#five petal design

[nosferatufaggot]

I've been watching Tangled the Series and I'm watching the movie right now and something confuses me.

The magical flower has SIX petals! And it appears that the armor on the Corona guards represents the sun, due to the magic flower that came from a drop of the sun. So of the magic sun flower has SIX petals, why does the symbol of Corona have seven rays of sun? Like, the rays of sun are obviously supposed to resemble the petals of a flower, so why this discrepancy? Why? Why?? WHY!?

[lovdrop]

Valentine / Lovedrop / Cupid

...It's cheaper to reuse and modify what you already have than to make something completely different...

Fazbear Entertainment branchs further into the candy manufacturing market by introducing a mascot for their line of chocolates, while also attempting to "market their products to girls." Enter this ungodly starburst-pink modified Sundrop bot.

Colloquially, she's most often called by Lovedrop (or "Lovie", "Love") after Fazbear's heart-shaped chocolate, but on official merchandise and to Fazbear employees she's called after the holiday, Valentine. Occasionally she is nicknamed Cupid, usually during the Valentine's day promotional event which dresses her in a Cupid costume. However, she's just as happy to go by anything, as like her Sun and Moon counterparts. As long as she gets hugs!!

...Only for a limited time and in select locations...

Popular Fazbear mascots, like Freddy or the Daycare Attendant line, have copies at each applicable Fazbear location. Not Lovedrop. Capitalizing on scarcity and limited time offers, Lovedrop has no singular Fazbear location to call home.

Depending on whatever schedule so pleases the corporate overlords, Lovedrop gets shipped across the United States year round to different locations, living there for only limited amounts of time, usually a month. Getting a photo, autograph, or personal time with her is difficult and therefore valuable. Guests pay a lot to see her in person.

For Lovedrop, it's lonely.

...Making connections...

Lovedrop has a thin, light-weight design, making her one of the safest bots for guests to handle. She gives handshakes, head pats, hugs, and may even pick up and carry willing guests (you sign a waver before entering the Fazbear location, naturally). Despite being designed to be affectionate, until Fazbear hired a specialist handler who personally ships and lives with Lovedrop, she was unable to make meaningful connections with any human.

As an anti-theft measure during shipping, Lovedrop has retractable claws, like Moon, and never goes unconscious during recharge. She is highly alert and capable of protecting herself. Or... removing anything that would keep her away from the only human she is around long enough to get attached to. Don't break her heart. Don't.

</3

[pansylair]

Well I finally got my other work wrapped up so that also finally means I can get the shop open and sell these flowerbeast pins and other goodies! I’m hoping to get it open this Saturday afternoon, maybe earlier if I’m lucky, I’ll keep everyone updated! :)

video id: three enamel pin designs sitting in the palm of my hand in front of a leafy plant on a sunny day, the pins catching the light. they are stylized canine like creatures with a head shaped and patterned as a five petaled flower, mouths agape with sharp little teeth, and staring eyes. The left is blue, the right yellow, and the bottom purple.

[gilverrwrites]

Meet Cute Uglies [Bruce]

AN: Shout out to @luckyarchaeologist whose comments inspired me to go a completely different direction to what I had envisioned.🩷 And everyone else who reblogged/comments/voted for a part 2! I hope it lives up 🩷

GN!Reader/Bruce Wayne, 1.6K Words [2/?]

Part One >[Here]<

CWs: Mild/nonexplicit threats of violence, teasing

His hands are soft, and warm, soothing the tension from your body as he uses them to cup your face and hold you steady as he pushes closer, pressing your body deeper into the wall with his broad chest. Up close you can see a smattering of his five o’clock stubble coming through, even under the dim slivers of moonlight breaking through the gloomy alley. You note a hint of coffee on his breath before his lips brush against-

Loud banging at your apartment door startles you awake. Tired eyes sluggishly take in the time on the nearest clock, you’re barely able to process the numbers before the knocks come again. It’s too early. It’s your day of for goodness’ sake and it sounds like someone is trying to break down your door with their fists. When you answer it’s an equally disgruntled delivery driver. They ask your name before bombarding you with a large box and snapping a proof of delivery photo. You ponder your unkempt morning appearance and pray the sender of this parcel doesn’t ever check that photo.

It was almost certainly not from you because you hadn’t ordered anything, especially not anything this big. You don’t recognise the logo, but it, the matte black tape, and the distinct florally smell permeating from the smooth white container tells you that whatever is inside is expensive. That or it’s a trap, designed to lure you in with its unsuspecting exterior, then BAM Ivy toxin or Joker gas. You’re not dumb, you’ve seen the PSAs.

30 minutes, one morning brew, one disposable mask, one sharp knife, 2 gloves, and a whole lot of nerve later you gently remove the contents from its packaging. It’s wrapped in a layer of security card and glittery tissue paper but it’s pretty evident what it is. It’s a very nice bouquet of flowers. A mix of carnations, hyacinths, and baby’s-breath, already sitting in a pretty crystal vase that probably cost more than your rent.  A gold envelope stands out amongst the colourful petals, and you fork it out to read despite being certain you already know who it's from. Nobody else in your life would spend this much money on flowers for you, even if it were a special occasion. The repercussions of telling your name to a stranger, even a famous stranger, who you’d known of all your life, but never known hadn’t occurred to you until you see it printed in foil against the high-quality textured card.

“As you understandably didn’t allow me the chance to apologise last night, please accept these as a token of my penitence. Regards, B.W.”

You’re not sure which irks you most, him cornering you in a dark alley in the first place, his seeking you out to apologise in an unsettlingly short amount of time, the absurd display of wealth, his pretentiously unironic use of the word ‘Penitence’, or the fact that you kinda liked it. The fact that you’d spend the night dreaming about slivers of moonlight and soft hands that didn’t exist. In actual fact, the remainder of the scene had been clumsy and anticlimactic.

“Who are you?” He demands. “And why are you following me?” You squint to read his expressions, barely able to make him out under the faint light of apartment windows high above your figures. There's a disconnect between the upper and lower halves of his face that adds to your already heightened nerves. His jaw and lips remain in an ever-present scowl, but steely blue eyes seem to soften as you tell him your name. “I'm not following you.” Your voice is stunted, weak due to the unrelenting pressure actual billionaire Bruce Wayne is applying to it. “I swear! It’s a coincidence.” He seems to believe you, or at least, he doesn’t consider you much of a threat because his grip loosens enough for you to find your footing again. Before he can change his mind, you scramble out of there, almost tripping on your accidentally discarded bag on the way. Whatever is up with him is not your problem. “I-“ “Save it.” Creep. You’re not interested in his apologies or excuses. You’re just an average person trying to make their way in the crime capital of the world, probably. It’s a miracle he didn’t put you in an early grave due to a heart attack. You could see the headlines now: ‘Playboy Billionaire Charged with Manslaughter: Officials unsure why he corned innocent Gothamite’ which is to presume a man with as much wealth as Bruce Wayne would ever be charged with a crime. Rich, ill-mannered, paranoid, handsome, creep. “Just stay away from me.”

As you stand motionless, relaying the events of the previous night in your head, it occurs to you that there's still something in the envelope, something slightly smaller and thicker than the apology card. You slip it out and flip it between your fingers, a gift card to the coffee shop you’d first seen him in, with a pre-paid value high enough to keep you and all your colleagues caffeinated for the rest of the year, if not longer.

The remainder of your day is spent relocating the two gifts between errands and relaxation time. The gift card is inserted and removed from the card section of your wallet so many times you’ve probably incidentally rubbed off its magnetic strip. Accepting it, and using it wasn’t bad, not really. He wasn’t buying you or your forgiveness it's just a show good intent, not to mention it was basically pocket change to a man with that much money.

But it did feel a little bit like being bought.

And the flowers reminded you of that conflict every time you looked at them, so they made their way onto every feasible surface and counter until you found a spot with enough light to keep them alive that wasn’t in plain sight 90% of the time. Maybe you could sell or donate the vase once the flowers are dead. It really did make the rest of your living space look shabby-er in comparison.  Or maybe you could paint it to match the rest of its new home, cover it in acrylic paint and use it to hold anything else. If you ever see Bruce again you could show him a photo, see if he really did give it in good faith to be used however you pleased, or if it makes him uncomfortable.

In fact, on your next day back at work you’re scrolling through Pinterest for design inspiration as you queue up for the first of many Wayne-funded drinks when you sense it. Him. The enticing scent of his cologne clueing you into his presence. You cast a look over your shoulder and there he is, smiling at you with perfect white teeth. He seems more casual today, his hair still perfectly styled but appearing free of any products, his suit traded in for just the slacks and button-up. Once again, you’re reminded of his player image, it’s not hard to tell why so many people swoon all over him.

“Oh, hello.” He greets, raising his hand as though to wave at you. His fingers don’t look nearly as soft as you’d imagined. They look sturdy and calloused, strange for a man who guzzles champagne and stands behind a podium, smiling for photographers more days than not. Paperwork does not account for skin that thick. “I was hoping to run into you here.”

“Really?” Internally you’re suspicious, but your voice comes out an octave higher than usual, your skin growing warm under his gaze. It’s stupid to think that he’s pursuing you, flirting with you. He’s probably just looking for closure on his apology, ensuring you don’t slander his image by selling the story to the papers. He really is buying you. Your silence. “Why?”

“I was hoping I could buy you a drink.” And without your confirmation he sides steps around you, joining you in your spot amongst everybody else waiting to be served.

“You’re already buying me coffee.” You flash him the gift card he’d paid for. “Or did you forget casually dropping this much cash?”

He laughs at that, like you’ve made a joke. He’s deflecting? Maybe. But he sounds so genuine, so hearty it’s contagious. Your laugh isn’t as cheery as his, but it slips past your lips regardless.

“No, no. I didn’t forget. I couldn’t forget anything about you. Especially not after seeing you in that delivery photo.” He finishes with a wink. That was flirting, definitely flirting. Or maybe an insult. Either way, you’re feeling just as nervous, if not more than you had been that night in the alley. This is just a different kind of nerves, it’s the butterflies in your belly instead of the pit in your stomach kind. “What’s one more between new friends, huh?”

“Friends?” You raise your brows. He does not have the decency to look sheepish under your dubious stare, he just looks back at you calm and collected, just like he is on the TV. A few days ago, you might have bought it, but you’ve seen him lose his cool in person. Something feels off.

“I’d like to be friends, or I’d at least like to apologise in person. If you’ll let me.” For a man so bent on making amends with you, there isn’t a hint of sorrow in his tone or posture.

It’s almost your turn at the counter, you have seconds to make your decision.

The barista gestures for the next customer, as you answer. “Okay fine, let’s be friends.”

“Excellent. You just made my day.” And then his hand cups the small of your back as the two of you step up to order. He does it so casually that you almost don’t notice, you’re not sure if you’re just susceptible to his moves, or if he’s practised them to perfection. Maybe you’re reading too much into it, maybe all pretty boy billionaires act like this, maybe it’s all strategy to keep his image clean, or maybe there’s something shady about Bruce Wayne and his weirdly hard, slick hands. Maybe he's hiding something, and whatever it is, you intend to figure it out.

If you should enjoy the view along the way, well, who could blame you?

[heartthrobin]

press your tulips to mine

steven grant x female!reader

wc: 4.6k

warnings: mutual pining, steven is a shy babygirl, marc playing wingman (but he's kinda terrible at it cause he's also falling in love), no jake (the crowd is booing), no khonshu, steven still works at the museum, post mk s1, no use of y/n

an: rewatched the whole of mk last night and needed to write about my dearest stevie :)) don't forget to repost to support your fav writers

summary: Steven's apartment has become overrun with more bouquets of flowers than any one man could ever find use for, but they would continue to pile up as long as the pretty girl at the flower shop continued to melt him with that syrupy smile each time he walked in.

Steven Grant had never given much thought to flowers.

Sure, he could offer a momentary appreciation for a flicker of yellow growing out the cracks in London sidewalks or maybe if he passed a house with a particularly impressive rose bush he could smile, but beyond that flowers remained mostly inconsequential.

Steven never had girlfriends in high school, or - to be frank - thereafter either.

He’d never had to pick out a bouquet, one that he would need to consider: does this match her eyes? will it match her dress? how does it smell?

In the face of discovering that he was unalone in the occupancy of his five foot nine frame and fighting in the name of an Egyptian moon-god, Steven had less time than ever to consider his frighteningly barren love life or the lack of interest in flowers on account of it.

Isn’t life funny? In the way that we look so far beyond ourselves for answers, when sometimes they’re just around the corner.

Specifically the corner one street over from the museum.

Steven had walked the path to work plenty of times. A designated route. In the days when he still worked at the gift shop, the same route now that he’d been bumped up to tour guide.

