#purple dividers dump

[animatedglittergraphics-n-more]

purple dividers dump

[anitalenia]

⋆.˚⟡⊹₊⋆ 𝙋𝙄𝙉𝙆 𝘿𝙄𝙑𝙄𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 ✧˖°. ݁₊

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette dividers 𝐈𝐈, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈, 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘵𝘦, 𝘥𝘢𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘯 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ strawberry girl dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink symbol dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink coquette symbol dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ bimbocore dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette deer dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette deer & bunny dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ gray + pink masterlist pack . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ cutegore dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink kuromi dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ neapolitan dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & white cinnamoroll dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ minimalistic heart dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ red & pink simple heart dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink lace dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ intricate pink dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & blue dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ black & magenta dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & purple dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and green dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈𝐈, + 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & gold dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ random pink dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ random pink dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ random pink dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink lace & ribbon dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & white welcome headers + matching dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink imvu dividers / headers 𝐈𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & purple mdni dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink mdni dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink mdni dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink mdni dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink borders 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ my melody bow and wings dividers + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink sanrio dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink butterfly dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & brown dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ hot pink dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & orange summer & ocean dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ chaotic sanrio inspired dividers + 1 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈 , 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 & 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘧𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴, 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘤. . ﾟ

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ pink sparkle dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ my melody bow and wings dividers + 𝘴𝘵𝘪��𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & orange summer & ocean dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink butterfly dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ hot pink dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & brown dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 .

‧₊˚ ✧ pink sanrio dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ animated divider dump 𝐈, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘴, 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘴, 𝘮𝘥𝘯𝘪 𝘨𝘪𝘧 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ animated divider dump 𝐈𝐈, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺 & 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐈𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ one . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ two . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ three . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ four . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ five . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ six . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ seven . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ eight .

‧₊˚ ✧ nine . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ ten . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ eleven . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ twelve . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ thirteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ fourteen . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ fifteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ sixteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ seventeen . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ eighteen . ﾟ‧₊˚ ✧ nineteen . ﾟ

[cherie-doll]

𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰

This blog will be where I dump my stories & fics.

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divider

[nightmareonashstreet]

loved your angsty emilly fic. was wondering if you would write fluff with her character, she's known as the fashionista of the group so how about a fic of her and reader going shopping or her helping reader get ready for a date

FASHION ICON | EMILY DAVIS

CONTAINS: Usual until dawn shenanigans, language, Emily being brutally honest, innuendos, fluff, female reader, sex references, au where everyone is happy & nothing bad happened to them, reader is mentioned trying on dresses, kinda platonic, mentions Mike but it's mainly reader and Emily slandering him.

You've been asked on a last minute date and end up frantically searching the closet for something pretty to wear and turn up empty handed, luckily for you a friend who is always dressed immaculately is willing to help. A quick shopping trip turns into a long and chaotic fashion show in the changing rooms.

"Absolutely not!"

Emily's tone halted any urge to argue back or defend the outfit you'd picked and instead forced out an annoyance of tired groans as you twist your arm uncomfortably for the zipper of the sparkly dress you'd taken a liking to, an innocent trip to the mall had turned into several different stores and hours spent browsing for an outfit. When you called her in a panic, on the verge of near crying about a thing as simple as an outfit she declared that you would both be going shopping to add some excitement into an already full wardrobe.

You hadn't been on a date in a while and you felt like you had to dress to impress if you wanted it to work out, you were so sure that this time was the right time.

"Until you pick a dress, that doesn't look like it should be worn at a five year old's birthday party, we are not going anywhere except to change this eyesore of an outfit." An older woman walking past gave Emily a look and a laugh escaped you at this. If you didn't know Emily Davis, you would assume she was being mean to be mean but that was just the way she was, she had a way with words, an ordinary person would cry if she had said that but you'd grown used to her snappy advice.

The dress rolled down to your ankles and you step out of it to put it back on the hanger it belonged to with a quiet sigh of disappointment, you'd really liked that one but it's a known rule if Emily thinks it's ugly then it probably is, a gentle hand pressed your shoulder and you recognise the splash of purple chipping across her nails. "We're going to find you a hot as fuck outfit and have your date preparing to marry you when they sees you." You smile at that and pat her hand in thanks and she grins back, her eyes cast to her nails and her expression turned to one of disgust, "Ugh, I need a manicure." Her attention being on her nails suddenly made her eyes light up and she snatched your wrist to look at your nails, "And so do you, look at those cuticles, they're a mess." Breathy laughter left you as you watch her scan the dresses with careful eyes. "You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Em." Ignoring your sarcasm, she holds out a dress for you to take, "Try this one on, they're closing this store in an hour and I am not leaving until we have a dress to impress."

You took the dress off her and stepped back behind the curtains, "We? Didn't realise you'd be coming on this date with me." You can practically see her roll her eyes behind the divider as you slide the sleeves up your arms. "I have no interest in men after Mike dumped me over text." The mention of the Munroe boy made you curl your nose up and scoff, he'd always been a bit of an asshole and you'd never understood what she saw in him.

"Did you know Matt's on tinder?" You ask and Emily falls silent for a moment before laughing out an answer, "You are not setting me up with Matt!" A laugh escapes you as you zip up the dress, "You've said it yourself, he's nice to look at and would literally worship the ground you walk on if you asked him to." You can hear the gears turning in Emily's head, "I'll think about it," You smile in victory as it usually means yes when she says that. "Also, enough talk about my love life, get out here and show me that dress, I wanna see it." At her urgent tone, you decide to smooth it out against your figure and blow out a breath as you grip the divider curtains and open them up.

"Ta Da!" You give the brunette a twirl and hold your arms out so she could get a better look at the dress you'd put on to try, she crosses her arms in thought, analysing it as if she was a judge on Next Top Model, there was a small smile on the corner of her lips and you had a feeling that this dress was the one.

"That's it, we're going to a different store!"

You should've invited someone else to go shopping.

[lightdancingwords]

Second Chances: Forever - Part Fourteen of ?

Pairings: Beau Arlen x Y/N Female reader Series Summary: A chance meeting in the grocery store brought a whirlwind of change to Beau Arlen’s life—change he had no issues with whatsoever. A second chance at life, love, family—a second chance at forever. Word Count: 6,337 Tags/Warnings: A touch of angst, and a lot of fluff! A/N: Comments, Likes, Reblogs, Kind feedback are always highly appreciated. Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list! Divider: credit to @sweetmelodygraphics

Chapter Fourteen: The Space Between Us

The afternoon sun stretched wide across the park, painting golden streaks across the grass. The breeze carried the scent of warm earth and early spring bloom, and laughter echoed beneath the old trees as Eliza sprinted down a small hill, cape fluttering behind her.

Y/N gave chase with playful growls, both of them howling like wolves in the wind. Caleb, determined to be part of the fun, toddled after them in an unsteady zigzag, his squeals of laughter bubbling up with every step.

From their spot on a shaded bench beneath a maple tree, Beau and Emily watched.

Beau had a relaxed sprawl—legs stretched out, arms resting loosely on the back of the bench, cowboy hat tugged low over his brow. Emily sat beside him cross-legged, nursing an iced coffee and smiling softly at the scene unfolding ahead of them.

They watched in silence for a long minute, until Emily finally spoke.

���Why’d you ask me to stay?”

Beau didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on Y/N, who scooped Caleb up into her arms and spun him gently, her laughter mixing with Eliza’s in a melody that could’ve healed the hardest day.

Then he sighed and tilted his head toward Emily. “Because I should’ve done it sooner.”

Emily looked over at him, surprised by the quiet weight in his voice.

He went on. “I know I fumbled a lot when you were younger. There were times I got caught up in the job, the divorce, trying to keep everything from fallin’ apart... and I didn’t always make you feel like a priority. But you’ve always been one. Even when I didn’t show it right.”

Emily’s expression softened. “You didn’t have to say that, you know.”

“I did,” Beau said, glancing at her. “I thought you wanted Texas. College. A chance to stretch your wings away from everything here. And I figured maybe I was doin’ right by not crowdin’ you.”

“I thought I wanted that too,” Emily said, quietly now. “And for a while, it was what I needed. Getting space. Proving I could handle it.”

She watched Caleb toddle back to Y/N, who crouched down and gave him a kiss on the head. Eliza came barreling into them a moment later, nearly knocking Y/N over in a full-body hug.

“But watching you with them,” Emily continued, “with Eliza and Caleb... seeing the way you show up for them—every morning, every bedtime, every scraped knee and bad dream—it made me realize something.”

Beau turned his head, listening.

“I don’t want to do this next part—figuring out adulthood, college, life—without the people who love me,” Emily said. “I want to find my way, yeah. But I want to do it here. With you. With them.”

Beau’s throat went tight. He reached over and gripped her hand, firm and steady.

“I’m proud of you, Em,” he said. “Always have been. But I’m damn glad you’re here. If you stay, this house, this family—it’s yours too. No second thoughts.”

Emily smiled, blinking back a tear. “Guess we’ve both grown a bit, huh?”

Beau let out a quiet chuckle. “Guess so.”

From across the field, Y/N called out, waving for them to come join in. Eliza was setting up an elaborate “wolf family game,” and Caleb had just dumped grass all over her leg.

Emily stood and offered Beau a hand up. “You ready?”

Beau rose with a groan and a grin. “I was born ready.”

Together, they crossed the grass toward their pack—unfinished, always changing, but more whole than ever.

