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#accidental tag journal
one-bunny-a-day · 4 months
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10/12/2023
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dykestache · 3 months
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my gf said i look very mustache mommy in these
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trixclibrarian · 1 year
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now — Illinois is the 2nd flattest state {see the husky & the fish inside their muzzle ?}
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potatobugz · 1 year
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when i was 8 i wrote a pokemon knockoff.. and yea it wasn't that great. but I still hold some nostalgia for it and I think I had the right idea so whatever. it's christmas (it's not christmas). here's some redesigns of those old characters
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enjoy!
(p.s. I actually think scooter would be a better name for the first character in the fourth pic but idk im still working on it)
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piplupod · 5 months
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nooooo dont find omens in the otherwise explainable, you're so sexy ahahahaaa
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rainbirdsky · 2 years
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shinyyyyyy
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thedietcokedude · 1 year
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i bought a new brand of gummy vitamins and i don’t like them which is honestly a really embarrassing problem to have at 25 years old. 
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floralprintshirts · 10 months
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My dad dying during pride month was really uncool of him.
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mrs-kelly · 2 years
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Comfort time, time to think about all my f.inal fantasy 13 f/o’s 🥰
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genderfluid-druid · 2 years
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starting to notice, not necessarily more body hair, but hair in places i did not have hair before. and also maybe a little thicker hair yeah.
now this is exciting to be sure yes. I'm very much looking forward to visibly hairy legs. (with blond hair, previously, even when i didn't shave you couldn't see it)
but! there is also a weird Unexpected Boon! which is that I've decided my legs now feel.... Protected. in a way i didn't anticipate. there's hair between me and the world now. ain't nobody gets to just See me n my skin. this is dope, I'm loving the World Shield i didn't know i was missing out on.
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angered-box · 2 months
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creating new tag for my blog before i forget. just going to put the date amd yes for when i take my meds cause i keep forgoring if i've taken them or not
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teamatsumu · 2 months
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the best bad decision. (iwaizumi hajime x reader)
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summary: “wrote a confession for character A, accidentally gave it to character B instead” - for my valentine’s day event - theme: confessions
word count: 2.3k
warnings: fem!reader, swearing, oikawa is insensitive sometimes, fluff
tags: @nishayuro @kitas-tapioca @kakashineedstotouchgrass @amisuh @avis-writeshq @samanthaa-leanne @akaashi-todorki @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi
event masterlist
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You liked to think you weren’t one to fall into stereotypes. But every once in a while you did something that reminded you that you weren’t different from everyone around you. Like right now, standing hidden behind the corner of this building, clutching an obvious red envelope in your hands, waiting for the volleyball team to shuffle out of their club room so you could sneak in and slip the envelope into a certain boy’s locker.
So you had a tiny little crush on everyone’s favorite boy, Oikawa Tooru. Sue you.
Your ears were on high alert, staying as still as possible so you could focus on the voices drifting out of the room. You were a bit farther away, since you wanted to be hidden, but if you strained yourself enough, you could make out the sounds. You tried not to make yourself tense, afraid you would wrinkle the envelope. You had been so careful with it. Making sure you didn’t smudge any words as you wrote, perfuming the paper afterward. You even used that expensive wax and seal that you bought only for journaling purposes. You wanted it to be known that you made an effort.
All for him.
It was hard not to fall for someone as charming as Oikawa. He was tall and handsome, he was always so nice, always welcoming to anyone who wanted to speak to him. He was beyond talented. You could watch him play for hours. You did watch him play for hours. At the end of the day, you were just like all the other giggling, blushing girls who admired him.
The only difference is that you had never gone farther than admiration until now. You had never spoken to him, never greeted him in the hallways, never made him anything to eat like girls often did. You had watched from afar and basked in the warm, bubbly feeling that comes with having crushes.
But now here you were, slipping him a letter with all your feelings written on it. You were going into this not expecting him to accept the confession. You hadn’t even put your name on it. It was anonymous. God knows how many of these he got on a daily basis. And with Valentine’s Day approaching, you were sure his locker was overflowing. What was one more, right? You were doing this for yourself more than anything else. You needed to get these feelings out because they were overflowing in your head.
You were shaken from your thoughts when you realized the locker room was completely silent by now. You listened closely, giving it another few minutes. No shuffling, no humming, not even a peep. The coast was clear.
You could feel your entire body shake as you turned the corner and stealthily hurried to the club room door. You couldn’t let anyone see you going inside, so you quickly opened the door, slipping in and sliding the door shut behind you. You let out a sigh of relief.
Then you turned around, and your eyes met wide chestnut ones.
Oikawa was standing next to an open locker, a half folded shirt in his hand. He had probably been mid fold when you had barged in, staring at you with those big browns, mouth slightly open. Thick silence stretched over you both as you stood frozen, not even blinking.
Oikawa’s eyes drifted down to your hand, the very obvious, deep red envelope. His lips twitched before a smile took over them.
“Hello there.” His voice was lively. “Is that for me?”
You tensed at the sound of his voice, your panic finally catching up to your brain as you gulped around the knot in your throat. “No!”
He raised an eyebrow at that, tilting his head a bit. A lock of his hair fell over his forehead. “No?”
“No.”