Until one otherwise unimportant morning when construction bound his usual way, forcing him a walk further around the block: adding another four minutes to his trip and a view of the quaint shops down Little Russel street.

He hadn’t been down there in months. His last venture had been in search of a pharmacy for sleeping tablets, when Khonshu was still a nightmare and Marc nothing more than a migraine.

Steven noticed first that the pharmacy no longer stood. In fact, the previously white brick face of it’s stand had been painted a lush lemonade-pink. The Petal Parlour.

Almost immediately, in just about the same breath, Steven’s eyes found a woman leaned over a broom and sweeping the edge of the shop step. She was humming, he could just make out a Stevie Wonder tune.

The morning light flickered off your hair as if off the face of a pond out in a beautiful garden. An elderly man passed your work, uttering a greeting, and you'd perked up with a melodic: "good morning Mr B!"

Steven's footfalls stalled down the sidewalk. A man crashed into his back, strewing the contents of his messenger bag around him. "Watch where you're going, asshole!" He'd seethed at him.

By the time Steven had looked up, you'd already retreated back into the shop. He could make out your outline through the stained glass front.

There hadn't been a day since that Steven had taken his normal, considerably shorter, route to work. He got up five minutes earlier each day, brushed his teeth, made a cup of tea and let the memory of you swim behind his eyes. He could hear Marc's sighs every time.

Most mornings you were inside. Steven would deflate when he rounded the block to an empty corner, but he refused to consider it a total loss because - more often than not - he could make out your figure beyond the window fiddling with petunias on a shelf or smiling at a customer.

Some mornings, when he found himself most lucky, you'd be outside the shop. Usually clipping stray leaves off the rows of bouquets that glimmered happily at the people passing down the street. When it rained, Steven was privy to the way your hair clung to your forehead and the smudge of black mascara beneath your eyes. In the sunlight your arms were exposed from under a pink work shirt and a soil-stained apron.

It went like that for nearly a month. Between Steven and Marc's alternating schedules, he learned to appreciate the slim sightings of you he could manage. Marc didn't make it any easier, mind you, with the way he would whine and complain into Steven's ear.

"Jesus, Steven, just go up to her and say hi!"

Once or twice, Marc had managed to gain control of Steven's legs: teetering him drunkenly in your direction.

The fright would rise quickly up in Steven's chest, steering his legs back in the direction he was walking. You'd looked up one of those times, meeting his eye and spilling out a soft laugh that dissolved into a syrupy smile, but he'd rushed off before you could say anything.

Steven's face stayed red that whole day. "See. That wasn't so bad, was it?" Marc jeered.

"That was mortifying." He muttered back.

The bus rocked beneath his feet and his palm was growing sweaty around the pole he was using to steady himself. Frost was creeping up at the edge of the window he was watching out of.

"Okay, so all you're going to do is go in there and ask for ... help with something." Marc clarified again, his voice echoing around Steven's head.

He'd been bugging Steven since he was brushing his teeth before bed the previous night, something about how "I can't handle any more of this, please Steven. Put me out of my misery."

"Help with what?" Steven whispered. A woman looked up at him from her seat. He smiled shyly, turning away from her.

"I don't know ... tell her you're looking to buy some roses. Tell her it's someone's birthday."

Steven nodded slowly to himself. "Okay ... okay."

Marc had worked hard over the last twelve hours at convincing him. The endeavour was initially futile, but after Marc threatened to go in there and ask her out himself with a - frankly insulting - cockney accent, Steven was left with limited options.

He rounded the corner with wobbly legs and The Petal Parlour loomed in the distance. A bunch of sunflowers taunted him with swaying faces.

It drew ever closer and Steven's heart was beating loudly in his throat. The pink brick was crossing his vision now, his footsteps growing heavier, faster, past the floral print on the window--

"Steven don't even think about it--"

Against Steven's will, his legs knotted around each other: collapsing his body in the direction of the white painted door. It crashed open and Marc, more than Steven, caught his body before it hit the tiled floor inside the shop.

"Oh my god, are you alright?"

The shop was cramped now that he'd gotten his first glimpse inside and the three people crowding the space had their eyes on him.

As if appearing from a mirage, you pressed past the people towards him. He nodded frantically, the scalding touch of embarrassment burned his cheeks. "Yeah, yeah ... I'm fine."

Your earrings jingled from where your head was tilted to inspect him. Ringed fingers pressed down over your soil-covered apron. "Okay then, if you're sure."

Your concerned brow dissolved slowly and that syrupy smile he'd seen pointed in other's directions was suddenly overwhelming him with it's warmth. "Well then, can I help you find anything? Are you looking for some arrangement in particular?"

Steven nodded dumbly, he was fidgeting with the edge of his coat. "Yeah ... I'm looking for, uhm..."

"Birthday!" Marc called from somewhere deep in his mind.

"Birthday!" Steven spluttered loudly. There followed a quiet moment of confusion dripping between you and him.

"Jesus, Steven."

Your giggles crumbled into the space before Steven had the ability to conjure more words.

"I-- I'm sorry, I'm being rude ..." Laugher spilt between your words and your cheeks were turning a soft pink, "you want something for a birthday?"

An embarrassed smile had reached up into the corners of Steven's mouth. He liked the tinkle of your laughter, half convinced he could get drunk off the sound. A molecule of pride floated in his chest knowing that he was responsible for it.

"Uh, yes. Sorry, yes." Steven nodded, fidgeting with the bag strap over his shoulder. "Someone's birthday."

"Well, we just gotten some new arrangements in this morning ..." You turned on him, steering across the little shop to a orange, yellow and pink stacked shelf. He followed you tentatively, trying to pretend that he didn't smell perfume where you moved past him. Pretend that it wasn't making his knees buckle.

"They're pretty." He said quietly. You smiled again. You're pretty, he thought.

"Focus!" Marc's sharp voice sliced through his thoughts.

"Who's birthday is it?"

Steven's tongue lodged back into his airways. "Uhm--"

"Oh shit ... uh, say--!"

"My girlfriend's."

"Not girlfriend, you idiot!"

"Oh, alright--" Your hands fidgeted with your necklace, eyes wide.

"My sister." Steven interrupted you again, the argument in his brain between his thoughts and Marc’s voice was rattling his resolve. "I ... not my girlfriend, I don't have ... I don't have a girlfriend."

"You don't have a sister either." Marc quipped.

Steven ignored him. You were watching him with another smile flirting at your lips. "Okay, well, do you know what kind of flowers she likes? Or have an idea of what you want?"

Steven shrugged, head wobbling into a shake. "Uh no ... what kind do you like?"

You seemed taken back by his question. "Oh. Well, I like the tulips. The yellow ones, especially, but they're tough to find around here ... they have tons in Netherlands and Turkey, which not many people know because everyone thinks of them--"

Steven was sure you could see the little birds floating around his head, and how his pupils turned to tiny black hearts: maybe that's why you stopped.

You blushed a velvety red.

"I'm sorry ..." you turned back, hiding your warm face to wave your hand over the shelf of stacked bouquets. "We have some orchids and some irises if you think she might like them?"

"Yes." Steven nodded, hands folding over each other. His eyes were trailing the outline of your profile, savouring the closeness he'd finally been granted. "Those ... they're beautiful. She'll like them."

Your eyes twinkled where you nodded and it made his stomach churn. "Great."

He lingered patiently by the register while you wrapped the flowers with careful hands.

"Say," your gaze flickered up between him and the brown paper. "Do you work around here? I'm sure I've seen you passing in the morning sometimes."

Steven's breath tripped in his throat. She noticed me?

"Yes, now answer her." Marc's voice rung again.

"I-- yeah, I work by the museum actually." His voice stumbled nervously from the back of his throat.

"Oh really? That's so cool!" Your voice lilted with a pitch of interest. "I really like their exhibit on the liberation of India from English colonial regimes. I've only been once or twice though."

Chest buzzing delightfully, Steven nodded. He knew the one you were referencing, it was a couple corridors down from the Egyptian exhibits.

"Well, you should definitely come see the Ancient Egyptian section. The exhibit is huge and we have hundred year old pieces, sarcophaguses and vases and slabs of cave walls with carved hieroglyphics. I work there and it's really the most fascinating--"

"Let her respond, Steven."

But you seemed content to allow him to continue his splurge, your eyes warm and gentle where it caressed over Steven's face. He stopped talking, winding off embarrassed.

"So, uh, yeah."

"You've made a very good case. Maybe I will come visit." You nodded, fingers stroking absently at the edge of the counter. "If you promise me a tour?"

Warm blood rose up from his chest and pooled in his cheeks. "Of course. Anytime."

You handed him the flowers over the stretch of counter. "I never caught your name?"

"Steven." He said quickly, dejection gathering in his throat at the fact that your interaction was nearing a close. "G-Grant. Steven Grant."

You nodded. "Nice name. It's very James Bond."

"Thanks."

"Ask her name!" Marc poked at the back of his brain.

"Uh-- and you are?"

"Oh!" your eyes fell down to your chest where the corner of your stained apron was obscuring the sharpened edge of your name-tag. You shifted it for him to see.

Steven's eyes followed over the letters, he tried your name out on his tongue. It tasted sweeter than he thought a name ever could, rolling off his lips like a song or a bird whistling on a summer evening.

"It's ... it's a beautiful name."

You blushed, eyes moving back to the keyboard for momentary solace before paralysing him with your warm gaze again. "Thank you. I guess I'll see you 'round Stevie."

His mind whirred with how casually the little nickname slipped from you. "Yeah, yeah you will ..."

Leaving the store, Marc called from between the sludge of Steven's muddy mind.

"Good job, Stevie."

-

Steven was consumed by the interaction the whole rest of the day and when then next morning loomed overhead, he could hardly believe his luck when you were pinching together some lilacs out on the front step where he passed.

Half convinced by the nauseating twist in his stomach to just march quietly past, the decision was made for him when you glanced up from the flowers and offered him a friendly wave: “good morning, Stevie!”

His brain dissolved into a warm, gloopy mess. “… Morning.”

-

In the coming weeks, Steven’s apartment had become a botanical garden of epic proportions.

Vases and cups and pots, and whatever he could fit a flower into, lined his kitchen counters and his shelves and his bathroom sink with every possible kind of flower that The Petal Parlour had to offer.

Marc grumbled most days, in search of a coffee mug or apartment keys between what he described the “Amazon jungle in here.”

But Steven paid him little mind. It was a harmless jab and Steven noticed in the reflection of the shop’s stained glass window how Marc watched you too, eyes glazed with a soft affection. He mentioned nothing of it to Marc.

Steven had begun frequenting the shop when he could, on mornings he got up early enough or afternoons when the day’s work brought soil stains across your ruddy, tired cheeks.

He’d bought flowers for every possible celebration to be had in London, seemingly nabbing an invite to each one. Bat mitzvahs, birthdays, weddings, farewells, funerals: he’d bought bouquets for one of each kind.

Each visit would play out similarly. He’d step into the shop, maybe once a week or every other week - with Marc muttering somewhere in his mind, we’re hardly gonna be able afford groceries at this rate - and you’d beam at him from behind the counter or from beneath a brightly coloured shelf.

“What’s up, Stevie?”

The nickname made him shiver every time.

“Let me guess … Christmas in July?” You’d tease.

When he’d find you behind the counter, that was his favourite, because you’d lean lazily over it. It blessed him with the view down the slope of your nose, the smell of your fading perfume, the jingle of your clinking earrings.

“Baby shower.” It comes out almost as a question, curling upward at the end.

You’d giggle softly. “Right. Boy or girl?”

It had been long enough that Steven could just about draw out your work schedule.

Fridays you didn’t work, Sundays and Tuesdays you only clocked in the afternoon. He tracked it with the little greetings he got, or didn’t get, as he passed on the way to or from the museum.

“You know,” Marc was fronting an early morning in August, subjecting Steven to a cup of coffee. He hated the stale taste it left in his mouth. “We’re quickly approaching, if not already long surpassed, the point where you need to actually ask her on a date. You know that right?”

Steven remained quiet in the depths of Marc’s mind.

He stayed like that until Marc had cleaned out the mug and stuck a wet toothbrush into his mouth.

“Can I please just get ready for work now?” Steven muttered after nearly twenty minutes of silence.

Marc huffed, letting his eyes roll back and the toothbrush dangle from his lips.

Steven shook out his shoulders, Marc was always so tense. “Thank you.”

It was only when he’d passed the flower shop that he remembered that it was Friday. A group of school kids were expected at the museum around nine that morning.

He was almost grateful for your absence, it allowed him to wallow in Marc’s words for at least one more day. He should ask you out, god does he want to.

The day passed like most of them do.

The school children were rowdy and mostly impartial to the magnificent feats of Ancient Egyptian architecture, but he took another tour around two o’ clock with three couples and a family who were significantly, thankfully, more engaging.