The sky outside the Arlen home faded into dusky blues and soft purples, the last light of day giving way to a cool spring evening. Windows glowed with warm lamplight. The scent of baked pasta lingered in the air, the kind of comforting meal that made the house feel even more like home.

Caleb was in Y/N’s lap, cheeks pink and eyes heavy, finishing the last bites of his small portion. Eliza, full of energy and still wearing her makeshift wolf cape from the park, was deep in conversation with Emily about the “proper hierarchy of wolf pups.”

“So, Caleb’s the baby wolf, but I’m technically still a pup too,” she explained seriously, “but Emily, you’d be like… the big sister wolf. But not the mom one, ‘cause that’s Mama’s job.”

Emily nodded solemnly. “Got it. Big sister wolf with snack privileges.”

“That’s very important,” Eliza confirmed with a nod, then added under her breath, “You’re allowed to hide cookies.”

Beau snorted into his glass of water from the kitchen table, shaking his head as he dried a dish. “I’m gonna start checkin’ for cookie stashes, aren’t I?”

Y/N smirked. “Good luck finding them. Eliza hides them well.”

Dinner winded down in that lazy, contented way all good evenings should. Caleb was the first to tap out, head drooping against Y/N’s shoulder. She stood slowly, holding him close as his body melted into hers.

“I’ll go lay him down,” she whispered.

“I’ll help,” Beau said, already moving to take the bottle and grab the baby monitor.

Emily and Eliza remained at the table, drawing wolves on the back of a napkin and debating what Eliza’s new room would look like if they found a bigger house.

By the time Beau and Y/N returned from the nursery, Caleb fast asleep, Eliza had migrated to the couch and climbed halfway into Emily’s lap, half-asleep herself. Her wolf plush had been tucked under one arm, and she blinked sleepily as her daddy came into view.

“Is it bedtime?” she mumbled, voice tiny.

Beau leaned down and scooped her up, strong arms cradling her against his chest. “Yeah, little wolf. Time to rest.”

Y/N gave Emily’s shoulder a squeeze as she passed. “Thank you. She loves you being here.”

“I love being here,” Emily whispered, meaning every word.

After Eliza was tucked in—wolf plush properly positioned, blanket pulled high—Beau and Y/N made their way back to the living room where Emily now sat curled up with a blanket on the couch, yawning into her coffee mug.

“I’m gonna crash early,” she said. “It’s been a long, beautiful day.”

Y/N smiled warmly. “Sleep well.”

With a last goodnight, Emily disappeared down the hall.

Beau pulled Y/N close as they stood in the kitchen, arms slipping around her waist. “You okay?”

She nodded, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m more than okay. It just… hit me again. She’s ours. Fully.”

Beau’s hand moved to her belly, gentle and grounding. “And there’s more of us on the way.”

They stood there in the kitchen, breathing in the quiet hum of their home, letting the weight of love wrap around them.

The house wasn’t new. It wasn’t perfect. But it was filled with life. With memories. With laughter that echoed through the walls and warmth that lingered even after the lights were out.

And it was theirs.

For now. For always.

The house had gone fully quiet.

No more sleepy chatter from down the hall. No soft thud of little feet. Caleb was in his crib, Eliza curled up with her wolf plush, and even Emily had closed her door for the night, the muffled sound of her fan humming through the wall.

In their bedroom, Beau and Y/N moved in silence. Not distant—just quiet, content. Y/N was brushing her hair slowly in front of the mirror, wearing one of Beau’s old T-shirts that fell nearly to her knees. Beau sat on the edge of the bed, barefoot, rubbing a hand over his face like he was still coming down from the emotions of the day.

She caught his reflection in the mirror, the way his shoulders carried both strength and softness, the tiredness in his eyes tempered by peace.

She set the brush down and crossed to him, stepping between his legs and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Beau looked up at her and immediately reached for her waist, pulling her in until she was close enough for their foreheads to touch.

“Been a day,” he murmured.

“The best kind,” she whispered, brushing her fingers gently along the back of his neck.

His hands moved to cradle her hips, thumbs stroking along the hem of the shirt she wore. He looked up at her like she was something he still didn’t quite believe was his—like he was memorizing her again, like every inch of her was something sacred.

“I can’t stop thinkin’ about that courtroom,” he admitted softly. “The way she said it. I’m Eliza Jo Arlen.”

Y/N smiled, cupping his face. “She’s proud of it. Proud of you.”

Beau leaned into her touch, eyes fluttering closed. “I spent so long thinkin’ I had to prove I could be a good father to her. And today just... I don’t know. It sealed something.”

“You are a good father,” she said. “To her. To Caleb. To Emily. To the little one growing inside me. You don’t have to prove it. You just are.”

He looked at her, eyes glinting with something that wasn’t quite tears, but close. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Y/N leaned down and kissed him, soft and slow, her hands sliding into his hair. “You didn’t get lucky. You showed up. You stayed. You loved us.”

Beau’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her down into his lap until she was straddling him, her knees tucked against his sides, hands resting on his shoulders. They stayed there like that, noses brushing, breath shared.

“I love you, darlin’,” he said, voice barely more than a rasp. “More than anything.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then his cheek, then his temple. “I love you too, Beau Arlen. Every part of you.”

His hands slid up to her back, holding her tight, and for a long time, they simply sat there in the soft hush of their bedroom. The world outside didn’t matter. The house around them didn’t matter.

Just them.

This quiet, full, sacred space where nothing had to be said anymore.

Where love didn’t need to be declared—it was simply lived.

The moment stretched between them, soft and suspended, like the stillness before dawn. Y/N ran her fingers through Beau’s hair as he held her in his lap, forehead to forehead, breath to breath.

There was no rush. No urgency.

Just the quiet hum of love lived deep.

Beau's hands slid up the curve of her back, then back down again, as if memorizing every inch. Y/N tilted her head and brushed a kiss to his lips—light at first, a whisper. He returned it with one of his own, slow and steady, the kind that said I’m here, and I’ll always be here.

“I love you,” she breathed between kisses. “I love you so much.”

His voice came rough against her mouth. “I love you too, darlin’. I don’t know how to stop.”

She let out a soft laugh, emotion caught in her throat, and kissed him again—this time deeper. One kiss melted into another, and another, until they were sinking slowly, shifting so that she lay back on the bed, and he hovered over her.

Their clothes were peeled away in quiet reverence, every touch a confirmation of something already known.

There was nothing frantic in the way they moved together—no fire, no storm. Just warmth. Just tenderness.

Just them.

Beau’s hands caressed her body like she was a prayer, his lips brushing across her cheek, her jaw, her shoulder, whispering her name between breaths.

Y/N cradled his face in her palms, her legs wrapped around his hips, grounding him to her, anchoring herself to the safety of his body, the strength in his heart.

“You’re everything,” she whispered, pulling him closer. “You’ve given me everything.”

Beau’s voice caught, his lips trembling against her collarbone. “You are everything.”

Their bodies moved in rhythm, the kind only they shared, a slow dance of love and history and devotion. Whispers filled the room, strung like thread between each kiss.

I love you. I’m yours. I’m not goin’ anywhere. Forever. Always.

The intimacy stretched—tender, sacred, quiet.

It wasn’t about passion tonight.

It was about belonging.

And in each other's arms, they found the answer to every question they'd ever asked.

When it was over, Beau stayed cradled against her, his hand splayed gently across her belly, where their newest little one was growing. Y/N’s fingers ran through his hair, slow and soothing, anchoring him with every pass.

She kissed his temple, murmuring into the hush, “We’re building something beautiful.”

Beau nodded against her chest, voice heavy with love. “We already have.”

They drifted like that—bodies entwined, hearts steady, wrapped in the afterglow of something deeper than words could ever touch.

Love made real. Over and over again.

The morning sun crept gently into the kitchen, filtering through the windows and spilling across the hardwood floors in golden streaks. It was quiet—too quiet, even with the soft clink of a spoon in a coffee mug and the low hum of the kettle on the stove.

Emily sat at the table, her bag packed and propped by the front door. Her travel mug sat in front of her, hands curled around it, more for comfort than caffeine.

Y/N moved around the kitchen slowly, making sure everything was tidied, her eyes flicking over to Emily every few seconds with quiet care. Caleb was already in his high chair, gumming a piece of banana and babbling between bites. Eliza was curled up in the blanket on the couch, still in her pajamas, unusually subdued.

She knew what today meant.

Beau stepped in from the hallway, dressed and ready, keys in one hand, travel thermos in the other. He looked over at Emily, his smile soft.

“Truck’s gassed up,” he said.

Emily gave a small nod. “Thanks, Dad.”

Y/N crossed to Emily and leaned down to wrap her in a warm, tight hug. “You sure you’ve got everything?”

Emily nodded again. “I triple-checked. Probably overpacked. Like always.”

Y/N pulled back, cupping her face with one hand. “You have a home here. Always. You know that, right?”

“I do.” Emily’s voice wavered just slightly. “And I’m coming back. I just—need to wrap up a few things. And think. But I’ll be back.”

Beau stepped forward, placing a hand on Emily’s shoulder and giving it a firm squeeze. “You take all the time you need. We’re not goin’ anywhere.”

Caleb let out a coo from his chair and Eliza, finally getting up, padded over in her socked feet, clutching her wolf plush. She stared up at Emily for a moment, eyes round and serious.

“Do you have to go?”

Emily crouched down and hugged her tightly. “Just for a little while, little wolf. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.” Emily leaned back and pressed a kiss to Eliza’s forehead. “And next time, we’ll draw new wolf family trees. One for every bedroom in the new house, deal?”

Eliza sniffled, but nodded. “Deal.”