Another silence, awkward as anything. You couldn’t move at all. You felt like you were frozen in place. Every muscle in your body was pulled tight. You had never anticipated that of all the people who could catch you in the locker room, it would be Oikawa himself.
“So who’s it for?” He then asked, eyes darting between your face and the envelope. You felt your face burn, heating up so much it made you dizzy.
“It’s-” Your mouth was so dry. You had no saliva. None. Not a drop. It felt like you were incomprehensible. Could you even speak? Or was it all gibberish? Were you spiraling now?
Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god-
“It’s for Iwaizumi-san.”
Oikawa blinked at that, and you realized you had caught him off guard. Well, he wasn’t the only one. You had caught yourself off guard too. It seemed that, in the midst of your panic and staring at Oikawa, the only other person you could name was Iwaizumi.
Iwaizumi Hajime. Oikawa’s best friend. Seijoh’s ace. Someone you saw just as much as Oikawa considering they were attached at the hip. No wonder when you had to think of someone, you thought of him.
“Well now I’m truly shocked!” Oikawa sounded jovial, placing a hand on his hip, his half folded shirt crumpled in his other hand. “A confession for Iwa-chan? I never thought this day would come!”
Your mind raced and you tried to scramble your thoughts together into somewhat understandable sentences. But you had just dug this fresh hole for yourself and you didn’t know what to do to get out of it. In fact, at this moment, there was no getting out of it. You had to go along.
“Y-yes.” You managed to blurt out, not knowing what else to say, looking anywhere but at him, who was steadily growing more and more amused by the second.
“You have to give it to him!”
Your head snapped up, and that’s when you realised what true panic was. What you had felt so far was nothing compared to the shitstorm your brain was experiencing after what he had just said.
“Come on.” Oikawa threw the shirt carelessly into his locker, slamming it shut and fast walking to you. With one grip on your forearm, he tugged open the club room door and proceeded to speed out of it, dragging you with him.
“W-wait!” Your voice trembled, and you doubt he even heard you. You felt like your whole mouth was stuffed with cotton. You tried to lock your legs into place and break Oikawa’s momentum. It was not happening. He was way stronger than you. You tried to pry his hand off your arm, but his grip was vice-like.
“Oikawa-san!” You basically shrieked like a hyena, finally breaking through right outside the Seijoh gym. You snatched your hand away.
“I can’t!”
Oikawa stared down at you, blinking owlishly. You bit your lip.
“Oh.” He breathed, and you saw realization wash over his face. You froze. Had he figured it out?
“I get it.” Did he?
Then he promptly turned around and cupped his mouth with his hands, leaning in through the open gym doors.
“Iwa-chan!” He shouted.
You gaped at him, struggling to even comprehend what was going on in his head. But that was the least of your worries, because trudging footsteps sounded and then the boy in question was standing in the gym entrance, scowling down at his friend.
Oh no. Oh, this is bad. This is so bad, I’m so screwed-
“Look!” Oikawa pointed at you, or more accurately, he pointed at the envelope in your hand. Iwaizumi followed his gaze, and you saw his scowl drop as shock colored his features.
“It’s for you! Can you believe it?” Oikawa let out a cackle, leaning an arm against the gym door. You wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow you whole.
Iwaizumi looked genuinely incredulous, like this was something he hadn’t dreamt of in his wildest dreams. Later when you looked back on what happened, you would be surprised that despite being friends with the most popular guy on campus, Iwaizumi did not get much attention. He lived in Oikawa’s shadow, and he liked it that way.
Right now, his feelings were the least of your concerns though.
Finally free from Oikawa’s grasp, you lunged forward, slamming the envelope against his chest before turning on your heel and absolutely booking it. There was no other option. You couldn’t give that shit to Iwaizumi. You also couldn’t give it to Oikawa and say you had lied. It couldn’t get any more humiliating than it already was, so you might as well run away.
Very active fight or flight response, one might say.
Oikawa watched your back as you ran full speed, one hand holding the envelope he was so unceremoniously handed. He turned his attention down to it when the flowery scent hit his nose, and he couldn’t help but smile.
“Aw, she perfumed it too! How romantic.”
He grinned up at Iwaizumi, whose ears had turned red. Iwaizumi’s scowl deepened as he stared at the shiteating grin on Oikawa’s face. But he didn’t stop himself from taking the envelope Oikawa handed to him, his heart doing jumping jacks in his chest.
………………..
When you tried to convince your mom that you didn’t really need high school when homeschooling was a perfectly viable option, she told you to suck it up and there was no way you were dropping out. You didn’t know how to tell her that your life in high school was pretty much over. How could you show your face in any place where you might run into Oikawa or Iwaizumi?
But alas, you could only take one sick day before throwing yourself back to the wolves.
You were jumpy the whole day, paranoid that somehow everyone knew what had happened two days ago. But your day went by as normal, unaffected by the storm in your head. You should’ve known your peace wouldn’t last. At lunchtime, the one person you had been dreading the most was standing before your desk, looking down at you expectantly.
“I was hoping we could talk.”
Well. This was it. The one thing you were hoping and praying you could somehow avoid.
Iwaizumi led you outside for some privacy, finding an empty bench overlooking the school’s running track. You sat stiffly by his side, waiting for him to speak.
