#omen the looping woods

[marble-milkshake]

im working on smth but Omen is clealy more important ^^

[jeshoo-pon]

Back into the woods

[whirligig-girl]

Guz grinned at her model, as it completed the first loop around the layout of her new quarters. Guz explained the contents of the train--solid rocket boosters for the North Meridian Space Launch Facility.

"It's not really prototypical though, is it?" Rutherford asked.

"A steam engine pulling high explosives does seem illogical," T'lyn said.

Guz smiled and flapped her hands. "It is prototypical, and here's how it happened--"

Around the late 2330s, an oil crisis shocked Mellanus. It was a while before it got really bad, and the rationing had to begin, but it skyrocketed the price of gasoline and diesel and plastic products. As Omen approached, the railways identified a problem--there might not be enough oil to migrate everyone and move all the goods that need to be moved to support the migration as the climate changed. With the increasing diesel fuel shortages, railways had to start taking their old coal and wood burning steam engines out of mothballs.

This one, No.2475, was taken out of a museum. It only rarely actually ran, so it was in poor mechanical condition, but when it re-entered service its paint and brass was pristine.

The diesel locomotive that had been scheduled to take the train of SRBs ran out of fuel during the first hill climb, and the depot didn't have enough fuel to spare, so 2475 was diverted from its passenger duties to take the train the rest of the way.

Eventually most of the old timer steam engines ended up back in museums or scrapped, but as the oil crisis waxed, the railways invented Advanced Steam engines to be as fuel efficient as possible.

"--like that tank engine, Sam," Guz finished, pointing at the little yellow switcher that Rutherford and T'lyn had been inspecting.

[lipglossanon]

Moon Drunk

Hunter!Leon S. Kennedy x Hunter fem!reader

fic commission from the lovely @porcelainseashore 💜 thank you so much!!!

word count: 2228 (went over again! 🫣 lol)

Warnings: mdni, blood/gore, fighting, violence, death

proofread ✍️ but the formatting is odd cause tumblr is lame 😒

previous ~ Moon-Scented

After dropping like a stone into the dark water below, you come to on the other side. It feels like you’ve woken from a dream— 

(Ah, welcome home, good Hunter). 

Moonside Lake is empty except for her. 

Shimmery water meets your eyes everywhere you look; a serene silver lake, host to— 

The Byrgenwerth Spider. 

The one who holds all manner of secrets; the one whose existence answers questions even as she leads to more.

She is beautifully hideous. 

Rom, the Vacuous. 

She is a terrifying realization—the fruit of Provost Willem’s labors. She has been granted eyes. 

It’s a horror nearly beyond your comprehension. 

She flees from you, this pitiful creature, and you pursue. 

After all, a Hunter must Hunt. 

Your weapons slice through her body like wet paper. She tries to fight by summoning her Children, smaller arachnids that do her bidding. You cut them down one by one, your Hunter’s Axe hacking through their thick bodies until they collapse in on themselves. Turning your sights once more to Rom, you steel yourself. 

She never stood a chance against a Hunter.

Her death brings no satisfaction once you’ve slain the Vacuous One. As you gather your breath, drenched in Rom’s blood, you see a figure in the distance. Bracing for another fight, you cautiously move closer. 

A regal lady, dressed in white with blood coating the stomach of her gown. Bile rises in your throat from the implication of such a garish stain. She weeps, hands clasped together as if in prayer, face angled at the sky. Allowing your own gaze to follow hers, confusion and dread douse your thoughts until it’s not but white noise. 

A Red Moon fills your vision. 

Coming to yourself with a start, you look for the lady but find nothing except empty space. Shifting in place, you gaze out on the quiet lake. Aside from the lantern’s glow, there is nothing to break up the monotony.

The note you found next to the Lunarium Key comes to you now, taunting you with knowledge that only makes sense in hindsight—

When the red moon hangs low, the line between man and beast is blurred. And when the Great Ones descend, a womb will be blessed with child. 

Kneeling at the lantern, the exhaustion seeps into your bones. The wish for sleep is never ending. 

🩸 🌙 🩸 🌙 

Seek the nightmare newborn.

The infant's wailing never ceases. Like a parasite in the brain. It worms its way into every corner and crevice of Yharnam. The haunting cry dogs your steps—the only reprieve coming from your visits with The Doll, channeling your strength for further nightmares. The blood echoes in your veins, a heady amalgamation that leaves you dizzy in the wake of yourself. 

Rising once more under the lantern’s glow, the Blood Moon hangs pregnant in the sky, a dark omen heralding something sinister to come. The scraps of parchment you’ve stumbled upon on your journey run through your mind on a loop. 

To escape this dreadful Hunter’s Dream, halt the source of the spreading scourge of beasts, lest the night carry on forever.

The Forbidden Woods, an apt name for such a blighted place, leads you to hidden paths. One such path has you finding your way back to Iosefka's clinic, this time from the other side of the building. Strange ethereal creatures leave your weapons coated in a clear liquid, unlike the blood and viscera from the lycanthropic beasts roaming the streets. 

Infiltrating the clinic through an open window, your bootsteps echo in the quiet hallway, resonating eerily and putting you on edge. The air feels foreign, heavy with a weight you haven’t encountered before. Pressing forward into the next room, an alien creature attacks you, head bobbing sporadically. Dodging from their spindly grip, you make quick work disposing of the odd beast with the serrated edge of your threaded cane. 

You gaze down on the emaciated body, eyes taking in the blue, disjointed limbs and swollen cranium. A small blood vial rolls out from the side of this gross deformity, the glass rocking slowly on the wooden floor until coming to a stop. Dropping to a crouch, you pick it up to examine the vial, watching the light play across the pale yellow liquid inside. 

“Iosefka’s blood,” you murmur to yourself, a scuttling fear creeping down your spine like spider legs. 

Standing, you pocket the blood vial, forcing your gaze away from the entity that used to be the blood-healer. Peering into the gloom, you can make out a blood-stained letter delicately placed on the edge of a gurney. You see your name written in a beautiful hand. Picking it up, you realize it’s a summons, inviting you as an honored guest to the forsaken Castle Cainhurst.

A faint memory of a rune on a crumbling and collapsed bridge; a rune that etched itself into your mind—LAKE—

For great values of water serve as a bulwark guarding sleep, and an auger of the Eldritch Truth.

Your mind shudders under the weight of knowing more than a Hunter should. A mild frenzy tries to settle itself in your brain, but you’re able to breathe through it. Leaving the cursed clinic behind, you journey ever onward. Now, in search of this strange castle you’ve only heard in passing. Sticking to the shadows, you retread the same streets, the same monstrous townsfolk dying on your blade—cursed to hunt 

  and 

hunt 

and 

hunt.

Hacking, slashing, ripping, tearing of their beastly flesh. No matter how many times the blade pierces through their chest to reach each of their still beating hearts, you will forever feel hollow.

The never-ending cycle repeats—not an end in sight for this horrible town of Yharnam. The only kindness shown by a Doll, who is an odd outlier in and of herself itself. You haven’t seen another living soul since bidding Leon farewell above the lake. The night is long, and the beasts hunger for more than just blood. You hope he hasn’t met a gruesome end.

🩸 🌙 🩸 🌙 

Nightmarish rituals crave a newborn. Find one, and silence its harrowing cry. 

Leon stands alone in the decrepit library, peering into the nothing. Silence consumes the space around him, and yet his thoughts plague him ceaselessly. He can feel himself beginning to spiral. 

He is broken. And there are too many pieces to slot back together, too many pieces that will not fit, jagged edges that have been sanded down with time and penance—he knows he’ll never be the same.

Never granted eyes. 

Hopes, dreams, and enlightenment are forever meant to be foreign concepts in his mind.

Too much the beast, not enough the man.

Machinations of a deranged mind.

He will never be the same.

Never granted eyes on the inside to see.

He can feel his anger—overwhelming in its clarity—seize him in its tumultuous grasp.

He had hoped to suffocate his demons—smother their putrid, stinking whispers in his ear.  

His fists clench momentarily as he bows his head in anger, frustrated that the answers still yet elude him. He hopes you’ve fared better than he—mind flashing to your determined face when you stepped off the ledge. 

He stood next to Master Willem for ages, waiting, hoping for a sign of your wellbeing—giving in to the frail wish that you would somehow appear before him, hearty and hale. The aged man seated in his chair ceased his rocking, wizened lips parting on a soft exhale. Leon frowns down at the old man before glimpsing a red light from the corner of his eyes. 

He gasped, mind overflowing with theories and questions as the Blood Moon stained him with its sanguine light. It truly was pulchritudinous.

He shakes himself from his maudlin reverie. Pulling a book from the shelf, he searches through its pages, eyes skimming over the brittle pages. An energy tinges the air, and it draws his attention. Lips twisting into a frown, Leon places the book back on its shelf before going to investigate. 

He walks through the hallway, footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting placed on the stonework. His dark blue eyes take in the crumbling architecture and warped oil paintings lining the walls. Dead royalty gaze upon him, still-life eyes following his every move. A shift in the air elicits the hair on the back of Leon's neck to stand. He slowly slides the Kirkhammer blade from the holster on his back, slowing his pace to a stop.

A loud screech sounds from above as a pair of gargoyles drop from the ceiling like a malformed bat. Leon spins around, blocking a swiping attack as his black cape flutters with the motion. He snarls at the ugly creature when it slices through his coat, leaving a shallow cut across his left arm. Pulling the Blunderbuss from its holster, he shoots point black at the gaping maw of the gargoyle in front of him before bringing his Kirkhammer up to decapitate it.

The second gargoyle screams at him, making his ears ring from the power of its voice. He stumbles down onto one knee, giving the vile creature an opening to lunge at him. Muscle memory is so ingrained within him, his hand comes up and lets off a shot at the gangly monster. It collapses down onto its legs, stunned, giving Leon enough time to clamber back onto his feet. 

Sheathing his blade, he snaps the great hammer attachment into place. He heaves the cumbersome yet powerful weapon over his shoulder and brings the hammer down onto the gargoyle's head. The entire body folds under the force of his attack, head crunching like a fallen leaf. He grimaces, watching as the blood spills from the mangled body to paint the flagstones with a ruby hue. 

A loud snarl echoes from behind him, and he slowly turns to face off with this new enemy. Before he can wipe the blood from his face, a chained whip lassos around the servant dressed like a Cainhurst Knight. Joining the fray, Leon charges forward, using both arms to swing his weapon down onto the knight. 

A bloodcurdling scream echoes in the hallway before a trio of ghostly women rush towards Leon and his unseen companion. He reloads his blunderbuss and turns to face off against the deadly widows. Whoever’s helping him is a blur of movement and grace, fighting off against their own horde of wraithlike noblewomen. 

Unlike his counterpart, Leon knows he has no lantern for him to wake under. He only has one chance at all of this—one chance to find a way to end the nightmare; one chance at understanding why he should fear the Old Blood. Left with one last ghost, he switches back to the quicker version of his weapon—dropping the power of the hammer attachment for the swiftness of his silver blade.

Once all of the enemies have been felled, Leon steps away from their lifeless corpses and seeks out his partner in arms. You appear before him, like a fever dream. More beautiful than any fever dream, he thinks. You’re here and alive, coated in the offal and blood of various beasts. Haunted eyes meet his own, and he knows you have found more than anyone ever bargained for in their pursuit of ending this ghastly hunt. 

“My dear Hunter,” he murmurs, warmth suffusing his tone. “I must thank thee heartily. You have saved my hide.”

You nod, eyes glancing away, “How did you get here, Leon?”

His smile widens, manically, but he can’t help himself. 

“I have my ways. What do you seek here in this forsaken place?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, he can see the suspicions blooming in your brain. 

“I..” you clear your throat. “I received a summons.”

He nods but says nothing else, hoping it will prompt you to say more. 

Your shoulders draw back, and you stand tall, a fearsome Hunter daring him to cross you. You are as pulchritudinous as that bloodsome moon. A fleeting thought of taking your comely hand in his own crosses his addled mind.

“I took audience with the Queen,” you state, fearfully proud. “She is a lady of high standing.”

Leon steps closer, ignoring your wary gaze and cautious stance. He lets that intrusive thought from earlier win over, grasping one of your hands in his own—thankful neither of you are wearing gloves as your heat suffuses his cold skin. 

“You’ve spoken with the Undead Queen? Annalise, the first of the Vilebloods?”

Your lip curls upward in disgust. “What a hateful term. She is a gentle lady, one who doesn’t deserve the hardship she has been given.”

Leon grips your hand tighter when you try to pull away; he knows his face is being too expressive, his eyes too wide—his mouth too beseeching. 

“Will you take me to her? I wish to be granted an audience.”

Whatever you must see in his expression has your mouth softening. “If you swear to me you mean her no ill will, I shall take you to her majesty’s throne room.”

Leon drops to one knee, pressing his forehead to the back of your hand. “I swear to you, dear Hunter. I only wish to learn.”

He hears you snort under your breath, head jerking up in time to see you stifle a smile on your battleworn face. 

“Get up, Leon. The Queen awaits.”