Beau picked up Emily’s bag with one hand, resting the other gently against Eliza’s back as he leaned down. “You be good for your mama, alright?”

“I will,” she mumbled.

Emily gave one last look at her brother and sister, then hugged Y/N once more. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Then, with a final smile, she followed Beau out to the truck, bag slung over her shoulder.

Y/N stood in the doorway, Caleb on her hip and Eliza holding her free hand, all three watching as the truck backed out of the driveway and turned down the road.

There was a quiet ache in the air—but also peace.

Because this goodbye wasn’t forever.

It was just for now.

And sometimes, that was all a family needed to hold on to.

The two-lane highway stretched ahead, winding through Montana’s open landscape—miles of quiet hills, sleepy farmland, and sky that seemed to go on forever. The cab of Beau’s truck hummed with the steady rhythm of tires on pavement, the occasional chirp of a turn signal, and the low, familiar shuffle of classic country playing on the radio.

Emily sat in the passenger seat, one leg tucked under the other, her arms crossed as she stared out the window, the world rushing by.

They’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes in companionable silence when she finally spoke.

“I didn’t think it’d be this hard.”

Beau glanced at her, then back at the road. “Leavin’?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was quiet, almost surprised. “The other times, I was ready. I missed everyone, sure, but I always had that itch to get back. To school, to friends, to my own space. But this time... I don’t know.” She turned her head toward him. “It feels like I’m leaving something behind.”

Beau’s grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly, jaw shifting as he let out a slow breath. “I know the feeling.”

Emily’s brows lifted. “Yeah?”

Beau gave a small, dry chuckle. “Every damn morning.”

She looked at him, curious.

“Every time I kiss your stepmom goodbye,” he said softly, “every time I hug Eliza before she heads off to preschool, or Caleb wraps his little fingers around mine and doesn’t wanna let go—I feel that pull. Makes it harder and harder to walk out that door and go to work.” He glanced at her again, voice low. “And today? Droppin’ you off? That’s worse.”

Emily blinked, caught off guard by the admission. “You want to turn around?”

Beau nodded, once, steady and sure. “Yeah. More than I probably should. There’s a part of me that wants to keep you close, where I can make sure you’re okay. Where your brother and sister can chase you around the living room, and Y/N can smile knowing we’re all under the same roof.”

Emily swallowed hard. “So why don’t you?”

“Because I love you enough to let you figure things out,” Beau said, voice rough around the edges. “Same way I had to, when I was younger. When I had to get away for a while to learn what mattered.”

He reached over briefly, resting his hand over hers before returning it to the wheel. “But if you’re feelin’ that tug? That ache that makes leavin’ hard? That just means you’ve got roots, Em. And you know exactly where they are.”

She looked at him, blinking back tears. “You really think it’s okay if I come back?”

Beau turned toward her, his smile warm and unwavering. “Darlin’, I hope you come back. I’d move heaven and earth to make room for you in that house—because you’re part of this family. No matter your address.”

Emily looked out the window again, but this time, her reflection in the glass wasn’t distant.

It was just a little more certain. A little more whole.

And in that wide Montana sky, something inside her settled.

The truck rumbled steadily beneath them, the road long and straight for now, cutting through quiet pastures dotted with fence lines and grazing cattle. The landscape rolled gently by, but the heaviness in the cab didn’t come from the road—it came from all the things still unsaid.

Emily glanced at Beau again, then looked down at her hands, fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve.

“I think I needed to hear that,” she said softly.

Beau kept his eyes on the road but tilted his head just enough to show he was listening.

“I’ve always felt like I had to prove something to you,” she continued. “Not because you ever said I had to. But because I thought... maybe if I was independent enough, strong enough, you’d be proud of me.”

He drew in a breath, slow and heavy. “Emily…”

She shook her head, voice firm even through its softness. “I know you love me. I never doubted that. But you and Mom were always working so hard, and I got used to figuring things out on my own. It was easier not to ask. Easier to pretend I didn’t need anyone.”

Beau’s jaw tensed, his grip flexing again on the wheel.

“I think I messed up sometimes,” he admitted. “Back then. Thought giving you space was what you needed. Thought letting you handle it meant I was trusting you to grow. I didn’t mean to leave you feelin’ like you had to earn something that was already yours.”

Emily was quiet for a beat, the air between them thick with honesty.

Then she smiled, small but true. “I think we both got better at this. You with me. Me with you.”

Beau huffed a breath, something like relief loosening in his chest. “Took us a while, didn’t it?”

She chuckled. “Yeah. But we got here.”

Another stretch of quiet followed, but this one was different—easier now.

Then Emily spoke again, her voice a little stronger. “I’ve been looking at transfer options. Montana State. Missoula. Even a couple online programs that let me take hybrid courses and stay local. Nothing’s official yet but... I’m not just thinking about it anymore.”

Beau’s heart stuttered in the best way.

“You serious?”

Emily nodded. “I want to be near you. Y/N. The kids. My family.”

Beau looked at her then—really looked at her. Not as a child trying to prove herself. But as a young woman choosing her family, choosing to belong in a way that mattered.

“You come back,” he said, voice rough with emotion, “and we’ll make room. Real room. Not just a bed to sleep in, but a space that’s yours. A life that’s yours. And I’ll be there for all of it.”

Emily blinked fast, but she nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They didn’t need to say anything else for a while. The road stretched on, but the distance between them had already disappeared.

The airport terminal buzzed softly around them—travelers wheeling bags, flight announcements overhead, the low hum of movement that never quite stopped. But for Beau and Emily, standing just before the security line, the world had narrowed to just the two of them.

Emily had her backpack slung over one shoulder, boarding pass in hand. Her cheeks were flushed, but her eyes were steady as she looked up at him.

“I really hate this part,” she admitted quietly.

“Yeah,” Beau said, voice low and thick. “Me too.”

They stood there for a long moment, neither quite ready to make the move. Finally, Emily stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, tucking herself into his chest the way she had when she was small. Beau held her tight, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other curling protectively around her shoulders.

“You call when you land,” he murmured against her hair. “Text if the flight’s delayed. And if you need anything, Em, you let me know.”

She nodded against him. “I will.”

He pulled back slightly to look at her face. “You sure you’re okay goin’ back?”

Emily took a breath and smiled—wobbly, but real. “Yeah. I just didn’t expect to miss it already.”

Beau’s own eyes burned, and he cleared his throat softly. “We’ll keep everything warm for you back home. Your room, your spot at the table, all of it. You got a place with us whenever you want it.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I believe that now.”

Beau leaned down and kissed her forehead gently. “I love you, Emily Grace.”

Her eyes shimmered. “I love you too, Dad.”

The line behind her shifted, and the TSA agent gave her a kind but expectant glance. Emily gave Beau one more squeeze, then turned toward security, backpack swinging at her side.

Beau stood there long after she disappeared around the corner. Watching. Waiting. His heart stretched across the distance, tethered to the girl he’d raised, to the woman she was becoming.

He didn’t move until she was gone from sight.

And even then, he walked back to the truck slowly, knowing that no matter how far she went—

She was his. Always.

The truck rumbled down the familiar road, gravel crunching beneath the tires as Beau turned into the drive. The house came into view like an exhale—porch light on despite the late afternoon sun, Eliza’s chalk drawings still decorating the walkway, the soft curtain in the kitchen window fluttering.

He parked and sat for a moment, hands on the steering wheel, staring out at the place that had become the anchor to everything.

The goodbye with Emily had hit him harder than he’d expected.

She was grown. Strong. Capable.

But still his girl. Still the little one who used to tug on his sleeve and ask if he could stay a little longer before work. Still the daughter he’d tried so hard to protect, even when he didn’t know how to say the right things.

Now she was choosing her path—and she wanted to come home eventually. That truth had settled deep in his chest. Beautiful. And heavy.

He got out of the truck and stepped onto the porch just as the door swung open.

Y/N.

She was barefoot, wearing one of his flannels over leggings, her hair tied up loosely. And the moment she saw his face, her smile shifted from warm welcome to gentle concern.

She stepped out and met him halfway across the porch, reaching up to cradle his cheek. “Hey.”

Beau leaned into her touch. Just for a second. Just enough.

“You okay?” she asked quietly.

He nodded, but it was a slow, thoughtful kind. “Yeah. Just… full. In here.” He tapped his chest lightly. “Droppin’ her off… It felt like both everything and nothin’ at once.”

Y/N slid her arms around him, pulling him into a quiet hug. “Because it meant something.”

He rested his chin on her head and let out a long, quiet breath. “She’s gonna come back. I know it. But it still hit me—watchin’ her walk away again.”

Y/N held him tighter. “She’s finding herself. And she knows where her roots are now. You gave her that.”

Beau closed his eyes and held onto her like she was the only thing keeping him steady. “I just wanted to do right by her.”

“You did,” she whispered. “And she knows it. You’re her home, Beau. Just like you’re mine.”

He kissed the side of her head, murmuring softly, “I don’t deserve you.”

Y/N pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe not. But I’m yours anyway.”

He chuckled quietly, the weight in his chest easing a little.

The screen door creaked, and Eliza peeked out. “Daddy’s home!”

Beau turned just in time to see her come barreling down the porch, wolf plush in one hand, joy lighting up her whole face.

He opened his arms wide, scooping her up mid-run. “Hey, little wolf.”

“You were gone forever!” she declared, clinging to him.

“Just a little while,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I’m home now.”

And with Eliza in one arm, Y/N at his side, and the sound of Caleb babbling from inside the house—

Beau felt it again.

That grounding.

