#rosescratch

[thejoxaren]

GUYS IM SO UNWELL OVER THIS SHIP

[krembruleed]

[charletsart]

a 'night springs era' art piece I made for the alan wake zine which drew rose and scratch making friendship bracelets!!💗💞✨

AAAAAAA tales of cauldron lake zine is out !!!! everyone did amazing on this zine!! go check it out!!!🌀☕️🕺my two zine pieces are on page 10 and 54 !!!👀💞✨ link here:

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/cavj1n8yy2fbruhzicos3/Tales-of-Cauldron-Lake.pdf?rlkey=13ud3csdkllvhv7r3663y4k4x&e=1&st=gayax5fr&dl=0

[literatehiss]

What use is a Rose without its thorns

Rose makes a new friend, finally someone who adores her favourite writer just as much as she does Read on AO3 here

Rose carefully hung the framed picture of Alan on her wall. It was exciting to have a picture of Alan that wasn't over a decade old. She had paid one of the Koskela kids, Charlie, she thinks it was, to snap a picture of her writer as he was taken in by the two FBI agents. It wasn't a bad shot, honestly; the kid might have a future in photography, and Rose had happily forked over the money.

She handled the framed image with care, with the delicate touch of someone holding a priceless artefact.

The heat of a body looming behind her. Her newest ally, a friend, though he might not like that title. Finally someone who obsessed over Alan just as much as she did. Someone who loved Wake, though he definitely would hate it if she said that out loud. Sometimes she wondered if he could read her thoughts because occasionally he would growl at her when she thought about their shared love.

She didn't mind though, she kind of liked it.

The body leaned over and past her to pin a blood-soaked tie to her board. It was Alan's, both the tie and the blood, she presumed. It was also likely Alan's blood that stained the creature's hands and was stuck under his nails. She swooned a little at the thought of being so close to Alan as to get his blood on her hands. She caught his hand and kissed his knuckles, catching her lip between her teeth and sucking away the blood that had been smeared across it

She spun around with a squeal and kissed the scruffy beard on his cheek as he passed her Alan's sodden jacket as well. She wasn't sure if she should clean it; it was filthy after all, or keep it as it was, as to preserve as much Alan that was left on it as possible. 

Oh, if she cleaned it, she could wear it . The thought made her blush a furious red.

Again, Scratch growled as if he could hear her thoughts about Alan and wrapped an arm tightly around her waist. The growl shifted to a low purr, like a motorbike engine, as she stroked a hand through his hair and pulled him into a deeper kiss. She was so glad to meet someone who loved Alan just as much as she did.

Scratch enjoyed the feel of this peculiar woman's touch, of her misplaced affection. He had sought her out to kill her, but Rose was different, and he had instead found himself an ally, a friend that he would only admit to in his head. He was so glad to meet someone who was obsessed with Alan as much as he was.

[deerfests]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Alan Wake (Video Games) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rose Marigold/Mr. Scratch Characters: Rose Marigold, Mr. Scratch (Alan Wake) Additional Tags: Short One Shot, Smut, Consensual Sex, Canon-Typical Behavior, Minor Injuries Summary:

Rose didn't see this coming.

[jinxed-ninjago]

Giving Ninjago Characters Warrior Cats Names Because Why The Hell Not

Long story short: I got into Warriors because the fan-made content on YouTube man (but this idea actually came to me when I drew Plundar as an annoyed cat lol). Also any characters that aren't given Warriors names aren't given names because I can't think of one lol. If you have ideas for characters that aren't named, let me know!

Also yes I am absolutely going to make a Ninjago Warriors crossover AU. why do you ask

Ninja

Jay: Lightningfoot (named for his speed)

Zane: Icehawk (named for his eye color and a connection he seems to have with hawks that no other cat has)

Cole: Rockheart (named for unwillingness to back down from a fight)

Kai: Flamespirit (named for his impulsiveness and protective spirit)

Lloyd: Meadowsight (named for his striking green eyes that reminded his mother of a meadow)

Nya: Riverheart (named for her attachment to the river that goes through the clan's territory, as well as her personality reminding her clanmates of a rushing river)

Upply

Fungus: Lichenpelt (named for his willingness to go find moss and lichen if the clan needs it without needing to be asked; because of this he's often found with lichen and moss in his fur)

Plundar: Foxheart (named for his willingness to steal if his clan needs it; while it was initially meant as an insult from his leader, he takes it in stride now)