[teresalace]

🥵The Bastard Takes You Home (Courtin Cowboys the bastard x G.N Reader)

• Words: 4.2k

• Triggers: Usage of word Member, non consensual humping, In the woods, Minor spoilers, Ditzy reader

Author notes: WHere's the bastard x reader fics at?🍳👄🍳Back from My long ass hiatus and now it's studying season for abit, going to work on unfinished stuff for yall, hope you enjoy guys! (tho this isn't the most satisfactory story I've written so far personally 🥴🥴 Or maybe I wasn't in the mood anymore) As always, minors beware AND SUPPORT @ffishstickks COURTIN COWBOYS!!!

~~~~

It's 1863 and you're on a journey with an old friend to the western town of Summerfair.

Luckily or not for your incredibly charming friend, they managed to win every heart from left, right and center while you were settling down and becoming a decent inn's cook. Last thing you heard from your dear friend, landing themselves in some love scuffle before ending up with a dopey shepherd, was having an all lovey dovey time in that barn. . . 

The clink of a beer infront of you pulled you from your thoughts, full and chilly when you grabbed it.

Downing it immediately, the noisy world around you came bubbling back to life. The bar, ever so lively with patrons chatter and piano tunes, made you feel less alone. 

"Thanks bartender," you smiled with a bright buzz, "I'll cook you up something good next time for the free drinks." HIC.

You stood from the bar seat. A solemn head nod from the bartender bids you farewell.  

Out of the saloon you went, a pleasant buzzing throughout your body, still in the middle of the quiet town.

Just as you walked a step to balance yourself, something below stopped you. Looking down at the ground by your shoe, you couldn't believe it!

You picked up the 100 coin pieces, quickly pocketing it into your pouch and gave it a pat. A cheerful smile making it's way on your derpy face.

What a good omen! 

Maybe it could mean it's time for you to find somebody to spend the rest of your days with. Good omens don't always come your way. 

.   .   .

Hah, what funny things were you thinking now, the sun has barely set. 

The loneliness must've begun to sink in after overhearing a married patron brag about one of the multiple lovely times he's had in the saloon. Oh how suddenly you wished to be living in those romantic stories, to be the one held sweetly underneath moonlight and stars. 

It would be so nice, you thought wistfully.

In your slightly drunken walk down town, head high in the clouds, you smacked right into a charming familiar face who you haven't seen in a while of a week.

"(Name)! Great timing, I've got so much to tell you– What are you doing daydreaming outside the inn– you'll get all sweaty and red." Not waiting another second or for a response, they dragged your bubbly-self into the shelter of the inn. 

Your body felt cooler already, calming you down as both you and your friend plopped on the reception seats. The buzz in your blood slowly going away. 

HIC. 

"Thanks, buddy," you pushed down an incoming burp from ruining whatever you wanted to say. "Thought you were busy loving that Shepherd."

"I was, just LAST night." They chuckled, looping their arm around yours. "But never too busy to visit my dearest friend, so tell me, what's gotten you looking so glum? I hope this town hasn't bored you yet." Oh no this town was the most exciting thing to you since you weren't close to anyone besides your friend and the friendly inn keeper (who provides rare ingredients for your cooking per request), barely boring but then again you were simple to entertain.

The one and only friend loyal enough to stay with you through hard times while disappearing into thin air when not needed. The friend you needed right now to make a life-changing decision, drunk as can be.

HIC.

"I've been wanting to settle down you know. Maybe in this town or the next one, I don't wanna keep–" A large burp from your guts interrupted your heart-to-heart talk.

"Burping?" Your friend teasingly finished the sentence.

"–Being alone after a long day."  You breathed out a sigh as they watched, sobering up slowly. "It sounds nice enough to imagine having somebody to go back home to." You hoped you didn't sound ungrateful to them but it just isn't the same anymore, you couldn't always rely on your friend for emotional support. Both of you knew that. 

A short pause. 

Giving their earnest attention to you, your dear friend pulled your hands into their lap and held them. "I truly hope you find what you're looking for, (Name), take  your time and see what or who life can surprise you with!" 

When they comfort you like this and talk sweetly, it's no surprise they've got the whole town smitten for them in an instant. Even though you were generally known as their best friend, it still came with some advantages– free drinks sometimes– and more if the time of day was right. You were proud to have a wonderful friend like them and hope to have an equally amazing partner too. 

Wishing that day came sooner.

"(Name)," their voice brought you back to earth and to a pair of concerned eyes. "I think you need to down a cup of water or two, you must've had too many drinks." 

Smiling unashamedly, "only one but guilty." Your answer was followed by a snort response from them. 

Your friend's eyes twinkled like an idea popped in. "I'll tell you what, after you have some water, why don't we go fishing together? Might as well when the weather is lovely and the sun is still out." You took a brief minute to think. Fishing wasn't the most fun activity, you've tried before and preferred to buy your fishy ingredients from the market but with your friend as company? It started sounding not too bad of a plan.

"Hmm. Alright, let's do it," you agreed, shrugging. What could possibly go wrong other than feeling boredom and being sprayed with water or slapped by some fins if unlucky. They cheered loudly and shook your hands together in theirs, earning a glance from the ever-smiley handsome inn keeper.

"Don't you worry, it'll be fun!" They grinned enthusiastically, getting to their feet and pulling you up along. "A warning, you'll need some patience and a strong grip because some of those fishes are slippery fellows." Too late to back out now when you heard that. 

"Great. I could use a challenge now and then," was what you said until both you and your practically beaming friend left the inn, following the forest path and arriving at a creek they discovered in the woodside of the town. 

Fresh minty breezes, vibrant greenery and shrubs surrounded you in every inch though you didn't expect for the fishing spot to be at an unimpressive small creek. 

"This place is where I usually fish! You can even forage some of them delicious berries if you walk a bit and turn right." They squeal showing you, delighted and setting down their basket full of fishing supplies near the creek edge, not too close to be worrisome.

Its deep and calm blue waters glittered in the sunlight while both you and your friend settled down on the flat grassy patches (that you assume have been made by their many trips here), under the cool shades of the forest. 

Curious, you stared at the creek then asked them. "If you've been fishing here a lot of times then there's no way there'd be any fish left, right?" They turned their head to face you, giggling as if you said something funny, pointing to the basket.

"You'll see, (Name). Just give it a try and wait, this town never seems to run short of anything. Really." That felt like they weren't referring to the fish anymore but something else entirely you couldn't understand. 

Moving on from that before the small talk ate away the remaining time before sunset, you and them began unpacking stuff, each person equipped with a sturdy, metal fishing pole in both hands. Looking back at the waters then to the wriggling worm on the hook of your fishing pole, some part of you doubted this would work and be a waste of time. 

Sure you couldn't see through into those unclear waters but could there really be fish swimming in there? 

The answer, a shocking yes with a side of boots and weeds. 

No kidding patience was important, you fished more junk than actual fish whereas your friend beside you managed to capture the most. 

"Really wasn't expecting this much fish, wow," you exclaimed at the sight of the bucket full to the brim with a colorful variety of fish, some you've never seen before in all your years of cooking. 

"What did I tell ya?" They set side their fishing pole, grinning, barely a drop of sweat on their shining face.

"You were right." 

"Psh, of course I'm right," they teased, leaning against a tree. "Told you to go exploring the town some time, there's plenty of surprises to experience. But a word of caution, don't go exploring at night. There's nothing much to see than maybe a pervert here and there doing their business."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

Everything was peaceful, with your friend relaxing beside the full bucket, you laid on your side on the soft cool grass, bare feet pointed towards the creek. 

"Remind me to bring more buckets next time we go fishing," you slurred, lips slowing down in movement.

"Hah, will do, (Name)." Their giggles fading into the breezes.

Gentle rustling of bushes lulled you to doze away and drape your eyes from the world, no longer hearing the shrills from the birds overhead. 

It felt like nothing could ruin this perfect day. So you decided to fall asleep, waving off your persistent friend to go on back without you, trusting that they would leave some fish behind for tonight. Though fishing alone wasn't fun, they were right about the weather being lovely, almost too lovely to not take a nap.  .  .

Unfortunately the short nap you originally intended for, lengthened to an hours long coma. Only when the sudden burst of froggy croaks and loud crickets chirp disturbed your sleep, did you realize the sun had been replaced by the brightest full moon. 

You hugged your form, waves after waves of chills beginning to settle in your bones. 

That was one dangerous nap, to be waking up at near midnight in the woods. Nope, you got to head back to the inn and fast.

Rustle. Rustle.

Instinctively you held your breath, paused in the middle of pushing yourself off the bitter-cold ground. It could just be the wind? Or an insect hopping about. Yeah, yeah it must be. 

Convincing yourself that it was nothing, no, it had to be nothing, was a tough feat but somehow you managed to carefully get up. 

The tip of your shoes accidentally kicking over something nearby, oh- it was the bucket of fish! How nice of your friend to not leave you without some company. 

It was too dark though, you put aside the urge to bring along the bucket and opted to only placing it in your spot. Hope the fishes wouldn't spoil at sunrise. 

Then off you went, towards the inn.  .  .

There was a small problem in your navigation skills when everywhere you turned to appeared to have the same vaguely shaped trees, it was black as the night sky above too but fortunately you walked out of the creek area. 

You think the hard ground beneath your shoes feel familiar, that is, until mud and softer patches of soil messed with your senses. Great, you stood there in silent frustration.

Maybe you should've explored the woods like your friend suggested before as now you surely were lost. Not that it was their fault for leaving you behind. 

Rustle.

.   .   .

RUSTLE. RUSTLE. 

Louder now, you heard it, the rough shaking of bushes close by. Your heart pounded. 

That wasn't nothing. 

Loud enough to freeze you in place, just as you looked in the source's direction– 

Something heavy tackled you to the ground from behind, the side of your face smashing against dirt and mud as that thing landed on your back.

–Oh no, bear. A huge bear in these woods and no warning signs in sight about it?! Your friend would've told you, scratch that, would've not even mentioned fishing had there been a wild animal–

"Grrrrr." 

Hot air fanned the nape of your neck as it sniffed you over like you were its next meal. 

Frozen and taking in shallow breaths, your mind was focusing too hard on the sharpness of its talons pressing against your arms. Almost warning you to stay still, not that you could successfully struggle against its monsterous weight before being crushed to death.

Wait, did bears know how to cage people? 

"Grrrr," its breath leaned down and edged the curve of your ears. Please get it over with, you were awaiting, hopeful for, a quick and painless death at this point.

Panting over you, in the silver of moonlight you caught a side-glance at the wild animal or at what you initially assumed to be that had you pinned down. 

It was no animal but a humongous bare chest man, canines glinting as he grinned down at you.

Long shaggy pitch black hair that resembled fur than human hair, earthy toned skin that faded to an inky black down his forearms. 

Was half of his body covered in mud? 

Ah, your neck ached from trying to get a better view of him. Surely even a beast of a man like himself would help if you explained yourself, right? 

"Uh– excuse me, sir." Huffing, he dragged his gaze from your body to your eyes as you managed to turn your face with small relief. 

"I uh just went fishing and lost my way from the pathway to town, could you please help?" It never hurt to attempt for anything but you had a moment of regret as the stretching silence that followed was less than helpful. 

His claws, or sharp nailed hands, shifted from your holding down your arms and now dug into the sides of your waist. Maybe he didn't intend for it to be painful but his weight wasn't one bit comfortable.

"Heh." 

Low and rusty, the beast, ops you meant, man let out a gut-busting laugh before removing his weight on top of you. Finally you could gasp for a lungful of air, for how long you laying there for the former freezing soil under you felt warm. 

The man hadn't spoken anything but It must be a good sign! 

"Oh thank you, sir!" Just as you gathered strength to push yourself up, a big hand forced you down hard. Admittedly it wasn't your first time dealing with an unexpected kissing to the ground. 

Thankfully none of the mud or dirt made in your mouth but why on earth did he? 

"Uh sir, weren't you going to let me go?"

A mightier growl escaped from him, showing teeth this time around, scaring you in place as your voice gave out. Again. 

In that second, you remembered this man was no friend, a practically nude stranger who roamed the woods, clearly not dressed to make any good impression. But at least you were given some breathing room, so he wasn't evil. You think. 

Another low growl, this one directly over your head. 

Staying silent became the best option. 

He must've sensed something changed as the sound of him sniffing you grew louder, stopped, and with an unimaginable swiftness you heard an audible long rip in your outfit. 

Chilly air instantly flooded the areas where fabric used to be, your skin felt sensitive. Your eyes flew wide, more opened and shocked, heart trembling at the noise.

RIPPPPPPP. 

Another long tear by no doubt his claws. Oh no no no, your poor overalls, your trousers! 

Your thoughts sizzled, face flushing when his claw-like hands ran down your exposed skin, like in search of something– 

The jingle of coins startled you. No, oh no, he was aiming for your money all along! 

In horror, you watched as he picked a few coin pieces out of your pouch and pocketed it somewhere, tossing your still full pouch away out of the moonlight.

Your fear changed to actual frustration. The nerve of him! To be robbing you in broad moonlight, why, you ought to teach him a lesson and give him a good head smacking. . . If only he didn't have his hand and knee pressing down on your back.

 .  .   .

Wait a second, you felt his knees shift near your legs. Then finally in your delayed mind, you came to a terrifying realization that the hard thing pushing against your lower back was most likely a gun– 

"Uh sir! Please let me get up, surely you're satisfied?" You spoke in a pleasing tone, trying to move a tiny bit under his body weight. Heart thumping.

 He had better be satisfied after taking a piece of your precious money. 

He didn't move off you. Still staying there on top of you, sniffing? Looking around the moonlit forest as if he had forgotten your existence being squashed beneath him. The cold ground painfully pebbling your nipples against the ground, evident of how long you had been in that darn position.

"H-Hey! Could you please get off–" Something hot and stiff poked at your waistline, long and harder than any boulder. He shifted his body or must've crouched over you as his gigantic shadow covers you whole.

The hard poking grew in size and so did the fear in your heart. Wait, how did you even feel that, this almost entirely nude man has no pockets to carry a gun, it didn't feel metallic in the slightest so what was poking you– Oh.

Oh dear no.

Don't look down, don't look down– 

"GRRR." Oh what was he growling about this time?! He already took your money, what else was he going after now. You stilled.

Then he began moving it, slowly rubbing his hardness in that one spot below your lower back. Like he didn't know what he was doing but you weren't going to correct him. 

Already uncomfortable just lying there being used as some scratching post for an animalistic man who robbed you not so long ago. . . Wait, in this position, a strong heat radiated from his lower body and grew closer and closer- 

He began rubbing himself on you, soft as if testing the waters at first than harder. Vigorously humping himself against your exposed buttocks, warming up the cool skin and pressing you into the earth further. 

Breathless and at a lost for words, you shivered while struggling to stay put. Heart wildly beating in your chest like it was screaming for help, so loud you'd think the entire forest could hear it. 

He wouldn’t hear it, he kept going, the hardness of his member cutting into you and you felt it.

A slimy slick spreading across your bottom, thick globs of heaviness sliding down and sending tingles in between your thighs. The tingles grew everywhere, and you became aware of a throbbing, not from the man’s flesh, but yours, as if your body was enjoying this terrible torment forced on you. 

Please let it end. 

He would slow down to your momentary relief, only to speed up at an alarming rate and burn you from behind, skin to skin. The smell of the earth and everything became a blur.

The rumour of the beast in the woods was no exaggeration, like an animal he wouldn’t stop pleasuring himself on you and all the while you silently prayed for it to end as it felt like hours had gone by like this. 

Kept going and going, barely any drop of sweat on him all the while you felt like you were being cooked from the inside out, sticky, clammy skin, and out of breath.

The persistent throbbing, hot and needy, inside of you couldn’t cease to stop craving. . . Touch, any kind of touch to relieve this ugly tension fully other than being kneaded into the ground. After this ordeal you were going to ask the pretty saloon lady for help, you won’t be able to last another night without some help.

Finally his rubbing slowed down, hardness swelling impossible hot against your ass and as if his throat was caught on a fishing hook- a deep grunt expelled from his chest and like dread, you felt it, almost a bucket load of slime spilled over you, your hips and down your thighs.

"Now could you move, please?!" That must've sounded more aggressive than you intended it to be but it worked, he crawled off you but the stickiness remained. Before you could muster up the energy to give him a piece of your mind, he slowly growed before bolting into the shadows. 

You were alone again, thank goodness.

Sluggishly, you rolled onto your side, flinching at the disgusting globs of slime slide off of you and pool underneath. Taking a moment to rest and mostly to catch your breath, lungfuls of air expanding your chest, feeling crumbs of soil stuck to your skin. The moon was blinding you by the second the longer you stayed there in the open. . . Exhaustion and the cold lulled you to almost dozing off but it was too dangerous out here, you slowly rose, grabbing your pouch of money, swaying like a brittle leaf in the wind as you walked on the path back town. 

.  .  . 

Maybe because you hadn’t been seen by them in a while, your friend instantly burst out of the inn and instantly spotted you, supporting your weight and walking you to the bathroom as you confided in them about the attack.

“How horrible! What a disgusting thief,” your friend spat while helping you change out of the torn pieces of fabric that used to look like an outfit as you quickly covered yourself, hiding the slime on your skin from being seen. They continued ranting, dissatisfaction written all over their face. “I’ve had the same experience weeks ago, it’s always the money that they want. I even told the sheriff about it but there’s been no news yet, shucks.” 

You nodded agreeing, not that you told them exactly all the details but enough to draw the conclusion that you’ve been unwillingly robbed. Worried about you, your friend promised to stay the night and went to visit the sheriff to give your account. The innkeeper was a trustworthy fellow who wouldn’t let any criminal in.

After a long, long much needed bath, the heat within your body eased down to a tolerable simmer, especially places where that beast’s release reached. Like where your holes twitched and- Ah, stop you shouldn’t be thinking of that! Huffing out a frustrated sigh, you stomped past a mirror into your room, not feeling brave enough to take a look at your no-doubt reddened face.

It felt like heaven being comforted by your dear friend and sleeping together in the same bed, your curiosity popped out again- wondering what became of that beastman- if just giving the sheriff a report was enough for his capture. Maybe you should do something, see if you could mark a spot in the woods where that man would visit, it would be a ton better than waiting around for good news. Right! 

Determination filled your blood and forced you onto your feet, heart thumping fast in almost excitement.

The moment you stepped out of the inn, it felt like a terrible idea. With no plan in mind, you snuck away from your snoring friend in bed and proceeded on the moonlit path towards the dreadful forest. 

You heard a hurt groan before you saw the source. A man who should’ve already fallen dead, the naked beast with a weapon deep in their forehead spilling blood. Black blood trailing down his rough face, dripping onto the ground. 

Witnessing something incomprehensible had you rooted to the spot, it was a scene out of those horror tales your gram would tell to get you and the other children to sleep, of a monster impossible to defeat. You should've never curiously followed a beast of the woods. Now you would never be able to escape his territory, entirely roamed by him. How could you even attempt to stop him from carrying you when you see not even a dagger lodged in his forehead deterred him from staying alive. 

Could you call him a beast? He sniffed the air like one.

Even beasts can be killed but not this man. 

He froze like he heard or smelt something.

What was far worse than a beast is an unkillable one, and worse than that- was a beast who has found its prey. You. 

It didn’t take long for you to sprint away out of instinct but it was too late, he had seen you, and with one long arm he caught you mid-air and carried you on one broad shoulder, whimpering and struggling to no avail. Deeper into the woods where you’d never be able to escape, where only wisps of light and fireflies lit the mornings and darkness reigned the rest of time to come. 

Deep below the neck of the woods, rumours of the dangerous beast have now changed due to the rare sightings of him not only alone- there was another one who stood by his side, a beast more humane looking yet scared and equally as nude. No one dared to overstay in the woods anymore, not wishing to join those monsters or become their next meal.