That rightness.

This was his life. His family. His forever.

And he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

The children had long since fallen asleep, the house wrapped in the kind of hush that only came with nightfall and a full day behind them. Caleb was curled in his crib, peaceful and warm in his footie pajamas. Eliza, wolf plush tucked beneath her chin, had claimed both blankets and half her pillow, lost in dreamland with one foot poking out from under the covers.

Beau and Y/N’s bedroom was dim, lit only by the soft glow of the lamp on the dresser. They’d both moved slowly tonight, both worn from the emotional weight of the day.

Beau sat at the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face. Y/N approached from behind and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her chin on his shoulder blade.

“You’ve been quiet,” she whispered.

He reached up and caught one of her hands, bringing it to his lips. “Just… thinkin’.”

She moved around and settled beside him on the bed, one leg tucked beneath her. Her hand rested over his knee, warm and steady. “About Emily?”

“Yeah,” he murmured. “About a lot of things.”

Y/N stayed silent, letting him have the space.

“I watched her walk through that security line,” he continued, “and all I could think was how proud I am. How strong she is. But also how small she looked again. Like that kid I used to drop off at school, waitin’ to see if she’d turn back and wave.”

“Did she?” Y/N asked softly.

Beau gave a small smile. “Yeah. She did. Just like she always used to.”

Y/N reached up and brushed her fingers through his hair. “You’ve raised her into a woman who knows her worth, knows she’s loved, and knows she has a home to return to. That’s everything, Beau.”

He looked at her then, his eyes shadowed but full.

“I didn’t always get it right.”

“You didn’t have to. You just had to love her. And you do.”

Beau leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m glad she has you. You give her something I couldn’t. Softness. Understanding.”

“She gives me something too,” Y/N whispered. “She made me a big sister. She made this family even stronger.”

His hand moved instinctively to her belly, cradling it with that same reverence he always had. “They’re gonna be lucky, this next one. Growin’ up with all of this.”

Y/N rested her palm over his, eyes soft. “We’re all lucky.”

Beau leaned in and kissed her—slow, tender, unhurried. A kiss that spoke of everything words couldn’t: love, devotion, gratitude.

When they finally lay down, her head tucked beneath his chin and his arms wrapped protectively around her, they didn’t speak again.

They didn’t need to.

In the stillness of the night, they held each other close, hearts quiet but full, wrapped in love that didn’t demand to be spoken—

It simply was.

The morning sun crept over the ridgelines, spilling long golden beams through the streets of Big Sky. Beau stepped into the sheriff’s department, the scent of coffee and floor polish greeting him like a familiar handshake. His boots echoed faintly down the hallway as he made his way to the front desk where Doris sat, already sipping her second cup of coffee and flipping through a manila folder.

She looked up as he approached, one brow raised. “You’re early. That’s either a good thing or a sign your kids finally let you sleep.”

Beau smirked. “Little of both.”

He leaned against the edge of the desk, fingers drumming on the wood for a second before he asked casually, “Hey, Doris… how is it you know everybody in this town?”

She gave him a look like she wasn’t sure if he was joking. “You’re askin’ now? I’ve lived here longer than the courthouse steps have. People just talk. And I listen.”

Beau chuckled and nodded once. “You wouldn’t happen to know a decent realtor, would you?”

Doris blinked, then slowly set her coffee down. “You house-huntin’, Arlen?”

“Thinking about it,” he said. “With another baby on the way and Emily maybe comin’ back full-time… house is feelin’ a little small. Y/N and I started talking, and, well, figured I’d ask the person who knows where everyone is hiding their For Sale signs.”

Doris leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her notepad. “Well, now. You’re not wrong to ask. There’s a few good ones around, but if you want someone honest, doesn’t pad the price, and actually gives a damn about the folks buying? Talk to Rosie Morales. She’s been working with local families for years. Helped me sell my sister’s place out by Bridger Pass.”

Beau nodded thoughtfully. “Rosie Morales. Got it. You got a number for her?”

Doris already had her phone out. “I’ll text it to you. Tell her I sent you and she’ll probably throw in a box of cookies.”

Beau grinned. “That’s all the incentive I need.”

Doris narrowed her eyes. “You movin’ far?”

“Not too far,” Beau said. “Still want space. Still want quiet. But maybe a few more rooms, a yard the kids can run wild in. Room for Emily. Room to breathe.”

Doris’s eyes softened, and she nodded once. “Sounds like you’re settlin’ in all the right ways.”

Beau glanced back toward the department, a little smile on his lips. “Feels that way.”

He tipped his head in thanks and headed toward his office, already feeling the buzz in his chest—the kind that came when you weren’t just holding on to what you had…

But building something even better.

Beau shut the door to his office with a soft click, the sounds of the department fading just enough to give him a moment of peace. He set his coffee down, slid into his chair, and let out a breath as he leaned back—just for a second—taking in the stillness of his space.

Then he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.

Doris had already sent the contact info: Rosie Morales – Realtor

Along with it, her typical no-nonsense text:

“Don’t waste time. Call her. She’s sharp, honest, and smarter than most of the deputies you supervise.”

Beau chuckled and shook his head, then tapped the contact and hit Call.

The line rang twice before a bright, confident voice answered.

“Rosie Morales.”

“Hi, Rosie. This is Beau Arlen—Sheriff, here in Big Sky. Doris gave me your number, said you were the one to talk to.”

“Well, if Doris sent you, I know you’re serious,” Rosie replied with an easy laugh. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

Beau leaned forward, elbow on the desk, voice low but steady. “My family’s growin’. Wife’s pregnant, daughter just had her adoption finalized, and my oldest might be movin’ in with us full-time. We’re outgrowing our house.”

“Ah,” Rosie said knowingly. “Sounds like a new chapter.”

“Yeah. We’re lookin’ for something not too far from town, but a bit more space. Room for three kids and maybe a guest room or an office. Yard for the littles to run wild. Nothing too flashy—we’re not after a showpiece. Just something real, quiet, and solid.”

“I can work with that,” Rosie said. “What’s your timeline?”

“No rush,” Beau said. “But we’d like to find something before the new baby gets here. Gives us time to settle in.”

“Then let’s get started this week. I’ve got a few properties that might already fit, depending on how far out you’re willing to go.”

Beau smiled. “Appreciate it. And Rosie?”

“Yeah?”

“If Doris tries to guilt you into free cookies, don’t feel obligated.”

Rosie laughed. “Please. She already texted me a cookie emoji.”

They agreed to meet later in the week, and as Beau hung up, he felt that flicker of something deeper—hope, maybe. Anticipation. A sense of building something lasting.

He sat back, looking out the small window in his office.

This was really happening.

Not just surviving anymore. Not just getting by.

Building.

And this time, he was doing it with everything that mattered.

Beau leaned back in his chair, phone resting screen-down on the desk beside his coffee. The conversation with Rosie had been efficient, promising. But now, in the quiet that followed, his mind drifted—not toward square footage or listing prices, but toward them.

His family.

The reason behind all of it.

Y/N. His wife. His home.

She loved him in a way that still left him breathless sometimes, as if she saw the best parts of him even when he doubted they were there. The way she touched him—gentle and grounding. The way she looked at him when he walked through the door—like she knew him, loved him, and still chose him, every single day. There were moments, quiet ones in bed or over coffee or when the kids were asleep, when he found himself just watching her—awed that she’d become the heart of his life.

He swore sometimes he didn’t deserve her.

But she never made him feel like he had to earn her. She just loved him. Completely. Unflinchingly.

Then there was Eliza.

The first time he’d seen her, she’d been standing in the middle of the grocery aisle with the tower of cans sprawled about, unapologetic in her chaos. She’d trusted him instantly, taking to him, and changed everything the day they met.

Now?

She owned him. That stubborn, wild-hearted little wolf-child had burrowed straight into his soul. When she reached for him, when she shouted “Daddy!” with joy, when she whispered “I’m glad you picked me” in the dead of night—he felt it to his core.

She was his. And he was hers.

And sweet Caleb—his little man.

Still learning how his legs worked, how bananas felt in his fingers, how many surfaces he could coat with applesauce before someone intervened. His eyes were wide with curiosity, full of mischief and innocence in equal measure. That boy was chaos in a diaper and somehow the calm in Beau’s storm. One smile from Caleb, and everything else faded.

Beau had no doubt that little one would grow into someone incredible.

And Emily.

Grown now, technically. But still his daughter. Still needing her dad in ways that had nothing to do with lectures or discipline and everything to do with presence. With love. With showing up. Watching her start to turn back toward home, toward him, filled something in Beau he hadn’t even known was hollow.

She’d been his first shot at fatherhood—and despite every stumble, she loved him still. That alone made him want to be better, every damn day.

Beau looked at the photo on his desk—one Emily had taken at Caleb’s birthday. The whole family on the porch: Y/N smiling, Caleb drooling, Eliza mid-wolf-howl, and Beau in the middle of it all, arms around them, whole.

He smiled softly.

No, his life wasn’t quiet.

But it was his.

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[space-writes]

voiceless - febuwhump day 1 'vocal chords'

Valloroth | G | Sorrow & Aspiration | 883 Words

Tags: pre-Valloroth, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Speech, Fantasy Sign Language, Frustration, Backstory

Summary:

A scene from early in Sorrow and Aspiration’s relationship, set in the time after she found him post-shattering and was helping him to recover.

Read On: AO3 / Neocities / Dreamwidth

[ID - a decorative divider]

She’d taken to calling him Fortune. Only in her own head, though—out loud and to everyone else, he was t’hiat. The guest. But she couldn’t help but think him fortunate; what else was it to survive the shattering of both his horns?

