#it led to animals and then snakes

[unknown-user-offical]

Sorry if Muriels face is lopsided and weird, I've never drawn her before, but I'm dying to see her in S2 she looks so precious, 😫❤️. I had to draw this scene I randomly thought of while sketching zira and crow crow. I can completely see crowley and zira being checked on by muriel but, Maybe she just happens to walk in on a moment a conversation they were having.

[oldladyhabits]

Please look at these photos my little sister took of my snake

[mzcain27]

I’m like 3 chapters into ballad of songbirds and snakes and already ms Suzanne Collins is pulling ZERO punches in fleshing out panem

[haveihitanerve]

The comments were usual. Frequent even. Bruce bore them all with a smile, either acting like a bored teenager forced to attend the events he had planned, or blushing, sculpting the Brucie persona before he had even reached his twenties. 

“Oh Brucie!!!” They would twitter at him, women and men alike, pawing at his arms, his shoulders, chest, some even boldly reaching for his ass, snaking an arm around him, pulling him closer. “You look delicious baby.” They’d murmur, pur, coo over him. 

Alfred would get rightfully angry over the comments, when Bruce told him, but after the anger led to nothing, Bruce stopped coming home with the stories. He just went to bed, showering off all the handprints and touches. 

And then Dick came along.

“Bruuuuuuuuuce!” The nine year old whined, hissing the ending syllable like a snake. “I wanna gooooo!!!” Bruce chuckled lightly, fixing his cuffs in the mirror. 

“I highly doubt it chum.” He murmured, glancing over at his ward, seated on the foot of his bed. Dick pouted, the full package; lip out and arms crossed, and Bruce laughed, walking over to grab his tie and ruffle the boys hair. 

“Its a boring Gala, bud. Not too exciting.” Dick huffed, watching as Bruce expertly wound the tie around his neck, swinging the sides over and through. 

“Its a pARty!” He pointed out. “And I wanna go.” Bruce hummed to show he was listening, buttoning up the bottom two buttons of his suit, before letting his hands drop to his side. 

He sighed. “Do you want to wear a suit?” Dick’s eyes sparked up with excitement before he wrinkled his nose. 

“Do I hafta?” He complained. Bruce laughed, turning to face him. 

“Yes. Its a formal event. Suit, or you’re not coming.” The threat of a suit made the words take a moment to sink in, but once they did Dick rocketeded across the room, flying into Bruce’s arms. 

“For real???” He squealed, all excitement and little kid energy. “Hell yeah!” He bolted out the door to his own room before Bruce could so much as open his mouth to chide “language.” 

The car ride over was a new level of annoyance Bruce didn't know existed, as Dick bounced around in his seat, eagerly looking out the window for the first glimpse of his first “real adult party”. Still, he couldn't help but smile at Dick's unbridled joy.  

Hank, Bruce’s chauffeur, bore all of it with a smile, regaling Dick with stories of picking up Bruce when he was a teenager, and all the college hell, while Dick cackled and Bruce rolled his eyes. But, then again, Hank had his own three kids at home, and was marginally more used to the watts of energy than Bruce was. 

“Here ya are Mr. Wayne.” Hank finally cut off all of Dick’s peppering questions about Bruce’s college stories, a relief, as Hank was really getting into the bad stuff, or in Dicks mind, the good stuff, and Bruce hopped out, opening the door for his son. “Thank you!” Dick twittered as he leapt out, waving. 

Hank chuckled, dipping his hat. “Of course Mr. Wayne, hope you have a fun night.” Dick grinned back, and it surprised Bruce that he was so okay with hank calling him “Wayne.” But, then again, his boy and the driver seemed to have an easier relationship. Bruce certainly wasn't going to call him out. 

It did something to him, flooded his body with something heavy and warm, to hear Dick be called “Wayne”. Maybe a primal thing, an old animal instinct, the need to claim and own and have Dick. Dick was his son, maybe not by blood, but by… everything and anything Dick allowed him to have. 

“B!” Dick chirped, already a few feet up the steps, a frown on his face as he looked back. Bruce realized he’d been lost in thought at the side of the road. 

“Coming chum.” He agreed quickly, hurrying to his wards side before the entered. 

“Woah.” Dick breathed, the second they breached the door, and Bruce silently agreed. Gala’s weren’t fun for a plethora of reasons, but they were always beautiful. 

Almost immediately though, camera’s swarmed him, not only flashes of light but also of sickeningly white teeth, too wide mouths, pale skin pawing for his attention. 

“Brucie, darling!!!” One man twittered, and they successfully separated them, dragging Bruce over to one gaggle of rich twats while a few others circled Dick. Dick seemed to be taking it remarkably well, nodding politely and smiling, shaking hands, but his eyes darted to Bruce every few seconds, questions in his eyes. 

“Excuse me-” Bruce brushed past his virus of people and forced his way beside Dick, kneeling so he was at eye level.

“Everything alright?” he murmured quietly, tucking Dick into his space, warding off others. He almost wanted to say “i told you so” but figured it’d only do more harm than good. Pointing it out when Dick was clearly overwhelmed would not be helpful, or nice in any capacity. 

Dick nodded, shoulders imperceptibly dropping in relief as he allowed himself to be caged by Bruce’s body. “Y-yeah. Fine. Better now.” Bruce let the unspoken words hang between them, “-that you’re here”, and nodded instead, standing. 

“Stay close.” he flicked his fingers and Dick obediently stepped closer, pushing into Bruce’s space with hardly a thought.

And, Bruce realized quietly, he didn't mind either. Having people in his space… touch had never been his thing, after his parents death. Especially not when that touch came from unsympathetic elites after his parents money. But with Dick… it was, easier. Nice. 

The rest of the night went by a little better, and Dick even stepped away a few feet, always close by, but straying enough that he wasn't hiding behind Bruce’s legs. In his shadow. It was then that it happened. 

“Oh aren’t you just beautiful.” The words came from Mrs. Braught, a well known widow with enough wealth to compete with the Drakes, if not Waynes. She was… known for her affinity to younger men, boys, really, and Bruce had only managed to not make the cut because he had known, as a boy, and avoided her, and wasn’t as “appealing” to her, due to his depression. 

Dick stiffened slightly at the words, but still offered her a smile, polite, as always. The reaction made Bruce relax marginally. He was okay, he was handling it, just like Bruce had. 

But… but Dick’s smile was strained, his shoulders inching near his ears, and there was a definite tilt to him, a lean away from Braught that was easy to miss. But not to Bruce. 

Before he knew what he was doing, Bruce was at his wards side- no, in front of him, shoving Dick behind his legs. Dick stumbled, lightly, at the sudden push, but quickly straightened, grabbing the back of Bruce’s coat. The trembling Bruce could feel through the fabric was enough to make him see red. 

The Brucie persona was gone, slipping off without a singe thought, fast enough that Bruce wondered for a fraction of a second if it had even been on when he had entered the Gala, and Bruce realized it wasn't just Dick’s hand trembling, but Bruce’s whole body. 

His fists curled, hard enough that his knuckles turned white, jaw clenched to the point where his teeth squeaked, entire body quivering with rage. 

Mrs. Braught glanced up, surprised, almost caught off guard even, as she realized Brucie Wayne wasn't there for a pleasant hello, but Bruce was there, a man- no, a father, furious at what was being said about his son. 

Bruce could hear, faintly, as though through water, people beginning to whisper, eyes wide as the elites gathered around, no one bold enough to step in, and no one truly believing Brucie would do anything. 

Bruce didn't care. Dick was his, and he would not allow the traumas of the past to repeat, though he had failed to stop him from being orphaned. No more. He vowed, hands fisting at his sides. He had failed Dick in the one, true way that mattered, keeping his family, but he would not fail him any other way. Not in the ways Bruce was failed. 

His hand began to move back on its own accord, when a tiny, stubborn hand caught it, grabbed his wrist. Bruce looked down in surprise to find Dick staring up him solemnly, shaking his head.

Before Bruce could say something, another woman, another widow Bruce recognized as Mrs. Kershaw, stepped forward, fire bright in her weathered eyes. 

“You go on and git out of here Gertrude, before I tar your hide.” She hissed, and Bruce recalled how her own daughter had been raped and murdered when she had been barely thirteen. Gertrude knew it too, and backed away, scurrying for the exit. Mrs. Kershaw made sure she left, eyes kind when she glanced at Bruce, a subtle nod of solidarity her only acknowledgement. 

Dick tugged on his hand, but Bruce ignored him, sending a viscous glare at anyone who dared step too close. 

“Dad.” Dicks voice was soft, so soft, but proud too, grateful. That finally dragged Bruce from his never ending anger, and he looked down. Down at those wide blue eyes, that head of messy black curls.

“Come on Dad.” Dick whispered quietly, eyes darting around nervously at all the people, the cameras, but always going back to Bruce. Meeting his eyes. 

Bruce bent down and scooped his son into his arms, uncaring of who saw, who cared. He blocked his son off from the world, heading for the exit, one of the waitstaff, Aisha, nodding at him to inform him Hank had been called. 

“Thanks Dad.” Dick murmured, face buried against Bruce’s neck, and Bruce’s arms tightened around him, heading out into the streets of Gotham with his son cradled to his chest. 

“I’ll always protect you chum.” He swore, and something in his heart lightened at the Justice he was doing for his son, but also for his younger self. “I will always protect you.” 

thanks to @frownyalfred and @astorianyxkings for the idea!