~~~~~~~~~~

[utilitycaster]

(Long ask warning)

Hello! I'm jumping on the appreciation train to say thank you so much for all of your meta and analysis! I just found your blog today, and you've already given me so much clarity and context for things I've been noticing in the CR fandom lately.

I quite literally spent my summer living under a rock (in the woods leading spelunking for scouts!) and so was completely out of the loop from early June through September. And while I am not yet caught up (I'm about to start ep. 65), I have been going through the tags and ao3, because I primarily engage with fandom through fic and I don't care about spoilers. And I can't help but notice that everything being written for c3 lately is just... monochromatic. The Hells have such interesting characters and premises. One would think they're ripe for creative and interesting fic. And yet even what little gen fic that I have seen since returning to civilization has largely been boiled down to reiterative mush with vaguely shippy overtones. I can totally see this being indicative of the cresting and waning of the Imodna and Callowmore shipping you've been discussing.

I've gotta ask though, is it really just shipping that is causing this problem? Or is there something else in the source material that you think could be affecting fic in particular?

This is the first time I've been in a fandom with ongoing source material in over a decade. I'm used to watching people beat dead horses in their own little corner, safe in the knowledge that I can block them and it isn't going to affect my experience in the slightest. I guess I'm just having a hard time believing/remembering that shipping can be this incidious.

So a couple of things: first, I was not heavily involved in fandom until Critical Role; I have a decent amount of background knowledge from being on Tumblr and because I do tend to look into/research this kind of thing because it's very interesting to me, but you will probably have better snapshot of what fandom looked like 10 years ago than I do. Second, fanfic has always been a tiny aspect of what I've engaged with and I do find the bulk of it to be dull and samey (which is why it is a tiny aspect), so again, you probably are a better judge of the quality of fanfic elsewhere.

With that said, as part of a much larger discussion of which I only have as mentioned pieces of the puzzle, I do think there's been a shift over the past decade or so of like...people expecting the source material to reflect fanfic-y desires, and resenting it when it does not; people not seeing the point in enjoying non-canon ships; and a broader theme of self-infantilization. This has to a small extent spilled over into published fiction, though thankfully there's plenty that isn't that. It's not just shipping (though that absolutely can be insidious to the point that people have been harassed and doxxed over it); I think it's a general taste for pablum that has been growing within fandom spaces.

I'll link a few posts I've made and a source that, while I cannot vouch for it per se I did read and found enlightening at the end but I think a really indicative example as of late was the fandom response to the show Good Omens (spoilers for Good Omens S2 in the next link if you are by any chance avoiding those). Obviously do not do anything obnoxious to the person who wrote this question, but there are a worrying number of people in fandom spaces who believe this unironically and uncritically: fiction exists to "save us from hurtful reality." And I do understand that the tumultuous politics and world events of the past decade are probably a factor; but I mean, have you looked at literature from the first half of the 20th century (or like. the second half, for that matter)? It is, in my opinion, only going to help put our modern world and issues in better context and honestly make you feel better in the long run if you read, say, The Great Gatsby or The Things They Carried instead of burying your head in lower case song lyrics ... (hurt/comfort, fix-it, happy ending, 6k) and like, to be clear, I have written a small portion of lower case song lyric-titled fics myself but most of them aren't terribly happy, and even so, god I'd be horrified if that was all people were reading.

We've seen it across fandom at large with the polls; I have not watched season 2 of Our Flag Means Death in part because I've realized with horror that this mentality has swept, plague-like, through that fandom; people are acting like having a canon queer ship on a small premium cable show in 2022 is world-changing and unprecedented while also kind of ignoring everything that isn't the central ship (including valid criticisms of how this takes a real-world plantation owner and turns him into a goofy fop, how there's precious few female characters and none in the main cast, and how the actually far more groundbreaking nb character is pushed aside in favor of the core M/M ship). Spoilers for Good Omens again (sorry in advance, Good Omens 2 was a realization point for me how deeply and widely this rot has set in in some places and I have a bunch of sources of people being like "guys stories require conflict and tension to be good" in response to the overwrought moaning that the story wasn't unambiguously happy) but this is another author responding to the "the desired endpoint of all fiction is obviously to have your ship living in a small house together in bliss and anything else is torment" mentality.

In addition to shipping another factor is, I think, people overidentifying with characters and as such being reluctant to actually put them through any sort of hardship, however minor. I recently reblogged a post about the origin of the concept "Mary Sue" and it led me to read a bit about its history, because it was in fact created by women. It was a woman in the Star Trek fandom who was sick of spending money to buy fanzines (pre-common home internet, let alone pre-Ao3) only to find the vast majority of the stories to be this "here is my self-insert who is perfect and beautiful and pure and every other character thinks she is the greatest even if that's entire OOC". It was a frustration with the abandonment of the characterizations in the original work. And that's true today - I have read a popular Imogen and Laudna fluff fic to see what the deal was and it stripped out so much of their premises and characterizations it was unrecognizeable as them but for the hair colors and occasional cringeworthy attempts to replicate Southern US dialect - but what was notable is that those people were at least being honest and writing OCs (though to be fair a lot of them were also young white teen girls and the only woman in TOS was black and that was probably also a factor). Now, you get people who cannot tolerate any analysis of characters that is less than flattering because instead of having an OC, they are identifying so strongly with, for example, Imogen or Ashton, that they cannot separate out the real character or understand this is not an attack on them (or, to be blunt, as someone who sees some of my own worse traits in both those characters, a necessary critique). It's not shipping, but it is that same "fiction should only ever be a soft blanket or a flattering mirror, never a dark mirror and certainly never a door" mentality.

I do place a little blame on fanfiction itself; I think having something that is roughly made to order and tells you exactly what it is up front means people start to think that is the only way, and that's why we have people claiming Chipotle is the height of cuisine while making gagging noises at the authentic Mexican restaurant except for fiction. I think fanfiction can be great; it's fun to write and I have read some great pieces. But a lot of it is mush and formulaic and as that Mary Sue history points out, always has been.

So anyway, to Bells Hells: I think past campaigns also had a lot of dull fanfiction; I think the Nein lent themselves more to poorly written angst than poorly written fluff but yeah a lot of that was really samey and bland in its own way. Fanfiction has always been formulaic to a degree but I think we're starting to see the generation of people who really have read more of that than like, books, and sure there are shitty books, but man there's a LOT of shitty fanfiction, and increasingly, I find that shitty published books are bad because they're too much like fanfiction. [If I get the chance today I have a post I want to write about the ignorance of fantasy tropes in the current fandom which I think is also driving some of this and which I alluded to in my post about shipping; like, I feel the almost automatic but oddly thought-free resistance to gods and fate and the 'right' way to respond to a tragic backstory comes from this ignorance; this also is a case in the D20 fandom when they've dipped into sci fi.] Shipping definitely is a factor, and I think again C3 has an influx of fans primarily here to ship in that "my ship must become canon and must 'win' for some arbitrary definition thereof" which is probably why so much of the fanfic sucks, but again, this is a larger self-infantilizing and entitled mentality that goes beyond mere ships.