Aspiration ducked into the healer’s tent, a wooden tray of food in her hands. Shellfiend soup and roasted grubs; sliced purple yams and small yellow plums; ashnuts and smoked fish and her grandmother’s best flatbread. “Won’t get well if he doesn’t eat,” the old woman told her, piling plates and bowls high. “You see to it he eats.” And so she had, for all the good it did. Most days she came back with the tray untouched.

He was dozing at present, or something like it. Sprawled on the sleeping mat, a pile of blankets half-on, half-off his tall, emaciated form. The healer said his temperature wouldn’t settle, dragging him wildly between chills and fever, and nothing so far could steady it. Intuition was doing what she could, she and her apprentice both, but they’d never dealt with a shattered infernii before. All the stories said victims of such assault rarely survived, and if they did, they were forever altered—and such altering often stole their lives in the end.

Aspiration made her steps loud over the woven mats that made up the floor of the tent. Fortune panicked at the slightest thing—screamed himself out of sleep more often than not—and it was best, she’d found, not to creep up on him, even accidentally. “Hello again,” she said, kneeling beside him. “I brought you something to eat.”

He stirred, bleary cyan eyes struggling to focus on her. It took some minutes, but he got himself upright, though sweat shone on his face and chest at the effort. Such wounds he bore there; a starburst of punctures scattered between collarbone and navel. Shrapnel, Intuition said. She’d taken out most of whatever it was that had exploded into him, but some fragments were too deep to get. Whether they would fester and poison him remained to be seen.

Aspiration set her tray down and held her hands up where he could see. “How are you feeling?” she asked, signing slowly as she spoke. The shattering had taken his voice and it had yet to return; if indeed it ever would. He hadn’t seemed to recognise any handsigns so she’d been teaching him, or trying to.

He didn’t sign anything back to her. His throat worked, muscles standing out tense as he fought to form words.

“Don’t,” Aspiration said. She lifted the bowl of soup and held it out until he took it. “Just eat.”

A strangled noise worked its way around his tongue, thick with spit and nothing close to speech. He grimaced, sharp breath huffing through his nose, and tried again, but whatever he was trying to say, his body wouldn’t allow it.

“Sign it to me,” Aspiration said with her hands. Fortune shook his head violently and, with a cry more animal than infernii, hurled the bowl across the tent. Blunted shouts followed, choked sounds coughed out like knotted rope until he strangled himself with them, hitching to a halt. He buried his face in his hands, claws scraping through the tangled mess of his long, dark hair. He wouldn’t let anyone touch it. Wouldn’t let anyone close to his head and his broken horns.

Aspiration knelt silently for a moment, then got up, went across the tent, and picked up the bowl, which still had a portion of soup in it. She took it back over to Fortune and waited for him to look up at her.

“I don’t know what clan you’re from,” she said, “but around here, only infants throw their food.”

And then she dumped the bowl out over his head.

He spluttered and spat, gaping at her with a look of utter outrage beneath the broth trickling down his cheeks. A chunk of shellfiend clung to one eyebrow, and a decoration of herbs splattered his deep violet skin like fragrant freckles. He blinked. Aspiration folded her arms. He blinked again, then started to wheeze and at first she thought it was some new sickness she’d brought on him, and wouldn’t Intuition just chew her to pieces for that—then she realised he was laughing.

It was the first time he’d made any sound but one of pain since she’d brought him to the camp.

She went and fetched a cloth, then knelt to help clean him up. “You’ll get well,” she said quietly, as he mopped at his face. “Even if you don’t get your voice back, you’ll get well. You’ll live.”

“Sorry,” he signed clumsily, then motioned at the empty bowl with his tail, head cocked questioningly.

“Only if you promise not to throw it this time.”

His smile was so sweet that she wondered what it had been like before he’d gotten hurt. The kind of charming that got him whatever he wanted, she suspected. She got to her feet. “Alright. I’ll be back soon.”

Before she could take a step, he caught her wrist.

“Th’n…yuh…”

The rasping syllables were barely intelligible, but they were the closest thing to words he’d managed since he’d woken up. Aspiration smiled.

“You’re welcome.”

[ID - a decorative divider]

Valloroth taglist: @cherrybombfangirlwrites @reininginthefirewriting @memento-morri-writes @foxboyclit @lawful-evil-novelist

@at-thezenith @morganwriteblr @fayeiswriting @serenanymph

@sam-glade @viscerawrites @thegreatobsesso @flower-reads @the-inkwell-variable (ask to be +/-)

[prismatica-the-strange]

The End of the World as We Know It | So if I Fly too High and My Wings Start Melting

Warnings: 18+, period stuff, blood, show typical violence

Pre-relationship Daryl x Loveday, but post I Feel Fine

I just know that if you send this man out for a tampon run, he's bringing back whatever comfort food he can find on top of it

Icarus by Ben Thornewill | Banner By @saradika-graphics | Dividers by @firefly-graphics

"You alright?"

Loveday jumps at the sound of Daryl's gruff voice and looks over at him, forehead still pressed to the cool cement wall of her cell.

"'M fine," She huffs, hand pressing hard against her lower abdomen, "D'ya need somethin'?"

"Was gonna see if you wanted to go on a run, but I ain't takin' ya if yer sick."

"You're goin' out?" She asks hopefully.

"Plannin' to," He readjusts the strap of his crossbow, "Why?"

"Think you could grab me some stuff?" She carefully moves to sit on the bed.

"Depends."

She finds a scrap of paper and scribbles down a small list.

"Yer sendin' me on a tampon run?" He asks, taking the paper.

"That a problem?"

He shakes his head, brow furrowing as he reads over the list, "But I ain't pickin' you dandelions, the hell you got that on here for?"

"Dandelion tea helps with cramps," She explains, "Since we have limited meds I thought it'd be a good alternative. If you can't find a box and don't wanna do it, it's fine-"

"Nah, I can get it," He shakes his head again, "You need like'a handful or a bag of 'em?"

"However many you grab should be fine."

He nods and turns to leave, stopping when she says his name.

"Thanks."

He nods again and heads off to go meet Zach by the gate.

She makes her way out to the courtyard where Carol is helping make lunch for some of the younger kids.

"You got a pan I could use?" She asks, "All the ones in commissary are gross."

"Yeah, there's one hanging there," Carol points to one of the posts, "What'cha need it for?"

She sets the pan on the hot grill and dumps the contents of her medium drawstring bag in it, "Cherry pits."

"Cherry- what?"

"Yeah, you heat 'em up, pour 'em in into a bag or fold 'em in a towel and bam, heating pad," She looks over at her confusion, "Period cramps."

"Ah!" She nods, turning back to the task at hand, "You need any... hygiene products? I can ask around."

"Nah, Daryl's gonna try and grab me some tampons while they're out. I got enough to tide me over."

"Oh! So that's what happened," Carol laughs.

"Hm?"

"He came out here actin' like he was going out on some life or death mission, but when I asked what was so important he went all red in the face 'n told me it wasn't any of my business."

"It's just tampons," Loveday snickers, "I don't get what the big deal is."

"The big deal is that you asked him to get them," She bumps their hips, "I dunno what you did, but you've got him wrapped around your little finger."

"Daryl barely tolerates me," She scoffs, pouring the hot pits back in her bag and pulling it shut, "It's just these southern boys get all flustered whenever the topic of periods comes up."

She gathers her bag and step around the counter, leaning over it with a smile, "Y'all need some better sex-ed classes."

Carol chuckles to herself as she watches her walk away, knowing damn well Daryl more than tolerates her.

"What are you looking for?" Maggie asks, watching Daryl dig through another bathroom cabinet.

"She wants a certain kind," He mumbles, waving her away.

"Maybe I can help?"

He scowls at her, but hands her the list.

"This is Loveday's handwriting," She says teasingly, "You runnin' errands for her now?"

"Shut it," He snatches the paper back and shoves it in his pocket.

"Well there's not much of a selection," She grabs the box of store brand pads and shoves it in her bag, "No room to be picky."

He knows she's right, but he's gonna check the next house anyway.

After scouring the downstairs bathroom of the house next door he finds himself looking upstairs and comes across the room of some teenage girl. The bedspread is purple and frilly and boy band posters are pinned all over the bubblegum pink walls.

He rummaged through the backpack hanging on the desk chair, tossing the loose tampons he finds in his own bag.

He picks up a stuffed bear off the bed and scoffs to himself as he drops it.

Then he notices there's two closets. The doors of one are folded open, but the other has a normal door.

He carefully opens it and steps into another bathroom.

He cracks open the cabinet beneath the sink and a smile spreads across his face, "Jackpot."

He grabs the two boxes and puts them in his pack, one thing down.

He walks back into the bedroom and he does one last sweep, eyes landing on a moose plush on one of the shelves.

Loveday doesn't exactly strike him as a stuffed animal kind of girl, but there's something so her about it as he turns it over in his hand he can't help but take it.

Looking through the rest of the house, he stumbles upon a large, dark green, pullover hoodie that he absent-mindedly puts in his bag too.

"What is Dixon doing?" Zach asks as they load up the car, the small cul-de-sac raided of everything useful.

The group pauses to see Daryl ripping up handfuls of Dandelion from the side yard of one of the houses and shoving them in a paper bag.

"The hell you all gawkin' at?" He snaps when he sees them watching, "I get what'm told'ta!"

"Who told you to get flowers?"

"None'a yer damn business!"

He zips the bag in his backpack and the head back for the prison.