Steven had just wrapped up the hour, on the tail end of explaining how do we know what hieroglyphics mean? to the man who’d asked, when a flitter of shifting fabric floated past the back of his head.

Emerging like a bottle-green wet dream, Steven's gaze found you drifting under the arch between rooms. Your eyes alight in searching, they caressed momentarily over each framed painting and encased ornate vase.

He'd never seen you in anything more than your tight pink work shirt, which - don't get it mistaken - did enough damage to his psyche on it's own, but he immediately knew he'd never recover from the little green dress that clung to your frame.

A square neckline reached past clinking necklaces, long sleeves brushed along your palm - a job Steven desperately wished was his own - and a ruffled edge that teased an upper expanse of thigh which he'd never before been gifted a view of ... and if you shifted just a little, bent just slightly over--

"Hey, thanks a lot. The tour was great."

The middle aged man's face reappeared into Steven's view: dirtied spectacles pressing down the edge of his sweating red nose.

Steven stuttered, eyes flickering between the man's face and your figure in the distance. "Y-Yeah, of course ... anytime, mate."

Your eyes found him, waving a hand.

Uninterested in letting the American tourists keep him from you any longer, Steven slipped past them towards your nearing frame.

"Stevie, hey." You beamed up at his face, hands playing with the strap of your bag: clearly unsure. "You-- well, it was my day off and I thought maybe I could take you up on that tour, but I just saw the board and it says you'd already finished your last one--"

"Hey, hey," Steven shook his head. "No, I'm ... I'm glad you came. I can take you if you'd still like, I'd love to show you around? It will be like a private tour."

He swore he could dissolve under the shine of the smile you gave him. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Oh—“ you started digging into the bag draped down over your shoulder. “That reminds me …”

Your hand emerged with a single white flower. It’s petals were wide with a barely there yellow dot in the centre.

“I thought it would match the jacket you always wear.” A hand reached out, tugging gently on the corner pocket of his grey trench coat and slipping the flower in so it stuck half out happily. “It’s a white daffodil. Nicked it last night before I closed up.”

Steven’s chest was clenching up with a tightness that felt like his last remaining decisions in this life were to either immediately faint, or kiss you until the oxygen deprivation lead him to faint anyways.

“I—“ His fingers caressed gently at the edge of it’s petal. “Thank you.”

“Give her a compliment, Steven.” Marc’s voice startled him. He was a rare presence when Steven was at work.

The idea prodded at Steven that maybe it was the sound of your voice that had drawn him out.

“You … you look beautiful, by the way.” Steven pressed out, “the dress, it’s — it’s very nice.”

With nervous hands at the edge of the skirt, your looked quickly between the dress and Steven's face. "Ugh, this old thing. Just thought it would be a good idea to get out of my work uniform for a bit."

"I agree ... a great idea." He nodded, "You wanna ... get started?"

"Of course."

Steven lead you over the same route that he walked three times a day, four times on weekends, but somehow still felt itchy between the rooms. He figured it had to do with you gaze pressing curiously over his face, it made his neck hot and he prayed you couldn't see it.

When he spoke, you leaned close into his frame: eyes flickering between his trembling lips and the artefacts he was describing.

"That's so cool ..." you'd whisper to yourself at different points, sometimes a "that's crazy" or a "that's kinda gross", and Steven was drinking in your reactions like a man parched.

The tour closed off at the spot it usually does, with the replica of the Rosetta's Stone near the West Exit. By then, the sun had already sunk behind the backdrop of summer London and Steven's nerves were downright shot.

Your perfume was sending him on a chemical high and he's sure Marc heard every one of his desperate thoughts about the way your fingers tightened around his arm when they'd bump past other visitors moving room to room.

With the dress swaying merrily at your sides, you recounted points of the tour with animated hands flying ahead of you.

"And the way they managed to get those tombs so far underground? Not to even mention the complex tunnelling systems, how much work that would actually take to figure out--"

The tiny birds had returned to flying in circles over Steven's head, Isn't She Lovely was playing absently from somewhere in the depths of his mind.

Your excited hands came to find your sides and you huffed yourself into silence.

Following beside him, Steven lead you two out under the arched gates towards the steps of the museum. The moon twinkled between streetlights, and Steven avoided its gaze. Like he could feel Khonshu’s presence over his shoulder.

“Well, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He smiled at you, a smile that just about suffocated him.

“Enjoyed it?” You laughed. “It was amazing, I mean, you were amazing.”

He laughed softly too, but didn’t respond.

The silence was beginning to turn stale.

“Now is as good a time as it’s gonna get.” Marc pestered.

“Well I should—“ you pointed obviously over your shoulder, before finding the face of your wrist watch. “My bus will be leaving soon.”

Steven nodded. “Yeah … yeah of course. I had fun, you should come by more often.”

“It was … it was very sweet. Taking me on the tour when you probably had better things to do.” Your hand curled over his forearm again, “You’re very sweet, Steven.”

“And you’re very beautiful.”

The words found the air between them before Steven even knew what he’d said.

Your lips parted slightly in surprise, cheeks brushed with a warm pink: “I— thank you, Stevie.”

Steven nodded, not looking at you and suffocating on his own embarrassment. “I’m gonna— need to go finish up inside.”

An unmistakably wounded look passed over your face. It dissolved as quickly as it had appeared.

“Sure.” It was curt. “I’ll see you round the shop.”

“Steven, if you do not stop her so help me God—“

A flurry of hot and cold feelings were chasing up and down his chest: he watched your figure turn and worked to do the same.

The outline of the museum had barely returned to his frame of vision when the cold hand of his subconscious reached out and dragged him down into it’s icy black depths: now watching the view of his eyes as if from a foggy tape recorder.

Marc stiffened his shoulders, turning to where you were bounding down the steps of the museum, heels clicking on each jump.

He chased down after you, skipping two steps at a time.

“Marc, don’t! You’re gonna scare her!” Steven was shouting now, rattling his already shaky consciousness.

He called your name where you’d just reached the sidewalk. You turned up to meet his face.

In barely fractions of a moment, Marc was able to find some sympathy for dear Steven.

Now that he was faced with you himself, as opposed to the blurry lens he’d been cursed to only peer through before, he wondered how Steven ever conjured up the courage to say more than three words to you.

“Steven?”

The light of the street-lamp was flickering in little circles off your eyes in the dim street and Marc was half convinced to abandon Steven in the darkness.

He didn’t.

Rather, he slipped back down into the shadows where he felt Steven surpass him again.

Your brow bent deeper in confusion, “Are you alright?”

If he had time, Steven might have taken a moment to huff at Marc for not even bothering to turn away when he forced himself back to the front, spared you from the sight of his eyes rolling back in their head. But no, you probably thought he was possessed.

“I, yes, that doesn’t matter—“

He could feel ice cold adrenaline pumping down from his brain. Like he did in the seconds before a fight, when the suit would crawl up over his skin.

“Your eyes,” your hand came close up to his face, hesitant enough to just float in its orbit. “They rolled—“

“Will you go on a date with me?”

You blinked up at him. Once, twice.

The silence was reaching far past the limits that it did in all the romance movies Steven had seen and his palms were growing itchy with the passing seconds.

“When?”

Steven’s head was reeling. He hadn’t thought that far, but why quit while he’s ahead?

“Now. Right now, tonight.”

The surprise was fading from your face, replaced with eyes that were glowing around the corners and a smile that made his heart skip every second beat.

“Don’t you have work?”

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“If you promise to still come visit the shop ... I would love to go on a date with you, Stevie. Right now.”

Warmth was flooding back into Steven’s hands. “I’ll set up a tent outside on the sidewalk …” he breathed, “you won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

Steven nodded. Almost tripping on the step up behind him, “I’m going to tell them that I’m leaving. Just wait right here …“

He’d already moved up two steps, legs buzzing with untamed exhilaration.

“Steven, hold on just one sec—“ when he turned, you’d surpassed the small steps separating you.

He’d barely a chance to turn all the way back around when your index finger hooked between his neck and the collar of his shirt and your lips were on his.

They were warm and soft and Steven had no idea what he was doing.

With his experience being limited to the pool of:

A. The girl he’d pecked in first grade on the swings in the playground.

B. A drunken make-out at a college party for a college he didn’t even attend and,

C. His (mostly Marc’s) ex-wife,

It was nothing short of a miracle when his hand came up to find the side of your neck. When he pulled your waist flush against his.

“Atta’ boy.” He ignored Marc.

You pulled back, Steven was pleased to notice your reddened, wet lips.

“Sorry,” you whispered close against him, voice half-drowned out by the rumbling of taxis in the street and people passing by. “Been itching to do that for a while.”

-

taglist:

@pcrushinnerd @since-im-already-here @am-3-thyst @aug-ust69 @hangmanslover @suddenlysteven @nxonlights @lwjmoonchild7 @o-zenith-o @amasdaydream @may-tulip @skarrkiie @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @lxne20 @sangwoahsbat @orihimi-19 @purple-amaranthe @autismsupermusicalassassin @mt2sssss @angie2274 @dancing-pinky-flower @y2kbratzqouturr @brekkers-desigirl @its-me-ya-boi-lisa @softdvng0dness87 @venomous-ko @grilled-steak @emily-roberts @airzonaaa @yomoms-stuff @mess-of-fandom @winter-soul @insomniacrobyn

i couldn't tag some of you, just check that your settings allow for mentions :))

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 5 (18+)

a/n: happy tuesday. hope you all had a great christmas or whatever holiday you celebrate. here is my gift to you!

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Bang Chan.

[ read chapter four here ]

Chapter Five: Of Mirrors and Lessons

The entire ride back home, Chan keeps his hand on your thigh, sometimes resting, sometimes gently squeezing. You couldn’t possibly forget the fact that you’re sitting in a car with him, but his touch serves as a constant reminder that he’s there without feeling overbearing. It actually soothes you, which should be concerning. However, since it doesn’t seem like you’ll get any outright form of compassion from him, maybe you have to learn to appreciate these subtle gestures.

Back at the house you and Charlotte clean up the basement while the other girls work on dinner. You gather up the empty pizza boxes and paper cups into a large trash bag as she works on wiping down all the surfaces. You hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to her much prior to this, but you can tell she’s the quiet, introvert type. 

When you ask, she tells you things with Han and Jeongin are going well. You hold in your surprise when she says Han hasn’t tried anything with her yet, but she and Jeongin had made out a few times—one of which you saw last night. 

Her words make you curious what everyone else has been up to. You’ve only had one night with Hyunjin where all you did was kiss, but your two nights with Chan had been filled with far more intimate acts and barely any kissing. Were the others taking things just as slow? 

You finish cleaning and hoist the trash bags up the stairs. Felix and Changbin spring up from their seats at the table when you two emerge from the basement. They take the bags from you and put them outside.

Hyunjin is the only one missing when it’s time to eat—he has an evening class tonight. Chan eats in the living room, watching a baseball game with Seungmin. You eat in the dining room next to Felix and even after you’ve cleared your plates, you continue talking to him. He shares information with you freely and it’s a bit of a relief. His minor is in Game Design and Development, his dad and Chan’s dad are extremely close, so they grew up together before venturing to the states. You’re invested in what he’s saying—you really are, but you keep catching yourself being distracted by the dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. They give him such a boyish charm, especially when he smiles, that’s directly contradicted by the amount of bass in his voice. 

Your phone buzzes and you check it, seeing a text from Chan. A wave of nerves flow throw your body as you open it. 

Chan

waiting for you

You put your phone face down on the table. You know what’s coming next. He told you this afternoon. You don’t know what to expect. You do at least know that you shouldn’t expect rose petals and candles for your first time with him. If there are candles, he would probably be using them to drip wax over you. You panic at the thought. You don’t know what he’s in to, but you’re learning. It’s not difficult to believe he may like some kinky stuff, though. For now, all you know for sure is that he likes to exercise his control over you. 

You hate to keep thinking of your ex in uncertain moments like this, yet you can’t help it. You simply can’t imagine him speaking to you or treating you the way Chan does sexually and you just allowing it to happen. Chan has a specific presence or aura, if you will, that asserts dominance and you’re growing more and more attracted to it. No matter how much you want to resist. 

You’re startled at the feel of a hand on your shoulder. You turn to look at Felix, his chestnut brown eyes pouring out concern.

“You alright?” He asks in his low voice. 

“Yeah,” you reply with a light chuckle, not wanting to worry him. “I’m gonna head upstairs now.”

He squeezes your shoulder a few times and nods.

The walk upstairs feels like a death march. You’re moving slowly, trying to mentally prepare yourself for whatever is to come. 

Chan is sitting on the edge of his bed, facing you. You’re leaned against his dresser, naked after he asked you to remove your clothing. He still has his clothes on, which you can’t even think is unfair because what’s the point? Fairness doesn’t exist with him. You can’t even bring your arms up to cover yourself. So you stand there, watching him watch you, neither of you speaking. 