Further reading (mostly my own posts but not exclusively)

The fandom echo chamber (also Good Omens spoilers in a broad sense), not by me

Some discussion on queerphobia being inserted only as a tool to assist with specific shipping narratives (I think this ties in again to like. people need obstacles to justify why the characters aren't already in their cottage by the sea but once the characters are together they discard these obstacles even if they are systemic and would still exist, which makes for really bad fanfic bc it's clearly poorly plotted and thought out)

Me on why this campaign isn't good for shipping but a lot of the fandom showed up primarily to ship (might be the post that prompted this ask tbf)

Fandom monocropping (not my post)

My treatise on Imogen and Laudna specifically which honestly, even now that they are canon, still largely holds up re: the fandom and a related one about similarly fluff-centric Change is Evil and the highest order of fiction is Two Blorbos In A House With Zero Problems mentality (not by me but I've been part of that discussion)

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Five: The Cabin

Gates Of Hell Masterlist

Word Count: 4982

Warnings: swearing, mentions of death, feeling abandoned, the usual bickering, mentions of absent fathers, some of this is almost sweet I'm surprised I could even write it

[A/N: this chapter isn't particularly exciting but definitely important. i know we're all here for the steve x reader moments so how could i disappoint?]

-

The Cabin

Plan A: Find Hopper at the cabin.

“I told you, we’re going the wrong way!”

“No, it’s literally this way! I’m not blind!”

“Are we sure?!”

You and Steve had been wondering around the woods ever since day leaked through the night. Not that it was easy to tell anymore; the dark clouds were consuming the sky almost entirely now, reminding you both that Hawkins was under attack.

And the entire time you had been in the woods, you and Steve couldn’t resist an argument. First it was because neither of you could ever be the follower, always attempting to take charge. The next it was a small comment on the state of his hair that led to his defensive spiel about care and treatment, remarking on your lack of. And soooooo many other little things that spiralled off into their own arguments until finally resting on Steve’s poor directional skills.

Steve simply pouted, shaking his head with a curse on his tongue. Of all the unbearable things about an apocalypse, you were the worst.

“How am I even meant to tell where we are by a few stupid trees? Trees are trees!” Steve rants, shaking his head as he followed his own footsteps.

As you bit your tongue, you glanced to the side before your feet faltered completely.

“Help me!”

A scream echoes out and you stumble, foot catching on a root as you fly forward into the dirt. The flashlight bounces from your hand, shining the light directly onto you. You immediately scramble towards it, reaching out.

Before a grey claw beat you to it, pulling the light back into the darkness with a sickening crunch...

“You good?” Steve asks, turning back once he notices the fallen crunches of footsteps. Once he sees your stare, his face drops. “Hey?”

Steve moves towards you and you snap back into focus, clearing your throat.

“Yeah. As I was saying, you’re leading us back to the school. We wanna go left.” You continue, as if nothing happened, pointing out the direction with a roll of your eyes.

Before he follows you, he cranes his neck to find what had you so entranced. His breath hitches.

Between the ash-gathered leaves, a ray of light beaming on it like an omen, stood a tree bearing three giant claw marks into its trunk.

He shudders at the sight, glancing back just one more time into the thick expanse of the woods surrounding him before taking off after you, praying it wasn’t foreshadowing his future.

It was only three more minutes until you’re jumping on the spot, a grin on your face.

“See? I told you!” You announce, pointing to the building in the distance.

“You want a medal?” Steve rolls his eyes and you smirk.

“I was thinking of you grovelling at my feet and pledging your undying allegiance.” You shrug, “But I’ll settle for a medal.”

Gritting his teeth as you laughed, he adjusted bat looped through his backpack and followed you towards the cabin. But, when your back was turned, he couldn’t help the hint of a smile creep onto his lips at your giggle.

As you were getting closer, you held your hand out to stop him. You make a gesture for him to look down.

“Trip wire.” You say, stepping over with him mimicking your movements.

Hopper had set up a security system around the cabin when you first moved there. It was when he first announced that El would be staying with you, not telling you any specifics other than ‘we need to keep her safe’. Just another part of his life he kept you far away from. You were struggling to decide if that was the right choice.

Leading Steve through Hopper’s intricate system of defences, the trees finally fell onto a path. It was funny to you now, knowing that just 24 hours ago you hated the idea of coming back here; now it was the only thing giving you hope. It was home, it was safety, it was-

Your stomach plummets to the ground as you freeze. Steve couldn’t believe his eyes.

The cabin was torn apart; windows smashed, boards missing from the walls. Something had gotten in there. Something big.

In a sudden movement, you start sprinting towards the house.

“Wait!” Steve yelled after you, pulling his bat into his grip and running after you.

You burst through the door, the first jolt of reality. Hopper never kept it unlocked.

“Hopper?” You shout, chest falling and rising heavily. “Hopper?!”

The living room was a mess, tables and chairs thrown about. The sofa looked like it was ripped to shreds, stuffing coating the floors like a crime scene. Books, vinyls, the things you grew up with, scattered around like tombstones of your memories.

The floor crunched beneath your feet, glass and ceramics breaking beneath the weight.

“Dad?” You desperately try, feeling the heat of the tears rolling down your cheeks.

You could sense Steve behind you, taking in the scene. You could practically hear the stream of pity ready to spur from his mouth.

“I-”

You walk away before he can speak, rushing to the bedrooms. You first open El’s room, expecting the little girl to be hiding somewhere. But the room was bare, and just as trashed as the living room. When you couldn’t bear to look at it anymore, you close the door behind you, biting your lip.

El was a surprise to your life. One day you’re sat at the trailer, the next you’re being dragged to the cabin, introduced to a girl you had never seen before. At first, you had been hesitant. And so had she, barely speaking five words. And you’d never admit it, but she grew on you. All of her little smiles, her wide innocent eyes staring up at you whenever she was unsure. Even the way she would giggle at your jokes. The thought of her being here when the cabin was… it was like losing your little sister all over again; her fighting for her life while you stood on the outside, unaware.

“Anything?” Steve’s quiet voice asks, stood at the end of the small hallway. You slowly shake your head, back still against the door.

You silently walk to the next door and this time, he follows you. It was that part of him that couldn’t leave someone alone in their internal crisis, knowing that he can’t live alone with his.

The door creaks open and your breath hitches.

Years of collections and comfort were fallen soldiers, your kingdom come undone. The roof had caved in, chippings and splinters lay across your bed like a blanket. Your shoes scuffed an object on the ground and it felt like kicking your own heart. You reach down and pick up the frame.

Glass slides away from it, angled to avoid cutting your fingers. The photo was now a crumpled mess, but you reach inside anyway and tentatively pull it out, dropping the frame back into the pile of despair.

Steve peers down at the image in your hands, your delicate need to brush out the rumples in the print. He could just make out Hopper, a clean-shaven version of him at least. He was crouched on the ground with two little girls. One looked a lot like you, the same mischievous smirk as you hug a smaller child in front of you. Steve didn’t recognise her. She bore blonde pigtails, younger than you were, with striking blue eyes.

Once you catch him looking, you clear your throat and fold the photo, depositing it in your jean pocket.

“No one’s here.” You say meekly, walking across your bedroom with little effort to avoid walking on your memories.

Steve watches as you fetch something from the mess, cradling it in your hands. He recognised the Walkman almost immediately; it was a dark red, courtesy of you painting it in shop class when you were meant to be making a birdhouse. He remembered how you’d slip the headphones on whenever he tried to talk, a small gesture that made him roll his eyes. Weirdly, the thought of you doing that never upset him until this very moment.

“Well.” You suddenly sigh, turning around with headphones dangling between your fingers. “That plan has officially humbled us.”

“They’re okay.” Steve nods and you sent him a sad look of disbelief. “They have to be. Just… look around. There’s no sign of them being…”

“Dead.” You finish, taking a deep breath. “No, you’re right. They definitely got out.”

“I’m sorry this happened, though.” He says, looking around your room. “This is some pretty cool stuff.”

“Surprised you’re not judging my ABBA poster.” You raise a brow and he whistles lowly.

“Oh, I absolutely am.” He chuckles, “But only ‘cause I thought you were a metal fan or something like that.”

“Because of my usually chipper mood?” You ask, but the laughter was lost on your joke as everything began hitting you once again.

Hopper and El weren’t here. That hope you had of getting the hell out of Hawkins with your family was gone. Because they were probably halfway across Indiana now.

Yesterday morning, you had been stood in this very spot, yelling at Hopper. And now you could look back on it, you knew it had been irrational. You had caused an argument of epic proportions and then you had walked away from it, never resolving, never forgiving.

No wonder they left, you thought, you only ever make other people miserable.

“Where would they go?” Steve questions, expectant eyes finding yours. You start to walk out the room and Steve steps aside before following you.

“Away.” You respond simply, finding your bag on the ground and shoving the Walkman inside.

“What does that mean?” He frowns.

“It means they’re heading anywhere that isn’t here.” You explain as you secure the zipper, swinging the bag by the strap to loop your arm through. “Hopper isn’t sticking around when he has a 13 year old to take care of.”

“Why would he take off without you?”

You pause your movements. It was an innocent question, an expected one. Then why was it so painful?

“Sometimes fathers leave.” You answer under your breath, and when Steve opens his mouth to inevitably question your mutter, you clear your throat. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It kinda does.” Steve shakes his head, wondering why you seemed so calm, so normal about this.

Hopper was adamant to him, to Nancy, even Jonathan, that they were to keep you as far away from this mess as possible. Steve remembered how uncomfortable Hopper had looked when they were at the cabin trying to help Will, constantly checking the time and disappearing into a different room to answer a call. Hopper protected you. Steve couldn’t believe for one second that he’d leave you behind.

“You don’t get it.” You scoff, heading to the cupboards. Steve figured you were rooting for food, a smart plan if it weren’t for your dismissal of his worries.

“Then tell me.” Steve places his hands on his hip, but you bark out a laugh.

“Yeah, that’s gonna happen.” You reply, your back to him as you prop yourself up on your toes to reach the back of the cupboard.

“You’re impossible.” He groans.

“You’re annoying.”

You say just as you turn around, holding a box in your hands. Steve looks down before widening his eyes. Shotgun shells.

“Uh…” He wasn’t sure what to say. After all, he wasn’t expecting ammo to be placed among breakfast cereals.

“Speechless? Good.” You rattle the box and head further into the cabin, towards a blank wall.

Once there, you run your fingertips along an etched square, nails gripping onto the rough surface and tugging. The panel fell towards you, clattering to the ground as you threw it to the side. Steve’s jaw couldn’t be dropped lower.

You reach in and pull out a shotgun, turning to Steve.

“Here.”

You throw the box towards him and he’s grateful for his reflexes, encasing them in his hands.

“Okay, it looks like it’s already loaded.” You mumble to yourself, wiping off the dust that collected on the barrel. When you glance up, you notice Steve’s still staring. You cock your head. “I’m the Chief’s daughter, you think I don’t know where he hides his weapons?”

“Uh…” Steve tries again, before he shakes his head free of the distraction. “Wait, no. We can’t go back out there.”

“Why not?” You ask, securing the shotgun onto your body by tightening the strap at the front.

“Because we need to figure out where they are.”

“For the love of God, Steve, read the room.” You exasperate, flinging your arm out towards the mess. “They’re gone. They left me behind and they’re getting the hell out of this place before they’re ripped apart.”

“They can’t have just left you behind!” Steve’s blatant denial was obviously fuelled by something else. You had an idea of what that could be.

“Can we just drop it?” You beg, heading to the door before being blocked by Steve’s surprisingly built frame.

“Please.” He looks down at you, chest rising heavily. You stop, observing the gold flecks in his eyes that lay upon a scared expression. “Let’s just take a second, and try to figure this out.”

There wasn’t a part of you that wanted to barge past him, not when he was looking at you like you might be his last hope. You sigh, stepping back.

“Fine.” You hold out your hands in small surrender, “I yield.”

“Thank you.” Steve breathes, slumping his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I just… obviously I don’t know Hopper as well as you do. But… do you really think he’d just leave?”

“No.” You reply quietly. Hopper was never one to run from a fight, not really. And from what Steve had told you, he was protecting this town like an unsung hero.

You sit down on the couch, or what was left of it, perching on the comfortable seat that used to be the headrest. Steve joins you after a silent moment, avoiding the tear in the fabric, creating a distance unusual to you both, merely a few inches between.

“Wanna talk about it?” Steve asks and you turn your head to him in disbelief.

“What?”

“You know… about whatever the hell is making you so angry all the time.” He explains and you bite your cheek, turning away.

“Like I’m gonna confide in you.” You mutter and he slowly nods, pursing his lips. He didn’t expect anything less.

“We could make it fair.” Steve voices with determination, shifting to face you.

You raise a brow, intrigued by the offer. “I’m listening.”

“How about… question for a question?” He suggests and you scoff.

“Sure, wanna braid eachother’s hair later, get our nails done?”

He lets out a small huff, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, we’re gonna be stuck together whether we like it or not so keeping secrets isn’t gonna work.”

“God, you’re so nosy.”

“At least I’m not the one spacing out every five seconds when there are things out there trying to kill us!”

As much as you hated to admit it, he raised a valid point.

“We need to survive, Y/n.” Steve said sternly. “We both have people that need us.”

His voice gets quieter as he looks down at his hands, at the bag laying at his feet. He could practically feel the frequencies releasing from the radio hidden there, praying, hoping, that Dustin’s voice would find him again.