"Hey."

She looks up to see him leaning in the doorway of her cell, back pack hanging off his shoulder. She smiles at the sight, "Hey."

"Got yer stuff," He says, flustered by her smile. In avoiding her eyes he sees bloody water in the sink, "You alright?"

"Huh?" She follows his gaze, "Oh! Yeah! Just bled through my pad."

She scratches the back of her neck awkwardly, "First couple days are always the worst."

"Well, maybe these'll help," He tosses her one box, then the other and her smile comes back with a vengeance.

"You actually found them?"

"Found'a couple more things too," He feels his cheeks warm under her expectant look.

He hands her the bag of dandelions and a small box of baking chocolate he found.

"I know it ain't sweet but I thought maybe you'd want it," Then he pulls the hoodie out, "Found this, too."

He refuses to meet her eyes as he gives it to her and she starts to think maybe Carol was right, "'N this..."

Her heart flutters when he holds out the stuffed moose and he hears her stand before she takes it from him.

"I had one like this when I was little," She says softly, and he looks at her, stomach twisting at the look on her face as she hugs it to her chest. He tenses when she reaches up with one arm to pull him into a hug, kissing his cheek as she pulls away, "I appreciate it, Daryl, really."

"Mhm," He nods turns to go, stopping for a moment before walking away, "You need anything else, just ask."

It starts raining out of no where the next day and a chill settles in the prison.

She's never been more grateful for a hoodie than then. That's how she finds herself leaning in the frame of the doors, watching Daryl and some of the others under the pavilion through the downpour.

She tugs at the big sleeves, imagination running wild with ideas of curling up in his lap while he laughs with his friends. She scoffs at the thought.

She always gets affectionate around her period, but after being stuck on a bus with a couple for a year, and not knowing anyone here well enough, she hasn't exactly gotten a chance to act on it.

But Daryl, he's... hot. The arms, the hair, the voice, she's not above admitting she finds him attractive, and he seems to have a thing for her too.

She wonders if he'd indulge her if she asked.

She pulled from her thoughts when she hears him whistle and she looks over to see him trying to get her attention.

She gives them a small wave, smiling shyly.

He motions her over, but she shakes her head, and shoves her hands in her pocket, looking up at the grey sky.

She steps back in further when he comes jogging over, ducking in the doorway.

"You alright? You need somethin'?" Water runs down his face, dripping from his hair, "Saw you starin'."

"Yeah just..." She glances down at his lips for a moment, "Listening to the rain."

She's practically drowning in her sweatshirt and the sleeves completely cover her hands when she wipes a raindrop from her cheek.

"Looks good on you," He says after a moment, and the way she smiles makes heat flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, but before he can say anything he feels her sweater covered hands take his face and pull him down against her lips.

He doesn't exactly kiss back, but he doesn't pull away either, still in shock when she breaks the away.

"Sorry," She says softly, biting her bottom lip.

"No its..." He clears his throat again and stands straight, "It's fine."

"So if I tried to do that again?" She grins, trying to hide her rising anxiety with humor, but he just looks at her and brushes her bangs out of her face. She gasps when he tugs her back against him into a rough kiss.

He pulls away suddenly, leaving her dazed.

"I wouldn't stop ya."

He walks back out into the rain to rejoin the group, leaving her wide-eyed and breathless.

[eddiemunson-reader-shame]

About the Blog

[Playlist Link]

Yo, call me London.

I made this blog for funsies. I got into Stranger Things recently after going through a bad time with my health, and I made this blog to put my fun little creations up and just have a nice space where I can relax, work on no pressure projects, and just talk some Stranger Things with friends.

If I’m being honest I won’t take requests. I’m just mainly doing this for me.

As you can see, I am in deep for Eddie Munson. He reminds me a lot of my IRL partner and I enjoy that his character shares a lot of personality traits with myself as well. Eddie was is and always will be for the freaks ❤️.

Please keep in mind that this space is 18+ only, no minors please.

Also, do keep in mind that I will write my high school reader inserts as being 18 years old in senior year when paired romantically with Eddie Munson, who I’ll write to be around 20-21. There seems to be a lot of drama surrounding writing involving the canonical plot, and I just thought I’d make it clear that the characters are of age in any romantic or intimate situations. I’m also not much of a smut writer, mainly its fade to black or purple prose to hell.

Current Projects

• Eddie Munson x Reader- late Christmas fic

• Hellfire Club & Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader- The Pregnancy Scare™️ fic

• Crow Journal pages for Allie Perea

• Eddie Munson x Hopper!Reader & Dustin Henderson- babysitting fic

• Eddie Munson x Hopper!Reader- meet cute

Masterlist

•• A Freak and A Basket Case: The Seven Inches of Satanic Panic Edition Masterlist — My Hispanic!reader insert written as the good lord intended: as an OC fic.

•• If You Have Corroded Coffin, You Have Everything - Series where Reader basically becomes Tobias Forge in 1986 Hawkins, Indiana and Corroded Coffin is a prototype of the band Ghost.

•• Headcanons - Some thoughts. Head delulu. Expect a lot of info dumping and general neurodivergence shenanigans.

•• Ulterior Motives - Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader smut based on the once thought to be lost media from the 1986 Adult Film “Angels of Passion”.

•• A Freak and A Basket Case - Eddie Munson x Fem!Hispanic!Reader series that started out as an OC fic, but I chickened out at the last minute and made it an Eddie x Reader.

•• The Dad!Eddie Collection - A series of different fics where you and Eddie become parents.

•• Space Oddity - The Weird!Reader Collection - The collection of fics where reader is basically a freak.

•• Something About Us - Eddie Munson x MKUltra!Experiment!Reader, non binary reader who is suggested to be Eleven's "sibling". We need more fanfics that revolve around Experiment!Readers in this fandom.

•• Be My Wife - An overnight sensation with Middle School!Eddie x Middle School!Reader sharing a Coca Cola and a kiss. I got my first hate mail anon from this one because I forgot to put a read more before I posted. So I left it as is out of spite. Includes references to A Clockwork Orange, Caligula, and Gladiator II.

Credits: Dividers by @strangergraphics-archive

[silly-mantis-creations]

Divider Dump

Hey guys! I went to GifCities for the first time in a while, And grabbed some dividers for you! I hope you enjoy!

¡!PHOTOSENSITIVE IMAGERY AHEAD!¡

RED

ORANGE

YELLOW

GREEN

BLUE

PURPLE

PINK

RAINBOW

[givehimthemedicine]

have we talked about Will's scribble loop?

Will drawing the tunnel map is divided into two parts. this is from part 1, where he dumps out all his crayons and starts scribbling.

then we go away to other people for a bit.

when we come back, Will is still scribbling, and that leads into the part where Joyce and Hopper start assembling the map.

yet all that time later, it's the very same purple/black scribble Will is working on.

"maybe no time elapsed in between these scenes, and it just picked up immediately?" "maybe he spent a really long time on that one paper?"

no because they're very clear that he's been productive while we were away. we see him adding to a pile of papers on the floor, besides, Joyce and Hopper already have a bunch of papers in the living room.

"they just recycled footage and normal people don't notice things like that" well yeah. but it's not exactly the same footage.. I mean it's obviously from the same shot but it's not the same frames (see the placement of his hand and the loose crayons)

also:

notice how in part 1, he picks up the only skinless dark crayon on the table and starts scribbling that big purple section. then in part 2, he's still holding, I assume, that same crayon (because he's still actively coloring purple), and yet now there's another dark skinless crayon down there by his wrist. by all appearances this is all just from one continuous shot, so where'd that twin crayon come from?

[anitalenia]

⋆.˚⟡⊹₊⋆ 𝙈𝙐𝙇𝙏𝙄𝘾𝙊𝙇𝙊𝙍𝙀𝘿 𝘿𝙄𝙑𝙄𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙎 ✧˖°. ݁₊ ⊹

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒆 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & purple welcome to my profile dividers + 𝘶𝘯𝘪𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘯𝘴, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘰𝘸𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ neapolitan bling dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ berry toned mdni dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ blue & brown dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ cherry blossom dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette deer & bunny dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ monster high dividers 𝐈 + 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘸𝘥𝘦𝘦𝘯 & 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘶𝘳𝘢 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ giant dividers / headers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ bale!batman dividers / headers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ continue reading dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ angelcore dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ dune dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ romantic goth + fangs dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ red & blue bimbo dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ coquette deer dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ soft pastry dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ neapolitan dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & white cinnamoroll dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ apple white dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ earthy black girl aesthetic dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ orange / brown sunny beach dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ brown & green fairy cottagecore dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ strawberry shortcake dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ black & magenta dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ red & black dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ red & black dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and green dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink and white dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ red and blue heart dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & purple dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ white and gold dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ hello kitty dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ lace dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ simple sanrio dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ fairy imvu headers / dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ fairy dividers / headers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ purple & gray simple cyber dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & blue dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈𝐈 + pink and gold dividers, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & black dividers 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & purple mdni dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ caramel choux cookies & pompompurin mdni dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & white welcome headers + matching dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ sparkle gif dividers 𝐈 + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ black, white, & green minimalist dividers, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ blue & black grunge dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 .

‧₊˚ ✧ autumn / coffee dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ strawberry vine dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ y2k grunge-ish dividers, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ animal crossing dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & brown dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ butterfly inspired dividers 𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈, + 𝘳𝘪𝘣𝘣𝘰𝘯, 𝘭𝘢𝘤𝘦, 𝘺2𝘬-𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘤𝘰𝘲𝘶��𝘵𝘵𝘦, 𝘴𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘬𝘭𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐈, + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐈𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐕 + 𝘨𝘪𝘧 𝘥𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘴 . ﾟ

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ orange & black fire dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ glittery halloween dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ glittery red & black dividers . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ sparkle gif dividers 𝐈 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ sparkle gif dividers 𝐈𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ black, white, & green minimalist dividers, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ blue & black grunge dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 .