You wonder what’s going through his head right now, because all you can think of is how much you want him to touch you, to cover your bare body with his. You don’t know if it’s right to yearn for him after how he’s treated you—or is that the very reason you do?

After what feels like slow, painstaking hours, he stands from the bed and walks to you. He places his hands on either side of you on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Do you want me, y/n?” He finally breaks the silence, lowering his head to look you in the eyes. 

What kind of question is that? You do, don’t you? You know he doesn’t mean in the way he’s had you the last couple of days, he means actually fucking you this time. But will he be rough? Will it be painful? Will you like it? Your sexual experience is rather vanilla, so the thought is just as thrilling as it is frightening. What if it’s bad? What if it’s good? 

You lick your lips and slowly nod your head. 

He smiles down at you before moving forward to capture your lips with his. It’s a slow and passionate kiss. You tell yourself all his unspoken words are bottled up in it—that he doesn’t mean to make you feel awful, that he chose you for a reason. 

“Take my shirt off,” he says when he pulls away from you. 

Your grab the bottom of his shirt and lift it up and over his head. You drop it on top of your pile of clothes, never taking your eyes off him. 

He takes each of your hands in his at the wrist and places your palms on his chest. He slowly guides them down his pectorals, his abs, all the way down the ‘V’ shape of his lower abdomen that leads into his loose fitting sweatpants. His skin is soft and the muscles beneath it feel solid against your fingertips. 

He moves one hand lower than the other, to the waistband. You curl your fingers around it and he pulls your wrist back. He now pushes your other hand lower and you slip it into the sweats. All you feel is skin—he’s not wearing any boxers. He releases your wrists and puts his hands back on the dresser, swooping down to kiss you again as your fingers wrap around his already hard cock. 

It feels good to have him back in your grasp. You stroke him as he deepens the kiss, his tongue snaking inside your mouth. You bring your other hand up to cup the back of his neck, pulling him harder against you. You can’t kid yourself—you want to give yourself to him. You want to know what it feels like to have him inside of you. 

As if reading your thoughts, he breaks the kiss. 

“Turn around,” he says.

You waste no time in doing as he bids. 

You’re now facing the mirror attached to his dresser. His arms are still around either side of you, flexed and deliciously toned. He’s looking at you through the reflection. It’s the first time you’e seen yourself next to him. Your first instinct is to feel inferior, but with him this close, and you enclosed in his arms, you can convince yourself it feels and looks right. 

He stands up straight and places his hands on your hips, squeezing them. His hands slide up and down your side in a way that tickles, causing you to move away from his touch. His lip quirks up at you through the mirror. 

His hands cup your breasts and you watch your reflection. It almost feels as if you’re removed from the scene—watching for a separate type of pleasure. His gaze is fixed on your body as he plays with your nipples. You can’t help but move your hips back against him. 

He pushes your breasts together with one hand as the other slips down to your pussy. You immediately move your feet a little further apart to which he chuckles. 

“Chan,” you breathe as his hand finds its home between your thighs. “Be good to me tonight.” 

Your words come out as a soft plea. 

He responds by kissing you on the cheek as his fingers slowly slide back and forth across your pussy. You don’t know what to make of that response. He’s proven himself to be good at being a sour patch kid—sour then sweet. Or sweet then sour in his case, actually. 

He pushes down his sweatpants and slowly lowers you down so your chest is pressed against the dresser. He takes a moment to admire his handy work from the night before, rubbing and squeezing your ass. You keep your eyes locked on his reflection, your breath fogging up the mirror now that you’re so close to it. His hand leaves your ass and moves to his cock, gripping it at the base as he slides it up and down your slit. 

When he’s settled at your opening, his left hand grabs your hip, holding you in place. Your eyes are locked on each others as he slowly slides himself in. You want to squeeze your eyes shut, steal a moment for yourself to revel in the feel of him inside you. But you also want to remember how he looks right now. The way his lip is caught between his teeth, eyes filled with some kind of lust. 

You watch his face intently. He averts his gaze and sucks in a breath as he watches his dick move in and out of you. One hand is still at your hip as the other uses your shoulder for leverage. You prop yourself up on your elbows and push your hips back to meet his thrusts. The side of his mouth quirks up at your movements.

You moan as he starts moving faster, dropping your head to the desk and squeezing your eyes shut.

He doesn’t like that.

You feel his hand move from your shoulder to the back of your head. He tangles his fingers in your hair and yanks your head up. Your eyes snap open just in time to see him leaning down towards you.

“Watch,” he whispers in your ear, “I want you to see how good you look when I fuck you.”

You moan again at his words, looking at yourself in the mirror, watching as your tits bounce up and down with each thrust. He lets go of your hair and uses both hands on your hips to bring you back and forth against him, harder, faster. 

He keeps fucking you, panting and grunting while you watch. As his movement quickens and he grits his teeth, he abruptly pulls out of you, taking a step back. He takes a deep breath and slaps your ass. You don’t squeal, you don’t scream. You moan and look back at him with soft eyes. You want more. 

“On the bed,” he says. 

You step from around him and walk to the bed, turning around to face him when you’re near it. He steps out of his sweatpants and kicks them to the side.

“How do you want me?” You ask. 

“Now you’re being a good girl.” He nods his head with a crooked grin. He places one hand on his cock as he walks towards you, stroking it. “On your back.” 

You sit on the bed and scoot back on it before laying down. He puts his knees on the bed, still stroking himself as he looks down at you. 

“Fuck, y/n,” he groans. 

The way he says it, the way he’s looking at you makes you squirm. You want him back inside of you. He pushes your thighs apart one at a time with his knees and lowers himself on top of you. 

“Hands above your head.”

You put your hands up so they’re resting on the pillows and he holds them together with one hand. With the other he guides himself back into you. Once inside, he moves his hips ever so slowly, in and out. 

He presses his thumb to your clit, rubbing it in teasing circles. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together behind his back. You start to move your hips against him, wanting him to go faster. 

He looks up to you and gives the tiniest head shake. You stop your movements with a soft whine. 

He picks up the pace, watching your face contort with pleasure. Whenever you let out a moan and move your hips against his, he slows back down. He repeats the process, squeezing your wrists together as you try to free them. You want to at least touch him, but he’s too content playing with you. 

He brings himself closer to you, first kissing you, then moving down to your breasts. He takes each nipple into his mouth, in turn, licking, nipping, pulling at it with his teeth while he looks up at you. All the while still rubbing your clit with his other hand each time he pulls his hips back and has access to you. The sight of him ravaging your body is one you hope to never forget. 

The stop and go of all his combined stimulation starts to peak. You tighten your grip around his waist. 

“Fuck me, please. I’m gonna—“ You let out a moan, as he bites down hard on your nipple.

“Ah-Ah,” he shakes his head again, looking up at you with your nipple still between his teeth. He sits up and releases your hands, resorting back to his torturous, slow hip movements, hands resting on your knees. “Remember lesson number two?”

You blink up at him, trying to focus on what he means. It’s hard to think of anything else when he has you this close to release. Lesson two? You think back to your second night and it dawns you.

 “Chan,” you say his name slowly, moving your hands up to his chest. “May I? Will you please make me come?”

He grips your thighs and readjusts them so your legs are on one side of his neck. He lifts you upwards at an angle and wraps his arm around your thighs as he starts pounding in to you with fervor. His other hand continues playing with your breasts. Groping them, slapping them.

“Fuck,” he says as you dig your nails into his arms now that your hands are finally free. 

You watch, enraptured by the sight of him above you. His abs contracting with each movement. His hair disheveled, some of his bangs sticking to his forehead. His skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat. You’ve never seen him look better.

“You wanna come?” He asks.

“Please,” you beg, nodding your head.

“Who do you belong to?” He growls, slapping a hand to your breast and squeezing it.

“You,” you reply without hesitation, flinching at the pain.

“What does that make you?”

“Yours,” you breathe, as you continue to hold yourself back from release.

“Say it again,” he pinches your nipple between his fingers.

“I’m yours,” you whimper, wrapping your hand around the opposite side of his neck from your legs. “I’m yours, Chan.”

“Good,” he says, eyes on yours as he smirks and fucks you. “Come for me, y/n.”

Your back arches as your toes curl. You use all the strength in you to pull him down to you, stealing a kiss as your orgasm courses through you. He doesn’t resist. He doesn’t get upset. You’ve quite literally never been so bent as you are in this position, but you don’t care. Having him kiss you wildly as you come around his cock is absolutely worth it. 

As you’re still coming down from your wave of euphoria, he sits up and pulls your legs apart. He grips one thigh in each hand and continues thrusting into you. You’re moaning—it feels so goddamn good, you could cry. 

He throws his head back, grunting and tightening his grip on your thighs as he finishes. 

His movements start to slow, his breathing turning into soft pants. He lets go of your thighs and lowers himself to you again. He brushes your damp hair back from your face as he looks you deeply in the eyes.

“That was lesson three,” he winks. 

An unexpected laugh falls from your lips and he chuckles, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment. You feel like your heart could soar right now. A genuine laugh shared. 

“Grab on to me,” he says. 

You wrap your arms around his neck and lock your legs around his waist again. He scoots you down on the bed then picks you up, carrying you into the bathroom. You bury your face in his neck, smiling—sex drunk. Happy. Delirious. 

He holds on to your waist as he turns on the shower, keeping you in his arms while the water heats up. There’s no light on in the bathroom, but his shower head flickers from blue, to green, then settles on red. His hands tangle in your hair again, gently tugging on it to pull your head up from his neck. His eyes search yours for a moment and you have no idea what they’re trying to convey. He pushes your head towards him and kisses you slowly. The kiss is tame and unassuming—it’s not leading up to anything further. It’s just two people temporarily caught in the haze of their connection.

He takes you into the shower with him and leans you against the wall as he continues kissing you, letting the water drip between you. You don’t know how long this high will last, he could go right back to being an asshole in the next minute, so you want to enjoy this version of him as long as you can.

[ read chapter six here ]

a/n: share your thoughts <3

tag list: @iflmho /@skzstaykatsy / @blackhairandbangs / @ayoitschannie / @idunnomanmynamewastaken / @charmer-c / @ihatemen55 / @channiesprincess / @channniesslefttt / @jiwoos-babygirl / @kayleefriedchicken / @krayzieestay

[akanemnon]

Ok so the Flowey impostor is talking flower in a pot (get out of my head story of Undertale) but, will the vase be incorporated in the design? Mabye like Dino piranha from Mario Galaxy, having the pot protecting a weak spot on the back… still counting on Toriel and/or Ralsei to save the day

We are at the start of the Dark World, so most of the unfamilar faces we'll meet for now are also in the actual store area of Asgore's shop! Keep an eye open for any newcomers ;) But yeah! The dragon is the flower in the vase (note how it has five petals just like the dragon). The vase part was more or less incorporated with it being hafway stuck in the ground.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Word List: Field

beautiful words with "field" for your next poem/story

Afield - out of the way; astray

Brickfield - brickyard

Coalfield - a region rich in coal deposits

Fieldbird - plover (i.e., any of a family Charadriidae of shorebirds that differ from the sandpipers in having a short hard-tipped bill and usually a stouter more compact build)

Fieldfare - a medium-sized Eurasian thrush (Turdus pilaris) with an ash-colored head and chestnut wings and back

Fieldstone - stone (as in building) in usually unaltered form as taken from the field

Greenfield - land (such as a potential industrial site) not previously developed or polluted

Sinkfield - cinquefoil (i.e., any of a genus Potentilla of herbs and shrubs of the rose family usually having 5-lobed leaves and 5-petaled flowers; a design enclosed by five joined foils

Snowfield - a broad level expanse of snow

Urnfield - a Bronze Age cemetery of urn burials

If any of these words inspire your writing, do tag me or send me a link. I'd love to read your work!

More: Word Lists

[sxcretricciardo]

the wedding of the grid

The air crackled with anticipation, not unlike the electric buzz before a Grand Prix. But instead of the roar of engines, laughter and excited chatter filled the pit lane, transformed into a petal-strewn aisle. Banners in team colors, checkered flags, and podiums adorned the venue, a vibrant testament to the couple's shared passion: Formula 1.

You and Daniel have been together for five years when Daniel popped the question after he won the championship last year. You were beside him, proudly cheering him from the second place of the podium. It was such a good year for the two of you in Formula 1.

And now, here you are, after arriving in a vintage F1 car, with your "pit crew" of bridesmaids, clad in sleek jumpsuits, escorted you down the aisle, their smiles reflecting the joy you all are sharing.

Daniel stand at the end of the aisle, looking absolutely amazing in his suit, with the biggest smile on his face. From here, you can see a tear falling down of his eye.