[i-love-you-just-the-same]

this is entirely @tame-the-lion-writes fault for giving me brain worms lol

it really does start with kyle-- he's the bird, he can scope out the area the 141 are staying for the time being. what he doesn't expect is you, the pretty thing fixing up one of the cabins near them. he starts to hang around, becomes noticed by you (especially when he leaves you trinkets on the porch). johnny is next, he follows kyle to see where he goes when he disappears for hours. johnny plunges in faster than kyle. he's rumbling through drawers and sleeping in your blankets not too far along while kyle perches on your desk chair. you're receptive but hesitant. should wild animals be this friendly?

it gets more concerning when there's a bear rolling around in your front yard. he pushes your mailbox down--then back up once he realizes it's down. he sticks his head through your kitchen window and demands toast. price wants in, the best way for that is being as harmless as possible. so letting gaz perch on him and soap sleep on him (grumpily). eventually he's rewarded with head pats and cuddles in the living room (thankful for the wide door).

simon is much more reluctant. you can see him lurking, following you from afar, but he only ever gets close if you're in need of help. one time another big dog snarled at you and he attacked it. another time he led you away from a burrow of snakes. you see him with the fox, who plays with his tail and nimbles his haunches, but that's about it. he'll sleep on the porch when the other three are inside. you leave him scraps and let him be distant for awhile. it's a trust exercise to get him to be near you, so when he eventually comes to lay at the door to your room and allows soft touches to his ears, you take the win.

they're surprisingly helpful. ghost will bring you your shoes and gaz retrieves earrings. soap picks out blouses while price decides how cohesive the outfit is. they're good at online shopping and johnny will hide in your bag when you go to pick it up. they like to "find" money for you so you don't feel as bad dressing up more. gaz learns to braid with his beak while simon lays his head on your thigh.

they've managed to explain their nicknames of "gaz" (fridge letters), soap (lots of soap bars with teeth marks), "ghost" (a bed sheet and the way he acts), and "price" (money, lots of it, with help from the fridge letters).

they're not sure how to broach the "shifter" topic, so they don't for the time being. they take care of you in the ways they can, you bandage their paws and offer forehead kisses.

[always-azriels-princess]

The Wrong Thing

Summary: the mate bond snaps, and you say the wrong thing

Word Count: 1.5K

Warnings: just some angst, beautiful beautiful angst :) and comfort obvi (if i make a p2), oh and not proof read lol

Part 2

The quiet hum of the night settled around the House of Wind, the moonlight casting silver shadows across the balcony. It had been a long, grueling day, as Cassian was relentless in your Valkyrie training.

You gently pealed off your grimy leathers and sighed, feeling relieved. The House started the bath, and you almost moaned at the thought of rinsing all the dried sweat and dirt off you. The water was warm, the scent of lavender and rose petals filling the air as you sank into the bath. Your muscles, sore from the day’s exertions, slowly relaxed under the soothing heat, the steam rising around you like a soft mist. Azriel was the one to advise on using lavender oil for sore muscles, and in that moment you couldn't be more thankful.

After the bath, you slipped on one of Azriel's old shirts that you stole and climbed under the mountain of covers and stuffed animals on your bed, each a special gift that you collected from your dearest friends and family.

Sleep didn't find you that night, and the moon was high in the sky when you gave up on trying. Soft moonlight shined through your cracked window curtains, casting a glow within the shadows of your room.

You padded out into the hallway, intent on making a cup of tea in the kitchen that would hopefully make you drowsy enough to get a few hours of shut eye before Cassian banged on your door for morning training.

As your tea steeped, you looked out the window at the stars that danced across the sky, feeling completely at peace. You got up and wandered to the sliding glass door that led to the balcony. As you stepped out, the night air wrapped around you like a cool embrace, the faintest trace of something sweet carried on the wind. You leaned against the stone railing, feeling the rough texture under your palms, and let your gaze drift upward. The sky stretched out in front of you, vast and endless, a tapestry of stars glittering like diamonds on a velvet cloth. It was like the universe was holding its breath, every star hanging in perfect stillness.

A soft rustling of wings broke the stillness, as Azriel landed beside you.

"You're up late," he joked softly.

"I could same the same about you," you reply.

He gave a rare soft laugh, a welcome sound that filled your belly with warmth and automatically brought a smile to your face. "I suppose we’re both too stubborn to sleep."

He smirked, his lips quirking at the corners. "That’s one way of putting it."

You grimaced. "Bad dreams again?"

He looked down over the balcony, "You know, I think Cassian is mixing up the training lesson tomorrow; we're going to work on group fighting, which I think will be hel..."

"Azriel." You cut him off quietly but firmly. "I asked you a question."

He sighed, paused, then almost imperceptibly nodded.

Your heart broke as he turned his head away from you, and you couldn't help but immediately pull him into your arms, locking your hands around his neck. His hands snaked around your waist automatically, and you couldn't help but notice that you wouldn't mind staying like that for the rest of your life. His head tucked into your neck, softly breathing in your scent.

His deep voice was muffled as he whispered. "I should be over them right now, right? How do they still keep coming back?"

Your heart broke all over again.

You regretfully pulled away, and grasped the sides of his head so he focused on you. "Listen to me very carefully Az. You. Are. Not. Weak. You have been through unimaginable things, trauma that any lesser male would have crumbled from. I look at you every day, and I could not be prouder of who you are."

He didn't respond right away, his breath shallow, shadows curling around his feet and snaking up your wrists. His eyes glistened, the faintest sheen of moisture gathering at the rims, as if a single, fragile breath could break the dam holding them back. His lashes fluttered, and his gaze deepened as the air around them seemed to grow heavier, as if the very weight of their emotions was too much to contain.

As he opened his mouth to speak, the world seemed to shift in an instant. Your heart raced, your senses flared, and suddenly, you were overwhelmed by an unrelenting sense of love and protection. The golden bond stretched between you, and Azriel's eyes softened, a quiet hope brightening the hazel you loved to look at. It was raw—too much, too sudden—and it left you breathless for a moment, scrambling to make sense of it.

Before you could even think, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind.

"No."

As soon as the light had come, it left Azriel's eyes, winking out from existence as he pulled away from your embrace as if burned.

Your heart shattered as pain lanced through your chest, realizing what you had done. Your mind raced, trying to undo what you’d said as you fumbled to find your words.

The weight of what you said hung in the air like a suffocating fog, and you could see it in his eyes—how they flickered with confusion, hurt, and something deeper, something far more vulnerable. You had never wanted to cause him pain, never meant for those words to slip out the way they did. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. The words felt stuck, trapped somewhere deep inside of you.

He stood there, silent, his expression a careful mask, but the hurt in his eyes was unmistakable. It cut deeper than anything you'd ever felt before. He looked as if the ground had just been ripped out from under him, as though something inside him had been shattered—by you.

The silence stretched between you both, thick and suffocating. You could feel him pulling away, the space between you growing wider with every passing second.

"Azriel," you whispered, your voice barely audible as the words trembled on your lips. You stepped forward, but he took a slow step back, his jaw clenched tight. There was a distance in his gaze now, an emotional wall rising between you that had never been there before.

His eyes were distant, his usually calm demeanor now laced with an edge of something darker. You had never seen him like this. Never this vulnerable. Never this raw.

"I didn’t mean it," you said, your voice breaking on the last word. The thoughts of the damage you had done washed over you in waves, making it hard to breathe, hard to think. "I’m so sorry, Azriel. I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please, just—"

He held up a hand, stopping you, his gaze flickering down as he took a slow breath. When he spoke, his voice was low, rough, as if each word was being dragged from him. "No. I...I need to leave. Now."

His wings flared up getting ready to take off, away from you, away from your desperate attempts to explain. You reached a hand out, in an effort to keep him with you, but he backed away, eyes displaying the agony you felt mirrored in your soul.

As his wingbeats fell away, your chest constricted. You could feel the newly forged bond, this beautiful, wonderful bond you had waited for for centuries that you already fucked up, stretch and start to fray at the edges. You grasped your chest, trying to dig your hands in to physically hold the bond tight and never let go. The first tears finally broke free, and the dam shattered as you sunk to the ground, breaking into pieces, and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t stop the way it hurt—how it felt like you were losing him.

You desperately drew in breath, trying to get your breathing under control in vain. As your exhales and crying finally quieted, a numbness took over your body. Your breathe was the only noise around, the wind dead and birds silent, and you realized how alone you were. Your best friend, who had been with you through everything, was gone, and he hated you. Your beautiful, kind, loving, selfless mate who deserved so much more than you, was gone, and he'd likely never want to see you again.

[bunny-jpeg]

hi bunny, just got broken up with so anything to fix a broken heart would be amazing but highly need Lando Norris to be the situation.

Maybe best friends to lovers, kinky kinky good shit

heartbreak heaven

lando norris

tags: smut & fluff, friends-to-lovers, jealousy, sweet talk, break ups

a/n: i'm so sorry about that anon! break-ups are always the hardest, but i promise it does get a lot better! i hope you love this fic and maybe it soothes some of the ache from the heartbreak! i gave it a mix of romantic, fluffy, smutty goodness! - word of advice: chocolate is a great medicine for a heartbreak!

"that's crazy! i can't believe he did that." lando said as he leaned over and grabbed another tissue from the box on the coffee table, "we should kill him."

you looked at him, unamused as you took the tissue from him, "not funny, lando." you remarked as you wiped your eyes, "i can't believe he did that. he just up and left, he said that he could do it anymore. do what? am i that bad of a catch?" you huffed as you balled up the tissue, "stupid prick."

"ah well, his loss." he remarked. he was comfortable next to you on the couch with his arm draped over the back of it, "you'll get 'em next time, tiger."

you leaned up against him and exhaled deeply, "thanks, lando. nice to have a friend like you." then let out a small chuckle.

lando let you lay up against him and threw an arm around you. he sighed, "yeah... friend."

you had known lando for a while, since the karting days. your older brother was a racer, and while he didn't make it pro, you still remained closed to lando. you two were the same age and it was a a simple friendship. except lando didn't see it that way, when he was younger he never thought about happily ever afters and marriage. but, when you were around, even when you cheered on your brother, lando thought about you being mrs. norris. but time wasn't kind to him and after what felt like a dozen boyfriends, you were once again in lando's arms with tears in your eyes.

"you can do better." he said lowly, "so much better, you have no idea." he leaned in a little closer, his arm snaked around you, "how about someone who knows what the hell they're doing. to make you feel special, to please you."

"like oscar?" you asked a little oblivious.

lando sighed before he looked you in the eyes, "no... like me." before he captured your lips in his and wrapped both arms around you shoulders.

when he pulled away, he looked at you once more. and you stared back at him with shocker, "what!?" you asked and he felt heat in his cheeks.