“Henderson?” You ask knowingly, and his eyes widen in surprise. “Please, that kid tells me everything.”

“You… what?”

“I used to babysit for the Wheelers.” You explain with a sigh, leaning back. “Dustin, Lucas, and Will were just added bonuses.”

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” He raises a brow and you smile.

“No, I love those kids. They were pretty much the only people in this town that actually talked to me. They didn’t care who my dad was.”

“Believe me, they don’t care for any kind of authority.” Steve chuckled, cocking his head. “I never knew you babysat them. Henderson never told me that.”

“You probably never asked.” You shrug, “But I get it. I wanna know they’re okay, too.”

“Then can we please just… try to get along?” Steve offers, leaning forward.

Steve watches as your face twists with indecision, battling out voices in your mind that answered for you. He was almost taken aback at the effort of consideration you put into his proposal. And, with an aching heart, he had a feeling you had a very good reason for it. He just couldn’t remember what he did.

“Fine.” You finally agree, fiddling with the laces on the hoodie. His hoodie.

“Great.” He claps, sitting upright. “Okay, you go first.”

You blink at him as he looks at you expectantly. “I’ve completely forgotten this entire conversation.”

“Ask me a question.” He says softly, unusual to his routine remarks on your inability to listen.

“Okay…” You purse your lips, stretching them to the side as you thought. How do you even talk to him after years of trying to rip eachother’s throats out? “Uh… favourite colour?”

You wince and he starts laughing, the melody enticing you along with it.

“That was awful.” He remarks, looking away from you as he tries to compose himself.

“I’m trying, okay?” You giggle.

“Just…” He calms himself, shaking his head. “Something you want to know. Or, at least something more personal than what colour I like to wear.”

“Jeez, I didn’t realise there were so many rules to this.” You say, but your words are spoken in a joking manner. “Fine, I’ll try again.”

“Good.” He nods.

This time, you try and think back, rooting through your brain for the questions that have been plaguing you for years.

“Why did you choose Tommy?”

Steve wasn’t sure what he expected, but it took him by surprise. He frowns.

“To be friends with, I mean.” You explain quickly, staring down at your shoes.

“We…” He starts before frowning a little. “I don’t know.”

“There’s the scoop I’ve been looking for.” You smirk and he laughs nervously, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“I just mean… I don’t remember. I don’t remember a lot, lately. Hit my head too many times, I think.”

You searched for the satire, but you knew he was truthful. “Wait, seriously?”

Steve absent-mindedly nods his head. “Yep. Doctors told me something about concussions and how too many can have serious effects or something like that.”

“I… I didn’t realise.” You frown, biting your lip.

“Yeah, I gotta work on the whole ‘avoiding fights’ thing.” He attempts a laugh, but it came out much sadder than intended.

“So… you don’t remember freshman year?”

“Bits and pieces. It’s not, like, totally gone. It’s all a bit blurry, I guess. I can remember the first game I played in, even right down to the final scores. But I couldn’t even tell you who I was playing with. Or if I even scored.”

“Three.” You say immediately, surprising yourself.

“Huh?”

“Um… three.” You shrug, fidgeting. “You scored three times. Or got a hoop? I’ll be honest, I have no idea how basketball works but you got the ball in the hoop three times.”

“How do you-”

“It was a school game, I had to watch it.” You explain defensively, shaking off the thought with the bat of your hand.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek, but not to resist a snarky remark. He was hoping the slight blush creeping up his neck wasn’t noticeable.

“Anyway,” He shakes his head, looking in a direction where he could focus. “If I knew how Tommy and I became friends, I’d tell you. Not like I haven’t been questioning that for a while now.”

“Why does he suddenly hate you?” You query and he opens his mouth to answer before closing it, sending you a smirk. “What?”

“I believe it’s my turn to ask a question.”

“Oh, God.” You groan, placing your head in your hands, hidden away from his victorious stare. “I don’t like where this is going.”

Steve looks at you trying to play it off, acting like you didn’t care. But he’d never seen you look more nervous. And that made him nervous. “You don’t have to answer.”

“Well, yeah. Technically you never answered my question.” You point out, laughing when he looks at you with annoyance. “Okay, okay. Fine. Ask away, Harrington.”

“I…” He begins, before he’s second guessing himself. Maybe he’s going about this all wrong. He’s playing a childish game just to get some information out of you, while you’re trying to hold on to those personal aspects of your life you don’t want to share. Did you even owe him that? “Never mind. Forget it.”

You send him a dubious look, “Seriously?”

“Yeah, it was stupid anyway.” He dismisses, stretching his arms. “Cool. We should start moving.”

“Harrington.” Your stern voice brought him back down as he tries to stand, biting his lip. “Don’t chicken out on me now.”

Steve sighs, running a hand down his face and you’re surprised at how quickly his demeanour had changed. He suddenly looked shy.

He tried to relocate his thoughts, change his course towards a question that felt easier, more normal considering the stance of your relationship. So, rather than ask that burning question, he redirected his determination to find out a little more of what you and he could share in common.

“Okay.” Steve nods, turning towards you. You’re sat patiently, awaiting his words. It was a new look, but he’d have to recoil at it later. “Henderson.”

“What about him?” You frown. This wasn’t where you were expecting this conversation to lead.

“I just… I wanna know how that friendship started.” He shrugs and you breathe out a laugh, eyes wide.

“I literally just told you five seconds ago, I babysat him.”

“Yeah, I know that.” He rolls his eyes, “I meant… why are you still so close now? What do- what do you guys even talk about?”

Steve hoped he wasn’t too obvious but the moment that iconic mischievous smirk lifted the corner of your lips, he regretted everything.

“Why?” You raise a brow, leaning closer. “You scared he’s spilled all your secrets?”

“Has he?” Steve asked, a little panicked.

“No.” You smile, leaning back. “No, we just… talk. He’s always at the arcade and I usually kill some time over there. When the Wheelers needed me, the kids were usually burrowed in that basement on whatever campaign they had created that week. Dustin was kind of the first one to even notice I was there. He’d always offer to help me in the kitchen with stuff, even if the others were in the middle of a war or something.”

“Sounds like a crush.” Steve comments and you chuckle.

“Whatever it was… he’s a good kid.” You nod, looking at him. “I was there when… when his dad left.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, furrowing your brows. “We kinda bonded over that, a little. He was having trouble processing it all, not sure what happened. I think Will was the only other one he could relate to, but Will was apparently too young to really remember anything. Dustin needed a shoulder, I guess. And since I have somewhat of an experience with his situation, I was there for him.”

“Can’t believe he never mentioned that.” He huffs, shaking his head. That asshole usually told him everything, especially stuff he didn’t want to know about. And you being a close friend suddenly didn't make the list?

“Please.” You laugh, and he looks at you. “Dustin knows we aren’t friends. Hell, I think he’s probably seen us fighting hundreds of times. I know the whole town has.”

“Still.” Steve sighs, leaning back. “Wouldn’t kill him to share.”

“He talks about you a lot.” You admit and Steve’s eyes flicker to yours in an instant.

“Really?” He sounds a little sceptic and you nod, unsure of why you felt like you had to tell him this. Part of you just felt like he needed to know.

“Nothing bad.” You insist, brushing away a stray hair that had fallen across your eye. “In fact, he talked about you like you were the second coming of Christ.”

“Really?” Steve was smiling now, ego surely fed.

“I think it took a piece of my soul away each day.” You decide, but Steve was still grinning at you. “Stop that. It’s creepy.”

“Can’t help that I’m an idol. A hero.” He looks off into the distance with his self-entitlement. “A god.”

“Fucking hell, forget I said anything.” You groan, grimacing at him.

“Nope.” Steve was going to milk this for as long as he could. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to annoy you. He stretches his legs, pushing off the couch into a stand. “You do realise you’re in the presence of someone important?”

“If by important, you mean idiotic? Then yes.” You remark, resting your chin in your palm. “You really are living in King Steve land. Sponsored by Farah Fawcett.”

“Well, it’s only-” Steve pauses his boasting, slowly turning to look at you. You’re wearing a sick grin on your face and he refuses to acknowledge it. “Okay. I’ll shut up.”

“Like music to my ears.” You sigh gratefully as he hesitantly sits back down, still glaring at you. “Oh, come on. Don’t blame Dustin, it just slipped out. He really does look up to you, even if I’ll never understand why.”

“Jesus, that kid…” He begins before his voice trails out, brows knitted together.

“I’m sorry he wasn’t here.” You say quietly. You had figured out the real reason Steve followed you here as soon as his face dropped walking into the chaos within the cabin. It was the same face you had worn knowing Hopper and El were nowhere in sight.

“Yeah, well… wishful thinking.” He dismisses, waving his hand. “He’s probably out there with the rest of the nerds, you know. Irritating someone else as he tries to explain every living thing he sees. Did you know he tried to keep one of those dog things as a pet?”

“What?” You laugh out of surprise and Steve quickly nods in exasperation.

“Yeah. Yeah, he named it and everything. Convinced he had some psychic connection with it or whatever. Oh, and his obsession with his walkies, man. If I don’t say ‘over’, he’ll give me a lecture on using the thing right for like ten minutes.”

“That does sound like him.” You smile. Steve was talking about the boy like he was the most annoying thing in the world, but there was such adoration in his eyes.

“I remember when we had to go down into those tunnels.” Steve continues, spiralling down Dustin lane. “I told him no but he just wouldn’t listen. Then when it was all over, he came with me to the hospital to get my head checked out and I don’t even remember what I said but suddenly he’s ranting on and on about gates and their electromagnetic field-”

“Wait.” You grab his arm and he raises a brow, surprised at the sudden contact. “The gate. You said- yeah, you said that Hopper and El had closed the gate, right?”

“Apparently not.” Steve comments, fiddling with the nailed bat between his legs.

“Exactly.” You point, standing up.

“I’m not following.” He frowns, watching as you pace back and forth.

“Of course you aren’t.”

“Rude.”

“If this is all happening because of a gate, then maybe Hopper would take El to close it. For good, this time.” You explain in a rush, Steve nodding along. “Where did you say it was, again?”

“The lab.” Steve replies, standing up to join you, “The abandoned one on Randolph? Turns out, not so abandoned. Hasn’t been for years.”

“They’ve gotta be there.” You insist, mostly to convince yourself. “Right?”

“Worth a shot.” Steve breathes out, nodding. “But it’s not gonna be fun getting there. If we’re right and that gate is spitting out monsters, it’s gonna be hell central.”

You thought it through. You’d both be ripped apart before you even got close. And there wasn’t a guarantee you’ll even get there fast enough.

“A car.” You blurt, looking up at him. “We’re gonna need a car.”

Steve’s eyes widen and he reaches into his back pocket, displaying a bunch of keys as they dangled from his fingers. “Thank god I always have these on me.”

You tilt your head, staring at them. “Wow. Are they gonna transform into your magical car, ‘cause I sure as hell don’t remember the lift over.”

“I know where it is.” Steve shook his head, pulling a face at your mockery.

“Where?”

His face freezes, eyes squinting. “Well...”

“Well?” You wave your hand about, becoming impatient.

“It’s in the parking lot. Back at the school.” He winces and you take a deep breath.

“Why didn’t you-” You begin before cutting yourself off, shaking your hands, “No. no, It’s fine. We’ll just go get it. As long as we’re quick and quiet, it’ll be fi-”

You’re unconvincing attempt to appear calm was interrupted by the sound of a loud roar, prickling your skin into a wave of goosebumps. It was a shock to the system that reminded you of the exact danger Steve was talking about, and you didn’t want to stick around to find out.

“Time to go.” You squeak, grabbing the shotgun as you and Steve share intimidated looks.

“This is gonna be fun.” Steve murmurs, following you out of the cabin and into the open, trying to ignore the signalling traps echoing around him.

Plan A: Find Hopper at the cabin.

Plan B: Grab the car without being mauled to death.

Chapter Six: Don't Trust The Voices ->

taglist: @manyfandomsfanvergent . @sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose . @palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 . @80saestheticismyfav .

[applesaucesomething]

Introduction

I’m clover/Seren im genderfaun and aroace I go by they/them/he/him/it/itself/ze/zer pronouns. I’m a flower symbology nut but I can’t remember shit, deltarune is my special interest with in stars and time and I’m also really into Zelda and Undertale.

Other stuff im interested in (includes past interests): night in the woods, sally face, cult of the lamb, ocs, animals, cartoons such as gravity falls, toh and amphibia, animation, the ninja turtles, splatoon, good omens, Omori.

You can send me asks or messages I don’t mind. just whenever interacting with my account just be respectful of other people and stuff. Please dont repost or use my art without permission.

I kinda post whatever im into at the moment but its mainly going to be deltarune. Im thinking about doing commisions so if your interested message me and we can disscuss it. You can also send me drawing requests at any time just know it will take me a while to get round to it. Please dont tag any art I (may) make of siffrin and loop as a ship thank you very much (no hate just id prefer if my content of them wasnt tagged as a ship).

This blog will mostly be for my digital art and mabey the occasional sketch, the way i draw charecters is super inconsistant sorry. This will mostly be fanart i may post my ocs sometimes idk. The art i make will be put under the my art tag and the applesaucesomething’s art tag :)

[jasper-pagan-witch]

Mournwillow Spell Creation (episode 1)

So yesterday at work, I started working on some things and thoughts about Mournwillow.