“I read the letter.”
You closed your eyes and nodded, coaxing him to continue. You knew the contents of the letter. You had mulled them over in your head ten thousand times yesterday. You had not written Oikawa’s name. You had talked only about how you felt about him and the thoughts plaguing your head. You knew how easily Iwaizumi could have thought it was about him and not Oikawa.
“I’m sorry.” You blurted out.
“For the confession?”
You hesitated. “For how it all played out.”
That was vague enough.
Iwaizumi let out a breathy chuckle, and you looked up at him. “I think I should apologize instead. Oikawa can be a bit of an insensitive jerk.”
You felt your lips twitch into a smile, shrugging. “He kinda steamrolled all over me.”
Iwaizumi groaned, running a hand through his spiky hair. You followed the movement with your eyes, gaze pausing on how his bicep flexed. Something in your heart stuttered.
Up close, he was extremely attractive. His skin was smooth and clean, and his hair looked soft despite being so short. His jaw was defined and his eyes were striking. When he looked at you for longer than a beat, it made your insides squirm.
“I’m sorry about him. He told me he found you in the club room. I’m sure you wanted to do it anonymously. He shouldn’t have dragged you here. That wasn’t cool.”
You smiled at how considerate he was being. “It- It’s okay.”
“And I’ll make him apologize to you too. Promise.”
His lip ticked up in a crooked smile. You couldn’t help but stare. You watched him grow a bit nervous, rubbing the back of his neck. A little habit?
“I was wondering if you would like to have dinner with me sometime?”
The question caught you off guard. You knew how Iwaizumi perceived you after the contents of that confession. You had just not anticipated that he would want anything to do with you. In your slurry of thoughts, you realized you had still not told him that the confession wasn’t for him. You stared at him, wide-eyed.
The sun beat down on your heads, casting harsh shadows on his face. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. And those same captivating eyes. You couldn’t remember ever appreciating him the way you were right now. Oikawa’s light was so bright it made Iwaizumi almost invisible. But here and now, it was just him. No distractions, no takeaways. Just Iwaizumi in all his glory. And it was making your heart skip.
“Okay.” You breathed.
Iwaizumi positively lit up at your words, straightening his back. His features smoothed, his eyes widened and a smile took over his face.
“Cool!” He blurted out, before clearing his throat. “That’s uh, I mean. Great. That’s great.”
You giggled as he stumbled over his words, endeared by his reaction. Your heart and mind both told you this was the right decision. With Oikawa, it was a puppy crush. With Iwaizumi, something told you it could be so much more.
Years later, when you told Iwaizumi about the exact intentions of that letter, and how you were beyond grateful you hadn’t given it to Oikawa, all he did was cackle while the Argentinian setter whined about how he had missed his chance.
He was joking, of course. He was the proudest best man ever at your wedding. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
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yanderecrazysie · 2 months
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Twisted Zoo: Chapter Two
This is based on the stories of a keeper reader with the octotrio by @ashensgrotto and @merakiui .
Also @twistedcece @cenatour @ursinaw @xiaopleasecomehome @bearshideout @koebishrimpuwu @v-sh @help-whatdoimakemyusername @secret-potion @magmdnv @sunshine-for-serotonin @mel-star636 and @thisisafish123 wanted to be tagged! Let me know if anyone else wants to be tagged for future chapters. If you no longer want to be tagged, please tell me! (I hope the tags worked, I'm new to having a tag list!)
Summary: You’re a brand new zookeeper at The Halfling Zoo- a place where half-animals live in captivity. Your job is simple- feed them and study them. Your main worry is that one of the more dangerous halflings might kill you. 
Unfortunately, that may become the least of your worries.
Previous chapter: Chapter One
Next chapter: Chapter Three
WARNINGS: none for now
Note: All characters are aged up, since there will be mature themes in future parts.
Also, I can’t promise I’ll finish this. I suck at finishing stories.
Note 2: I’m in love with Ruggie, so I accidentally made half of this chapter about him. Oops.
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You decided that the best course of action would be watching from afar. The hyenas were afraid of you, the king of the lions didn’t like you, and the wolves were wary of you. All in all, not the greatest situation.
You didn’t know what you expected. Did you really think they would all love you from day one? They were half-animals, after all. They had the instincts of wild animals, not domesticated pets.
Still, you were determined to make them like you. The hyenas would probably be easiest, once they warmed up to you. The wolves would probably get used to you eventually. The lions- well, that was a tricky situation. They all followed Leona, so you’d have to win him over before you could win over the entire pride, and that would not be easy.
You grabbed your journal and pen from your locker and walked to the savannah exhibit’s door. This time, you had brought a water bottle with you, prepared for the upcoming heat you would have to face. You had also bought binoculars from one of the vendors, knowing you would need it if you were going to keep some space between you and the halflings.
You entered the exhibit, wincing at the heat that hit your skin. You scanned the dry land for the hyenas and found them lounging around the watering hole, talking amongst themselves. You stepped behind a large rock and leaned over it, raising your binoculars to your eyes.
It was impossible to hear what they were saying, but they seemed to laugh a lot. You really wished you knew what they were saying, but if you approached them, they would probably stop their conversation and focus on getting away from you.