"i can explain-"

you pulled him in for a tight kiss once more before you held onto his shoulders tightly. you felt the excitement through both of your bodies, he pressed his forehead up against yours with his eyes closed before he asked, "bedroom?"

lando know the layout of your flat like the back of his hand. he took you by the hand and led you towards your bedroom. he flicked on the lights and you led him further into your domain. the white rug, the string lights, the soft bed with the stuffed animals on it, which included a stuffed dog that he picked up for you while overseas.

"you look good you know, even with all your runny make up." he joked, "in order to really love a girl you gotta see her in her most comfortable." it didn't help that you were in sleeping shorts and a mclaren t-shirt (another gift from lando). and then started to get his t-shirt off. you did the same to your own shirt, lando eyed the shape of your body under the t-shirt.

you looked away for a moment and asked, "does it look bad?"

lando shook his head, "oh, no way. you look.... beautiful. what the fuck were these guys thinking? obviously a waste of a beautiful woman." his hands went to the belt on his black jeans, "i have a theory, that when a guy sees a woman as beautiful as you. they get intimidated. scared little boys." he chuckled.

"because you were always scared to ask me out?"

lando nodded, "yeah, but... i can't help myself anymore. if i see you with one more guy, i'm going to crash my car into them... i want you." he practically fell to his knees in front of you while you sat on the bed. he placed a large hand on your thigh, "i can't take it anymore, i want you. i need you. i want to be with you."

you took him by the face and gazed into his beautiful eyes. you ran your thumb across his bottom lip and nodded, "then after this.. you show me all the other ways a proper man should treat a woman."

lando took you by the hand and pushed your wrist up against his face, he exhaled deeply and said, "of course... every way i can."

you both were soon up by the pillows, lando's large hands on you as he held onto your shoulders to kiss you. the kiss was heavy, near bruising on your lips. the bed shifted under the both of you as you stripped of your clothes. you were left bare for lando as he felt up your skin.

he took in the sight of you, enough distance to admire your face and body, you looked heavenly, like a divine being. laid out on the soft covers of your bed. the male species must be a bunch of goddamn idiots. he laid you out on the bed, he admired your beauty as he felt you up. he swallowed and said, "beautiful, you know that right? beauty beyond words." then laughed a little as he captured your lips with his once more.

"please, lando." you reached over into the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out a condom, "no ifs, ands, or buts." and lando took it happily. it was quite erotic seeing lando put on a condom. it arose something in you, you couldn't quite put into words. and then when he was back between your legs once more. you smiled up at him and said, "you look good with one on."

"better safe than sorry." he remarked, "now, relax... i've been waiting for this for a long, long time." his childhood friend, his first crush, was now under him on her bed all spread out and perfect for him. one hand on his cock and another on your hip, he slowly sank into you and felt a shudder through his body. it felt hot, very hot.

"how does it feel?" you asked, for a moment you were self conscious. you knew that lando could have any woman he wanted, there were tons of grid bunnies, models and beyond who would die for a piece of lando. it made you feel a little self conscious in yourself.

"how does it feel? it feels amazing, fuck. you feel as good as you look. holy shit." he chuckled softly, "you have no idea what you do to me. all the times i thought about you. yearned for you. the longest crush i've ever had." he said as he held your hips and continued to move against you.

"no need to flatter me, lando. you already have me." then yelped when lando hiked your hips up a little bit.

lando chuckled as he moved against you faster, "i love when you say that, how that sounds on your tongue. your sweet voice telling me that i have you. but call me greedy, beautiful, because i want all of you." his pace quickened and he leaned in further towards you.

"fuck, lando." you groaned. you wondered where he learned those words. you felt the shudder through you as the pleasure continued to course through you, the patter of your heart grew as he continued to love you.

"that's it, angel. that's it." he groaned as he rutted against you, "jesus christ, you're beautiful. you have no idea what you do to me. fuck, i could name all the times i saw you and my jaw dropped."

"flirt." you moaned.

"only for you, angel." he said as he continued to move, his pace was rather feverish the more he needed you. you held onto his shoulders and he loved the feeling of your nails in his tanned shoulders. it only made him yearn for you more as he rutted against you. he could feel the heat in his cheeks and the pleasure cloud his thoughts.

it was hard to think of much else when he was buried in his sweet cunt. your cunt made him wild as he moved. he wanted more, no, he needed more. more of you, more of his first and only crush. no matter how many trophies he won, to have you in his arms was worth more than that.

he kissed you once more, and you held his face. you tried to meet his pace as his cock worked inside of you. it was hot between you two, you could feel the heat at your temples as you kept your legs up to keep him fucking you.

you tensed up at the feeling, at his words. when he pulled away from the kiss, you two gazed at one another. you didn't think that you'd ever be with lando, but there he was. he gazed at you with a heated want as the two of you continued to move against one another. it felt electric, hot in a way that made your core swirl.

he was erotic, painfully hot. you felt the pleasure grow in your body. it was something else, a totally different feeling. you groaned, "fucking hell, lando."

lando beamed down at you and continued to fuck you. the kisses continued soon after and he felt the fire in his gut from the want from you. you were beyond perfect, he knew that. the way your pussy took him left him hungry for more.

"you're amazing." he said lowly, "so perfect."

"not as perfect as you." you said as you kissed him on the cheek, your hands in his hair as the two of you fucked against one another with a heated passion. the fire between the both of you as you two rutted against one another.

the pleasure only bloomed in your gut as he moved against you and you moved against him. you moved together in a sort of harmony. a perfect pace of one another as the pleasure moved through both of you. it felt like heaven and it made your toes curl at the feeling.

it didn't take much longer before you held onto him and came around his cock. your cutn clenched around his cock and he rutted against you further. the two of you moved against one another heavily. the pleasure only crashed over you, and then soon after it crashed over him and he came inside of the condom. he groaned into your shoulder as he finished. you held onto him closely and the two of you continued to move against one another.

he groaned against your skin and felt the fire in his soul. it felt amazing, and as he slowed to a stop. he admired you. he saw the expression on your face and your features, the same features he loved growing up. the two of you kissed one another before lando laid in bed beside of you. he held your face when he kissed you again.

you giggled against him then pulled away. you two looked at one another and you wrapped an arm around him. you asked, "how was that?"

"oh perfect." he chuckled as he held your face, "beyond perfect." he looked at you closely and felt a sense of relief in his body. he kissed you once more then said, "i want you for the rest of my life."

and who were you say no? <3

[imblueeforyuu]

Yandere naga x janitor reader 

You were broke, living in a car and constantly having to take odd jobs was the norm. It wasn’t that bad actually, living in a car means you can pack up and leave whatever city you're staying in anytime. But recently you’ve gotten a job offer no one can refuse. 1000 a week to clean some snakes' cage for some billionaire. And that’s the only description  you got for the job. But damn you’d be a fool to refuse. So of course you took the job, and now you were at this gigantic mansion. 

You felt out of place. Everyone had their own uniform with the name embedded into it. And you were stuck in your cheap ass clothes. Looking at the walls you notice way too many paintings of mythical creatures. Like one or two is already a creepy amount, but this person had hallways on hallways of art of such creatures. There were none of the billionaires, which was odd, aren’t rich people supposed to be super egotistical and have one to many art of themselves? A butler led you to A fancy door, was the reptile in there? 

“The master is just in there ready to ask you some questions,” the butler said blankly. Oh, an interview, right. Dang you're not ready for an interrogation. Sigh. You walked into the room to see a very burly woman and a big ass glass wall which seemed to have the enclosure of the snake behind it. 

“Oh, you're the new piece of meat.” She smirked. What an odd way to describe you. But for 1000 a week you’ll take any abuse. The woman got up and started to examine you. You froze, you don’t really like people in your personal space especially like this. 

“Hm, you're perfect,” the lady said. So does that mean you got the job? Yaya!

she handed you a broom and sent you on your way into the enclosure. When you stepped in it was like transporting into the deep jungle. The sky was eerily realistic, there were little animals and bugs scuttling around. But no snake yet, not that you minded you’d prefer to do the job silently and quickly. Unfortunately your boss said no phone, so you couldn’t listen to music. 

Your job went as quickly as it could. You didn’t run into the snake at all which was strange because you thought it would be pretty big but apparently not. Whatever, you walk out of the cage and into the office room. Seeing your phone grabbing it and walking out of the office, the harsh reality of the never ending hallways hit you as soon as you walked out of the room. Thankfully there was another butler looking dude, dusting. You walk over towards him. He seemed shocked to see you. But got over it as soon as you asked for directions. Now you finally get to relax. The next day was pretty much the same thing. There was no snake and you just gotta chill, you convinced your boss to let you listen to music.

A month passed and you were 4000 dollars richer! And with the added bonus of free food you were finally closing a deal on a real house, well apartment. You’ve also done your job too many times. It takes like an hour max to fully clean the cage. Which is perfect because you’ve taken on a new hobby called sleeping in the cage. How could you not? It was so peaceful the sound of crickets chirping always lulled you to sleep. But one day your peaceful sleep was interrupted by an overgrown snake. 

   “Stupid human falling asleep in my presence, does he know who I am?” I said. Hating humans was always a part of who I was. Taken from my home when I was just a child and sold off towards a crazy old woman who I’m pretty sure wants to fuck me pretty much solidified that hatred. but gosh I couldn’t kill it, it was kinda cute. I slithered towards the human who was taking a nap. 

Towering over it I pause, I’ve been having trouble killing this exact human.  Normally I would eat them whenever they turned their back. But this one was different. Like there was a force pulling me closer to him. so I’ve just taken to staring at him. He’s so interesting looking, I reach my hand out and touch his hair. The human twitches slightly, I quickly pull my hand back and before I was able to hide back into the bushes he noticed me. 

Your eyes widened, why the fuck is there a 8ft snake monster just staring at you. Backing up quickly, the snake comes closer to you glaring. It looked like it wanted to murder you, and it probably did. The snake man lunged towards your neck and bit it. You scream and try to push him off. But it didn’t work. He was just a wall of mussels. Now you are a pretty strong guy. You go to the gym every other day! But this guy was on a whole different planet! You still try and push him off of course but whatever he bit you with was starting to make you sluggish and you fall back asleep. 

You wake up in a cold sweat, you try to stretch and move but something is squeezing you. Thrashing around as soon as the dread of being touched all over set in, you hated when people were too close but touching is on another planet of hate. 

