote Sebek being of half fae, half human descent.

Extra

Grim

He has a unique black and white vertically striped cupcake liner to represent Ramshackle dorm!

Grim’s name is written on a cookie that looks like a puffy manga text box. Makes sense, he’s usually being the mouth piece for Yuu when they don’t get dialogue options or even when they do.

Seems to be covered in sanding sugar to achieve the fuzzy texture of fur!

Little wafer (?) shaped like Grim’s tail! And cookies (?) iced to resemble his ears! Two paw prints 🥺 to match Grim’s toe beans… The cupcake truly is made in his image!!

The white shell border is probably a stand-in for the white tuft of fur that Grim has.

[lycomorpha]

Look at this adorably fluffy beast that visited me this morning!

It's basically a tiny flying kitten that pollinates plants by night! I try to meet people where they are when it comes to liking bugs... But when I see moths like this nut-tree tussock, I'm baffled how moths aren't more popular. I mean look at it's stripey little legs! 🥹

Also visiting this morning; brimstone moth, a year round moth buddy, and Hebrew character, a classic spring species.

If you love tiny flying kittens, look after your local green spaces where their food plants grow. Even if you aren't able to volunteer/take part in maintenance work, you can encourage your council to mow/prune green areas with bug life in mind, and report any damage to trees and shrubs that feed many species.

Thank you from the Moth Promotional Board ✨🦋✨

[p4r4syte]

its boiling hot rn so heres some lost boy hcs. what i think theyd do/be like in summer (mildly suggestive?)

pls add comments, ill add to it :3

David :

•avoids everyone. i know vampires are cold blooded but no doubt these mfs get agitated during summer. David the worst. he’d be sat there, coat discarded with a pissed off expression. still smoking. god forbid he doesnt smoke

•will even get pissed off with Feeding Time™️ because the bloods warm so he’d just disappear for days on end. hiding away. basically hibernating

•Is Extremely Snappy. he will go for anyones throat, doesnt even matter if youre together (god forbid mates), he’ll be avoiding you just in case but will Bark at the boys given any chance

•”he wouldnt hurt a fly” HE WOULD!!!!!! Fuck That Fly Do Not Invade My Personal Space

•will only calm down once hes cooler, he would genuinely have to piss off to the sea (or i imagine the cave has a watered in area) ((only dwayne knows about it but he let david in on it)) or hes sulking in a damp, desolate part of the cave. just waiting for the summer to end

•only one of the boys that can speak to david during this time is dwayne because of how hes empathetic towards his Boys. Marko And Paul Will Be DropKicked On Sight.

•sleeps upside down, near the darkest most secluded park of the cave. there isnt any air, theres no breeze. he doesnt care, he just wants to, fester. Leave Him To Fester

Marko :

•becomes more feral than he ordinarily is

•he Will be dangling from the ceiling, trying to catch any breeze that rolls in

•he will also be chilling with the pigeons, they find the coolest places in the cave to rest so Why Not?

•the summer heat will also be giving him unneeded energy. he WILL be playfighting with paul and then laying there overheating and gets pissed off once paul tried to interact with him again. Cant You See Im Warm? Jesus.

•will find endless cool drinks on the boardwalk once it cools down during night. itll give him no sustenance and he’ll be pissed off that he has a headache tomorrow but. Mmm Slushie :3

•still eats hot food and will complain about how hes warmer now than before he ate the food. yes he knew beforehand. no he wont stop. let him complain

•him and paul sit shirtless in the centre part of the cave, eating ice creams and then getting pissed off once theyve eaten them all (or theyve melted)

•calmer than david, less irritated than dwayne, less energetic than paul

•sleeps in a random, small part of the cave because the air rushes straight through (he followed the pigeons)(he learns many things from them, this is one of the many great things he found out)

Paul :

•please calm down. its Hot. Get The Memo

•continues his antics, just with, less clothes.

•the ONLY motherfucker thats actively trying to interact with everyone else

•he doesnt get it, god bless. not a single thought in that head x

•is also smoking. sat on that fountain (the cold marble against his back), trying to yell to the others (they ignore him) speaker blasting music (its pissing everyone off)

•the only one that actually leaves the cave (until he convinces marko to get slushes with him. then hes no longer going alone)

•a nuisance. a pure fucking mosquito of a man. he’d be stuck to you if he could, please don’t let him you dont know where hes been (various ponds) (hes upside down in a shrub) (dont help him)

•hes a boombox blaster, weedsmoking, white rum drinker in summer. or whatever he can get his hands on. but best believe he’s living it up even if he doesnt make it out the cave most nights

•sleeps drunk in the fountain, naked. Hey, Its Cool. What Do You Want From Me?