Let's break the card down, shall we?

This is a 3 power, 2 toughness Plant Skeleton Creature with Haste and a Delirium trigger. When it enters the battlefield and you've achieved Delirium, creatures with power 2 or less can't block that turn. This provides a great early-game swinger who can storm past early-game creatures and lead your early-game army. Or get you past a bunch of 1/1 Tokens later in the game if you're dealing with the Endless Squirrel Loop.

Delirium is a fun mechanic where you need 4 or more card types in your graveyard (aka the discard pile) to do something. Card types include Artifacts, Creatures, Enchantments, Instants, and Sorceries, along with other card types that aren't used anymore. The Plant and Skeleton parts of this card are Creature subtypes; subtypes don't count in the Delirium trigger.

So how do I translate all of this into a spell?

Let's start with the card cost and the tools. I would use a Black-aligned source, a Green-aligned source, and a third source to pay for the "cost" of the spell. I picked out bones (or bones made of clay and charged with Black energy), baneful plants (Green), and a speed booster of some sort (it could be speed powder, coffee, or caffeine more broadly) to represent the Haste and cover the last source we need. (Speed boosters tend to be Red-aligned, so...oops?)

After looking at these and studying the card art, an idea started pecking at my brain. So I also included a taglock for the target and a binding agent (string, twine, yarn, et cetera; ideally black or green).

I decided that this will be a poppet-based baneful spell, a 1 and done hit-style spell. I would tie everything together and leave it somewhere to either decay or scare the target, thus tying in the Delirium.

At this point, I abruptly realized that this was reading like those little dangly things you see in The Blair Witch Project, so I ended up stopping so I could have a whole ass conversation with my coworker/branch manager for several hours about the progression of horror through the past few decades and I had to explain the entire Five Nights at Freddy's lore and what a creepypasta was. It was unhinged.

So what do we have to do today?

Well shit, I dunno. I guess I could go into my correspondences binder and get examples of the plants we could use. Or figure out alternates for the bones/bones made of clay. But I feel like the "bone and plant" combination would be the best.

Please know that my correspondences binder is compiled from various books and blog posts, most of which are UPG-based. It's also not a complete compendium of every type of plant to exist.

It's very easy to find plants associated with Green. Frankly, anything that isn't artificial is associated with Green. Here are some that stand out:

Blackberry root: BG, bad luck, baneful magic, cursing, and death.

Blueberry: UBG, bad luck (bark), baneful magic, cursing, and discord (bark).

Cactus: BRG, baneful magic (needles or spines), pain magic, and strife.

Elm: WBG, baneful magic (slippery elm or elm wood), cursing (slippery elm), and death (elm wood).

Juniper: UBG, baneful magic, binding, and shadow.

Nectarine: UBRG, baneful magic, and hexes.

Paulownia: UBG, baneful magic, camouflage, and trickery.

Peach: BRG, bad omens, confusion (decayed or rotted), and death.

Smoke tree: WBG, baneful magic, infertility, short life, and weakness to illness.

Sumac: UBRG, baneful magic, binding, and cursing.

Walnut: WUBRG, bad luck, death, and infertility.

This gives us a lot to work with, but I think I'll pause here for now until I decide to put it together and try it out!

Cool Links

Mournwillow on Scryfall: https://scryfall.com/card/emn/187/mournwillow

The MTG Colors section of my Tumblr grimoire: https://jasper-grimoire.tumblr.com/tagged/section%3A%20mtg%20colors

[grunge-mermaid]

grunge rewatches midsomer murders pt 2

full disclosure: I'm mostly knitting and kind of watching bc I'm still rotted only season 1 of Little Mosque on the Prairie is available on prime & if I want to watch the rest I have to sign up for Disney+

but anyway, here's pt 2 of That Corpse Is Breathing Pretty Deeply Fellas You Sure She's Dead?

2x01 Death's Shadow

opening with a flashback. always a good omen. Gerald/Liam started with a flashback and that episode was fucking wild man

Judy Parfitt...Judy Parfitt...

I know I could look her up but I want to be surprised by how I know her

no Joyce don't fall victim to the wedding industrial complex

OH

SISTER MONICA JOAN

OF COURSE IT'S SISTER MONICA JOAN

I FUCKING LOVE SISTER MONICA JOAN

ahh good old Badger's Drift

all the good murders happen in Badger's Drift

"the head bounced into the hall" yikes

I knew there was a beheading in Badger's Drift I just got the episodes mixed up

why are there so many abusive husbands in these villages

well that hymn definitely isn't shared with the UCC

and we're back in the One And Only Lawyer's Office Set

oh that's a good murder

so dramatic and intense

love it

that corpse definitely isn't breathing

no lungs left

side effect of being burned to a crisp

please tell me someone's going to get an arrow through the neck

Chekhov's quiver

fine I'll settle for an arrow in the back

a character called Fletcher getting killed by a bow & arrow. beautiful

*gets caught in bed with a 19yo man* "I am not a homosexual, it disgusts me" baby boy... let me introduce you to the concept of internalized homophobia

"we never meant to hurt him" YOU LYNCHED A CHILD

WHY WOULD YOU PUT A NOOSE AROUND A CHILD'S NECK AND MAKE HIM STAND ON A RICKETY CHAIR ON UNEVEN GROUND IF YOU NEVER MEANT TO HURT HIM

gotta love it when the corpses don't breathe. such a rarity on this show

2x02 Strangler's Wood

only rated 13+? that doesn't bode well

this is the episode that was on PBS the other day that made me want to rewatch the series

they censored the word "shit"

idk why you can't say "shit" after 9pm on American television

anyway...let the commentary commence

if I didn't know that was Phyllis Logan I wouldn't believe it

11yo boys in the woods before school is never good

grown ass man can't take care of himself

stop infantalizing your husbands challenge 1998

ahh there's some good old fashioned victim blaming

I do appreciate a good Obvious Red Herring

I think one of the writers has a choking fetish

that comment's gonna get me some bots isn't it

"help my son is gay" "get a life"

I know I only watched this the other day but I already forget if they address why Kate Merrill recognizes Troy's name

like obviously he's written to her agony column, at least that's how they're setting it up, but I don't remember if they actually address it

"she's being dying for about 6 years now. we're getting used to it"

hey it's a Jenny Lind bed! *proceeds to sing Heave Away on loop in my head*

Come get your duds in order cause we're bound to cross the water

Heave away me jollies heave away

Come get your duds in order cause we're bound to leave tomorrow

Heave away me jolly b'ys we're all bound away

it's just not the same without Connor Bedard

what is with the kids in these villages? is there something in the water that makes them all psychopaths?

the continuity in this show is *chef's kiss*

gotta reference every previous case always

...is this what straight men find attractive?

is that cigarette ad supposed to be sexy?

I love the Terrible American Accent that is specific to shows like this

got distracted by making a knitting pattern more complicated than it needs to be because intentionally stressing myself out over a lace wedding veil is more interesting than rewatching an episode I just saw like 2 days ago

I'll try to be more focused for the next ep but for now it's eurovision performances and then bed

2x03 Dead Man's Eleven

ah fuck it's cricket themed I'm gonna be completely out of my depth

full disclosure: it's nearly 40c (104f) and I don't have air conditioning so if my computer (or my brain) overheats, the commentary will be brief

like this

nearly 20mins in and I have no clue what's going on because my brain is soup

haunted museum? 350-year-old family feud? that's all I've got

something about smoked mackerel

good god the sound on my parents tv is fucking awful

the music and screaming are painfully loud but the dialogue is barely audible

I get that Sandra is traumatized and all but jesus everything she says is a piercing shriek

wait a minute

the episode description mentioned cricket

why is there no cricket yet?

I want to steal my cat's cooling mat

can I make it through the last 30 minutes before taking a nap?

why am I not intrigued by this episode? is it boring? is it the difficult-to-hear dialogue making the episode hard to follow even with captions? is it the heat making it impossible to focus? we may never know

hard to tell if the corpse is breathing when it's buried

good lord that was the longest 7 minutes of my life how is there still 23 minutes to go?

*makes impatient "wrap it up" gesture*

OH MARTYR WARREN. it's a place!

I thought they've been saying Marta since 1x01

I assumed they were talking about a person who lived in Midsomer

someone everyone knows, runs a cute little shop or something, pillar of the community, everyone's nan kind of person

one of those characters who's always referenced but never seen. like Villix'pran or Captain Boday on DS9

apparently this is actually 3x04 Beyond The Grave. the real 2x03 has a really great cast (Imelda Staunton, Annabelle Apsion, Robert Hardy, Toby Jones). can't tell you who any of these folks are though

3 minutes left...

of course they read daily mail

but at least they're critical of it

ok nap time. summer is the worst.

2x04 Blood Will Out

the heat broke and my parents have gone out so I get the good tv tonight. let's wrap up season 2

Martyr Warren. of course it's set in Martyr Warren

this ep is about Travellers, it's gonna be culturally insensitive isn't it?

who is this guy

OH

he's Gibbs from Pirates of the Carribean

Hector Bridges reminds me of Dr Bombay

ok so far this isn't as bad as I expected

there's still an hour and a half to prove me wrong though

like yeah there are townspeople who are being dicks but so far the police have just said "please don't litter and please leave when you said you would"

"I'm not kinky"

no shit Troy

you're so repressed vanilla is too spicy for you

and that's coming from me

Barnaby gets points for the casual use of the singular they

please tell me those are not morris dancers in blackface

I do appreciate that the rich bigots are the baddies here and not the travellers like you would expect from a nearly 30 year old show

also appreciate the widow not grieving her abusive husband

"the killer did us a favour"

Wife Swap: version 2.0

ah there we go

Troy being the asshole we know and hate

love me some gossipy bitches gossiping about murder over a game of scrabble

this is some spec ops shit isn't it

nope not spec ops just a corrupt commander

Troy may be as kinky as a slice of wonder bread, but the writers of this show are definitely into some shit

or has AO3 just completely ruined me and I see kink where there is none?

"I made the classic mistake of not believing you had been abused" a cop making a good and sincere apology? I'm shocked

murdering someone with a shotgun while dressed in all white is a bold move girl

well that's season 2 over and done with I guess. see you back here for season 3.

[ao3feed-ineffablehusbandz]

Have to Make a Decision

Have to Make a Decision

by EdosianOrchids901

When Aziraphale gets stuck in a loop of indecision about what to do with himself, Crowley suggests that they watch a film. It sounds like a good plan… up until they need to pick a film and get stuck in a mutual loop of indecision. Will they be able to decide on something to watch?

Words: 1058, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Good Omens (TV)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens)

Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

Additional Tags: Fluff, Humor, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), Bickering, Movie Night, Decisions, Sweeney Todd References, References to Into the Woods - Sondheim/Lapine, Movie Reference, Grumpy Crowley (Good Omens), Grumpy Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens)

From https://ift.tt/waTYeVP https://archiveofourown.org/works/45788092

[marble-milkshake]

OMEN!!!!!!!!!!!

i love the looping woods hehehe. he..............

also phone drawing ^^;;

i have nothing else to add uuu marble out (っ °Д °;)っ

[bcdysntchers]

“  i  choked  /  on  such  longing  i  couldn’t  spit  it  out  /

desire  is  so  different  when  god  bore  you  hungry.  ”

pinterest.

basics

full name: max atkinson

age: twenty five

pronouns: she/her

sexuality: bisexual ( maybe preference for girls????)

star sign: scorpio

label: the atoner

species: banshee

occupation: photographer at the portum times

theme song: rainbo conversations by stereolab

aesthetics:

worn out jackets with too many pockets that you refuse to get rid of no matter the holes and patches. moss growing on your feet, you’ve been forced still for so long you never learned how to be alive. seraphic, honey dripping lips cacheing jadded fangs. black combat booots as stash for belongings you don't own but have swiftly picked from a passerby. a cross that you still wear around your neck even though it burns and suffocates you but your’se till looking for pieces of god in you ( you don’t know if it’s to pry them out or in attempt to beg forgiveness / finally be allowed holiness ). cannibalism as a metaphor for desire and the guilt of wanting. biting your lip instead of speaking, you’re used to the taste of blood at the tip of your tongue. an old haunted cathedral slowly collapings onto itself. being a ghost witnessing your own life passing you by but feeling the unescapable need for ransom. survivor’s guilt. feeling on the verge of combustion but no matter how much you burn inside the icy layer does not melt. maniacally scrubbing under your nails to remove dried blood.

info: ( tw: religious trauma )

max comes from a small town in ireland out of everyone's radar. reigned by christianity, extremely conservative, and stuck in ancient ways, it was more of a cult than anything else. kids were indoctrinated and brainwashed before they could even speak and max was often made an example of because she spent more time praying than anyone else. no one knew it was to repent; she felt this bad seed growing inside of her and corrupting her thoughts and desires.

her days were spent dangling between the hovering halls of the church and the woods, where, under the shadow of the leaves, it seemed as god couldn't reach her. she found herself in an endless loop of sin and atonement and knew no rest, she didn't know how to handle the morbid attraction to life's last breath. she was pictured as some kind of angel, when younger, holding the suffering's hands right before they would lay to eternal rest. but as years went on and people started to realize how different max was, how eerie her presence was, and how she was always perfectly on time with death, she was started to be seen as a bad omen. she was marginalized.

only one was the person who didn't grow afraid of her mystery, and it was the pastor's daughter. they'd sneak in the woods and spend days talking, exploring, laughing. those were the only moments max felt seen, and not some sort of ghost.