“Stop struggling human,” a voice hissed out. quickly you turn your head to see whatever was holding you so close. It was the snake man. 

“There’s no point,” he continued, stretching his arms. “You're stuck with me forever,” he smirked.

 Oh well guess this is your life now, stuck with a ginormous snake man who hasn’t quite figured out the concept of personal space. 

[gatorbites-imagines]

hello

ima big fan of your work and read it all the time

and I was wondering if you do more Plastic Man clone reader stuff if it isn’t to much trouble

plastic Man is my favorite hero and I really enjoyed that one shot

Dick Grayson x Plastic Man clone male reader

Headcanons

You didn’t say anything specific, so I cooked this up, as I remember watching the animated show that was batman and plastic man years ago. So, this combo felt fun. Not the longest, since I’m dealing with a lot right now.

Patrick worked with Bruce on the semi-regular for a moment during the years, meaning you got dragged along. It was around the time Patrick had just found you, meaning you were still getting used to this whole… being alive thing.

At least Robin was nice, when he wasn’t annoying. Because you two were teens… of course you would find each other annoying. It led to a lot of bickering, some valid and some not, but you two grew close anyways.

When Dick stopped being Robin and became Nightwing, it didn’t really make a difference for you. You didn’t make a habit out of hanging around Gotham, since you didn’t respect Batman’s authority, so if you could hang with Dick in Bludhaven instead? Then it would all be great.

Youd make a game out of it whenever you visited, taking the form of some vigilante of rather sidekick. Shaping yourself to look like a little Nightwing with some tweaks to the costume, some color changes, and boom! Nightwing had a sidekick.

Your friend group all had a great laugh when Nightwing started hearing from the locals of Bludhaven, asking about his sidekick, and what his name was. Apparently, Dick wasn’t a big fan of the name “Nightboy” or “Winged crusader”.

Dick just didn’t appreciate all the work and effort you put into “Redwing”, after the red winged blackbird, of course. To match the color scheme you gave your little sidekick form.

It also led to a whole intervention from Bruce, and the rest of the bats, when they thought Dick actually got a sidekick. Only to see the so-called Redwing, stretch and change color, only to become you, who cackled and fell over, literally turning into a puddle from laughing too hard.

In the end Redwing was only something you pulled out when you two were bored and had time, or if Dick really needed backup and you couldn’t show up as yourself.

You didn’t truly have a place of operations of your own. In your own words, you weren’t a hero, so you didn’t need a city to watch over. This just meant you wandered a lot, did some petty theft, or very extreme theft if they were a corrupt person, and just… hung out.

You knew Oliver was SICK of seeing you around star city, but it’s not your fault that the place was filled to the brim with corrupt rich people. It also allowed you to take potshots at Oliver when you got the time. Roy may have forgiven him, and they may have made up, but you didn’t forgive as easily.

This was also why you found yourself in Bludhaven so much, just lounging around Dicks apartment or safehouses. It was a common sight for Dick to see you literally stretched across his couch, or see you worming across the floor like a snake towards the kitchen.

Anyone else might have found it sickening, but Dick had been around you so long that it was normal. Plus, you made a great blanket when you would slither back from the kitchen and drape across him.

And maybe it was overexposure, but he did find your stretched out grinning face cute, in its own weird way.

It was so easy to take cuteness aggression out on you, since he could pull, bite and pinch as much as he wanted, it wouldn’t hurt you. It also resulted in you being Dicks personal stress ball, meaning hed massage and pull at your face when he was deep in thought. Your face always looked like some kind of Picasso painting afterwards.

There were other times you’d shrink and hang out in his toolbelt, if he had one on, or in some other compartment in his suit, just so Dick could stick his hand into that pocket and you could hold his finger, for comfort, mainly his.

It also worked great for surprise attacks. You never knew when Nightwing had plastic man 2.0 in his pocket before it was too late!

And yes, your hero name was plastic man 2, no matter how much your friends begged you to change it. Why would you change it? that’s literally what you were. Having a different name should be enough.

You did joke a few times about changing it to Flamebird to match Dick though, just to see him blush.

[shehungers]

OF FLESH SIN

vampire priest x reader | 2.6k | 18+

a ghastly sight! one of the monastery's beloved priests has been found brutally murdered and disfigured in his chambers. father shaw, a newer addition to the monastery, claims to have answers to sate your reaching curiosity—but he wishes for you to come to his chambers at night.

story warnings; dark content, time period inaccuracies, graphic + gruesome details, vampires are predators, power imbalance, kinda obsessive behavior, prose + detail heavy, mention of animal death, hypnotism (kinda), very yandere behavior, roughly proofread.

reposted from my old blog: theoxenfree.

please consider leaving feedback + reblogging!

Father Marius died in quite some awful way last night, as reported to you by the nuns hanging fresh washed garments on the clothesline in the waning, purpling daylight.

“A look of horror! Utter terror! So frightened that his jaw had become dislocated in forever a scream,” shivered one young nun, Lucy; recently a convert from the slums. “I, well, I didn't see it myself. Neither did the rest of us, actually. They say it was that new Father Shaw who found him at dawn.”

You had been raking gravel out of the yard, tiny stones kicked off of the path into the kempt lawn by prancing horses and wagon wheels, when Lucy and the other nun, Esme, had caught your attention with their hard, dense gossip. They regarded your approach with less caution than they would have had with their other sisters, as gossip was deemed inappropriate, a violation, a flickering serpent’s tongue carrying covert temptations leading to luscious sins and debauchery.

They saw you—poor, morose, the groundskeeper's only child and reminder of loveless trysts—and thought nothing of snaking you into their prattle. You were not the sort to divulge anyone's secrets without gain, without reward, and you knew that the nuns kept nothing to their names once they took their vows and donned their habits.

“Father Shaw,” you continued the discussion with some intrigue, mostly from the fact that he was very new, very young, and modestly handsome, “why was he awake so early? Why was he in Father Marius’ chambers? Curious to me.”

Neither of them gave much caution to your questions, shrugging as if to dismiss your ambivalence and accusatory tone. You were bold in the way that the faithless and lost always tended to be: asking senseless things, always concerned with the wrongdoings of others, always suspicious, always inquiring—forever inquiring.

“Oh, my, you're so defensive,” Esme fanned a yellow bedspread out with an oncoming breeze, catching the wind beneath the fabric so it billowed and rippled midair. “If that’s how you're going to be, then: why does your father stumble around the yard at night with a lantern, swinging around a pistol like a madman? Won't he hurt someone?”

Because he's a godless, superstitious drunk. Perhaps, even, a bit disturbed in his mind, but you couldn't bear to think that way, that he might be the type to need his head locked in a metal cage, gagged, arms bound, and padlocked in some damp, distant corner of an asylum.

“He's a good man,” you relented, taking your hands from the top of the smoothed out, worn handle of the rake and resumed your task. The gravel made an awful, grinding sound as the teeth of the rake collected pieces of stone and led it back to the rest. “He's served this monastery well. I don't mean offense about Father Shaw, I'm simply curious about what transpired is all.”

“No offense taken,” came a voice from behind, startling both the twittering nuns and yourself at the same time. They saw it to be Father Shaw standing there, hands cuffed behind his back with a particularly demure disposition, hiked their skirts and whisked themselves away back inside. “Ah, am I really such a frightful figure? I couldn't really find an opening during your conversation to invite myself in. I apologize.”

You were of a similar fretful nature, quickening your clawing and the reach of the rake. “Nay, Father. I think it's simply because you're a strange man to them still. A handsome face, a warm voice, mysterious; give them time, they'll come around.”

“Have you?” Father Shaw asked, taking measured strides in a half-circle around to your front. He concentrated on where the teeth of your instrument struck next, tips temporarily wedged into the soft dirt before being ripped up with chunks of earth and gray gravel. “It wouldn't do for me if you… were still ill at ease with me as well. I consider you my one, true friend in this place.”

Your father held a certain destestation towards Father Shaw that you'd never witnessed before, saying nothing else than that something was terribly wrong with him and not to place yourself in a position to be alone with him. This you attributed to his unsoundness, but it was always the sudden flicker a sharp breath against candlelight—a jarring shift in his demeanor when he spoke about the Father, neurotic and prone to throwing things about the cottage interior, that caused you to pay some mind to what he told you.

“And, you're a great friend of mine as well,” you hoped you sounded coherent and paced your words evenly enough. “I'm sorry if you thought I was accusing you of something, sir. I really meant nothing to it.”

Father Shaw’s lips sprawled tight and pale into a fond smile, never showing his teeth, though the imprint of them seemed massive and the skin of his lips startlingly thin across them. “I know. You have nothing to fear. My feelings were not affected. If you'd like, come to my chambers later, we may pray together first, and I'll tell you everything you wish to know about what I saw to sate your curiosity.”

“That seems improper, sir.” You said.

“How so?”

“Inviting someone to your chambers at night seems an unbecoming venture for a pious man of status, such as yourself,” you continued, now standing upright beside your rake, “if any of the sisters were to witness it, worse another priest, aren't you afraid you'd be horribly chastised? Even worse, excommunicated altogether?”

Although Father Shaw’s dark eyes reflected no light, holding such demanding depth to them that it was hard to keep your bearings whenever you realized you'd been staring, his entire face was alight in amusement.

“Wherever did you learn to speak like that?” he asked candidly, still glowing despite his pallor. “Forgive me when I say, but your father is not an educated man. I mean no offense, please don't look at me in such a way. You are so well spoken, I only wish to know more about you.”

“I've lived here my entire life,” you told him. “The nuns taught me how to read.”

He looked impressed. “You can read?”

“I can!” From a near distance, you could make out your father’s haddard form, bent sideways on a walking cane and limping towards the pair of you. You looked up at the priest’s smooth face. “It'd be best for you to leave before my father can speak to you. He isn't the kindest soul after a long day.

Father Shaw didn't react with any semblance of worry, but agreed that there were other things needing to be done and began away. Just as he passed you on his way towards the monastery, he let his hand rest atop of your shoulder and leaned you towards him to whisper in your ear: “come to me tonight. I'll be waiting for you.”