Day 1
HYENAS
There are seven hyenas and they all seem to be close to each other, as they stick together in a group. Their conversations seem to be humorous, as they are often laughing. This could be from their hyena half, as hyenas are known for their “laugh”.
Each of the halflings are easily differentiated by their hyena ears and tail. They all seem to be around 5’5, but even the tallest ones do not hit 6 feet. 
They are relaxed until a female approaches them. In this case, all seven hyenas are male, so the problem starts when a female keeper tries to feed them or study them up close. They suddenly become extremely wary or even frightened and are very hesitant to come anywhere near a female keeper.
The best way to calm them down, I believe, is to show them that you are not aggressive like female hyena halflings are. It doesn’t get rid of their fear, but it definitely helps.
You peered through your binoculars and watched the six hyenas as they drank from the watering hole- most of them scooping water into their palms and drinking from their hands, while others put their head down to drink directly from the source.
Wait- six hyenas? Weren’t there seven?
You felt a hot breath on the back of your neck and you spun around, heartbeat skyrocketing. There, standing behind you, was the hyena halfling you had talked a little bit with when you were handing out breakfast.
He retreated to a safe distance and sat down, cross-legged, studying you curiously, a slight smile on his face as though he was proud that he had frightened you. Suddenly, you were all too aware of the claws on his fingers and the unnaturally sharp canines that shone in the sunlight when he flashed you a lazy smile.
“Shishishi,” he giggled, eyes locked on you, waiting for your reaction.
“You scared me, Ruggie!” you said, your heartbeat starting to go back to its normal pace.
His grin only widened. You noticed his eyes flickering from you to your notebook.
“Oh! Are you interested in my notebook?” you asked, holding it out to him.
Ruggie frowned, looking a little offended, “I can’t read.”
Oh. You felt your cheeks growing warm. Of course a halfling, who had spent his life in the wild and then captivity, wouldn’t know how to read. It was a miracle that any of them had picked up enough English to be able to speak it.
“Do you want me to read it to you?” you asked.
Ruggie’s eyes widened and he cocked his head at you. Finally, he shook his head. A little disappointed, you closed your notebook. “That’s alright. Did you want to talk?”
Ruggie shook his head once more and you felt yourself at a loss for words. You weren’t sure why he was still here if he wasn’t interested in talking. One of the other hyenas made a whooping sound and Ruggie responded with his own hyena noises, turning his attention to the other hyenas for a moment before he turned back to you.
You decided to try to get him to speak to you, “So, did you enjoy breakfast? You had three servings, after all.”
Finally, Ruggie nodded then, as an afterthought, added, “I like donuts better.”
“Donuts?” you couldn’t help but laugh, “Would you like it if I brought some?”
Ruggie’s eyes widened, “Donuts?”
“Yeah!” you said happily, “My boss said I could bring you guys anything, as long as I paid for it with my own money.”
He looked at you like you had hung the stars in the sky, “Donuts!”
Ruggie called back to his friends with a series of whoops and other hyena noises and they responded back enthusiastically. You wished you could understand their language.
You turned back to your notebook.
It seems like hyena halflings like sweets or, at least this group likes donuts. One of them, the one named Ruggie, seems like he has warmed up to me a little. We talked a little, mostly about donuts, but I feel like he isn’t as scared of me as the others are.
Ruggie seemed to have had enough, because he stood up and, with a curious glance back at you, he ran off to join the others, kneeling by the watering hole to drink along with his peers.
You were a little disappointed by how short the conversation had lasted, but more than anything, you were excited that you had a conversation with a hyena halfling at all. Ruggie still seemed a little wary of you, but much more comfortable with your presence than earlier.
It was a step in the right direction.
You were not looking forward to seeing Leona, but you were already in the savannah exhibit and the lions weren’t too far off. The pride’s positions were the same as this morning’s, with Leona lounging on the large rock while the other lions sat and laid on the grass beneath him. The lions were either napping, grooming their hair, or just talking quietly amongst themselves.
The lions were not frightened by you and why would they be? They had a killer bite and claws on each hand. They regarded you lazily, as if you bored them a little.
“Hello, everyone!” you did your best to not sound as terrified as you felt. None of the lions stopped what they were doing for you, continuing their actions as if you weren’t even there.
You hadn’t even noticed at first that Leona was awake, until you glanced at the rock, hoping to get a reaction from him. 
He sat up on the rock, staring at you with an impassive expression. Despite his lack of a warm welcome, your heart soared. This was your chance!
“Hi there!” you said cheerfully.
He looked down his nose at you, clearly not impressed by your greeting.
“Did you have a good nap?” you asked.
Leona continued to stare at you, unimpressed with your attempts at earning his attention.
“So, I know your name is Leona, but would you like to know mine?” you asked hopefully.
Leona’s eyes turned to the right, as though he was making a decision. Finally, he spoke in that slow, rumbling voice of his, “Whatever, I don’t care. Go ahead”
You smiled up at him, pleased that you had gotten his permission, even though he wasn’t as interested as you had hoped, “I’m (Y/n), it’s nice to officially meet you.”
Leona laid back down but didn’t close his eyes, watching you as you looked back at him.
“Did you eat your steak? I don’t want you to go hungry.”
Leona’s eyes widened a little, as though you had taken him by surprise. And maybe you had.