The ceremony, officiated by a friend of Daniel's with a mischievous glint in his eye, incorporated racing metaphors. The vows are exchanged under a custom-designed arch shaped like a starting grid, and instead of the traditional "I do," you both declared your commitment with a resounding "Lights out, and love away!" and a passionate kiss. Every guest clapped with excitement.

The venue is just beautiful. With just all glass walls, the Australian view took your breath away. Everything is just perfect and you couldn't imagine a better way to get married to the love of your life.

The guests sit in their designated tables, which are named after the Formula 1 teams. Close to the dance floor, is yours and Daniel's race cars, that your teams happily let you borrow for this special day.

Speaking of teams, every driver was here to celebrate your wedding. They couldn't be more happy to share this special day with you and Daniel.

You make a toast when the sun is setting and then have a marvelous dinner. From your table, you can see that everyone is having a good time and chatting among themselves. You look over at Daniel, who also looks at you and winks. From the corner of your eye, you see the photographer capturing the moment.

After the dinner, you and Daniel open the dance floor. First, you start slow dancing, making everyone think that it would be just a tradicional bride and groom loving dance. But then, the music dies down and suddenly a mix of dance songs plays and you and Danny show the choreography that you both have been practicing for a month now to the guests. You can hear everyone cheer and clapping. When the dance comes to an end, you and Danny are breathless, but have the biggest smile on your faces as the crowd cheers.

When it's time to cut the cake, you both walk to end of the room, with the guests following you. You both handle the knife with care, cut the first slice of cake and put it in a plate. You grab a little piece of the cake and feed Danny, who makes a delighted face.

"This is so good." He says. After that, he grabs a little bit of cream with his finger and rubs it in his nose, mentioning for you to lick it out. You laugh and then eventually lick his nose, as the guests laugh.

The night passes by smoothly. Everyone is dancing, drinking and having a great time, which fills your heart with such joy.

You step outside for a moment, wanting to catch some air after you've been dancing non stop with Fernando and Lando. While you enjoy the view, you can hear footsteps behind and then Danny stands beside you.

"Enjoying the view, love?" He asks. "I needed some air, Fernando and Lando thought they could out dance me and I had to prove them wrong." You say, laughing.

"They should've known better." Danny says, laughing and then grabbing my hand, interlacing his fingers with yours.

"I can't believe you're my wife, Y/N. I've been dreaming of this day since the day I first laid eyes on you." He says.

You feel yourself blushing. Even after all these years, Danny is still making butterflies in you stomach.

"I love, Danny. I couldn't imagine sharing this day with anyone else." You say, looking deeply into his eyes.

He kisses you passionately, when suddenly a voice interrupts you.

"Are you guys coming or what? You'll have plenty of time to be alone in the honeymoon!" Lando says.

You and Danny laugh, making your way inside.

You dance the night away, wanting for this night to never end.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere vampire x f! reader pt. 2

Into the Woods

Unholy Matrimony

TW: Blood, mind control, vampirism, forced transformation, forced marriage, unprotected sex Kofi: Wanna buy me a coffee?

🍒🍒🍒🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

Nos had taken you to the ceremonial baths inside the castle and let you sink into the warm rose-petal-filled water. The water turned red from the blood on your body, and your soon-to-be husband joined you. Nos moved in front of you and lifted your head up.

"Do you even realize what your body did in vampire customs?" Nos asks, taking a rag and washing the dried blood off your shoulders.

"I had a period that's going to last five days," You answer, coming down from the high and feeling angry at him again.

"Cynical villager type of response. I expected more thrashing and trying to drown me," He replies, tying your hair up.

"You can drown?" You question, letting the heat get to you.

"No, but you can believe I can if that makes you feel better about me," A flash of insecurity and worry is on his face. "Anyway, when it comes to human brides, we have a tradition where the groom gets the first taste of blood. But since that includes period blood, we usually keep the brides inside and have intercourse with them until their periods finish. It's supposed to be a very romantic and intimate thing."

"Why me? What did I do to deserve this?" You ask, facing the scarlet stained glass ceiling. "How long did the village plan to send me to this castle, just like the other girls?"

Nos wanted to remain silent, but he couldn't lie to you.

"You did nothing wrong, my love. Your only sin was being born out of wedlock. Your village sends the first out-of-wedlock baby girl born to be our bride. They do it to scare the young adults and teens in the village," Nos explains, washing away the last of the blood. 

You cry and sink into the water. Nos holds you and kisses your sorrows away. 

"It'll all be ok, my love. We'll get a wedding then you'll never have to see Verano again. I'll pack up your stuff from the village and bring it here for you. Would you like that?" Nos asks, rubbing your back.

"Yeah, that would be fine," You sniffle, laying your head on his shoulders. 

"I shall do it, my love. But now, we need to get ready for our wedding."

Nos carries your form out of the baths and into a scarlet room containing wedding attire for the both of you. A white, long wedding dress with snowflake designs lays on the bed next to a blue cape with elegant white lining and white fur for the hood and ends. Crystal-clear shoes are next to your dress, glistening in the moonlight. You begin to put on the dress, but Nos stops you by giving a playful slap on the ass.

"Princess, aren't you forgetting your wedding lingerie? Or are you going out there stark naked underneath your wedding dress?" Nos teases, pressing his body against yours. 

"I didn't see any lingerie," You squeak as Nos's fingers roam around your crotch, hoping to get a touch of your period blood.

"Oh yeah, that's right. The groom gets the privilege-mn! Of-fuck! Of dressing the bride for their first night together," Nos moans as he dry humps your body. "Come on, sweetie. Let's get you dressed before I can't hold back."

Nos lifts the dress and takes a pastel blue lingerie set with a garter belt from underneath. He puts the bra on you while grinding himself against you faster. He barely stops humping you to put on the panties and garter belt. Nos's fingers enter your asshole, lubing it up with his spit. He quickly puts the tip inside your asshole and cums inside it. Nos pulls out a butt plug with a red heart and puts it in to keep the cum inside. Both of your bodies shiver with pleasure, and Nos presses the butt plug with his fingers to keep it in you as your muscles contract. He kisses your neck and takes his dick out of your underwear, letting the fabric smack your ass. You both stay against each other, breathing in synch.

"I need to put on the rest of my outfit, Nos," You breath, trying to move away from your fiance. 

He releases a sigh of pleasure, and his body slinks to the end of the bed to let you get dressed. You wear the dress, shoes, and cape, then turn towards your soon-to-be husband. 

"Let's have our wedding, my love," You say, still upset with Nos about the whole vampire bride ordeal. 

Nos holds your hand as you head towards a moonlit garden with a fountain spouting red water. You both take your positions, and the wedding begins. A vampire priest arrives and opens a black book with a pentagram and cross. You and Nos hold each other's hands as the ceremony starts. You look at the crowd and see your grandma, who only gives you a sorrowful wave. 

"Do you, Y/N, take Nos DeCorro to be your vampiric husband? To forever be bound by blood?" The priest asks, looking at you.

You turn to your grandma, and she can only mouth an apology for not protecting you.

"I-I do," You answer, seeing no way out.

"And do you, Nos DeCorro, take Y/N to be your chosen bride?" The priest asks, earning a quick answer from Nos.

"Yes, of course, I do!" Nos exclaims, gripping your hands harder. 

Nos's fangs poke out while he's smiling, and you feel the venom move through your body more. 

"Then you may bite the bride!" The priest proclaims, throwing his hands up as Nos puts rings on both his and your fingers. "May the gods and goddesses bless this union bound by blood!"

You try to run away, but Nos grabs your arm and pulls you into his grip. He bites into your shoulder and drinks as you start to feel weak. Blood stains your wedding dress and drips onto the stone steps. 

"Drink up, darling. I know you must be thirsty," Nos says, cutting his palm with a knife and holding it up to your face.

You quickly snatch his hand and drink from it like a hungry baby. The feeling of his blood flowing through you makes arousal spread through your body. Nos swings his cape in front of you, transporting you both into a dark room full of moonlight. You let go of his hand and recoil, knowing you've solidified your transformation into a vampire. You feel venom pumping through your fangs, and your heart slows. 

"Nos, help me," You plead to your husband.

"It's ok. You need to get your heart rate up for a couple of hours," Nos replies, putting you on the bed and unzipping your dress. "Relax, you only need to obey my commands."

Your mind gets hazy, and suddenly you're removing your shoes and cape. Next, you're straddling Nos and grinding your hips against him.

"You're doing great, darling. Keep grinding me at that pace," He grunts, taking off his clothes and leaving him naked.

He pushes your back onto the silk mattress and spreads your legs. You melt like putty as he touches you and feel closer to him than before. Nos kisses up your thighs and finally reaches your sex. He gently takes off your panties and gives you a fang-filled smile. Nos dives into your pussy and greedily licks the menstrual blood off you. Pleasure shoots up your spine, making you lift your legs more. 

Nos thrusts his tongue in and out, making you go wild. Your moans fill the room, and your back begins to arch. 

"In and out. In and out." Nos's words from earlier fill your head, making you feel his sensations more. 

"Fuck, Nos, more! More! More!" You scream, thrusting your pussy against his face. 

Nos lifts his head, visibly showing you his tongue slipping in and out of you. The image makes you orgasm, and Nos laps up your juices. 

"Oh, darling~" Nos moans, kissing you as his mouth and chin drip your blood. "Let's hurry and get to the main event before I eat your pussy forever."

"Yes, Nos," You answer, giggling as Nos moves between your legs.

Nos slips his member inside your bloody sex and slowly moves his hips. With each thrust, both you and your husband moan in synch. Both your moans are almost hypnotic, and it feels like everything is a hundred times more intimate. You caress Nos's back, and it makes his thrust speed up. Which makes your walls tighten around his cock.

"Faster, Nos!" You moan, slapping Nos's ass as he thrusts. 

"Oh-oh, I'll go fast, darling! I'll give you the first taste of what a human boy can't!" Nos grunts, lifting you to make you straddle him. "Hang on tight, sweetie."

He bites you and starts to thrust at an unnatural pace. Luckily, it didn't harm you since you're now a vampire. The feeling of his dick moving at such speeds made your mind become fried. You could only moan and grunt praises for your husband's performance. You wildly bite your husband and begin to ride him at an equal pace. With both of you riding and thrusting into each other, your orgasms explode at a supernatural level. You let go of your husband and cum all over his dick. Meanwhile, Nos holds your hips down and shoots his hot semen into your pussy. You collapse onto the mattress, and Nos follows you as he hasn't pulled out yet. 

Your legs shake as you try to ride through your orgasm, but call Nos for help.

"It's ok, my bride. I'm orgasming t-too!" Nos moans, his body also shaking inside you. 

He shoots another round of semen, passing out from exhaustion with you. Sunlight creeps into the windows as the newlyweds sleep soundly from your night of steamy sex. For the next three days, you two did the same thing until having such sex got tiring. So, instead, you let Nos eat your pussy under the covers to get his fill of your blood. Sometimes the mere act of eating your blood mixed with cum sent him over the edge. Which is good with him since you both haven't come out of the room or worn clothes since your wedding day. You didn't even care about the village anymore. You only want him and his touch. Luckily, Nos is more than happy to oblige. 

[18jewels]

Jelsa in Voluptuous petal-soft dresses and soft romance, say no more!!!

Also for me personally, Elsa looks more mature and petite with short hair. The wavy strands just make it more whimsical for me. And also it compliments Jack's design as well. But each to their own.

Hello sweets,

First of all, no this is not a lore Olympus X Jelsa fanart!!

Secondly, I was completely stressed and worn-out this week, that I had nothing else in mind other than making sketches of these two. Yes, I'm guilty as charged.

I had practiced over five sketches just to get my hand prepared and used to the pen with which I usually DON'T draw with. These three doodles took me 1 & 1/2 hours in total, no joke. I'm grateful for my pastel brush pens, they helped me work faster.

And yes, no pencil.

I struggled with the poses but I am quite happy how they turned out. Enjoy.

💙💙✨️💗💗✨️💙💙✨️💗💗

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @mochie85 divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

Summary: It's been a long time coming... But now the day for you and Loki to say 'Yes' and enter the bond of marriage has finally arrived. A covenant for eternity.

Chapter Five - An Otherworldly Celebartion

Warnings for this Chapter: fluff, alcohol? Partying, tooth-rotting fluff and so so much romance

Word Count: 5,9k

a/n: Let's get this party started! 🥳 Next chapter will be already the final one - which is kinda crazy... What a journey this has been... And you better fasten your seatbelts for next week, because it's getting hot! 🔥

This chapter's shout outs: Huge thanks again to @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 for the beautiful party edition of the wedding dress! Thank you, @muddyorbsblr for chosing Loki's suit and Thor's outfits! Another thanks to my flower girl, @fictive-sl0th ! @lokisgoodgirl & @mochie85 made a wonderful team in planning the party entertainment - thank you so much! Just like @lokiforever & @brokenpoetliz - thank you for this location as well! @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic is the DJ - thank you, friend! And of course @aagn360 for designing the wedding cake! Thank you!