There was something so luxurious and cooling about his voice; fine silks sitting in the shade during autumn gliding across your bare skin, wrapping your neck, your chest, your nether parts. His voice was a fine, chilly mist after the first rains in spring which felt refreshing and new after a glacial winter, yet still had capacity to soak you to the bone. It was a nighttime breeze caressing your cheek, sweeping through the hairs of your scalp, making your skin burst all over with bumps.

“I don't like the way he looks at you,” said your father with a mouthful of porridge you'd seasoned with herbs of the season. It was wonderfully fragrant and warm during nights that were still a bit too uncomfortable to sip anything cold. “He looks at you like you're a slab of meat! Some prize after a hunt. I don't like him, love. Not one bit. You'd do well to stay to mind yourself and do your chores and nothing else, y’hear?”

After dinner, you cleaned up, swept the floors with hard bristles, and snuffed all the lights except for the fireplace where your father sat in his old chair, fiddling with his favorite pistol.

“It's time for bed, old man.” You watched him fit a couple of small bullets into the loading chamber. They glinted against the orange flames. “Goodness. What have you gotten this time? Something new?"

“Aye!” he grinned, nearly toothless and in a sickly sort of way. “Went to market the other day while the nuns bullied you and picked out some fine bullets from the silversmith,” he cracked the two halves of the pistol shut. “Better to be prepared.”

You waited until sometime later once he was finally asleep, possibly after midnight, before leaving the humble cottage sitting on the fringes of the massive monastery yard and rushing across the grounds to get inside.

Once, they'd kept a guard dog on the property, one of those meaner breeds that were used for gambling, but the poor thing wound up shot dead in the middle of the night by a traveling friar who'd come to seek refuge at the monastery. The sisters, and yourself, were horribly distraught by the entire ordeal and all vetoed the consideration of bringing another dog here.

Since then, it was no task for you (or anyone else) to get inside the building and shuffle along the shadows through the corridors. At night, the place stirred with patient insects, feral rodents large and small in the pantry, and hungry owls tamely whining from the rafters when something startled them away from their hunt of vermin.

Your feet were a light sound on the masonry below, padded by thin leather soles which alerted you to your enthusiasm as the thwap thwap thwap became louder, aggressive as you closed in on a wall and turned down another hallway for a sturdy wood door at the end of it.

As your knuckles rapped, hoping the sound wouldn't disturb the animals’ nighttime caroling, a swift darkness moved across the floor from behind the door, briefly blocking out the soft light seeping out from underneath.

The next moment, you were being pulled inside and sat at a small table tucked to the side of Father Shaw’s rather generous room. It was a simple space, sparsely furnished for the barest of comforts—only for what was needed to live—but what had been made for him was of exquisite craftsmanship, some made of teakwood, which Shaw assured you was remarkably durable and highly resistant to rotting.

“It's wonderful for boats,” he said, pouring a light amber colored brew from a metal kettle he'd heated a short while ago. “It’s good for all elements, really. Exceptional longevity. I've heard it has become a popular option in the city for burying the deceased.”

“Will Father Marius be buried in a teakwood coffin, then?” you asked, sipping politely from the cup even though you had no appetite for it. You already felt ill at ease enough having disobeyed your father by sneaking into a priest's personal chambers at night. The things the sisters would say about you—

“He will be entombed underneath the monastery with the rest who have served here and passed. I believe that is all stone down there, my dear.” Father Shaw smiled tepidly, kettle aside, no tea of his own. “But, I know that your curiosity led you here to me with questions, yes? About the state I found Father Marius in, yes?”

You tried to disguise your intrigue by drinking more of the tea, of whatever it was he had given you, and listened to the sounds of your fingertips sticking to the porcelain from sweat and steam.

“If you wouldn't mind sharing…”

“I wouldn't!” he leaned on his arms on the table, closer towards you as though with a secret. “As I've said, you are truly the only soul here who I can confide in. You are not a sheep. And you do not fear sin as the rest do. So, you can ask me anything and I'll tell you everything.”

“Tell me about Father Marius, then.”

Father Shaw reached across the table for one of your hands; his far larger, fingers much longer and colder than your own and held it as he recounted the event.

“Dreadful sight, it was. It was, oh, perhaps sometime after three o'clock when I heard a massive racket. A struggle. When I knocked, all of the noise subsided at once and there was complete stillness. Silence, my dear, silence so deep, dark, and damning that I knew something awful had happened

“I didn't knock again, I was too afraid to! But, Father Marius was getting on in age, so I couldn't just stand by, either. I kicked the door in—just once was all it took—and I rushed inside to see the room was a complete mess. A fight had clearly taken place, and the walls—oh, the walls—”

His remorse was carefully placed, stiff, and uncertain and he couldn't be seen in the vastness of his black gaze. You were moved by the vulnerability he was trying to show you, going as far to abandon your drink to place your warm hand on top of his.

“The walls, my dear, were a mess of blood. Something vicious and awful had happened in that room. But, then, I found Father Marius lying there on the ground next to a broken window. I think he'd tried to throw himself through it. His face was shredded to pieces, his eyes gouged. When I got closer, I noticed that his tongue had been severed from his head!”

You were holding Father Shaw’s hands in a bloodless grip, face ashen, teeth chattering behind your lips. “What on earth! That is not only horror, but cruelty!”

“Oh, my love, it gets worse!” Father Shaw held you mesmerized in his gaze, the conviction and anguish with which he told his story. “Closer still, Father Marius’ face was locked in one of pure terror, I've—I’ve never seen a human react in quite a way such as that before, to fear. The man unhinged his own jaw in a hideous scream, and it seemed to me he was skeletal. By that, it's like he was, well, quite dry.

“So, I crouched down so much lower and inspected him all over. Do you want to know what I found?”

“Yes.” You spoke breathlessly.

Father Shaw had moved out of his seat and was on one knee in front of you, both of his frigid hands on your face to smooth across your cheeks, pushing away pieces of hair obscuring some part of you he'd wanted to see.

“My love, I saw marks in his neck. Two, beautifully, wonderfully symmetrical marks that were far too clean to be of any animal that we know of. The bite was clean, it was patient and cunning. And the fangs that had sunk into his tender flesh had drained him of blood, of the very essence that kept his heart beating until the very last.”

“Sir—” your stomach plummeted, falling forever, when he smiled, teeth longer than any humans should be shown through to you. He wouldn't let you go when you went to move out of his hands, away from him. “Father Shaw, please—”

“I wish you could have seen it, my love. It was a breathtaking sight and I long for someone else to admire the beauty of my work alongside me.”

It was unthinkable that a vampire could walk on these holy grounds and in the bright of day, yet Father Shaw had for countless days. Evil held you sweetly by the cheek and in your hair, kissed you with a corpse’s cold lips, and laved the skin of your skin with a long, serpentine tongue.

“O’, my merciful lord…”

Father Shaw bent your head back with a fistful of hair and spoke from your throat:

“There is no God, only me. Come into the endless night with me, my love.”

a/n; I'm aware this is historically inaccurate as nuns and the priest wouldn't have intermingled like this in a monastery. it's really not that big of a deal lmao.

so, two of the characters from this: father marius and father shaw, actually have been adapted as important side-characters in my upcoming possessed!scholar husband x reader story, which is based in a fictional victorian era.

they're essentially the same characters, just tweaked to fit the narrative of that story!

[reasonsforhope]

Pairing frogs and toads together might conjure memories of Arnold Lobel’s beloved characters — dressed to the nines in caramel coats and polyester — biking off toward adventure. 

But in the animal world, frogs and toads on nearly every continent are facing a much more harrowing adventure: a decades-long fight against a mysterious fungal virus that has afflicted over 500 amphibian species. 

Since the 1990s, scientists estimate that the chytridiomycosis disease caused by the fungal pathogen Bd (Batrachochytrium dendrobatidis) has led to the extinction of 90 amphibians. One of the lost species includes the Panamanian golden frog, which hasn’t been spotted in the wild since 2009. 

Fortunately, a new research study has finally pinpointed the virus that has been infecting fungal genomes for decades. 

“Bd is a generalist pathogen and is associated with the decline of over 500 amphibian species…here, we describe the discovery of a novel DNA mycovirus of Bd,” wrote Mark Yacoub — the lead author of the study and a microbiology doctoral student at the University of California, Riverside. 

In an interview with UC Riverside News, Yacoub said that he and microbiology professor Jason Stajich observed the viral genome while studying the broader population genetics of mycovirus (viruses of fungi). 

The discovery will undoubtedly have monumental impacts on future amphibian conservation efforts. This includes the possible launching of new research studies into fungal species strains, the practice of cloning and observing spores, and engineering a solution to the virus. 

But Yacoub cautioned that this is only the beginning. 

“We don’t know how the virus infects the fungus, how it gets into the cells,” Yacoub said. “If we’re going to engineer the virus to help amphibians, we need answers to questions like these.”

Still, as scientists strengthen conservation efforts to save frogs and toads (and salamanders too!) they also appear to be saving themselves. Yacoub pointed out several amphibian species around the world have begun exhibiting resistance to Bd. 

“Like with COVID, there is a slow buildup of immunity,” Yacoub explained. “We are hoping to assist nature in taking its course.”

Pictured: A Golden poison frog — one of the many species endangered by chytridiomycosis — in captivity.

Why are frogs and toads so important?

From the get go, every amphibian species plays an important role in their local ecosystem. Not only are they prey for a slew of animals like lizards, snakes, otters, birds, and more, but in an eat-or-be-eaten world, frogs and toads benefit the food chain by doing both. 

Even freshly hatched tadpoles — no bigger than a button — can reduce contamination in their surrounding pond water by nibbling on algae blooms. 

As they grow bigger (and leggier), amphibians snack on whatever insect comes their way, greatly reducing the population of harmful pests and making a considerable dent in the transmission malaria, dengue, and Zika fever by eating mosquito larvae. 

“Frogs control bad insects, crop pests, and mosquitoes,” Yacoub said. “If their populations all over the world collapse, it could be devastating.” 

Yacoub also pointed out that amphibians are the “canary in the coal mine of climate change,” because they are an indicator species. Frogs and toads have permeable skin, making them sensitive to changes in their environment, and they also rely on freshwater. 