His gaze evaded yours as he responded to your question, “Yes, I ate it.”
“Oh good!” you smiled happily up at him.
Leona studied you closely, clearly unable to read you. Leona tilted his head and turned away from you, “Is that all you need?”
“I’ll write in my notebook, if you’d prefer me to do that.”
Leona grunted in response and closed his eyes.
DAY 1
LIONS
The lion halflings are not shy like the hyenas, but they are hesitant to talk to me. I feel as though, if I earn their king’s acceptance, I will be able to talk to them all. The king has started to talk to me, even if it was only a few words.
The lions are taller than the hyenas, most around 6 feet tall. They are easily differentiated by their lion ears and tail. There are 19 lions, with most being female, and only one cub.
Unsurprisingly, the lion halflings spend a good chunk of their time sleeping. I assume this is from the lion part of them.
“Did you want to read what I wrote?” you asked, sensing Leona’s eyes on you. Your eyes met his and he held your gaze for a few moments before growling, “I’m going to sleep.”
He flopped back down on the rock and closed his eyes again, his breathing becoming rhythmic almost right away.
You didn’t want to bother Leona when he was trying to fall asleep, so you sneaked away, sending an unrequited wave over your shoulder to the other lions. Maybe if you weren’t so determined to get out of the heat, you would have noticed the eyes boring into the back of your head.
The walk to the wolves’ exhibit was a long one. After all, you had to cross half the savannah before making it out into the back hallway meant for staff. Then, you had to push through the crowds to get to the wolf exhibit. At least the crowds weren’t too bad, since evening was on its way.
You were excited that the sun was falling. You’d be able to watch wolf halflings at their preferred time of day. After all, wolves hunted in the twilight hours.
You hoped that didn’t mean they’d see you as prey.
The exhibit door opened easily and you found yourself breathing the air in deeply. It took you a moment to discover just why you liked the wolves’ enclosure so much. Mountain air. Somehow, some way, the zoo had made the enclosure smell like the mountains. The air was even a little thinner here than it was on the pathways.
These wolf halflings must have been living in the mountains when they were brought to the zoo. The thought made your heart hurt a little. Were they offered a deal to live in captivity or were they captured and brought here by force? You didn’t like to think about it too much.
This wasn’t your battle to fight.
The keeper who fed the wolves their evening meal walked past you with full buckets. As she passed you, she gave you a word of advice, “You aren’t gonna find them all together like they are at mealtimes. They all split up, especially in the evening.”
You nodded, a little disappointed. That could make it harder to find them, much less study them. Plus, it’s not like you could look in several directions at once. This might be a little more complicated than you thought.
Or maybe it’ll be fine, you reassured yourself, trying to stay positive.
You reached a steep, downward slope and decided it was probably the best vantage point you would find. You found a nice place to sit down between a cluster of rocks and took out your binoculars. 
It took almost half an hour for you to see any movement. Down, at the base of the hill, one wolf halfling walked close to the barrier between the wolves and guests. He had his back hunched in a sort of prowl, and you realized that he was probably in hunt mode. 
Excited, you pulled out your notebook to make some notes.
Your pen froze above the paper when you heard a growl.
You slowly turned your head, and what you saw made your blood run cold. A buff wolf halfling with dark gray hair and pin-pricked ears had his lips drawn over his fangs in a snarl. He was growling so ferociously that flecks of spit flew in your direction. His yellow eyes dilated as he grew closer, back hunched as though he were ready to lunge for your throat at any moment. 
You gulped, forcing yourself to stay completely still. You were afraid, if you moved, you’d have your throat torn out before you could blink.
The wolf took one step closer, growled one last time, then lunged.
The halfling seemed to stop midair and, before you knew it, he was lying on his side in the dirt a few feet away. The cause of his sudden stop was made clear after a few terrified moments, when your eyes turned upwards.
The white-haired wolf halfling stood with his shoulder still out in front of him. You realized that he had shoulder-checked the older wolf during his attack. Shakily you smiled at him.
“Thank you so much!”
The dark-skinned halfling took a seat on one of the rocks surrounding you. You studied his features, everything from his white tail to his white ear tips. He, on the other hand, watched the older wolf warily.
The older wolf pushed himself to his feet, shaking the dirt from his clothes. His yellow eyes glared at you, but he limped off in the opposite direction, disappearing into the shadows of the trees. 
The white-haired halfling turned his attention back to you. You decided to offer your friendship to him.
“My name is (Y/n), what’s yours?”
He stared at you for a moment, before his rumbling voice said, “Jack.”
“It’s nice to meet you Jack,” you said, trying not to come across as too excited to be talking to him. You didn’t want to scare him away with your eagerness.
Jack continued to stare, his golden stare softening a little when he said, “Not safe.”
He didn’t seem to have a very good grasp on the English language, but that was understandable. It didn’t seem like the wolves were all too friendly toward humans.
“I have to stay,” you explained to Jack, hoping he would understand.
“Not safe,” Jack replied. He got up from his sitting position and crossed the distance between you in less than a second. You watched, trembling, as his one of his clawed hands took hold of the back of your shirt collar. 