eventually, the town's discontent grew even stronger. everything bad that happened was blamed on her and it quickly led to her being casted as the devil's daughter. she managed to flee, leaving both what she hated and loved behind.

max spent the following years on the road until she set foot in portum where she finally felt at home.

headcanons:

she's an observer and has a bit of an impostor syndrome 'cause she had to learn how to live and function as a human being after she ran away from her hometown, and she did so by staring at people and copying their mannerisms. she's still trying to find her voice bc she feels quite contrasted at times because she's very softspoken, gentle and demure but the depth of her soul is extremely firey so she's ??? nd sometimes she tries to control it so her lips are always kind of scarred bc of how much she bites them and she's never able to keep still, she's either always shifting positions or shaking in some way, while other times she's so loud about it.

most often than not the way she behaves is just a reaction to what's going on around her because she's very good at assessing the situation and acts depending on the most favorable outcome.

still has a weird relationship with religion like ‘ i will take a crowbar and pry out the broken pieces of god in me ’ still trying to figure out how she'll take the whole angels / demons things tbh not very smart of me.

she's a bit of a kleptomaniac which is a habit she took on the road in order to survive nd still uses it right now because money is tight. sometimes she steals to pawn stuff, other times because she likes them. she's esp always stealing sweets.

has that 80′s dark girl vibe???? looks like she never takes her doc martens off, wears black thighs and skirts and leather jackets four times her size. has that winona ryder vibe. she's always cutting her fringe and her skin is very delicate and prone to bruising.

very masculine in an extremely feminine way. she sits and speaks like a trucker, always manspreading and possibly mistakenly fleshing her underwear or having her legs dangling from somewhere, but she's sooo delicate with it that sometimes people don't even realize???? def uses her angel face to her advantage.

she's always witty and never replies seriously esp if the question is dumb. has a little grin always plastered on her lips because she finds it just soo amusing.

she always walks around with her camera and loves everything morbid and macrabe. has many pictures of........ dead animals nd such..... always hanging out at the graveyard.... but she doesn't know anything abt her 'power' besides that she knows when death is coming.

still has an issue with her sexuality. it's rare for her to do something with a girl bc it brings back memories and it's just so much more.... gut-wrenching than with men bc she's so so hungry for it.

always carries a pocket knife that was gifted to her while traveling.

wcs:

literally anything but esp someone she had a one-night stand with and stole from and like..... a cute lil homoerotic friendship but she keeps denying that there's more than just platonic feelings hehehe

[yukis-little-yapping]

and once again halloween proves to disappoint me. for the third year in a row. probably more.

im just gonna vent under the cut

its not fair, okay??? i WANT to have fun, i WANT to dress up. but alas, the costumes i get are last minute, store-bought or i never even fucking get one! it doesn't help that when i DO get a costume, i dont go trick-or-treating because "it's too late!!" or "i don't want you going without your sister with you!!" like i don't give a single shit! i have friends! i can go with them??? this year i have two parties to go to and trick-or-treating with my friends. you might be thinking, "oh yuki, that's a good thing! you said you havent trick-or-treated in years!" yeah, that is a good thing, but BEFORE i have to go to a party, then I leave, go trick-or-treating, then go BACK to the party. i dont get time to rest. im probably going to be in an uncomfortable, itchy costume that barely fits me, too. since im probably going to have to be wearing an adult's one (despite me NOT being an adult) the womens ones are probably going to be more revealing. thanks. my insecurity of my body will be thanking you for that one! i have a fucking idea on what to dress up as! i want to dress up as Omen from The Looping Woods!! i have everything i need, a wig and all, but i need the overalls. all we need to do is go to primark or something, and i can wear that! comfortable AND it's a costume that actually feels personalized. not an itchy, uncomfortable costume.

that's me and my rant over, happy halloween. im also making the characters i roleplay as suffer, they arent getting costumes.

[hadeschan]

item # K20B45

RARE Pra Pikanet, Pra Bucha Ratthana, Panung Lai Dok Pikul, Nua Samrit, Pit Thong. An ancient cast bronze statue of Lord Ganesha in Ekadanta Ganapati with 24K gold leaf gilding. Ekadanta Ganapati has four hands, holds his just broken tusk in the main right hand, and a trishula, a noose, and a bowl of Laddu in his other three. Ekadanta Ganapati is wearing Thai style Dhoti with Spanish cherry or Bullet Wood Flower design. Made in Rattanakosin Kingdom, the Early Modern Siam BE 2398 to BE 2448 (CE 1855 to CE 1905), Thailand.

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BEST FOR: In Thailand, Lord Ganesha is the symbol of success, wealth and prosperity, Lord Ganesha is worshipped first in any prayer. It is believed that for the fulfilment of one's desires, his blessings are absolutely necessary. Lord Ganesha wouyld grant success, and achievement without failure. Lord Ganesha grants good fortune and success, and the remover of all obstacles in life and in career. Lord Ganesha brings endless food with wealth & prosperity. Klawklad Plodpai (it brings safety, and pushes you away from all danger), Kongkraphan (it makes you invulnerable to all weapon attack), Maha-ut (it stops gun from shooting at you), Metta Maha Niyom (it helps bring loving, caring, and kindness, and compassion from people all around you to you), Maha Larp (it brings Lucky Wealth / wealth fetching), and Kaa Kaai Dee (it helps tempt your customers to buy whatever you are selling, and it helps attract new customers and then keep them coming back. And Ponggan Poot-pee pee-saat Kunsai Mondam Sa-niat jan-rai Sat Meepit (it helps ward off evil spirit, demon, bad ghost, bad omen, bad spell, curse, accursedness, black magic, misfortune, doom, and poisonous animals).

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LORD GANESHA

In Thailand, Lord Ganesha is called Pra Pikanet or Pra Pikanesuan and is worshiped as the deity of fortune and success, and the remover of obstacles. Lord Ganesha is associated with arts, education and trade. Lord Ganesha appears in the emblem of the Department of Fine Arts in Thailand. Large television channels and production companies have shrines in his honor in front of their premises. Few movies or television shows begin shooting without a Brahmin ritual in which prayers and offerings are made to Lord Ganesha. There are shrines to Lord Ganesha across Thailand. One of the most revered shrines is the Royal Brahmin Temple in central Bangkok by the Giant Swing, where some of the oldest images can be found. Other old Lord Ganesha images can be seen throughout Thailand, including a 10th Century bronze image found at Phang-Na with both Tamil and Thai inscriptions. The Hindu temple “Wat Pra Sri Umadevi” in Silom also houses a Lord Ganesha image which was transported from India in the late 19th Century. Thai Buddhists frequently pay respect to Lord Ganesha and other Brahmin deities as a result of the overlapping Buddhist/Brahmin cosmology. He is honored with Motaka, sweets and fruit, when business is good, and he is made ridiculous by putting his picture or statue upside down, when business is down. As lord of business and diplomacy, he sits on a high pedestal outside Bangkok’s Central World (formerly World Trade Center), where people offer flowers, incense and a reverential sawasdee…..

Ekadanta Ganapati

Ekadanta Ganapati is regarded as the 22nd among the 32 different forms and Ekadanta Ganapati. The word ‘Ekam’ or ‘Eka’ denotes the number one, and ‘Danta’ is the ‘tusk.’ Ekadanta Ganapati thus means the Lord with a single tusk. Ganesha is a God known to have a big belly, but Ekadanta Ganapati possesses a bigger belly, that is much larger than the ones found in any other form, which signifies that he holds the entire universe safely in his belly. Ekadanta Ganapati is blue in complexion, has four hands, holds his just broken tusk in the main right hand, and a trishula (a trident, a divine symbol, commonly used as one of the principal symbols in Hinduism), a noose (a loop at the end of a rope in which the knot tightens under load and can be loosened without untying the knot.), and a bowl of Laddu (sweetened round balls made from flour, sugar and ghee or oil) in his other three.

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Dok Pikul (Spanish cherry / Bullet Wood Flower)

Spanish Cherry or Bullet Wood Flower in Thai called “Dok Pikul”. Thais believe that Dok Pikul is an auspicious flower that brings fertility, prosperity, wealth, and personal financial growth and sustainability.

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The Rattanakosin Kingdom

The Rattanakosin Kingdom, the Kingdom of Siam, or the Early Bangkok Empire (1767-1851), were names used to reference the fourth and current Thai kingdom in the history of Thailand (then known as Siam). It was founded in 1782 with the establishment of Rattanakosin (Bangkok), which replaced the city of Thonburi as the capital of Siam. This article covers the period until the Siamese revolution of 1932.

The maximum zone of influence of Rattanakosin included the vassal states of Cambodia, Laos, Shan States, and the northern Malay states. The kingdom was founded by Rama I of the Chakri Dynasty. The first half of this period was characterized by the consolidation of Siamese power in the center of Mainland Southeast Asia and was punctuated by contests and wars for regional supremacy with rival powers Burma and Vietnam. The second period was one of engagements with the colonial powers of Britain and France in which Siam remained the only Southeast Asian state to maintain its independence.

Internally the kingdom developed into a centralized, absolutist, nation state with borders defined by interactions with Western powers. The period was marked by the increased centralization of the monarch's powers, the abolition of labor control, the transition to an agrarian economy, the expansion of control over distant tributary states, the creation of a monolithic national identity, and the emergence of an urban middle class. However, the failure to implement democratic reforms culminated in the Siamese revolution of 1932 and the establishment of a constitutional monarchy.

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DIMENSION: 23.00 cm high / 18.00 cm wide / 15.50 cm thick

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item # K20B45

Price: price upon request, pls PM and/or email us hadesamulet@protonmail.com

100% GENUINE WITH 365 DAYS FULL REFUND WARRANTY

Item location: Hong Kong, SAR

Ships to: Worldwide

Delivery: Estimated 7 days handling time after receipt of cleared payment. Please allow additional time if international delivery is subject to customs processing.

Shipping: FREE Thailandpost International registered mail. International items may be subject to customs processing and additional charges.

Payments: PayPal / Western Union / MoneyGram /maybank2u.com / DBS iBanking / Wechat Pay / Alipay / INSTAREM / PromptPay International / Remitly

******************************************

[juliaqueendragon]

Names Only Available as 1st Option:

A Abyss Acacia Alpha Amethyst Ancient Anti Aqua Arch Arctic Ash Aurora Autumn Azure Baby Ball Banana Basalt Bat Bay Big Birch Blind Bold Botanic Brave Bright Brilliant Bumble Butterly Carrot Castle Cat Chaos Charcoal Chunky Cinder Cinnamon Classy Clever Coal Coco Coconut Coffee Cold Cool Coral Coyote Crazy Cute Daisy Dance Darkness Day Depth Dive Dizzy Doctor Dog Domino Donut Double Drum Dusty E East Easter Elder Ember Emerald Epic Evening Ever Extra Fancy Fantasy Far Fast Fern Fluffy Flutter Fox Freedom Frenzy Fresh Frog Giga Ginger Glitter Grand Grass Gray Great Grim Hay Heavy Holly Illusion Indigo Iron Jade Jelly June Jute Leather Little Lost Luna Magma Marble Marzipan May Mega Meteor Midnight Mini Miracle Money Morning Moss Mouse Nacho Night Noble North Obsidian Old Olive Onyx Opal Pale Peace Peach Posh Potato Purpur Quail Quick Raven Rune Sad Saddle Salt Sapphire Scarlet Scary Sea Shark Sienna Silent Small Snake Soft Sound South Sporty Spotlight Spring Spruce Steam Sugar Summer Sun Sunny Swamp Sweet Swift Table Thorn Thunder Tiger Tiny Trail Tuxedo Twinkle Ultra Un Violet Walrus West Wild Winter Wonder Wood

Names only available as 2nd option

Anchor Anthem Apricot Aura Away Bag Band Bank Beach Beam Bean Beauty Bell Belle Berg Birth Biscuit Blood Blossom Board Bolt Bone Born Boy Break Brook Brother Buddy Bug Butterfly Care Caster Catcher Cave Chain Champion Chaser Chief Child Chunk Comet Craft Crasher Cross Crumb Crush Cry Cube Dale Dancer Darling Desire Destiny Diver Dome Dove Dreamer Drink Drummer Duck Effect Escape Eye Fall Father Feather Fighter Film Finder Fish Flake Flight Floor Flyer Form Frame Free Friend Gait Gap Gate Gaze Gazer Gift Girl Glimmer Goal Goat Growth Guard Guest Gum Habitat Harmony Hat Head Heart Herb Hill Honor Hoof Hope Hunter Hurricane Hype Icon Idol Ie Joke Joker Joy Jumper Keeper Kid Kiss Knock Leader Less Letter Liberty Lin Ling Log Loop Lord Luck Ly Machine Madness Man Mane Maniac Mare Mark Mask Matter Meadow Mode Moment Monster Mother Mystery Novel O Oasis Omen Orb Pair Part Path Peak Petal Piece Place Plan Planet Plant Play Potential Price Prince Princess Promise Punk Purpose Quake Queen Quiver Rabbit Racer Rambler Range Ray Reader Rebel Respect Rest Rider Ring Rising Road Rocket Role Runner Saga Scout Secret Seeker Shell Shelter Shimmer Shine Shore Shout Shy Signal Silence Singer Sister Smash Smoke Snap Snout Spice Splash Spot Stallion Stream Strider String Surfer Surprise Tail Talent Taste Tear Tip Top Torch Tornado Trial Trip Uncle Unit Vacation Valley Variant Vault Velvet Verse Victory View Villa Virtue Vision Visitor Waffle Walker Wand Warrior Watcher Weaver Whisper Wife Wings Wink Winner Wisdom With Work Y Year Yeti Zeppelin Zodiac Zone Zoo