When amphibians vanish from an ecosystem, it’s a symptom of greater environmental issues...

Herpetologist Maureen Donnelly echoed Yacoub’s sentiments in an interview with Phys Org, noting that when it comes to food chains, biodiversity, and environmental impact, the role of frogs and toads should not be overlooked. 

“Conservation must be a global team effort,” Donnelly said. “We are the stewards of the planet and are responsible for all living creatures.”

-via GoodGoodGood, April 22, 2024

[blessedbyahuntress]

Blessed by a Trickster

Chapter Twelve: My Mentor Couldn't be More... Mentorish?

Prev/Next

A/N: My favorite song from the whole musical!! (I'm biased for Hermes 😊)

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.262k

Listen to: Wouldn't You Like

You almost tripped over yourself in your haste as you led your captain to the palace, to the witch Circe’s clutches.

Sound drifted to your ears, a melody so faint and sweet you would have missed it if Odysseus hadn’t caught your wrist. 

“What is that?” You breathed.

Your question was answered by a fit of giggles, causing you to cross your arms. He was here right now? You had four men to save; you didn’t have time to run a lap around the island!

“I must say,” Hermes said, still playing his lyre. “What a brilliant speech you gave.”

It was clear that Odysseus didn’t know who was speaking yet. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as he asked, “who goes there?”

“Just a friend, who could help you save your men.” The voice was coming from all around you now, but you knew his tricks and refused to be swayed like Odysseus was. “A foe like Circe is not to be messed with.”

You narrowed your eyes at Hermes as the curly-haired god gracefully floated down to your level. He circled around you as he continued, “you want to beat her? You’ll need the blessing of a certain god, divine intervention.”

He came to a stop right in front of you, eyes glittering with mischief. “Someone who’s not afraid to… send a message.”

“Hermes?” Odysseus asked in awe. At the same time, you sighed in exasperation, sounding more irritated with the god than blessed by his presence as you confirmed, “Hermes.”

Hermes laughed and grabbed your hands, and you could feel his restless energy against your fingertips. “Hermes…” you said, trailing off as he dragged you upward. “Don’t you dare!”

The god laughed mischievously, lyre still playing in the background. He snaked an arm around your waist, you clutching his shoulders desperately as you looked down to the ground far below. 

“Y/N!” You heard Odysseus call. 

“Be right back! I guess…” The last part you whispered as the breath was knocked out of you. 

Hermes tipped your chin up to him, tilting his own head. “Wouldn’t you like a taste of the power?” He asked. “Wouldn’t you like to use more than words?”

He made it sound like such a simple decision, but you weren’t about to give in that fast. Hermes seemed to notice this, and let out a laugh of amusement. 

Hermes released his grip on your waist and grabbed your hand instead, twirling you around as if dancing. “Deep in the night, the fight lasts for hours. You can be hurt or you can beat her.”

He let go of your hands, and you slowly began to fall, arms flailing. Your mouth was open, but no sound came out.

And then suddenly you were hanging, frozen midair. You couldn’t even close your mouth.

Hermes descended quickly, chin resting on the palms of his hands, legs kicking like a giddy girl as he gazed down at you. “Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred?”  

You still couldn’t move, your limbs paralyzed as the god slipped his forearms beneath your torso. You felt the spell wear off, opening and closing your mouth as you searched for a response. 

Hermes began to fly closer to the ground, still carrying you bridal-style. “Deep in the night the fight can be tragic.” He looked down at you, and for the first time you could see his eyes from underneath his helmet- they held deep sincerity despite his tone of voice. “I’ll help you conquer her.”

He dropped you back down beside Odysseus and continued, “She can turn you into an animal that’ll end up on her plate.” Hermes waved his hand and an image appeared in front of you and your captain. It showed you and Odysseus getting turned into pigs and getting served up on a platter to Circe.

“She can all but make you fall in love, like you’re on your hundredth date.” The image changed to- was that you making out with Hermes? You couldn’t tell, for the man kept changing forms. You could’ve sworn it looked like Eurylochus and Polites at one time.

Another picture breaking through with Hermes’s words. “She can conjure up a monster that'll grind you to the bones.”

“She has all the ways to haunt you,” Hermes said, baring his teeth at you in a kind of lopsided grin as he swatted at the image, causing it to disappear. “When you take her on alone.”

You turned your head away from him as he leaned in close. Hermes let you, but tugged at Odysseus’s ear. “Wouldn’t you like a taste of the power? Wouldn’t you like to use more than words? Deep in the night, the fight lasts for hours.”

With his next words, Hermes tried to punch you in the shoulder, but instead you caught his fist, making you slide a step back as you narrowed your eyes at your mentor. Hermes’s grin only stretched wider. “You can be hurt or you can beat her.”

“Wouldn’t you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn’t you like your outcome preferred? Deep in the night the fight can be tragic.” He leaned even closer. “I’ll help you conquer her.”

He used the hand that was still trapped in yours to slip something into your hand. He danced away as you glanced down at the, knobbly, hard, …root?

Hermes laughed at your confused expression. “Here in the root of this flower there lies such a power to take her on.” 

He trailed a finger down your neck, and your Adam's apple started quivering. “You must consume it, digest it, then you’ll manifest a being of your creation.” Hermes stepped away, a bit more seriousness leaking into his voice. “All you need’s imagination.” He stuck a finger in your face. “Though it’s only for a moment, ‘til you’ve beaten your opponent.” 

He hovered even higher above your head, sticking his hands out in exaggeration. “And I call this root, ‘Holy Moly’.” He burst into a fit of giggles and spiraled away.

His voice was coming from all around you again. “Wouldn't you like a taste of the power? Wouldn't you like to use more than words? Deep in the night, the fight lasts for hours. You can be hurt or you can beat her. Wouldn't you like to have some of the magic? Wouldn't you like your outcome preferred? Deep in the night, the fight can be tragic.”

He spun you around and the scene changed so quickly, you would have gotten whiplash had Hermes not done this many times during your training sessions. You reached out and steadied Odysseus as he blinked around in confusion. “I'll help you conquer her,” Hermes finished, gesturing grandly at the palace in front of you. 

You gave the god a small smile as he started to rise into the sky. 

“Hermes!” You called. When he turned back around, you said, “thank you.”

“Don’t thank me friend; you very well may die.” He laughed again at your expression.

Before you knew what he was going to do, Hermes swooped low and kissed you on the cheek. You could feel him shaking as he tried to contain his chuckling as your face turned bright red. 

He pulled away, still smiling like a mad man. “Good luck,” he said, winking at you.

And then the god vanished, the only sign that he’d ever been there being the root in your hand and your skin still tingling from where he’d kissed you.

Taglist: @barrythestrawberry041

[untilhiseyeheals]

Animal - Silco x fem!reader NSFW

Chapter 1:

It's getting sticky. Warning: mature audience, smut, blowjob, teasing

Chapter 2 - Dissipating like Smoke

You got back to your senses, well, kinda. For a good while, the sounds were muffled and your eyes tried tirelessly to blink away the haze that had clouded them just a few minutes prior. Wait, actually, you had no idea how long you were out for, where you were if you were moved or what he did to you. There was no question he did something to you, you just didn’t know what. As your eyes slowly got used to the very sparse lightning in the room, you let out an involuntary sigh as you scanned your surroundings to find out that you were in fact still in his office. Your hands moved to rub your eyes only to be met with a restricting force. With a grunt, you cast your eyes downwards to find yourself tied to a chair with a thick, red rope that seemed to be coated in some sort of satin fibre as it wasn’t uncomfortable or cutting into your skin at all. Your wrists were tightened to the wooden armrests. The position wasn’t exactly comfortable, your legs forcibly spread just a little too much by the way your ankles were fastened to the chair’s legs.

You found your voice, having to swallow the lump in your throat from being knocked out for what seemed to have been quite a while, as you didn’t see Silco anywhere around. “What is this? What do you think you’re doing here? Untie me!”, you demanded into the darkness, not sure if he was in the room anyway. With a racing mind, you tried and started wiggling yourself out of this situation, twisting and turning your wrists and ankles, to no use. The knots were tight and secure and out of reach for your hands, no matter how much you squirmed and writhed in the chair. Only then did you hear a low chuckle coming from the opposite side of the room. Slow steps approached your position, as Silco walked up to you, glancing up and down your writhing form with a sly grin on his face. Of course, he was enjoying seeing you tied up, sick bastard, oh how much you wished to wipe this sickly smirk off his face. “There, there. Why so hostile? I thought you’d appreciate being held in place , seeing as you usually can’t seem to hold still”, he responded, his voice carrying an obviously mocking tone with the usual air of arrogance that he had about him. It was that very confidence that led your fire to ignite, wanting nothing else than to blow out his fuse and push him off of his high and mighty horse.

Even in your situation, you couldn’t help but talk back to him. He was pissing you off, always so complacent, talking down on anyone he met and having to be the most powerful person in the room. It made you seethe, and he loved every bit of it. You two were like fire and gasoline, a dangerous mixture that should in no case be allowed to touch. Two stable chemical substances on their own, but if they were ever to make contact… “You think you’re very funny, huh? Alright, ha ha, good one. Now get me the fuck out of here!”, you spat back at him. He lifted a brow and only chuckled as he closed the remaining distance between the two of you, coming to a stop right before the legs of the chair. Looking down on you with that extremely irritable grin of his, eyes dark with hunger, like a predator eyeing its prey. He started walking around the chair, tracing a finger along the armrest, almost touching you. Almost. Like a spider circling her catch in the net, spinning the prison tighter and tighter, he drank in every second of your rage. “Now, why would I do that?”, he started questioning you, voice low and steady, a stark contrast to your agitated tone, “when you clearly haven’t learned your lesson?”