You blinked owlishly as Jack began to carry you by the collar, stunned by his behavior and not wanting to tick him off by fighting. From what you could tell, he didn’t seem to want to actually hurt you, but you didn’t want to push your luck.
After a long walk, Jack set you back down on your feet. He pointed one clawed finger behind you. “Not safe.”
You turned around and, to your surprise, you were met with the exhibit door. Comprehension dawned on you. He wanted to keep you safe.
“No, no, I’m okay,” you soothed, “I have to study-”
“Not safe,” Jack responded, voice even gruffer.
You tried to come up with the perfect solution. You had to soothe Jack but you also had to do your job.
“Well, you could protect me,” you suggested.
“Pro-tect?” Jack’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, keep me safe,” you replied. Jack took a while to think that one over. Finally, he nodded.
He followed you back to your spot like an obedient puppy, but refused to sit down, choosing instead to hover over you, eyes darting in all directions.
Day 1
WOLVES
Wolf halflings tend to be around 6 feet tall, distinguishable by their wolf ears and tails. There are 12 of them in this zoo, with 6 females and males each. 
Some of the wolf halflings are very aggressive, and this seems to amplify in the evening hours, possibly because these are their hunting hours. One wolf, however, acts in a protective manner towards me.
It is interesting to note the wolf halflings appear to be in hunting mode despite just being fed.
All of the halflings, save for one, have hair and fur in different shades of gray, while one has white hair and fur.
You didn’t see any other wolves for the next few hours and you eventually decided it was time to go home. Jack shadowed you on your way to the exhibit entrance. You waved goodbye, and he mimicked the action awkwardly.
Laughing a little, you went home for the day.
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loaksky · 1 year
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— 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘦
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the lowdown — the one where you and neteyam are a sure thing. 
the who — neteyam x fem omatikaya!reader
the word count — 2.5k
the tags & warnings — none other than possible language! this is just really sappy & self-indulgent lmao, childhood bffs2l, both parties are so in love but SCARED.
the notes — based off of this request! got a lil carried away bc i love neteyam <3
masterlist
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Everyone would argue that you and Neteyam are written in the stars. 
You two had been whispered about far before your coming of age, at the start of your youth when they’d notice that Neteyam was extra soft and you were extra shy. And it had been natural, really. He was the olo’eyktan’s son, and you were the sweet daughter of the olo’eyktan’s most cherished friend and dearest partner in crime. 
At first Neteyam had vehemently denied it, cheeks flushing at the mere mention of your name, but after many sweet moments, you’d grown so much on him, he couldn’t hide his fondness even if he tried. 
You were charming and resolved growing up, often times spending afternoons reading under the shade of leafy plants near the edge of the village. It’s the same spot Neteyam would pass on his journeys into the forest, unable to contain his smile as he sees the faint indent of where you’d lay outlined in the grass. 
You were an eager learner, going through lab materials and borrowed media from Norm and Max who’d visit the village every once in a while. You’d applied a lot of what you learned to your practice, training under Mo’at, Neytiri, and your mother in the chance that one day you’d lead the clan in their spiritual endeavors. 
It was one of the things that Neteyam admired most about you, your quiet drive. Your passion and your commitment to your craft. He couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but feed into it, into you. 
He’d hound the scientists in the lab for more content for you, would come back with stacks and stacks of books that would make your cheeks warm. And he’d hand bind you journals, fashion you utensils and smash various fruits and petals to a fine paste for you to compile your findings. 
There wasn’t a thing that Neteyam wouldn’t do for you, any lengths he wouldn’t travel just to see you beam up at him with that radiant smile. Neteyam could admit wholeheartedly that he was whipped. 
“Thanks, Teyam,” you’d say gently, arms winding around his waist in a crushing hug. “Appreciate you.” 
His breath would hitch and he’d just grin. 
It didn’t help that you were so achingly beautiful, made his throat bob every time a gleam of sun would refract over your dimpled cheeks. Made his cheeks warm and his body freeze when your skin, soft and smooth, would brush his in accidental touches. 
There was only one small little issue. 
It was a conversation he’d try and fail to have with you multiple times over the course of your adolescence and into your young adulthood. At first, it was unspoken, he was certain it was the two of you for life, but as you trained and passed your rite, the final piece to your coming of age was fast approaching; selecting someone to spend your time with. 
He was a year your senior and the rumor mill was alight with buzz. He hadn’t chosen someone on the night of his feast, had suspended the selection in favor of urging everyone that the timing wasn’t right. 
This didn’t deter a number of fine women from the village taking their chances, advance after gutsy advance that would always end with the sound declaration that he was already waiting for someone. 
That had only solidified the village’s theory about the two of you, that he was holding out for you, waiting until you chose him right back to claim you as his own. It was a sweet thing, most of them felt, would cast tender looks every time the two of you would interact under their watchful gazes. 
But you were a creature of habit, didn’t like being under such prying eyes, yet too nice to let it be known. Neteyam knew, though. Would steer clear of curious glances, would spend whatever free time he had soaking up every moment with you in the shield of the forest. 
He was a strong man with only one weakness: you. 
He’d thought he made himself clear with that, thought that everyone knew that you were spoken for and it was his mighty word, but he comes to find out that there are many young men who’ve been lingering, waiting for any opportunity. 