Korgran: Applestorm (named for his coat color and his attitude in a fight)

Ninja's Allies

Skylor: Rosescratch (named for her fur color and her hotheaded personality)

Nelson: Tigerspirit (named such because he was the runt of his litter, but his mother hoped giving him a strong name would help him survive; he was given the "-spirit" suffix because of how determined he was to become a warrior)

Dareth: Finchflight (named such because his mother named him and his siblings after the first thing she thought of; at his warrior ceremony, a finch flew overhead, so he was named Finchflight)

if you have ideas for anyone I didn't mention or have better ideas for anyone I did mention feel free to tell me lol

[riaclan]

Allegiances

Here are the up-to-date allegiances:

Leader

Bogstar - a silver and white tabby tom

Deputy

Hootglean - a light brown tabby tom

Medicine cat

Rosescratch - a long-furred silver tabby she-cat

Warriors

Pondfeather - a long-furred cream/golden brown tortoiseshell and white she-cat

Shrewtail - an unusually dappled pale gray tom

Apprentice: Daisypaw

Zinniajump - a long-furred pale gray tabby she-cat

Crowfreckle - an unusually spotted black tom

Apprentice

Daisypaw - a brown smoke she-cat

Elders

Lotusswan - a pale gray and white tom

Sunhawk - a long-furred masked golden brown tabby she-cat

[valentinedagger]

aight ive been struggling with this for days and i have decided i am simply going to post it now without redoing it a twelfth time

[ectomologic]

i fail being uninterested in this ship

(also sorry for the long absence, between exams, the loss of my tabley pencil and my internet it had been a rough month)

yes i ship this shit fight me

[thejoxaren]

They would be good for one another

[krembruleed]

......

[toxicgummy]

Rose/scratch #4 please :3 sorry its such an unconventional pairing!!

4.on the eyelids

[deerfests]

It's so funny that I went from mildly entertaining the thought of RoseScratch to the Night Springs DLC coming out and going down a spiral for them.

[afucknigpieceofgargbage]

i

don't

think

you

understand

how

much

i

lOVE THESE TWO

[trouble-gemini-cervidae]

The Winter of Our Discontent

You noticed her on the first day. It was hard not to. Her writing was flawless. Impeccable. It casts you into a different realm, one filled with fantasy and magic beyond the reaches of this pathetic earth.

You noticed him on the first day. It was hard not to. He was the teacher, after all. Even if every well-meaning smile sent a warm flutter through your chest.

on Ao3 (xx)

DOC SCRATCH

You notice her on the first day.

It's hard not to. Her writing is flawless. Impeccable. It casts you into a different realm, one filled with fantasy and magic beyond the reaches of this pathetic earth.

It's the first day of school at the Albany Academy for Girls, and you had decided to start your College Prep Short Fiction class with something informative and easy. Poetry.

"Class," you began, "Have any of you any experience with iambic pentameter?" A few hands raised, some more slowly than others. "Good, good. Now, for those of you who do not know or may have forgotten, iambic pentameter is a style of verse, commonly used in English poetry. William Shakespeare often used this style in his own writing. The word 'iambic' refers to the type of syllables which make up the verse, in this case, an unstressed syllable followed by a stressed syllable. The 'penta' in 'pentameter' refers to the number five, meaning that lines in iambic pentameter each have five couples of these syllables."

You give the class a couple examples from renowned authors. From John Keats, "To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells." From Shakespeare, "Now is the winter of our discontent." You repeat these lines a couple times, making sure to clearly stress every second syllable. You then have the class repeat after you.

To SWELL the GOURD, and PLUMP the HA-zel SHELLS.

Now IS the WIN-ter OF our DIS-con-TENT.

The first few weeks of class were meant to be spent doing early practice for next year's SAT's and working on college level essays. However, you weren't daft. You knew that the students would be less than thrilled to put their noses to the tedious grindstone right from the start. They would become disillusioned with the class immediately. No, you decided to start out with something simple, but something which would still tell you about the academic levels and personalities of your many students.

You announce to the class that you will hand out a packet further explaining and giving examples of iambic pentameter, and then you would like them to write a brief, eight-line verse in iambic pentameter themselves. There were no requirements as to what the poem should contain. As long as it was written in proper format, the poem could be submitted to his desk as soon as it was finished. It would then be traded out for another packet containing a selection of poems by Edgar Allen Poe.