His circling came to a stop right behind the chair, thin arms snaking along the sides of the backrest and onto your shoulders. You shuddered involuntarily at the touch, trying to shake him off. He didn’t seem fazed as his hands began to explore your body, finding their way from your shoulders along your collarbone, one hand tracing up your neck towards your jawline as the other started creeping dangerously close to your chest. Your breathing started to get heavier as you felt his hands on your body, trying your hardest to shake it all off. No, this couldn’t be happening. You despised this man, have made it your sole mission to cross his plans, piss him off. So you moved to attack. Your head not being restricted in any way, you dipped it forward, scooping up the hand tracing your jaw, your mouth finding the skin of his thumb. You bit down. Hard. Teeth sinking into the flesh, a slightly metallic taste in your mouth. You drew blood. A triumphant grin spread on your face as he quickly retracted his hands with a sudden hiss.

Your triumph was shortlived, however, as you saw his slim figure stepping out from behind the chair, facing you again with an even more diabolical grin on his face. One hand slowly lifted to his face as he wiped the bloody thumb across his mouth, tongue darting out the corner of his mouth, making a pretty mess with it. Your eyes widened in shock. Shock? You felt a jolt of electricity thrumming to your body, straight into your core. You’ve ignored it for so long, but in your restricted situation, there was just no way of escaping it now. “What a bad girl.”, he hummed, voice low and seductive. He knew exactly what he was doing and he was enjoying every minute of it. Relishing in the way you start to squirm, trying your hardest to press your legs shut to stop the painful thrumming of desire building between your legs. As a last resort, you tilted your head to the side, casting your gaze away from the incredibly hot scene in front of you, focusing on a random spot on the floor. It was worth a try. In two quick strides, he closed the distance between himself and the chair, bending down to grab your face in his hand, holding your chin and tilting your head back forward, forcing you to look at him. “Look at me.”, he demanded, “you won’t slip away this time. It’s time to face the consequences of your actions, darling”. He drew out the last word, voice a mixture of desire and disdain, just how he knew you liked it most.

Then he did something you hadn’t expected him to do. He let go of your face, took a step back and started to slowly undo the clasp of his belt. Never letting go of your gaze, he unbuttoned his pants in an agonisingly slow motion, a hand sliding into his pants. You bit your lip, still trying your hardest to press your legs together, do anything to relieve the tension building between your legs. He started stroking himself in his pants, not even allowing you the satisfaction of seeing anything but the outline of his hands working his strained erection. You gasped in surprise at the whimper that escaped your throat before you could do anything against it, bucking your hips, squirming to find any kind of pressure. “Your behavior has been intolerable”, he gritted out between his teeth, breaths coming short and ragged as he continued to stroke himself. “It’s time you knew what it felt like to have something you want hovering just outside your grasp. Slipping away whenever you think you can finally get your hands on it. Infuriating , isn’t it?” How he managed to keep mocking you while he was clearly working himself up was beyond you. Just another one of his ways to display his power, how he held his ground over anyone in any situation.

There you were, spread before him, tied to a chair in his office, writhing and panting, forced to watch him touch himself without any way of interacting. It drove you mad, the way his eyes kept flicking up to your restricted form, closing again, head thrown back, low moans and grunts, a symphony of deliciously naughty sounds emitting from him. You couldn’t take it any longer. “Silco, please.” You were surprised at how eager the words spilt from your mouth in nothing but a desperate whimper. He opened his eyes again, looking directly at you as he felt your resolve cracking and fading underneath his torture. That’s what this was. Pure torture. “Please what?”, he mocked, yet you could hear it in his voice that he struggled to keep it up for much longer. “Please, let me…” your voice trailed off as another low moan of his reverberated through the room at your pleas, “let me touch myself, touch you, anything!”. Your voice was nothing but a mess of whimpers and pleas, hands wringing in their restraints begging to reach out.

That earned you a low chuckle as his stroking ceased and he stepped closer to you. “I’m not sure you’ve earned it.” was all he said before he came to a halt directly in front of you, bringing his crotch agonisingly close to you. Still, your tied-up position and the height difference prevented you from taking any further action, as you had to watch him pull his cock out in front of you. It was practically begging for attention, tip glistening with precum that he justly smeared all over his shaft as he lazily continued to play with himself. It drove you insane, you didn’t know what was wetter, your pussy or your mouth. You were reaching insane levels of desperation and decided to push his buttons in hopes of ceasing this torture. You cast your eyes upward to his, prying them away from the sight in front of you as you gave him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster. “Silco,” you started, voice soft as honey, his name leaving your lips like a prayer in worship, “I promise I’m going to be so, so good. Let me be your good girl, please?” That did him in. You saw his cock twitch at your words, forcing him to cease his motions in danger of tipping over already. A grunt was his only response as he haphazardly tucked it back into his pants and bent down to untie your hands from the armrests of the chair.

With your newfound freedom, one of your hands immediately dropped to the wet mess between your legs, finding your clit through the pants, not bothering with anything but finally creating the sort of friction it had been aching for. It was embarrassing how wet you were, you could feel it through the two layers of your panties and the soft fabric of the dress pants you were wearing. The other hand slid up his thighs finding his unbuttoned pants and greedily grabbing his erection. Silco groaned at the feeling of your soft hands wrapping around his cock, immediately starting to run up and down his length, fingers flicking over the tip. “Go on,” he grits out between his teeth “use that filthy mouth of yours for something useful for once.” You scooted forward on the chair and he moved as far as he could to let you bring your mouth towards the work your hand had already started.

He didn’t have to ask twice, as you gave him one long stroke, resting your hand at the base of his cock. You brought your mouth closer, lips pursing, swallowing hard at the saliva that kept pooling in your mouth from the second he started this endeavour. Finally, you opened your mouth, placing the tip of his cock onto your tongue, licking it teasingly. Silco moaned and instinctively grabbed onto your head, fingers tangling in your hair as he fought himself not to push your head down instantly. You took note of this little triumph, grinning against his cock as you pushed it into your mouth. The gasp that escaped him was like music to your ears, mouth hungrily devouring every inch of him. As you worked your magic on him, he threw his head back, muttering and moaning, hands clawing at your scalp, making a mess of your hair. Until he couldn’t take it any more. His hands slid to get ahold of your head and he held you in place as he relentlessly started to fuck into your mouth. You let out a small whine, his rough movements leaving tears to roll down your cheeks as saliva starts dripping from the corners of your mouth. “That's it.” he grunted, “It was about time I stuffed that pretty mouth of yours. Always talking back at me, messing with my men, my operations.” He kept thrusting into your mouth as you gag around his cock, unable to respond in any way. “There you are, right where you belong. Completely at my mercy.”

His movements started getting more and more erratic, unable to keep up the rhythm with how good your mouth felt around him, emitting disgustingly wet sounds and gasps for air. This shift in rhythm allowed you to take in a bit more air and open your previously squeezed-shut eyes to cast a glance up at him through fluttering eyelashes. “Oh fuck-” is all he said as you felt the thick strings of his release shooting into your mouth. He kept the grip on your head, shuddering as he pushed you down one last time before slowly loosening his grip. Eagerly swallowing all of his hot cum you kept bobbing your head a little, releasing his cock from your mouth with a little plop.

He dropped his hands from your head, straightening himself up as he took in the sight of you, legs still tied to the chair. Your hair dishevelled from his grip, your face flushed and stained with tears and saliva when his eyes fell onto the hand between your legs. Way too focused on not choking around him, you had to postpone tending to your own ache, just the way he intended. “I’m sorry, dove. Did I forget something?” he mocked, tone still laced with sarcasm, a grin spreading on his face. “Don’t worry. You did well. I daresay you deserve a little reward.”

[erwinsvow]

the frustration shy reader must feel bc she’s freaky… no doubt about it, but rafe is like she’s too precious and innocent for that

no srsly.. he thinks shes so fragile because she took some time to adjust to being intimate w him but its like no she was just a shy virgin and rafe is so overwhelming but like when she gets comfortable... its a whole diff story !

"c'mon, kid, hasn't even been an hour," rafe groans, while you crawl into his lap again. you sit right on his dick, moving the way that you know will get you dicked down within the next ten minutes. or at least you thought it would.

rafe's huge hands come to your hips, lifting you up and off, tumbling onto the bedspace next to him.

"m'not a dildo, kid. give it a rest, it's fuckin' tired."

"i bet i can wake it up," you giggle, hand snaking back onto rafe's chest and trailing down. he grabs your wrist.

"what the fuck. are-are you not satisifed. is that what this is?"

"i never said that," you say with a sincere shake of your head and one of your concerned looks. "oh, am i not supposed to want it more? is that bad?"

rafe's not sure what he's gonna do with you.

"no, baby, it's not bad. it's healthy." you look relieved, chest heaving slower while you sink into your side of the bed.

he thinks that's the end of the conversation, but it comes up again a few days later, when he picks you up and takes you out for icecream on the pier. you lick your cone, watching the sunset while rafe stares at you, when ropes from someone's boat catches your eye.

"that rope looks strong," you comment, with another swipe of your tongue. rafe's about to start a lecture on boats when you cut him off, piping in again. "i bet if you tied me up with that i couldn't even move. it would probably leave scars. right?" you glance up from the rope to look at your boyfriend.

"huh?"

"the rope. if you tied it around my wrists and ankles. it would probably leave a mark. and hurt. you think we can take that rope or should we buy our own?"

he stares at you, not sure if you're joking.

"no, no one's tying you up with rope. what the fuck?"

"ugh. rafe?"

"yeah? kid?"

"you want some?" you offer, handing him the ice cream cone.

the next time he's heard enough. he's driving through the woods, a creepy backroad that led him to barry's, where he'd taken you with him since it was late at night. there's no lights, just the moon and the trees.

you stare out the window, he thinks you're tired from the day's activities.

"what're you thinkin' about, kid?"

"i bet if you let me loose in these woods you wouldn't be able to find me." he's a little confused, but sometimes you say odd shit so he goes along with it.

"yeah, that's what getting lost means."

"no, silly, not lost. if you let me run so you could chase me." you crane your neck, looking out the window at the expanse of the forest.

"to... find you?"

"duh, rafe. how else could we have sex in the woods if you don't find me. that's the whole point, you have to chase me. like a predator animal. i wonder if there's bears in these woods."

"are you jokin'?" you turn to look at him, with that same confused expression, sweet and confused.

"no? why?" he slams on the brakes, pulling over.

"get real, kid. you want me to chase you through the forest and fuck you, what, against a tree?"