‧₊˚ ✧ autumn / coffee dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ strawberry vine dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ y2k grunge-ish dividers, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ animal crossing dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ butterfly inspired dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ divider dump 𝐈𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

‧₊˚ ✧ pink & brown dividers 𝐈, + 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴 . ﾟ

♡ྀིྀི⋆.˚ 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 . . .

‧₊˚ ✧ none yet . ﾟ

[st4rryyynight]

|★| ROTTMNT OC INFO DUMP: Tanner Mayfield.

INTRO !!

|★| "Hey- urh, could I help with that-?"

|☆| So, my OC's name is Tanner Mayfield and they are a supplier for the Purple Dragons Tech Club, like- fetching materials for inventions and that kind of jazz. Though, they are not considered an actual member yet. Tanner, is as well Repo Mantis's helper. Y'know, repossessing stuff for him when Repo doesn't have have the time or patience to deal with overbearing clients without having to get, erm- violent with em.. Another form of 'profession' that they do is that they, well, help Todd Capybara sometimes- y'know, around with the dogs at the puppy rescue. They sometimes bring him stuff for the puppies such as dog food, toys ect- and they also get stuff for Todd as well, such as lemons for lemonade and, well, sometimes the basic necessities if they have the income for it- since they know that 'a million dollar smiles' won't pay for, urm, anything.

|★| Tanner as well, whenever he goes out to reposes something for Repo, like- retrieving an item from a Yokai or an harsh, or unforgiving costumer/client, they wear a yellow bunny mask to cover up their face, to protect their identity- as to not let others know who they are holding a grudge against. But now it has become a habit and he wears it way more often, even if they are dealing with a chill client. Also, they go by the name of 'Star Bunny'- well it's not much of an alias for them, but they were given that name by a couple of costumers so it kind of stuck with them. The reason for that nickname is because, over the right eyehole of the mask, theres a big star design on it in a darker shade of yellow. If that makes sense. Tanner, also wears the mask while they are put scavenging for the Purple Dragons Tech Club. Maybe they instructed him to wear it for some odd reason that they don't understand..yet.

|☆| I'm also thinking of making them Julia's older sibling. They would help- or they would be forced to help around with the brownie clan. By baking brownies for the girl's scouts and delivering them to customers and stuff. In short, Tanner is something like a delivery boy. However, In most cases- I don't think that Tanner would mind. Though there would be times where he would just- wanna refuse, especially if he has a lot of chores and work in mind that he wants to get done. Just to comply because they were chased around the house by Julia for denying to bake and help around the Brownie Clan.

DIVIDER BY: @enchanthings

(1) INTRO !! | NEXT → (2) BASIC INFO !!

[twinsandselfships]

We have too many reblogs and not enough original posts, sooo emergency selfship lore dump! Ft. our S/I Amica and Rick! Spoiler-free!

Amica can’t do magic per se, but she can do magic-adjacent stuff: divination, potion-making, rituals, using magical artifacts, etc.

Like any self-respecting witch, Amica has a familiar - a black pet fur seal that looks somewhat like a cat (in our language, “fur seal” is “sea cat”) named Onyx. He has purple markings on his fur and can’t talk, but he understands human speach. Onyx can float in the air and helps Amica with casting spells, since she can’t do it on her own.

When they first met, Rick was 10 and Amica was 9. They… didn’t hang out for too long. But he made a great impression on her, and was basically her only friend. She felt really connected with him.

For now, Amica settled in an abandoned lighthouse at the shore of Sweet Jazz City. But who knows, maybe Rick will convince her to ask Naven about moving in with Rick. Then they’ll be roommates!

Since Amica knew Rick since childhood, she isn't used to him acting quite Like That™, but this new Rick quickly began to grow on her. She still finds him scary from time to time, but knowing how much he cares about his friends and how protective he is, Amica isn’t too worried about it. She knows he wouldn’t hurt her, so she just accepts Rick’s off-putting behaviour as simple weirdness and goes along with it. Actually, she’s kinda into his maniacal cackling 👀

dividers by saradika-graphics (water) and cafekitsune (pink) respectively.

[sansloii]

Dissect your own writing style. What do you do most often? What do you want to take away from other writers (tag them if you want)? What is something you want to break out of?

when i started eons ago (2011/2012-ish), I had major issues with splicing-- where i felt the need to reply to every single thing in a response. even though it seemed like my muse was thoroughly engaged with whoever they were interacting with, it made my writing quite awkward since i would jump from one topic to another--from one focus to the next--and it didn't really flow well either. it wasn't pleasant to read and if i went back to re-read it, i found it very tedious. i would scan it, which is even worse because if i'm not properly re-reading it, why would anyone else, you know? i also struggled with many of the things most people did, which included dumping a thesaurus ( not to the point of purple prose ) into my writing and praying it would make it better.

anywho, i mention splicing first because it was the driving factor in me reshaping how i wrote and everything else either came after or changed with it.

style and structure

my current writing style is divided into three parts: Reaction, Thoughts, and Response. how these three are arranged are completely dependent on how the prior post in the thread left off but more oft than not, they are in that general order; my outlines ( when i do write them ) are in a similar order too. It has its upsides ( it makes it easier for me to direct a thread or a response to something because there's a structure ) and downsides ( if I'm not willing to compromise on structure here and there, it makes it difficult to frame my writing properly ). overall, though, it's helped me--as frustrated as i get with getting things down

reactions and thoughts tend to either take 2/3rds of a reply and a response takes up about 1/3rd. the reason why reactions and thoughts are bundled together is because, to me, they're more or less blended together by default and trying to section them out like "here's a reaction. then a thought" interrupts the flow of my writing. instead, they're layered together so it allows me to maybe going back and forth when a muse is reacting and/or thinking about what's happening in a moment. the response is, more oft than not, interacting with the other character if it wasn't included in the previous section and active dialouge. i've been guilty of having my muse say things, do things, and think things that don't push anything forward so at the end of a reply, i make sure to evaluate whether or not my muse has done anything of substance if needed.

things i've noticed i do a lot are:

repetition for emphasis ( e.g: he tried over and over and over again )

including phrases/descriptions/entire sentences that a partner used not necessarily in that thread/ask, but in another in order to make a connection between the muses a bit more apparent

splitting dialouge with an icon or with a singular line of thought

splitting dialouge with action that's not "he said, she tells, they laugh", etc. if i can

if there is a theme that is going to prevail throughout the entire response/ask, it's usually established in the first or second paragraph

i'm sure there are other things that i do but these are the few i've noticed because they're more of an active choice i make.

dialouge

something i also do that's not necessarily visible in my writing is that i repeat my dialouge to myself with the general mannerism of whichever muse is talking. so take for example, mikah and kurama ( @un1awful ). these shits do nothing but make jabs at each other if they're not actively engaged in something serious. as a result, they're very dialouge heavily. mikah's words have to be concise and sharp ontop of conveying bits and pieces of their ego because of who they're dealing with ( like here ). mikah's not threating kurama--so it can't be too aggressive or too insulting... but it also needs to convey that they want him to shut the fuck up without them outright saying "shut the fuck up", you know?

on the flip side, we have Andris, who also has ego and is also sharp.... but the way he is sharp is different. he has that "customer service" type of voice--very even and is intentional about what he says and how he says it. any bite he has tends to be a bit subtle. for example, here when he addresses seth ( @starpoacher ), he's teasing back but he's also still a little annoyed about seth barging in, hovering over his shoulder, etc., hence the use of "sir chef" instead of Seth's name. it comes and goes quickly because... it's seth and he will ultimately get over it, but that's how he tends to convey things.

it's a little awkward repeating dialouge to myself but it also helps me identify better ways to say something or to figure out if something is not quite right about a phrase my muse says. my muses also have different cadences when they speak so repeating them in that cadence does help when it comes to placing it in a reply and knowing where i can break it up, if needed.

what i want to take away from other writers + what i want to break out of

i require the ability to proofread better.

i don't think i'm the only one that thinks faster than i type and so, i forget words/sentences/etc. and don't catch it until i circle back for a second read... after i've posted it. it doesn't happen a lot but when it does i cringe so fucking hard.

i also have a bad habit of writing too much and not being willing to cut things out even if i don't like it, which stems from the mentality that "longer is better" and it's not. longer without substance is not better. longer with tedious language is not better. longer to the point of... not quite knowing what the point of the reply was is not better.

i've curbed a little bit of that through reading the threads and asks answered by others ( @un1awful, @rexpyre, @nezumivc103221, @bloodxhound, @royaletiquette to name a few ) and it's less to take from them and more to just... see how they write, i guess? and not necessarily things that i'm involved in but thing threads or asks i catch that are interesting to me. it helps to take a step back and not think so much about how i write things for a little bit and just... read something else--something that i have nothing to do with. in a way, it helps me be a little more objective with my own writing.

as much as i like my style and the way i write, seeing it over and over again makes me crave variety. i want to see how other people describe things or get from A to B. to that point, varying sentence structure is another thing at the back of my mind that.... i have a love-hate relationship with. on one hand, i can write something and be perfectly fine with it. on the other, i look at it and wonder why i have multiple long sentences like "[action/thought] and [action/thought]" right next to each other. it's that or a bunch of short sentences bundled together. sometimes, it's even a long and short sentence but they don't flow well like that... so they both need to change. i get though it somehow but not without some difficultly