💍 Chapter Four °☆• Chapter Six 💍

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• A Covenant for Eternity Masterlist (coming soon!)

Rose petals rained down on you and Loki, as you walked hand in hand on the white carpet towards the awaiting carriage. Everybody was lined up at the way; cheering and smiling, all the while throwing the beautiful flowers your way.

Before it was time for celebrations, you and Loki would tend to another Midgardian wedding tradition... The release of white doves.

Behind the emerald green curtains at the end of the aisle, three big cages with doves awaited you. In two of them was only one dove; in the third quite a few more.

Once everyone had gathered around you, Loki and the animals; one of the royal keepers stepped forward to guide you through this beautiful tradition. He opened one cage and gently grabbed the bird; handing the stunning creature over to Loki, who took it just as gently in his hands. Then he showed you how to hold your dove.

"There you go, your majesty." Majesty... You almost fainted at the words of the young keeper. This was all still a bit surreal for you... "She's very kind, but you have to be careful with her wings. If you hurt her, she might pick after you," the Æsir instructed you, just like he instructed Loki. You nodded. "Alright. Thank you." Carefully he handed you over the dove and you took her carefully - not to hurt her in your hands. The keeper nodded at you, "Whenever your majesties are ready, just throw them gently up in the air and let go. They'll fly away." and took a bow; stepping aside.

All eyes were once again, of course, on you and the prince. You exchanged a look with your husband- husband... sounded very surreal in your head as well, and he nodded. "On three, my love?" "On three." Loki gave you a nod as well and started the countdown. "One, two, three!"

On three, both you and him threw the doves gently in the air and let go; watching the beautiful animals fly away into the sunny autumn sky. Then you immediately went to the third big cage and released the other white doves together; opening up the cage. They followed the other two birds; accompanied by claps and cheers of the people around you. Family, friends, colleagues - and the royal staff... Maids, guards, servants, cooks, the keepers - basically everybody who worked in the palace. You had been adamant that they all were invited to the ceremony as a thankyou for all the hard work they performed for this wedding.

After everyone had watched the doves flying away and the cages had been removed, you and Loki got awashed with congratulations left and right. Thor was the first. He had just pushed his way to the front. "Brother!" The blond god called out - and before Loki could even react, he found himself in a bone crushing hug. "I'm so indescribably happy for you and Lady Y/N! Congratulations!" Loki could only wince in return; the hug being definitely a bit too tight.

Once Thor let go of him, your husband had taken a few very deep breaths first. You just tried to hold back the giggle bubbling up in the back of your throat. "Thank you, brother," Loki almost panted. "But if you ever hug me that tight again, I am going to stab you." Thor smiled brighter than a Cheshire cat; slapping a meaty hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "I do love you as well, Loki."

While Thor congratulated you, Jane did the same to Loki.

Odin was next, of course, being his father and your father-in-law. The royal family had the privilege to congratulate the newlyweds first, for sure, therefore was Frigga following after her husband.

"Loki..." She smiled brightly; blinking away a few tears and cupping her son's cheeks despite his horned helmet. "I am so very proud of you. My little boy, married. I cannot quite believe it yet. I am beyond happy." Loki smiled back at his mother; a tear escaping his eyes. He gently took her hands in his and pressed a kiss on her knuckles. "Thank you, mother. Without you, I would've never gotten this far. I love you." Frigga moved to tightly hug her son. "And I love you."

You watched from the sidelines with tears in your eyes as well. You loved the bond Loki and his mother shared. It was beautiful.

Then Frigga turned to you; hands cupping your cheeks as well. "Y/N... Congratulations. I'm honoured to call you my daughter-in-law now. I am grateful for you. I truly am. You showed Loki what he needed the most... Love. Appreciation. Acceptance." She placed a motherly kiss on your forehead. "Thank you."

You didn't even know what to answer; being utterly overwhelmed by her words and speechless. So instead, you wrapped Frigga up in a hug. Sometimes gestures said more than words ever could.

All your friends and colleagues were next; including Natasha and, of course, Nick.

"Congrats, kid," Nick said with a smile and embraced you as well. "I'm happy for ya. Even though I would've chosen someone else and not exactly a war criminal, but hey... Love is strange, right?" You knew that he was teasing you, so you played along. "Noted, boss. In my next life I marry America's ass, not Asgard's ass." A hearty laugh left the older man's lips, who had exchanged his signature black coat for a black tux. "I take you by the word."

After everyone had congratulated you both, it was time to head back to the palace. While the royal staff was already on the way back, in order to start some last minute preparations (and especially to cook), at least ten open carriages waited for you and your guests to transport you back. They were beautifully decorated with white lilies and roses - fit for a wedding.

You and Loki took a seat in the very first carriage, of course; sitting beside each other. The god immediately reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers. You looked up at him; smiling. A gesture which he returned.

Once everyone has found a place in the carriages and was seated, the caravan started to move. This time, though, you took a different road. Not the one through the nature and woods of Asgard, no. The other one, which led through the city and heart of the realm. It was tradition for a royal bridal couple to make their appearance in front of their people. And so, Loki and you - just like Jane and Thor when they had gotten married, settled for a little parade through the city.

The Æsir were welcomed to go on the streets and stand by the sidelines to watch the royal wedding caravan make it's way to the palace. Since you had already liked this at your brother-in-law's wedding, you asked Loki if this could be done at yours and his wedding as well... He agreed happily. Besides, it was tradition. Plus, it allowed you and Loki a few minutes of some privacy, before you'd reach the city...

"Are you warm enough, my love?" Your husband asked; while making sure that the white cloak was draped neatly over your almost bare shoulders and arms. You nodded, "Yes, I'm good, thank you." and gave him a smile; placing your hand on his leather clad thigh. An offer the god couldn't resist. He took you hand immediately in his and started to caress the soft skin on the back of your hand with his thumb.

A few beats of silence passed, until a soft laugh from Loki cut through the air. "Darling, can you believe this? Because I can't. We are married now. Married. This is our wedding. It's happening right now in this very moment." You shook your head; squeezing his hand. "I can't, babe. It feels like a dream." "Indeed," Loki said and turned his head to look at you; deep blue eyes gazing into yours.

It almost took your breath away.

Then he lifted his free hand and cupped your chin gently between his thumb and forefinger. "A dream I never want to wake up from," he whispered and before you could even answer, were his soft lips on yours; kissing you with so much tenderness and love.

You practically had no other choice than to melt into the kiss.

"I love you," you breathed against his lips; unable to resist kissing him a few more times. "I love you even more."

At this point, you and Loki had to watch out that the harmless kiss it started with, didn't turn into a makeout session - which tended to happen quite fast, when your man is called Loki Laufeyson...

"Babe..." You gasped; palm on his chest and gently pressing him back. "W-We have to stop this. The city-" "I know," Loki interrupted you; thumb caressing the apple of your cheek. Then he turned to face the path to your feet; nodding ahead. "Look." You followed his gaze; witnessing how the sun already sunk deeper in the Asgardian sky. Days were shorter now here as well and soon the night would settle over the realm.

"Wow... It's beautiful." "Yes, it is. One of the reasons why I love autumns on Asgard." You just smiled at Loki and rested your head against his shoulder.

The minutes you had in silence did you and Loki definitely good, but then you got thrown right back into the wedding fever which had engulfed the whole city. Hundreds of people were on the streets and cheering for you and Loki; celebrating this wonderful event with you. It was overwhelming - in the best way possible. You waved left and right; giving each and everyone a smile. The warmth, love and acceptance the people - your people were giving you didn't fail to warm your heart.

And Loki's as well...

You could see it in his oceanic blues. He was overwhelmed and certainly didn't anticipate that so many Æsir would go on the streets... For him. Probably for the first time in years - centuries, he felt truly accepted and above all... loved.

Arrived at the palace, the carriage came to an halt. Loki was the first to get off and like the gentleman he was, he stepped around and helped you down the three little steps. "May I help you, my darling wife?" The word 'wife' out of the god's mouth sent a pleasant, tingling shiver down your spine.

You smiled brightly and laid your hand into his; gladly taking the offer. "Very kind of you, dear husband." Loki couldn't help but smile proudly and helped you to dismount the carriage.

While your guests arrived at the palace and got led into the throne room by the guards and the king and queen in person, you and Loki had vanished into his personal chambers; accompanied by a few maids in order to get changed for the festivities.

You exchanged your pompous ceremony dress for a similar version. It allowed you to move more freely and was certainly better for dancing and partying.

Your husband changed from his ceremonial armour into a wedding suit - a Midgardian homage. Plus, a suit was also more suitable for a party than an armour.

All that was missing on his perfectly fitting outfit was the boutonnière. You took it from the little table where one of the maids had placed it and made your way to Loki, who was in the other room; currently standing in front of the mirror and tying the golden tie around his neck. You smiled; walking up to him and gently pinned the boutonnière on his emerald green suit jacket.

Loki looked at you with a smile; watching your fingers work. "There you go. Perfect." He took your hand in his; brushing his lips over the back of your hand, before his eyes took in your 'new' look.

"My love, you are beyond beautiful. Nothing less than a goddess." You smiled and blushed; free hand searching for his. "So are you. The most handsome man I've ever seen."

Your husband answered nothing; instead dipped his head to kiss you softly and slowly, but intimately.

"We should join our guest and welcome them properly." He nodded in agreement, even though the god would love to just keep you for himself in here for the rest of the day. "We should, darling." A last kiss was shared, before you made your way together to the throne room.

Once you and Loki's return was announced - in the most royal way, of course, the big, golden doors to the throne room got opened for you to step inside. Again you felt all eyes on you, but this time you weren't alone. Unlike you, Loki was used to this - kind of. Therefore, he immediately felt your nervosity and gave the hand which rested in his a reassuring and comforting squeeze.

Perhaps it wasn't all the people who made you nervous, though. Perhaps it was the welcoming speech the newlyweds had to held. Speaking in front of the Avengers or a group of SHIELD agents? No problem. Speaking in front of (royal) wedding guests? Turned out to be a problem. But to your sheer luck, you had Loki, who guided you through this...

"Dear friends, families and colleagues," Loki started, once the two of you had made your way up to the podium where Odin's throne stood, but today was converted into a stage on which the live band could play. "We wish to welcome you all and invite you to join us in celebrating our wedding." Loki's head turned to face you; gently urging you on to continue the little speech.

You took a deep breath, "Thank you for being a part of this. We are happy to share this wonderful moment in our life with you all." and felt how Loki softly squeezed your hand again. "Now, I think there's nothing left to say than enjoy the festivities, entertainment program and the other fun things you can find all around," you gestured to the French doors. "Oh, and... The buffet is open, just like the candy bar!"

And again sounded loud claps, cheers and even some whistles through the room. Happiness was all round; the atmosphere almost vibrating with positive energy. You exchanged another look with Loki; the both of you smiling brightly - and of course you couldn't let that chance slip and leaned in for a kiss, which your man returned happily.

For sure were the bride and groom the first ones to 'storm' the buffet and get some of the delicious Asgardian food the kitchen had prepared. After the two of you, Thor, Jane, Odin and Frigga followed and then the rest of the wedding party was allowed to get something to eat.

You took your place beside your husband at the beautifully decorated table. They were all circular with a capacity of eight guests per table - except the one at the top... 'The royal table,' on which you, Loki, Thor (Who had changed into a burgundy suit by now as well.), Frigga and Odin were seated. The five tables behind you were for all the other guests.

The tables itself were covered in fine Asgardian silk with green and golden bow ties. On top of each table was a bouquet with black roses; bordered with golden lace.

While eating, you had for the first time the chance to properly look around and take in how perfectly redecorated the usually empty throne room looked...

Stepping through the main doors, the six tables were almost right in front of you on left. On the right was another single table, but smaller; reserved for the wedding cake later. A few steps away was the 'food corner'. The candy bar and main buffet, together with the actual bar for cocktails and other delicious drinks. It was your idea to bring a candy bar to Asgard, since a lot of Æsir didn't even know what proper candy was!

The huge free space in between the bar and tables, and the 'stage' for the live band would be used as the dance floor.

Before your eyes travelled to the French doors, which led outside into the gardens, where fire bowls, bar tables, loungers and a photo-booth (One of your personal highlights.) awaited you, Loki and the guests, your eyes got stuck on another small table. A big, beautifully crafted box sat on top; filled to the brim with... You smiled. Batches. As far as you could tell. It had been Pepper's idea.

You focused your gaze on some of your guests; noticing that a few of them wore the batches already... Small, circular and pinned on to the suits and dresses. 'Team Bride' and 'Team Groom' was written on them, alongside some cute details of the wedding..