"no, rafe," you start sincerely, looking concerned. "not against a tree, wouldn't that hurt? maybe on the grass. it just depends how far i get, until you find me, i guess. it looks like just trees here."

he stares at you, and then back at his hands on the wheel.

"rafe?"

"yes?"

"so are we gonna do it today, or..?"

[zigrethsnotebook]

hey I wasn't sure if u were taking requests so I'm sorry of this is annoying. Do u think u could write a ford x witch reader who like lives in the woods and has a bunch of odd pets (snakes, frogs, small cryptids, etc) I js think it's a really cool idea lol

Have a nice night

Drink water, eat food, and feel loved ❤️

-led

I absolutely am taking requests! ^^ Thank you, and I hope you enjoy💞

In the woods somewhere

Ford x Witch!Reader

words: 1,515

tags: sfw, fluff

Now that Ford was back in Gravity Falls and everything had finally settled, he went out to explore the forests again. Stan had just chuckled and told him to better stay in one piece and be back for dinner.

Ford made sure to walk a straight line pointing away from his house. If he followed it for long enough he would eventually reach a part of the forest he had never before seen. So he did.

It took him about five and a half hours to reach that point. Out here, the forest looked... greener. He wanted to say lighter but that's not true. The sun shone the same way it did anywhere else. But the colors of the trees and plants looked more vibrant somehow.

As he walked he made sure to note down anything he hadn't seen before. While Ford was examining a plant he didn’t know a butterfly landed on it. Ford smiled and pulled out his journal, trying to get a quick sketch of the little guy in his notes.

The insect had other plans though and soon flew onward. Ford followed it with his eyes for a second before his legs decided to follow the creature until it settled again. It had such a pretty pattern on its wings, he really wanted to draw it.

His plans worked out and he got a nice drawing of the butterfly. As Ford stood and looked around for the path he'd been on, he noticed that he had strayed off of it quite a bit. Making the best of a bad situation he decided to just explore this part of the forest instead.

After a few minutes roaming aimlessly, he came upon a clearing. In the middle of that stood a little wooden house, tinier than his own, in parts overgrown with moss and vines. It wasn't abandoned though. There was smoke coming out of the chimney.

His curious nature getting the better of him, Ford decided to approach the house. As he got closer he saw some creatures scurrying around the house and away from him. They seemed very fluffy, it must have been beard cubs, he decided.

Ford carefully walked around the house, trying to see where the animals had run off to. Behind the house he found a little garden where someone had planted vegetables, as well as a little pond that buzzed with dragonflies, bees and all kinds of other insects. The sounds were rounded off with some croaks from frogs he couldn't quite locate.

It was truly idyllic. But it was also a long way from all other people. As far as Ford could tell, he was their closest neighbour. He turned back towards the house and walked back around to its front door.

Ford knocked on the door. It took a few seconds and then the door swung open, revealing a way younger-looking person than he had anticipated. For some reason Ford had assumed that he’d be greeted by some sort of witch that was way older than he was.

The person who had opened the door looked truly surprised. They hadn't been expecting any visitors today.

After a few moments of stunned silence on both ends, you realized who this man in front of you must be. "Oh, goodness! You must be the new neighbour! I am so sorry I never got around to welcoming you properly."

This caused Ford even more confusion. You smiled at him and tapped your forehead as you realized why he was irritated. "Oh, I see. Sorry about that. Why don't you come inside for a cup of tea and I will explain what's going on here?"

Ford just nodded and let you lead him inside. As Ford looked around you introduced yourself and he did the same. He found the house even more charming on the inside. It was decorated with lots of plants and a surprising amount of candles. The rooms were way better lit than he would have assumed from the outside.

It was comfortably warm and a faint smell of lavender hung in the air. While Ford was sitting down at your kitchen table you prepared some tea for the both of you. "So tell me, Ford, how did you find me?"

"I was out in the woods, exploring a part of it that I had never been to. I lost the path I was on because I was... sort of... blindly following a butterfly." He rubbed his neck sheepishly. While he spoke, he looked around your house, really taking in all the little decorations you had scattered around every surface.

You chuckled at his words. "Yes. It happens to the best of us." A few moments later you had finished the tea and brought it over to the table, sitting down in front of Ford, who looked at you with pure curiosity sparkling in his eyes. It was adorable.

"So who are you? Why did you call me your new neighbour? And what did you mean by welcome me? Aren't you a little young to remember me moving to Gravity Falls?" You smiled at him and hummed. His questions were more than justified.

"Yes. Well, actually I assume I am around the same age as you are. I inherited this little cottage from my mother about two years before the reclusive scientist moved into the forest."

You watched Ford's eyes widen as he came to understand that you were telling the truth. "I really wanted to visit you and welcome you into the neighbourhood, but I didn’t get around to it for a couple of weeks. Then, the gnomes started telling me about some mean man capturing creatures."

Ford furrowed his brows, a hint of shame bubbling up inside him. "As you can imagine, I wasn't particularly thrilled to hear that. I went out to confront you about it, but the creatures stopped me, they were worried you'd capture me as well. So instead, I just helped them from here however I could."

Ford shook his head. "I never meant to harm any of them! I only came here to study." You sighed and nodded. "Yes. I know and I believe you." He looked back up at you with an apologetic look. Then it changed into an inquisitive one. "Why would I have tried to capture you?"

You chuckled at the question. "Because I am a witch, silly!" Ford's mouth fell open. How could he not have realized this? "Did you really think I would still look this good if there wasn't at least little magic involved?" You winked at him and he blushed slightly.

You took a sip of your tea as Ford tried to sort his thoughts. Before he could get a new one out a frog jumped into his cup splashing him with liquid. You huffed. "George! You know you're not supposed to do that!" The frog just croaked at you and you countered with a stern look.

You stood and took the cup with the frog back to the sink. "I'm so sorry about him. I'll get you a new cup." Ford thanked you as he tried to wipe at the wet stains on his turtleneck. When you turned back around to him and set the new cup down, you frowned at his clothes.

"So sorry about that as well. Here, let me help you." You chanted a short spell and soon enough Ford's clothes were dry again, no stains left behind. You smiled. "Perfect. Like it never happened."

Ford was speechless as he sat back down. Nearly speechless. "So does he do that often?" You chuckled a little embarrassed. "More often than he should, definitely." Ford joined you with a chuckle.

"So does... George... live with you in this house?" You hummed in thought as you looked over at the frog relaxing in the now almost empty cup. "I always say that my doors are open to any woodland creature that wants to be here. There's only two that really take me up on that though. George over there," you pointed at the frog, "and Theresa."

Before Ford could ask who that was you moved your arm in an apparently very specific way. Ford watched as a little rose-colored snake slithered out of your sleeve and onto the table. He smiled. It was an adorable snake.

You two continued chatting for a while and when you had finished the pot of tea that stood between you, Ford remembered that Stanley had told him to be back by dinner. "You could take my bicycle. As long as you promise to bring it back."

With a smirk from you Ford blushed again. Yes, you'd be happy to see him again.

Ford took your offer and promised to bring it back tomorrow. You were in no rush to get anywhere but you didn’t tell him that. You just smiled at him as he left your house.

He was back the next day. And the day after that as well. You two quickly became closer and even the forest creatures learned to resent him less.

[ninguitar]

LOWKEY.　　◦　　next.

one. the party & the after party.

❛ in which a concert you were tantalized by your friends into attending led to a one-night hook-up with band member, yu "karina" jimin, who was coincidentally a classmate, too. though incredulous and foolish, in karina's eyes, you were way too good to have you slipping through her fingers, but even so, she couldn't just act on it, leaving the two of you in an awkward predicament, keeping the feelings amidst lowkey. ❜

WILD, BUSTLING PARTIES were never your type of scene; though, nonetheless, you attended them—out of boredom, of course. you couldn't go a month without being dragged to some lousy party by one of your friends, mainly keeho or chaewon.

while your hands interlaced with one-another, you waited for manon, hoping the girl would appear magically. running a hand through your hair, you sighed before rubbing your temples.

the scent of lavender infiltrated your nose, providing a welcome contrast to the raucous chatter of people over the roaring music. the only break in the impending noise was a group of girls engaging in animated and playful banter, all dressed in matching, biker-adjacent attire.

"uh, hey."

your mind instantly snapped away from your lost, recurring thoughts, and turning around, your head was met with a girl who gave you a delicate smile—the same girl who'd you been promptly staring at previously. careful, concentrated brown eyes rake up your figure—up and down. "can i sit with you?"

you only nodded, the tips of your fingers tracing along your knuckles, which only made the girl more confused. "i'm jimin, but karina's fine, too," karina murmurs, her hand flat on the wooden planks of the stairs.

again, you nodded, glad that you could put a name to such a gorgeous face. "y/n," you merely slur out before muttering something incoherent. "you, uh… listen to the band?"

"what?" a snicker escaping karina's breath, to which you replied with, "y’know, aespa or whatever." a lazy smile plays on karina's face at your response, as she simply giggles.

"yeah— yeah, sure, i do," karina meekly shrugs, a grin tugging on her face. god, she couldn't believe your drunken haze spurring further than the inability to even hold a conversation without giggling; though, she couldn't help but admit that she was probably even worse, considering the way she practically staggered while walking to you.

you lean back on the steps behind you, your neck craning away—only for karina's hand to meet your chin, cupping it gently, as if you were a delicate artifact. her eyes locked onto your lips, tracing the start and end of it. with your back plastered against the cold, wooden steps, you met eye to eye with karina.

"can i? i promise i don't bite," to which, you meekly nod, closing the gap between you two. her tongue darted out swiftly, as her arms snaked around your waist, pulling you even closer in any possible distance between the two of you.

phones rang, beeping repeatedly, while you two were too entangled in each other to notice—your lips against her's left karina hazed, everything seemingly like a blur. and so, for the rest of the night, you two were away—doing who knows what.

notes. i PROMISE the future chapters will be a lot better than this 💔💔

taglist. ୨ৎ @yeetaberry127 @yoontoonwhs @1luvkarina @sed7ction @stareaa

@cceanvvaves @ariiiiii8iiiii @nwjnsloona @yjiminswallet (send an ask, or dm if you want to be tagged !! )