This much he notices when an especially buff warrior with a narrow waist and broad shoulders emerges from the outskirts and starts hanging around a little more often. 
Ku’aro, Neteyam thinks his name is. 
It had started off innocent, a small thanks for a healing session Mo’at and your mother let you lead when he hurt himself in a hunting party, but Neteyam knew better than to think that no other man would succumb to your charms. 
It continued with bundles of flowers, fruits, little trinkets Ku’aro would surprise you with when Neteyam had other responsibilities he had to tend to. And it wouldn’t have bothered him as much if he’d never seen the little gifts again, but you’re too sweet for your own good, displaying them on the same ledge in your tent.
They take up room next to every one of his thoughtful gestures and the thought of sharing your attention with another man makes him prickle with envy. 
But he could live with it if it made you happy, could push aside his pride and keep his irritation mum if the gift-giving was all it was. But now Ku’aro is starting to chisel into his time with you, stealing you away for walks through the forest, swims in the river. 
And it makes him absolutely seethe, makes him exceptionally angry every time you emerge from the brush with Ku’aro hot on your heels. His mind races and he can’t help the sick thought of you being with someone who isn’t him seep into every crevice of his brain. 
Had you two ever…kissed? You weren’t the type of girl, but things change and he’s not above admitting that he’s as jealous as they come. 
“Something wrong, Teyam?” you ask, looking up from your book. 
He’s sighed for the fourth time in the hour, fidgeting so uncomfortably that you’ve been rereading the same sentence for the past ten minutes because you can’t concentrate. 
His tense shoulders relax when he meets your viscous gaze, lips parting because the forest is darkening with the impending eclipse and you look so soft and glowy. 
He clears his throat. 
“No,” he coughs. “All good.” 
You don’t seem to buy it, head tilting as you inspect your friend carefully, book dog-eared and set off to the side as you shuffle nearer. 
The aroma of herbs and spice, the tang of petals, surrounds him as you press a hand to his forehead, the other to his chest. 
You have to feel it, the way his heart is pounding audaciously. 
“Your heart’s beating fast, Teyam,” you observe. “And you’re warm.” 
“S’just a little hot,” he swallows, hands circling your wrists to pry your touch away. 
You lean back on your haunches, still in his grasp as you peer up at his pinched expression. 
In all your years of closely orbiting the olo’eyktan’s son, you know that something weighs heavy on his mind. He bears a great burden regardless, but something is different this time around. 
“We’re friends, Teyam,” you say tenderly. He could literally melt. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 
Of course he could, you’re the most understanding person he knows, the purest of hearts. But he doesn’t want to spook you, scare you into resignation by interrogating your budding relationship with Ku’aro. 
So he treads carefully. 
“Your selection feast is approaching,” he says breathily, blinking down at you. 
You mull over it for a moment, a smile spreading over your full lips. 
“It is,” you agree, pulling away to toy with your fingers.
A few prolonged lapses of silence pass before Neteyam continues to try and fill in the gaps. 
“Have you…” He shrugs. “…thought of someone yet?” 
Of course you had, you’d know it from the very beginning, no second thoughts needed. It had always been you and Neteyam since the beginning, thick as thieves. 
There have been many things you’ve been uncertain of growing up, but there’s one thing that you’re sure of, and it’s that Neteyam is your end game. 
“I have,” you hum simply. 
He waits with bated breath, eyes unblinking. 
You don’t continue and he’s opening his mouth to ask you to clarify, but the brush starts rustling and Ku’aro’s emerging. 
He wants to let out the most frustrated groan of disapproval when Ku’aro’s eyes light up. Wants to grill you more but knows that he’ll have to wait who knows how long before he can get you alone to press again. 
But what he doesn’t know is that the looming feast is your grand gesture, the occasion you’ve been mustering your courage for for years. You like to think it’s the least he deserves after years of his blatant displays of affection. 
“Wanna go for a walk?” Ku’aro asks, holding up a woven bag of what smells like spartan fruits. 
Your eyes flit to Neteyam’s and he can see the promise that lingers there as your hands squeezes his gently. 
“See you soon,” you say, collecting your things before standing to your feet. 
He knows you mean it, knows that you never make a promise that you can’t keep, but he can’t help the feeling of dread that coils tight in the pit of his stomach.
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Ku’aro stands a little too close as you two walk through the forest, eating the spartan fruits that he’d picked before he sought you out. 
“I have to ask you something,” he says, after a pregnant pause. 
You turn just in time for him to nearly barrel into you, strong hands coming to right your stance. You stomach knots when you notice he’s close, eyes gentle and glowing as he gazes down at you. 
“Yeah?” you peep, body tense as his fingers skim your biceps, down your forearms and clasp your hands. 
You’d held hands with Neteyam countless times, had spent so much time in his space, that the touch of another isn’t lost on you, but this makes you feel queasy. 
You ease away. 
“I need to be courageous,” he says. “I know your selection feast is approaching and…” 
You know what he’s going to say. You’ve dreaded it this entire time, hoped that village gossip and the copious amounts of time you’d spend with Neteyam would be the glaringly obvious sign that you weren’t interested in anything beyond a friendship. 
“Ku’aro…” you sigh and his face falls a fraction. 
He’s already pieced it together in his head. 
“It really is him, huh?” 