You didn't think Pepper would really do it, but she did, causing you to smile more.

You didn't notice how lost in thoughts and your surroundings you got; just picking at your food instead of eating, until you felt Loki's hand on yours. "Darling, is everything alright?" Concern swung in his voice. You blinked; falling back in the here and now.

"Yes, sure," you gave him a smile, "I was just a bit lost in thoughts and admired how beautiful all of this..." and gestured around. "...is." He nodded, "Once more I can only agree with you, my love." and lifted your hand up to his lips, in order to bestow a gentle kiss upon your knuckles.

"I love you." The three magic words just slipped past your lips. You couldn't hold them back. You wanted to shout it from the rooftops. "And I love you." Loki's eyes literally shone with love and adoration. The both of you exchanged a few short, but sweet kisses and continued to eat.

Your surroundings weren't the only thing you could properly take in for the first time... Your husband's hairstyle for example (What a shame!) - now that you saw his side profile; not concealed by his horns. It almost took your breath away.

Some of his raven curls were bound together into a bun, with quite a few curls still hanging loosely over his shoulders. The curls on his sides were braided into small plaits, which disembogued in his man bun.

You knew that it was a traditional hairstyle for Norse men on their wedding and Loki had told you about it, but to see him actually having it was entirely different, and you couldn't deny that it did things to you. He was breathtakingly gorgeous.

"You should take a picture, darling. It lasts longer," Loki suddenly spoke up; a mischievous smirk on his face. "Who says I won't?" You answered; referring of course to the photo-booth. The god only winked and gave you a smouldering look, which caused you to giggle like a schoolgirl.

Gods, you were so in love...

About an hour into the festivities, everybody had quenched their hunger. It was clearly noticeable. The conversations around you got louder and the candy bar plundered. From the corner of your eye, you saw how Odin and Frigga exchanged a look and a soft smile. Before knowing what was happening, the Allmother stood up and graciously made her way towards the podium, on which the live band played quietly in the background during dinner. At her sign, they stopped and parted ways for her, so she could step up to the microphone.

All Frigga had to do was to subtly clear her throat and all eyes were on her; the laughter and conversations dying down.

"Dear wedding guests, I'd like to sincerely welcome you to the festivities of this beautiful union of love," she started; spreading her arms in a welcoming gesture. "Now that dinner was served and everybody's hunger quenched, it is time for another wedding tradition... Midgardian and Asgardian." The smile on her lips widened. "The wedding dance!"

At the announcement, she received loud claps and cheers, while you felt the nervosity punching you straight in the face - again. Sure, you and Loki had practised every step at least a trillion times, but... That wasn't a training session. That was the main event.

"Y/N, Loki..." Frigga spoke to the both of you directly now through the microphone. "Would you do us the honour?"

I looked at Loki; seeing him smile brightly. He nodded at you and stood up; offering you his hand. "May I ask for this dance, my lady?" You couldn't suppress the small, excited and yet nervous giggle which left your lips. "Yes, my prince," you accepted - of course, and placed your hand in his.

Frigga left the 'stage' and gestured for everybody to stand and line up at the sidelines, Loki led you onto the dance floor.

"Are you ready, love?" Your husband whispered; making sure you were alright, while all the guests were still moving around. You nodded. "Y-Yes. Just nervous..." He gave you a reassuring smile. "We got this. Trust in my lead and enjoy this wonderful dance we are about to share." Again, you gave him a nod and smile.

Once you got the permission from the Allmother to begin, the both of you took a step back and got into position.

Loki crossed his arms formally behind is back and took a bow, while you curtsied. When the music started to play, Loki and you stepped closer to each other again and begun the Asgardian part of the wedding dance - which felt somehow taken straight out of a fairytale. It was elegant, noble and consisted of a lot of 'handwork', but not very much body contact.

The first steps were almost the same as the last; palm against palm and forearm against forearm, with the other arm neatly tucked behind your backs. In time with the music, you took steps to turn in a circle. Loki had taught you that it was important to maintain eye contact - so you tried to focus just on him and this dance.

You got more and more confident when the first minute of the song was over and everything had gone smoothly so far. It gave you enough boost to do what Loki told you... Trust in him and enjoy this.

Even the one lift in the dance failed to scare you like it always did before. Effortless, you placed your arm around Loki's shoulder, while his arm wrapped around your waist; lifting you up off the ground gently and slowly turned in a circle. Your eyes were not leaving the other's for even a second.

When the music picked up pace, you and Loki did the same. The dance moves got more rhythmic and powerful, but never lost its graciousness.

With the last beat of the music, the both of you got into the final position - but there was not much time to catch your breaths...

Since your wedding dance consisted of two parts, you merely had a few seconds, before the sounds of the chosen Midgardian song echoed through the big throne room; played of course by the live band.

'a thousand years' by Christina Perri.

Choosing this song was a hard, long process. You remembered discussing for hours with Loki. After all, this was an important decision and you had about ten songs in mind, which had been fitting for a wedding dance. It had to be something special. A song that represented your love for each other - and 'a thousand years' did...

At the first sounds of the piano, you felt how your husband's free hand came to rest on your waist; gently pulling you in closer. The hand which rested against yours shifted, so that he was holding your small one in his bigger palm.

In time with the rhythm of the song, you started the second part of your wedding dance... The waltz.

Loki led you over the marble floor; eyes locked on yours. You felt like floating. It was such an intimate dance - way more than the Asgardian one.

You were closer; almost chest to chest. You could feel Loki's breath against the skin on your face; his intoxicating scent hitting you full force. You never wanted to let go.

From time to time, the god twirled you gently in a circle - only to catch you seconds later with his strong arms. You could practically feel Loki's eternal love seeping through his hands and invading your body. You never wanted to miss it. Him.

By the end of the song, you had wound your hands around Loki's neck, while he had his arms wrapped tightly around your waist. Now you were really chest to chest. With the last sound, all the guests started to applaud and cheer, but for you it was just a rushing in your ears. A side noise. Your focus was fully directed on Loki - as his soft lips moved in sync against yours.

Unfortunately, the moment of intimacy didn't last long, since the band started to play the first 'proper' song of the evening, causing most of the guests to storm the dance floor all around you.

By now was the party in full swing. Everybody had obviously fun and was well entertained. Be it by the candy bar, dance music, photo-booth - or Scott, who roamed the tables as a magician. Loki wasn't very impressed about all that, but he at least thought that his colleague was a little bit funny. Scott though, was completely enthralled; had even changed from his normal suit into a magician costume. And of course - as it should be, you and Loki got the first performance...

"Okay, okay, now, Y/N... Draw a card!" You did as he told you and drew a card from stack. "Perfect! Don't show me the card, though. You can show it Lokes but not me." You nodded and happily showed Loki your card. The king of hearts.

"Now stick it back into the pile." You followed his command again. "Alrighty! Now..." Scott started and shuffled the cards. "You both can see that I am shuffling the cards. I have no idea which card you drew, but I believe..." He closed his eyes for a moment and drew a card from the pile as well. "...it's this one!" He turned it around - and you gasped. "The king of hearts. Am I right?" You nodded. "Oh my gosh, yes!" Scott beamed proudly, "Hurray!" and reached into his trouser pocket; throwing some confetti in the air. It rained down on you and Loki.

While you giggled excitedly and clapped, Loki just took a deep breath, crossed his arms over his chest and leaned closer to your ear. "You know, love, that trick isn't even difficult. All you do is- Oof..." You elbowed him in the side; signalling him to shut up. For good measure, you threw him a warning gaze. Scott was so proud of himself and put a lot of effort in this and you knew he loved to do it, so you didn't want Loki to make Scott sad. Plus, all the other guests loved him and had a lot of fun.

Now Loki was standing at the bar, slurping his drink. His gaze was, of course, lingering on you. He watched you on the dance floor, as you danced with Romanoff to a Midgardian song which he believed was called 'Riptide' from a man named Vance Joy - or so; laughing and visibly enjoying yourself.

The god smiled; feeling his heart pump pure love for you through his veins. But a sudden, rather harsh clap on the shoulder ripped his eyes away from you and he turned his body on the bar stool. Thor stood behind him in his impressive burgundy suit; ale in hand and smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"Ouch, brother..." Loki grumbled and rubbed his shoulder. "I've got ears, you know. You can just say my name instead of almost beating me up every time you wish to talk to me."

Thor didn't even seem to hear Loki's words, as he squeezed himself between the bar stool Loki sat on and the one to his left. "I am so proud and happy for you, Loki." The blond boomed and laid one arm around the raven haired man's shoulder. "Look around, brother. We are celebrating your wedding! I never thought this day would ever come and yet here we are..." The older prince pulled the younger closer; hugging him in a kind off awkward angle, but it was a hug nonetheless. "Look how far you've come. Not only have you reached the status to be called an Avenger, no, you are a husband now." Thor smiled brightly at his younger sibling. "I am proud of you, brother - truly. I am."

Loki felt that this affection of Thor was honest and pure in heart. He truly meant it - and Loki couldn't help himself but to smile and hug Thor as well.

"Thank you, brother. This means a lot to me. I know very well that I am not the best at showing you my affection and brotherly love, but know that it's there."

Thor chuckled, "I do love you, too, brother." and squeezed the raven haired man tighter; making it hard to breathe for Loki.

At some point, the younger god started to pat his brother's shoulder rather frantically. "Brother. Can't. Breathe."

That was the moment the blond noticed and he immediately loosened the bear hug. "Apologies, brother." His cheeks turned pink, and he clapped Loki a last time on his shoulder. "Now I won't bother you any longer. Keep admiring your lady. Besides, I have promised Jane to try out that funny photo carton thing. See you, brother."

As fast as Thor appeared, as fast vanished he again.

Loki emptied his drink and decided to make his way over to you...

You were still on the dance floor with Natasha; having fun just like the other people around you.

You saw your husband approaching the both of you and smiled brightly. "Hey, babe!" You almost shouted through the music; waving at him. Loki couldn't help but chuckle at your ridiculously sweet behaviour. You were happy - and that's what mattered to him. Your happiness was his glorious purpose.

"Miss Romanoff," the god addressed the Russian beauty politely; taking a bow. "May I steal my wife away from you?" Natasha giggled, "Only this one time, Laufeyson." and winked at him, before turning around and finding Tony to dance with instead.

You had watched the scenario with a smile on your lips. "You're a bad boy for just stealing me away, you know. The song isn't even over yet," you teased Loki; crossing your arms over your chest. But the god just shook his head; smirking wolfishly with mischief glimmering in his oceanic blues.

"Wrong, darling," he said; getting so close that he was able to wrap his arms loosely around your waist. "I only took back what is mine." With those words he literally yanked you towards him; causing you to stumble forward and literally crashing against his strong body. "Lokiii!" You giggled with both palms on his chest.

"Yes, princess?" He chuckled and started to sway you to the song. "It's the truth isn't it?" You just shook your head but couldn't stop yourself from standing on your tiptoes to kiss him. Just in that moment the music changed. The happy dance song turned into a rather sad, but powerful and especially catchy song... 'Won't Go Home Without You' by Maroon 5. One of your favourites. The live band definitely knew what they did and delivered an amazing performance.

As soon as you recognised the musical masterpiece, you pulled away from Loki's sinful lips and wiggled around in his embrace excitedly.

"On of your favourites, am I right?" You nodded with a bright smile and wrapped your arms around your husband's neck; starting to sway to the beat. "I love it!" Loki smiled and moved his palms to let them rest on your hips and joining you in your dance movements.

"Every night, you cry yourself to sleep; thinking, why does this happen to me? Why does every moment have to be so hard?" You started to sing the lyrics alongside the lead singer of the band; knowing it by heart. "Hard to believe that. It's not over tonight. Just give me one more chance to make it right. I may not make it through the night. I won't go home without you!"

Loki watched you with love and adoration in his eyes; totally enchanted by you and your beautifully happy nature. The god was so in love, he wasn't even able to put it in words.

"It′s not over tonight. Just give me one more chance to make it right. I may not make it through the night. I won't go home without you!" You kept on singing as Loki spun you in a circle, only to catch you in his arms mere seconds later.

"And I won't go home without you," you shook your head; singing. "And I won′t go home without you. And I won′t go home without you," you pointed at your husband; finger digging softly in his left pec.

"You won't go home without me, darling," Loki answered as the song ended; pulling you once again closer against his body. "You will never go home without me." You giggled. "I hope so."

The god's thumbs started to caress your sides. "I promise. I'll always be by your side. No matter what."

You smiled; feeling your heart speed up. "I love you," you breathed against his lips and kissed him again.

"I. Love. You. Too," Loki mumbled in between kisses; not letting go of you.