You see a few of your students faces fall at the idea of having to do work so soon. However, you notice out of the corner of your eyes that one girl lifts her chin at the prospect. She has a light honey pixie cut, and decorates her eyes and lips with charcoal. It might've looked out of place on anyone else, contrasting with the white and lavender on her form-fitting t-shirt, but she somehow made it look natural. You couldn't help but to turn your lips up a bit at the corners. It always made your day a little brighter to see these young girls interested in your lessons.

You tell the class to go ahead and start. They all, one by one, shuffle through their respective items to pull out notebooks, loose leaf paper, pens of a variety of colors, and mechanical and wooden pencils. You pull open the laptop on your desk, check to see if everyone is in their correct seats. You posted a seating chart on the board, so you could count the students quietly instead of having to speak over their voices to see if everyone was present. You also avoided butchering anyone's names in this fashion.

You go through the copy of the seating chart on your laptop, eyes roaming over every girl in the class. Everyone appears to be present. Once that's done, you open a browser and flick through your email. There's one addressed to all the staff, full of general reminders to hand out the syllabi and whatnot. You have a stack of them on the desk next to you. You'll ask the students to take a copy on their way out of class. Speaking of students. You get out of your chair to make rounds around the classroom, silently observing the girls' work. Most of them are working studiously. You give a couple who are chatting in whispers a stern glance. They immediately quiet and return to their work. A lot of the students give you nervous glances or stiffen up when you pass them by. The woes of having authority. One of the only girls who doesn't skitter at your approach is the one you observed earlier. Her name was...What was it? That's right. Now it clicked. You had her older sister about two years back, a bright young thing yet prone to procrastination. The last name was Lalonde. The first? You couldn't remember. You would have to review the seating chart in order to learn all the names to go with the new faces.

The rounds come to an end and you sit back down at your desk. It had been about ten minutes since the beginning of the writing session and, judging by both the time and the observed progress made, it would take at least another ten minutes for anyone to finish. You figure this is as good a time as any to pull out some literature. Vladimir Nabokov. Just as you really become invested in your reading, the first paper lands on your desk. You figure you have the entire day to grade them. You can choose to slack off a little with a book right now. The rest of the assignments filter in over the following ten minutes, mostly tossed carelessly into a pile instead of the stack you would prefer. You wonder if one of the girls noticed your annoyance, as she picks up the pile and shuffles it into place. You don't look up to see who it is. Once all of the assignments are in place in front of you, you inform the class that you would like them to be familiar with the packet of poetry in two days. They have the last fifteen minutes to socialize and/or review their packets while you go through the papers. Glancing through them, most don't appear to be in correct format. You will grade them leniently, regardless. It is the first day, they are but schoolgirls, and you are a proper gentleman.

One page catches your sight among the others. Specifically, it is the name penned neatly in lavender in the top right corner which interests you. Rose Lalonde. Your eyes move down the page and you perk your eyebrow at the.. the exquisite writing shown below.

For maybe the third time in your career as a tenth grade English teacher, your emotions are stirred by a student's writing.

It's fantastic.

She writes of a world of witchcraft and wizardry, one filled with romance and eloquent prose. The words are mature and thoughtful, and you wouldn't have thought that this was something written by a young teenager in fifteen minutes. You read the script twice over, noticing that every mark was made very deliberately. There are no stutters nor crossing-outs to be found. She must have gone thoroughly through every word in her head before placing it onto the paper. Either that, or she was just a natural. You happen a glance up at Rose. She sits in her desk, one arm draped across the table, and the other propped up to support her delicate chin. Her bare legs demurely crossed at the ankle. Now, you always had a soft spot for Roxy. She was an absolute delight to have in class; she was excited and peppy without being obnoxious, and helped motivate the other girls multiple times. You recall that she had a friend that she broke the seating chart for several times to sit next to. After some time, you decided to let it go. You knew their names by that point anyway. You're going to try not to show the same favoritism toward her sister. But it might be challenging.

Rose turns her head slightly and she catches your eye. She seems to deliberate for a moment, closing her slightly-opened mouth. She then turns it up a bit at the corners. She's smiling at you coyly, a bit friendly for the first day. You realize that her older sister may have told her about you. Only good things, you can hope. You nod your head at the girl- at Rose- and give her a slight grin back. She turns back to the window she was gazing pensively out of. You turn back to the paper. Uncap your green marker. You write with clear penmanship:

100% - I'm looking forward to more.

[michetm]

MY DASH DID A THING 

bUT WHY