Unprompted | @eternasci

[sigmastolen]

It's Repotting Day!

aka i am Literally So Normal about my african violets

(for reference here are the Before pictures)

elmyra got the most work done today—i divided her 3 crowns into separate pots. allow me to introduce, l–r: elmyra prime aka big elmyra (henceforth just "elmyra"), little elmyra, and baby elmyra. they're all super leggy rn, not sure if that will change now they're separated and no longer have to compete with each other. you will notice baby elmyra has moved into little sister's tiny pot- she will be moving into little sister's old spot on the suction shelf as well.

pinky was business as usual, but i do think i managed to get her sitting straight in her pot for real this time! her neck (now buried) has like a 90° angle in it, it's so dumb. pinky, elmyra, and the brain all got graduated to tall 4" pots bc they are big girls and also bc pinky and brain's cheapie purple outer pots were well and truly finito.

side-by-side like this you can really see the color gradation in the brain lineage—l–r, brain, little sister, and baby brain. little sister moved from the tiny pot to a short 4" like little elmyra and baby brain, bc she was super rootbound and she deserves it. you can see her foliage is more compact than baby brain's though, because of the tiny pot. after her current flowers, she probably won't bloom again until she matches baby brain's sprawl. i actually didn't do anything with baby brain today—she moved into the big pot relatively recently, so i'll leave her alone until next winter. you will note brain looks intensely leafy in this photo; it was incredibly difficult to cram the soil into her pot at the very top bc of how many fucking leaves she has. pinky was a little hard, too, but brain and her children are on another level.

the propagation box also got a restock, although not with nearly as many leaves as i removed (intentionally and un-) during today's operations. i only added 4, because there were already 4 growing in the box; the rest i regretfully (read: catholic-guiltily) threw out bc honestly i already have more violets than i can handle.

the ferns also got new soil and big fern moved into a tall pot as well bc she was also super rootbound and i want her to continue to grow large and luxurious. not that i really have space for her to luxuriate in—

—as you can see, my shelf situation is ridiculous. it is cantilevered out from the windowsill and as such has a visible downward slant due to the weight of all the plants; i super need to figure out a bracket situation underneath so it doesn't dump my best beloveds all over my bed, and i need to do it before i can get bigger and better (and not-plastic) pots for the big girls. the elmyras are all in baggies bc i wanted to baby them after the trauma of their separation. all the others, i'm leaving to the open air bc hopefully they're all robust enough to withstand the stress of today's repotting, but if they start to look like they're going backwards i'll bag them, too (even if i have to buy roasting bags or something to even fit over brain and pinky—even in her diminished state, i could barely squeeze elmyra into the 2-gal bag, and not without tearing the mouth to make it wider).

so that was today's big adventure! it took i think a little over 2 hrs and my leg fell asleep so bad sitting on the concrete and i got so fucking cold working in the shade so the violets wouldn't get sunburned and my back hurts! but my girls all look so happy!

[fountainpenguin]

"Don't wanna live as an untold story! Rather go out in a blaze of glory... I can't hear you; I don't fear you..." (x)

---

New Criminal Experience chapter today!

Chapter 6 - “Voiced”

❤️ Read on AO3

💙 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Mumbo Killsalot Jumbo didn't get his name without reason. You don't mess with a wandering trader's llamas.

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Canon-typical violence; additional warnings in the AO3 chapter's author's note

---

One breath later…

It only takes one scratch of a spectral arrow to light him up like one of Between's randomly spawned mobs. The invisibility potion makes it worse, actually. Without skin to block the light, he's blinding like a ghost as BigB drags him out from beneath the table by his leg. Mumbo balls himself around the llama respawn blanket, squeezing as hard as he can, but Carrie, Vee, and Slippers hold him down and wrestle it away. Scarlet fabric slips through his fingers. Mumbo flops back against the floor. The restaurant's lit by purple endflame. It's brighter than you'd think, actually, considering how many endermen and endermites live here.

Am I the main light source now?

Vee cannot help him. That's quite all right; wouldn't expect her to. She stands with fists clenched in her sleeves, eyes averted. And BigB cannot help him. He's in a crouch, not looking either. The whole patrol's standing now, peering over the leafy divider wall or else circling around to join their captain. Ripple_Weave and Snakesnake leap right over, thumping on the table. Typical.

… I can take them. I know I can. This isn't over. Agh, can I do this without hurting Vee or her vex?

Carrie ties the patrol banner at her neck like a cape. "You got good trades?" she asks, barely glancing down at him.

"What?"

"You're a wandering trader. What do you sell?"

Mumbo flicks his eyes around the patrol. That's a lot of eyes bearing down at him. A lot of curious faces. "I… I don't particularly want to say in a room filled with anarchy individuals, but I do specialize in something I care deeply about, yes." Is she trying to empty my pockets? Dumping out his things isn't the smartest move before a fight. "Most of my things are with my llamas. I just came to get their blankets back."

Carrie says nothing, just scrutinizing him with pinched-up eyes. What's that look mean? Mumbo tries to hold her gaze, but flickers his attention away and back again. It's, ah… quite difficult to face her head-on. She's got a scowl full of venom with a cherry on top. A poisoned one, probably. Vee leans forward with folded arms, bringing her mouth near her captain's ear.

"They're like ravager saddles. He's bonded to his llamas like I am to Muddy."

Ah, I'd rather you didn't make them sound especially valuable…

Carrie rubs the edge of her captain's banner between thumb and forefinger. "I have no quarrel with you," she starts to say, and probably, "I'm just here for Skizzleman," but the words are lost. The butterfly hybrid host hurries over, loud and flapping. They can't just do these things. They can't attack each other; they have to leave. Carrie says they will, but lunges forward to grab Mumbo's water glass and silverware. She clangs them together… mostly by bashing the cup into the tiny shovel rather than the other way around. Her big wings swish outward, big back straightening, big shoulders squaring up.

"Everybody, may I have your attention? Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. My name is Carrie, short for Carrion, and I'm captain of my patrol."

I can take them.

Mumbo flips over, mostly rolling, and jumps back to his feet as fast as he can. Halfway up, he whips the modded scythe from his soul slot and rears it back behind his head. You thought his body glowed bright? Try a netherite weapon with 17 enchantments on it. Shouts explode across the room, not only from the patrol. Snakesnake and Ripple_Weave look at him in utter shock, but before they can react, Mumbo swings the scythe straight through their chests. Ribbons of fire tear behind it. Beyond the Sharpness V and Fire Aspect II - not to mention Sweeping Edge III - this thing's got the Ambush and Illager's Bane enchantments slapped on top. Yeah, slime blocks are very important to Doc's friends, including the vulture hybrid he did that job for. The pillagers explode, scattering pixels, arrows, and emeralds all across the tablecloth. Thank Looting and Prospector III for that. His communicator vibrates in his pocket. He doesn't need to glance at it to know what it says.

Ripple_Weave had their soul reaped by MumboJumbo using [Raidbuster Prototype] Snakesnake had their soul reaped by MumboJumbo using [Raidbuster Prototype]

Their crossbows crash across the table and tumble to the floor. A red-gold sheen whips across his figure. He tightens his grip on the scythe's handle. Dynamo bonus. Next hit hits harder. Although I may have lost my Ambush…

Swirls of cyan energy spiral around him before zipping across the restaurant, straight out the door. If he did the little ritual right when they started this journey as trader and escort, they're off in search of Impulse's thermos now. His comm buzzes again, which should mean-

Ripple_Weave healed MumboJumbo through Anima Conduit and their soul was stored in [iDrink] Snakesnake healed MumboJumbo through Anima Conduit and their soul was stored in [iDrink]

Illagers shout and leap, drawing axes and crossbows- Mumbo whips around, taking out Starjump and Roadrunner even with Ambush ineffective now. Both vindicators dissipate, souls whirling off like the rest. Cosmos and Sundance fire bolts at him. They slam his shoulder. Mumbo staggers sidewa-

A ball of spikes crashes against his side, lurching upwards, and flings him straight across the leafy barrier wall. He hits the patrol's table with a thump. The scythe flies from his hand and clatters out of reach. Zigzags of pain shoot across his head, and Mumbo coughs so hard, it burns.

"Ow…"

"That's gonna be a lot of incident reports," BigB says from a chunk away.

When Mumbo forces up his head, vision blurred, Vee's standing with both arms lifted, but her vex trio seem to be awaiting a command. Carrie's switched from her standard blue vex form to full seravex mode. Four long, pink wings smack the air behind her, stretching towards the ceiling as though cradling the sun. These ones are feathered and full of muscle. She's got a thick stick slung over her shoulder, and the stick's attached to a chain. A massive spied ball dangles like a braid. And it glitters purple.

"Seravex can enchant their maces?" he asks, weakly. How… how much damage did that do? His communicator's in his pocket, but that felt like a lot.

… Like, a lot a lot. Is there some kind of Trader's Bane enchantment that parallels the Illager's Bane he's got on his own weapon? Or maybe I just took 60% extra damage from Ambush III. Fair's fair. Mumbo slides a hand across his chest, feeling out the gash in his side. Two of those spikes punctured so deep, he can fit his knuckle in the tears of vest, shirt, and skin. Blue energy oozes out, coating his bright white fingers in a cyan glow.

"I was talking," Carrie growls back. "And this thing's got the Critical Hit, Committed, and Void Strike enchantments, so I suggest you park your tush."

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]