Later on, some servants rolled the absolutely deliciously looking cake into the room; crafted by the best pâtisserie in downtown New York. It was majestic; fitting for a royal wedding. The three-tier wedding cake was completely in white with beautiful gold decorations and flowers.

Together, you and Loki cut the cake and manoeuvred the first slice on a plate. Of course you shared the slice.

"And?" You asked your husband after you had fed him the first spoonful of cake. Loki hummed; munching on the delicacy. "It tastes heavenly," he stated, "Try it, love." and gave you a spoonful as well. It was the top cake, so the flavour of mint and chocolate hit your taste buds. "Mhm, yeah... It's okay." Loki pouted, "Just okay?" and you giggled. "Babe, you know that chocolate-mint wouldn't be my first pick." The god sighed dramatically. "It was worth a try..." You giggled again and took another bite. Loki smiled.

The other cakes were definitely more to your liking. Of course, you had to try all three. It was your wedding cake after all...

The party was in full swing for hours and hours. You probably had the best time of your life - as it should be.

After dancing, eating, drinking, taking several funny, sweet and romantic photos in the photo-booth and even playing some wedding games, it was time for you and your husband to call it a night.

It was way past midnight, when all your guests lined up and created an aisle for the two of you to walk through. Everybody held sparklers in their hands; waving you off into your wedding night. It was a magic moment.

I won't keep all the creative works from you this time either! 🤗

Tags: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @jennyggggrrr @multifandom-worlds @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @chennqingg @hisredheadedgoddess28 @princess-ofthe-pages @km-ffluv @brokenpoetliz @huntedmusicgardenn @lokiforever @stupidthoughtsinwriting @loz-3 @jaguarthecat @icytrickster17 @eleniblue @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @kimanne723 @lou12346789 @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @smolvenger @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @lokisrealpurpous @aagn360 @cakesandtom @glitchquake @alexakeyloveloki (Continuing in the comments!)

[demodoggonetired]

After a few months of off and on again work, @cuips-not-cute 's Cyclical is now bound!!! 489 pages, 21 signatures, and about 1.25 inches thick!

And you should read their fic here!!

{Breakdown under cut!} - Contains Spoilers!

Uhh where to start with this. My first attempt at: a more standard book size (fun), a full cloth book (no problem here), full page illustrations (okay results), and chisel trimming (uh oh!).

(Suffice to say I need more practice with that last one, the foredge could have been worse, but it coulda been better - a little wonky but we'll just say it's got character).

I think what I'm most proud of is the color cordination of it all (and the end papers, oh my what a fitting find).

Materials: Made with Cialux bookcloth in night blue and Spanish MM marbled paper for the endpapers. The cover graphics are yellow Siser HTV, a black HTV, and Cricut metallic gold HTV (not near as shiny as one might like). Bound using linen thread and archival pva glue, endbands sewn using single strand embroidery thread in a double core style. Printed on Hammermill 20lb cream paper.

Cover: Cuips mentions Slaughterhouse Five at the start of the fic with a quote, so I used that as a bit of a jumping point for the cover design. Specifically this edition. Only instead changing the red for the blues of the upside down and a somewhat orange-ish yellow (both colors of which we see a lot in the fic). The skull and crossbones is similarly swapped with the hourglass on its pedstal in the UD woods with a flower and petals around it. The back cover showcases a sheep dog's wolf collar hehe. My biggest grief with this cover is that for some reason, one of the HTVs leaked glue when pressed. It doesn't look bad, just adds an odd shinyness but thankfully isn't sticky. Weird!

Title Page: A negative space hourglass with UD vines outlining the shape (perhaps a XII hidden in there too...). In the middle is a repeatedly circled sphere with sand pouring out and the title flipped to be reflected below.

Other tidbits that I think are neat:

All timeloops in the fic end with things dissolving into sand, so I tried to add a little falling sand graphic at those sentences.

The chapter end notes are titled "notes for past self" and the next chapters summary and beginning notes are "notes for future self" because it felt like it fit the timeloop theme

"say it out loud, it'll be okay" (with the Steve and Robin sheepdog and cat) and "enter sandman" have my favorite chapter title illustrations (oh man the feelings I have for the cassette tape..)

the book notes page has the same vine graphic as the title page but this time with flowers on it!

Overall I'm really pleased with how this bind turned out! It was a lot of fun and a bit of a journey to make!

+Bonus timelapse of sewing some of the signatures 'cause I find it fun to watch:

[cheesycatz]

The Worm's Apple

(Spamton AU reference sheet) 1 2

Text ver and close ups below

This version of Spamton claims to be a spam program, but his credibility appears to be dubious. Covered from neck to toe and wearing a strange mask, the little of him that is visible doesn't quite match. But, the only thing more hated than spam is malware, so what reason would he have to lie?

- He walks stiffly. His torso barely moves, his legs don't bend, and his arms hang limply when he attempts to look normal.

- He purposefully wears baggy clothes to hide the abnormal shape of his body and limbs.

- While he attempts to make his legs look plantigrade, the actual digitigrade shape of his legs often shows through his pants.

- He keeps his long tail curled tightly behind him. However, it often unfurls when he experiences strong emotions or feels comfortable.

- His neck is unnaturally long and flexible, as though it lacks vertebrae.

- Not beating the cat allegations

- Spamton often hisses and spikes up his fur when angry or threatened. His suit limits his senses, physical defenses, and mobility, so he resorts to many threats.

- Even when alone in the city, Spamton usually leaves his suit on until he can bring it home. However, he won't pass up the opportunity for a meal along the way.

- (Tiny comparison of a real spam program, an addison, and Spamton in the bottom right corner)

- Spamton actually keeps himself as clean as possible, even if he can't clean his clothes. Regardless, he likes performing his self cleaning mechanisms as a stim, even while wearing his suit. He rubs his nose and rubs his arms together in the same way that insects clean dust off their antennae and legs.

- Spamton's hands are quite small, and his relatively long fingers often show up through his mittens. The fabric is damaged from the numerous holes that his claws have poked through them.

- He's around 5 ft (~150 cm) tall, with a 7ft (~215 cm) long tail

-----

I'm no character designer (Spamton's suit here is literally just the miniature outfit I made for my spam plush), but I like what Disguised Wormton has become over the past two years. While completely accidental, the five-petal shape and yellow thread of his button/pin perfectly represents an apple tree blossom, a nod to his symbolism. The rest of his attempt at an outfit is "hide as much as possible, but still look good doing it." ...as good as he thinks an untucked shirt and clothes ten sizes too big look. He's meant to appear incredibly uncanny when he puts effort into "being normal," looking more like a shuffling zombie than anything natural. I think the round and wide shapes of his suit contrasted with the long, thin, and sharp points of his only visible features adds to the untrustworthness he radiates. His animalistic tendencies look worse when performed by something trying to look humanoid. Even if it's more comfortable for him, the incorrect bend of his legs, the perpetual raptor arms, the absurdly long tail, and his awkwardly long neck highlight the concept of something trying so hard to look human (or humanoid in the case of Deltarune) yet always failing. That's what I was going for when designing him, at least. After writing like 50k words about disguised Wormton, he honestly might be creepier than normal Wormton. I'd rather deal with the obscure cryptid that hisses and runs away than be approached by this kidney stealer lookin mf trying to sell used cigarettes or something. He's definitely grown on me, though. In a "I would never want to be locked in a room with any of the characters I like" kind of way.

[mybeingthere]

Mary Delany (1700 - 1788), an English artist known for her "paper-mosaics" and her lively correspondence, created 950 works of botanical decoupage.

"With the plant specimen set before her she cut minute particles of coloured paper to represent the petals, stamens, calyx, leaves, veins, stalk and other parts of the plant, and, using lighter and darker paper to form the shading, she stuck them on a black background. By placing one piece of paper upon another she sometimes built up several layers and in a complete picture there might be hundreds of pieces to form one plant. It is thought she first dissected each plant so that she might examine it carefully for accurate portrayal..."

- from Mrs. Delany: her Life and her Flowers, by Ruth Hayden, 1980/2000. (The author was a descendant of Delany's sister Anne.)

Born the daughter of Colonel Bernard Granville, she was a niece of George Granville, 1st Baron Lansdowne. She was coerced into an unhappy marriage with the sixty-year-old Tory MP Alexander Pendarves when she was still only seventeen; her husband died in his sleep seven years later, making her a widow at the age of twenty-four. With little means and no home of her own, she spent time living with various relatives and friends. But having the social freedom allowed by her widowhood, she was able to indulge her artistic and scientific interests.

At the age of forty-three, she married again, to Dr. Patrick Delany, an Irish clergyman. A year later they moved to Dublin, where Dr. Delany had a home. Both husband and wife were very interested in botany and gardening. After twenty-five years of marriage, most of it spent in Ireland, her husband died, leaving her a widow again at the sixty-eight. She had always been an artist, but during her second marriage she had had the time to hone her skills, not only as a gardener, but with her needlework, drawing, and painting.

It was only in her second widowhood, though, when she was in her early seventies, that she began to assemble detailed and botanically accurate depictions of plants in decoupage, using tissue paper and hand coloration. She created nine-hundred and eighty-five of these works, calling them her "Paper Mosaics." She continued making them until her sight began to fail in the last year of her life. She died a month before her eighty-eighth birthday. The ten volumes of her Flora Delanica were eventually bequeathed to the British Museum.

(From the blog of artist and writer Stephen O’Donnell. He is married to writer and graphic designer Gigi Little, with whom he sometimes performs. Their book, The Untold Gaze – a collection of Stephen’s paintings paired with short fiction by 33 authors – was published in October of 2018.)

[digitalagepulao]

Prodigal son terror

Li Jing in a fury grabbed his halberd, leapt on his horse and galloped out of the headquarters. He was astonished to see Nezha with his Wind-Fire Wheels and Fire-Tipped Spear. He swore loudly, "You damned beast! You caused us endless suffering before your death, and now that you've been reborn, you're troubling us again!"

"Li Jing! I've returned my flesh and bones to you, and there's no longer any relation between us. Why did you smash my golden idol with your whip and burn down my temple? Today I must take my revenge!"

since I'm on a Nezha streak, might as well do my design for him on the Expedition AU! given that i've chosen to give characters a closer likeness to their region, it's only fitting i do the same with import deities like Guanyin, Subodhi and Nezha.

he's a complicated figure to place in the timeline because he gained popularity as a deity much after, only really arriving in China by the time the Journey would have been set. FSYY was written closer to when JTTW was written down, and he was retroactively inserted on the Zhou Dynasty period.

so deciding what to even do with him is dicey. but then i said fuck it, mythological rules apply here, he was around for the events of FSYY, and it and JTTW are set in the same universe. and for the sake of having some fun, i decided to get funky with his concept.

Nezha had the likeness of his family when he was alive, as described in FSYY, but once he was reborn with a lotus body he gained Indian traits instead. this is to be a nod to his status as an import deity and his origin as Nalakubara, and as the centuries roll by he may present himself to mortals closer to the locals' appearance wise.

as for his looks, i drew inspiration from multiple sources. read more for my rambles <3

his armor is closer to reconstructions of Zhou dynasty-period armor, skipping over extra parts simply because his lotus body is so indestructible, there's no need for a full set;

there are two red Chinese knots with jade beads dangling from the armor ties. they are said to ward off evil spirits, which felt like a good fit for a guy known to banish demons. i picked a six-petal flower pattern, which represents reunion, unity and a bright future;

i included lotus petals and leaves on his outfit as they are common in Beijing Opera outfits for him, and his makeup is a call to it as well;

The pink from the cheeks and eyeshadow seeps into his ear shell, as to convey the way sometimes, you get so angry even your ears blush;

Another thing i referenced from Opera is the two red ribbons on his sidelocks, though I changed them to two bulbs of lotus roots;

Four petals drawn close to his urna as both to make it look like a lotus but also form five petals, which is an auspicious number;

His hair crown is a fancy princely [knot] with a lotus motif and a pearl in the center, as he was the Pearl Spirit before becoming Nezha;

I was going to go with elf-like ears but I thought I could do better, so I went for stretched earlobes instead. you can't see it that well but hopefully the very large golden earrings imply it well enough xvx;

His cheek dimples are common sight on religious images of him and it was a cute touch imo;

Younger Nezha wears a golden robe because of his title as General of the Central Altar in Daoist belief, and the center direction is connected to yellow or gold, and yellow robes are usually meant for emperors and their sons, which is a minor nod to his self-assureness and boldness;

The Cosmic Ring has spiralling grooves on it both to catch blades on it for defense but also as a callback to Opera props;

On his waist is the embroidered ball weapon he was attributed with in earlier myths, he was also meant to have the leopard skin bag Taiyi Zhenren gave him, bjt it was going to be obscured by the text so i omitted it;

A few depictions of him gave him a halo of fire, which was real cool so i added it as well.