Let's see how the list looks after today's update

Full List of Names Pre-2025-02-12

Comparison (Names only in 1st or 2nd Position down Below)

A 

Abyss 

Acacia 

Ace 

Agate 

Air 

Alpha 

Amber 

Amethyst 

Ancient 

Angel 

Anti 

Apocalypse 

Apple 

Aqua 

Aquamarine 

Arch 

Arctic 

Ash 

Attack 

Aurora 

Autumn 

Azure 

Baby 

Ball 

Banana 

Basalt 

Bat 

Bay 

Bear 

Beat 

Bee 

Berry 

Beryl 

Big 

Birch 

Bird 

Blaze 

Blind 

Block 

Blue 

Bold 

Book 

Botanic 

Bottle 

Boulder 

Bow 

Box 

Brain 

Bramble 

Brass 

Brave 

Bread 

Breath 

Breeze 

Bright 

Brilliant 

Broken 

Bronze 

Bubble 

Bullet 

Bumble 

Butter 

Butterly 

Cactus 

Cake 

Candle 

Candy 

Caramel 

Carrot 

Cash 

Castle 

Cat 

Chance 

Chaos 

Charcoal 

Charm 

Cherry 

Chestnut 

Chip 

Chocolate 

Chunky 

Cinder 

Cinnamon 

Citrine 

Clash 

Class 

Classy 

Clear 

Clever 

Cloud 

Clover 

Club 

Coal 

Coco 

Cocoa 

Coconut 

Coffee 

Cold 

Color 

Cookie 

Cool 

Copper 

Coral 

Core 

Corn 

Coyote 

Crazy 

Crescent 

Crimson 

Crow 

Crown 

Crystal 

Cup 

Cupcake 

Cute 

Daisy 

Dance 

Danger 

Dark 

Darkness 

Dash 

Dawn 

Day 

Deep 

Deer 

Demon 

Depth 

Desert 

Dew 

Diamond 

Dice 

Dip 

Disco 

Dive 

Divine 

Dizzy 

Doctor 

Dog 

Dollar 

Dolphin 

Domino 

Donut 

Doom 

Double 

Dragon 

Drake 

Dream 

Drop 

Druid 

Drum 

Duke 

Dusk 

Dust 

Dusty 

E 

Eagle 

Earth 

East 

Easter 

Echo 

Eclipse 

Egg 

Elder 

Ember 

Emerald 

Epic 

Evening 

Ever 

Extra 

Fairy 

Faith 

Falcon 

Fan 

Fancy 

Fantasy 

Far 

Farm 

Fast 

Fern 

Field 

Fire 

Flame 

Flash 

Flower 

Fluffy 

Flutter 

Fly 

Force 

Fortune 

Fox 

Freedom 

Frenzy 

Fresh 

Frog 

Frost 

Fruit 

Future 

Galaxy 

Game 

Garden 

Garnet 

Gem 

Ghost 

Giga 

Ginger 

Glass 

Glitter 

Globe 

Gloom 

Glory 

Glow 

Gold 

Grace 

Grand 

Grass 

Gray 

Great 

Green 

Griffin 

Grim 

Ground 

Guardian 

Hair 

Hall 

Hand 

Harpy 

Hawk 

Hay 

Hazel 

Heat 

Heaven 

Heavy 

Hero 

Hollow 

Holly 

Home 

Honey 

Horse 

Hour 

Humming 

Ice 

Illusion 

Indigo 

Iron 

Ivory 

Jade 

Jasper 

Jazz 

Jelly 

Jewel 

Juice 

Jump 

June 

Jungle 

Juniper 

Jute 

Kangaroo 

Key 

Kick 

King 

Kite 

Knight 

Koala 

Lady 

Lake 

Land 

Lavender 

Leaf 

Leather 

Legend 

Lemon 

Life 

Light 

Lily 

Lime 

Lion 

Little 

Live 

Lost 

Love 

Lucky 

Luna 

Lush 

Magic 

Magma 

Marble 

Maroon 

Marzipan 

Masked 

Master 

May 

Maze 

Mega 

Melody 

Melon 

Memory 

Metal 

Meteor 

Midnight 

Milk 

Mind 

Mini 

Mint 

Miracle 

Mirror 

Mist 

Mocking 

Money 

Moon 

Morning 

Moss 

Mountain 

Mouse 

Movie 

Music 

Mystic 

Myth 

Nacho 

Nature 

Nebula 

Night 

Ninja 

Noble 

North 

Nova 

Nugget 

Oak 

Obsidian 

Ocean 

Octopus 

Old 

Olive 

Onion 

Onyx 

Opal 

Orange 

Orchid 

Osprey 

Owl 

Paladin 

Pale 

Panda 

Paper 

Park 

Party 

Peace 

Peach 

Pearl 

Penguin 

Pepper 

Peridot 

Phantom 

Phoenix 

Pie 

Pine 

Pink 

Pirate 

Pixel 

Pop 

Posh 

Potato 

Power 

Proof 

Pumpkin 

Purple 

Purpur 

Quail 

Quartz 

Quest 

Quick 

Rain 

Rainbow 

Ranger 

Raspberry 

Raven 

Red 

Rich 

River 

Robin 

Rock 

Root 

Rose 

Row 

Royal 

Ruby 

Rune 

Sad 

Saddle 

Salt 

Sand 

Sapphire 

Scarlet 

Scary 

Scroll 

Sea 

Sequoia 

Set 

Shade 

Shadow 

Shark 

Ship 

Sienna 

Silent 

Silver 

Sky 

Small 

Snake 

Snow 

Soft 

Solid 

Solo 

Song 

Soul 

Sound 

South 

Spark 

Sparkle 

Spell 

Spider 

Spirit 

Sporty 

Spotlight 

Spring 

Spruce 

Squirrel 

Star 

Steam 

Steel 

Step 

Stone 

Storm 

Strawberry 

Sugar 

Summer 

Sun 

Sunny 

Sunrise 

Sunset 

Swamp 

Sweet 

Swift 

Table 

Tea 

Thorn 

Thunder 

Tiger 

Time 

Tin 

Tiny 

Titan 

Tooth 

Topaz 

Town 

Trail 

Tree 

Trouble 

Truth 

Tsunami 

Tulip 

Turtle 

Tuxedo 

Twilight 

Twin 

Twinkle 

Ultra 

Umber 

Un 

Unicorn 

Vanilla 

Violet 

Voice 

Void 

Wall 

Walnut 

Walrus 

Water 

Wave 

Way 

Weather 

Web 

West 

Wild 

Willow 

Wind 

Wing 

Winter 

Wish 

Witch 

Wizard 

Wolf 

Wonder 

Wood 

World 

Yam 

Yellow 

Yoga 

Youth 

Yule 

Zap 

Zebra 

Zombie 

Ace 

Agate 

Air 

Amber 

Anchor 

Angel 

Anthem 

Apocalypse 

Apple 

Apricot 

Aquamarine 

Attack 

Aura 

Away 

Bag 

Band 

Bank 

Beach 

Beam 

Bean 

Bear 

Beat 

Beauty 

Bee 

Bell 

Belle 

Berg 

Berry 

Beryl 

Bird 

Birth 

Biscuit 

Blaze 

Block 

Blood 

Blossom 

Blue 

Board 

Bolt 

Bone 

Book 

Born 

Bottle 

Boulder 

Bow 

Box 

Boy 

Brain 

Bramble 

Brass 

Bread 

Break 

Breath 

Breeze 

Broken 

Bronze 

Brook 

Brother 

Bubble 

Buddy 

Bug 

Bullet 

Butter 

Butterfly 

Cactus 

Cake 

Candle 

Candy 

Caramel 

Care 

Cash 

Caster 

Catcher 

Cave 

Chain 

Champion 

Chance 

Charm 

Chaser 

Cherry 

Chestnut 

Chief 

Child 

Chip 

Chocolate 

Chunk 

Citrine 

Clash 

Class 

Clear 

Cloud 

Clover 

Club 

Cocoa 

Color 

Comet 

Cookie 

Copper 

Core 

Corn 

Craft 

Crasher 

Crescent 

Crimson 

Cross 

Crow 

Crown 

Crumb 

Crush 

Cry 

Crystal 

Cube 

Cup 

Cupcake 

Dale 

Dancer 

Danger 

Dark 

Dark 

Darling 

Dash 

Dawn 

Deep 

Deer 

Demon 

Desert 

Desire 

Destiny 

Dew 

Diamond 

Dice 

Dip 

Disco 

Diver 

Divine 

Dollar 

Dolphin 

Dome 

Doom 

Dove 

Dragon 

Drake 

Dream 

Dreamer 

Drink 

Drop 

Druid 

Drummer 

Duck 

Duke 

Dusk 

Dust 

Eagle 

Earth 

Echo 

Eclipse 

Effect 

Egg 

Escape 

Eye 

Fairy 

Faith 

Falcon 

Fall 

Fan 

Farm 

Father 

Feather 

Field 

Fighter 

Film 

Finder 

Fire 

Fish 

Flake 

Flame 

Flash 

Flight 

Floor 

Flower 

Fly 

Flyer 

Force 

Form 

Fortune 

Frame 

Free 

Friend 

Frost 

Fruit 

Future 

Gait 

Galaxy 

Game 

Gap 

Garden 

Garnet 

Gate 

Gaze 

Gazer 

Gem 

Ghost 

Gift 

Girl 

Glass 

Glimmer 

Globe 

Gloom 

Glory 

Glow 

Goal 

Goat 

Gold 

Grace 

Green 

Griffin 

Ground 

Growth 

Guard 

Guardian 

Guest 

Gum 

Habitat 

Hair 

Hall 

Hand 

Harmony 

Harpy 

Hat 

Hawk 

Hazel 

Head 

Heart 

Heat 

Heaven 

Herb 

Hero 

Hill 

Hollow 

Home 

Honey 

Honor 

Hoof 

Hope 

Horse 

Hour 

Humming 

Hunter 

Hurricane 

Hype 

Ice 

Icon 

Idol 

Ie 

Ivory 

Jasper 

Jazz 

Jewel 

Joke 

Joker 

Joy 

Juice 

Jump 

Jumper 

Jungle 

Juniper 

Kangaroo 

Keeper 

Key 

Kick 

Kid 

King 

Kiss 

Kite 

Knight 

Knock 

Koala 

Lady 

Lake 

Land 

Lavender 

Leader 

Leaf 

Legend 

Lemon 

Less 

Letter 

Liberty 

Life 

Light 

Lily 

Lime 

Lin 

Ling 

Lion 

Live 

Log 

Loop 

Lord 

Love 

Luck 

Lucky 

Lush 

Ly 

Machine 

Madness 

Magic 

Man 

Mane 

Maniac 

Mare 

Mark 

Maroon 

Mask 

Masked 

Master 

Matter 

Maze 

Meadow 

Melody 

Melon 

Memory 

Metal 

Milk 

Mind 

Mint 

Mirror 

Mist 

Mocking 

Mode 

Moment 

Monster 

Moon 

Mother 

Mountain 

Movie 

Music 

Mystery 

Mystic 

Myth 

Nature 

Nebula 

Ninja 

Nova 

Novel 

Nugget 

O 

Oak 

Oasis 

Ocean 

Octopus 

Omen 

Onion 

Orange 

Orb 

Orchid 

Osprey 

Owl 

Pair 

Paladin 

Panda 

Paper 

Park 

Part 

Party 

Path 

Peak 

Pearl 

Penguin 

Pepper 

Peridot 

Petal 

Phantom 

Phoenix 

Pie 

Piece 

Pine 

Pink 

Pirate 

Pixel 

Place 

Plan 

Planet 

Plant 

Play 

Pop 

Potential 

Power 

Price 

Prince 

Princess 

Promise 

Proof 

Pumpkin 

Punk 

Purple 

Purpose 

Quake 

Quartz 

Queen 

Quest 

Quiver 

Rabbit 

Racer 

Rain 

Rainbow 

Rambler 

Range 

Ranger 

Raspberry 

Ray 

Reader 

Rebel 

Red 

Respect 

Rest 

Rich 

Rider 

Ring 

Rising 

River 

Road 

Robin 

Rock 

Rocket 

Role 

Root 

Rose 

Row 

Royal 

Ruby 

Runner 

Saga 

Sand 

Scout 

Scroll 

Secret 

Seeker 

Sequoia 

Set 

Shade 

Shadow 

Shell 

Shelter 

Shimmer 

Shine 

Ship 

Shore 

Shout 

Shy 

Signal 

Silence 

Silver 

Singer 

Sister 

Sky 

Smash 

Smoke 

Snap 

Snout 

Snow 

Solid 

Solo 

Song 

Soul 

Spark 

Sparkle 

Spell 

Spice 

Spider 

Spirit 

Splash 

Spot 

Squirrel 

Stallion 

Star 

Steel 

Step 

Stone 

Storm 

Strawberry 

Stream 

Strider 

String 

Sunrise 

Sunset 

Surfer 

Surprise