Dwayne :

•is the only one who Actually attempts to cater to the rest

•he knows exactly how everyone is and as much as he Needs To Rot too, he needs to check on everyone first

•only person hes really checking on is david lets be honest

•after finding david and just, checking, he’ll find his own section of the cave. not too far, within ear distance of Everyone in the cave

•he’ll just rest there for a while, just dangling, all sweaty

•sometimes he has enough energy to chill with paul and marko but quickly loses it after a while. paul is Way too much for him in this heat. Hes Markos Issue Now :)

•he is the only one that will remind the other boys that they need to eat. it may be hot, but you still need to eat. cue moody david, hyper paul, sweaty and overstimulated marko and coping mother dwayne

•doesnt speak to anyone, literally not at all, because hes just Too Hot™️ so he’ll just pull your hand to what he wants, guiding you to what he needs

•sleeps alone, in the centre on the cave. just above where they all gather, so he can hear everyone but is just far enough away to get peace. oh, hes also naked.

[hedgehog-moss]

I’ve been having a bit of a hay shortage lately—January was very cold and snowy so the animals ate a lot, plus I have an extra mouth to feed this year, and I hadn’t realised Poldine would eat so much in her first year! Next summer I’ll make sure to buy enough hay for 4 animals rather than 3 and a half.

In the meantime I’ve been offering various hay substitutes, such as brambles, or my Christmas tree. It was waiting on the pile of green waste I intend to burn in early spring, until I remembered seeing someone’s ad in the local paper that went “if you want to recycle your Christmas trees, give them to me, my goats will love them!” I figured well, llamas are tall goats, maybe they’ll enjoy a bit of Christmas tree, and they did !

(Baby Poldine is always very circumspect about new foods, but she did end up tasting it.)

Pirlouit was also pleased with this unexpected breakfast. They all took turns nibbling at the tree until only the trunk was left :)

Still, I was trying to contact nearby farmers to ask if they have some hay to spare (it’s not that I’ve run out, I just want to be prepared in case of another cold spell), and I also moved the animals to my other pasture down the road, as there’s still some dry grass there. It’s not well-fenced though, and I wasn’t very confident in this pasture’s ability to contain Pampe, but I figured—there’s no grass to be found in any nearby pasture, so why would she try to leave this one?

(Because Pampe.)

I left the llamas & donkey frolicking in this exciting new place (Poldine looked enchanted to explore a new pasture, she was bounding around like a baby goat!), and I went skiing today, as a (late) birthday gift to myself. The skiing station is just half an hour away and this has become a very anticipated birthday ritual since I moved here! This year I waited until I had found some way to keep the animals busy before taking a day off, so there would be no llama leaks in my absence.

So of course I got a text from a neighbour in the afternoon, telling me my llamas had been spotted on the road, going towards the village. (“Pampe looked determined. She was going to the grocery shop to get muesli.”) (Pampe is so famous, people even know her favourite snacks 😭)

Since I was literally on a ski slope I decided to turn my conscience off and pretend I hadn’t seen the text. I thought, if the llamas do end up in the village I’ll get more texts updating me on their position and I’ll be a responsible llama owner and go home (promise), but they’ll probably get off the road and into the woods somewhere between my house and the village and they’ll spend the afternoon eating communal shrubs and they’ll be fine.

When I went home a few hours later, I found my donkey alone in the pasture where I’d left him in the morning—we both had to wrestle with a moral dilemma today, and Pirlouit’s was “do I loyally follow my friends and potentially starve to death, or do I stay by myself in this place with very adequate dry grass to munch on?” He really hates being alone, yet he chose food over friendship.

I brought Pirou back to his normal pasture (he wouldn’t have liked to find himself alone after sunset) and went looking for the girls. I’d had a neighbour on the phone who had talked to someone who’d talked to someone who had seen the llamas and had “shooed them in the general direction of your house.” That was some very helpful shooing, because I found them just a couple of kilometres away, and indeed going in the right direction.

Pampelune leading the way, determined to go home before night; Pampérigouste last, internally grumbling that it was still early and they could have explored the world some more.

I usually jog with the llamas when I bring them home so we don’t spend too much time in the middle of the road, but there aren’t many cars when the road is icy and also after a day of skiing, you don’t really feel like jogging a few km at a brisk pace in heavy snow boots. So we went home in a slow and solemn procession.

I called the people who had told me about the llamas’ whereabouts to thank them, and explained that this escape was the result of a failed attempt to move the animals to my poorly-fenced second pasture because I don’t have a lot of hay left—and one of them told me he could spare a bale and he’d bring it to me tomorrow!

“So I’ve done everyone a favour” (is probably Pampe’s conclusion.)

I gave them hay as I figured they hadn’t had time to graze much in the other pasture, but only Pampe was hungry. Well, Pirlouit is always hungry, but Pampe indignantly rebuffed him. “You chose food over adventure. You don’t get to eat the food I’m getting as a reward for a successful adventure.”

Pirlouit is completely resigned to the fundamental unfairness of a dutiful donkey’s life.