He’d known. Of course he did. No one was blind to it, just wishful thinking on his part that maybe he could get you to see someone else. 
But your heart was locked up tight, an impenetrable fortress that refused to unravel for anyone but him. 
“I’m sorry,” you say apologetically, then add, “you have been very kind to me, and a woman will see your great heart one day, but it can’t be me.” 
His smile is sad, but he’s known it was a losing battle going in, worth a shot if anything.
His shoulders shake with a defeated laugh. 
“He’s a lucky ass,” he says, extending the remaining fruits to you. “My peace offering to him. I know he’s been boiling recently.” 
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Your walk with Ku’aro couldn’t have been more than a hour, but Neteyam waits for what feels like an eternity. He’s lingering in the same spot you’d left him, spacing out as he paces, waiting for your arrival. 
His body goes rigid when he feels a pair of arms circle around his waist from behind, but relaxes when he wafts the familiar scent of herbs and spice. 
“Hi,” he whispers, voice hoarse from disuse. 
He turns to face you, brushing your hair behind your shoulders to get a good look at your face. And despite wracking his brain for the latter part of the hour you were gone, he tries to get a grip on his composure. 
“Have fun?” he asks, insides gooey as your face angles towards his, chin poking his chest as your eyes curve into crescents along with your smile. 
“Was okay,” you tell him. “He let me bring back the rest of the fruits.”
Neteyam resists an eyeroll. 
“Probably dry,” he remarks quietly and you can’t help the full laugh that leaves your lips at his snarky remark. 
You wanted to put it off until the night of the feast, but you can tell there’s an internal warfare that agonizes him. You were shy, not a fool, had known that he was waiting for any concrete evidence that you’d chosen him. 
And at first you thought it was obvious, could read him like one of your books. But you hadn’t realized that maybe you weren’t that easy to read, years of growing up learning how to remain composed for your potential role leaving you internalizing every feeling. 
“You asked me about my selection feast…” you trail off, making him shiver when you start drawing small shapes on his spine. 
“Uh huh,” he agrees shakily. 
“You’re curious, huh?” you ask. 
“You could say that,” he laughs, but you hear the twinge of uncertainty. 
It makes a ripple of sadness work through your veins. 
“Well…” you start. “I like someone. A lot.” 
The flame of hope flickering in his chest dances, the smile on your face an obvious tell. 
“Do you now?” 
He should’ve knew never to doubt you, should’ve known with the same ferocity as the other villagers that you two truly were written in the stars. 
You hum in agreement. 
“You gonna tell me about him?” he bites. 
You peel away from him, shy, even though you know that there isn’t a surer thing on the moon. You tilt your head, grin bashful as you clasp your hands behind your back and start pacing. 
“Well, the most important thing is that he is kind,” you say, pausing to think for a moment. “And he’s strong, a great warrior and very brave.” 
His chest pumps infinitesimally.
“I think he cares a lot about me,” you continue, then correct yourself, “I know he does. He is gracious and so thoughtful, never makes me second guess myself. He is my greatest supporter and makes me want to be a better person.” 
Neteyam’s smile is unbridled. 
“Most of all, he is my best friend,” you swallow, eyes searching his. “And while I love every person who has made me who I am today, nothing compares to how much I love him.” 
His breath hitches at the words, your first official declaration. 
“And it doesn’t help that he’s very, very, very handsome,” you add, standing before him.
Your eyes settle on the beadwork of his choker, too sheepish to meet his eyes as you brush non-existent debris off his shoulders. 
His fingers catch yours and you look up find that tears are welling in his eyes. 
“Teyam,” you coo, a watery laugh leaving your lips at that sight of the usually poised leader-in-training showing far more emotion than you’d seen in the lifetime you’ve known him.
“Don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear that,” he chuffs, head bending forward to rest on your shoulder. 
You want to tease him, ask him if he’ll say it back, but you already know. 
Everybody does. 
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neng © 2023
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taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn , @fanboyluvr , @neteyamoa , @itssiaaax , @girlpostingsposts
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agoodsoldier · 1 year
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as a librarian and archivist, fanfiction about goncharov is FASCINATING. as far as i can tell, this is the first time a fandom tag has been applied for a source material that doesn’t exist. obviously fandom tags have been used in interesting ways before, from the most conventional conundrum of crossovers (that alliteration was accidental! oops...); to fanfiction for fanfiction (e.g. DTA fanfiction); to fanfiction for a broader work which has several manifestations (e.g. “Marvel”, which is more of a conceptual work than a real source text, since it manifests differently in comics, movies, TV shows etc.); to original content (which just gets its own fandom tag). but has there ever been a case where a fandom is created for a source text that never existed in the first place?
and is there a duty on the part of ao3 cataloguers/archivists to represent that unreality in the description? does ao3 ever provide contextual description for standard tags? normally (for example - the tag description for 9-1-1) it just says what category the tag falls under. i’m sure i could read more about it in cataloguing/classification journals but if anyone has insight lemme know :)
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ghcstao3 · 10 months
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Even without his art, Soap is a people-watcher—but that being said, finding muses for his art is a job made easy when the biggest window of his flat overlooks a busy street.
For as long as he’s lived at that address, he’s had plenty of luck picking out whoever catches his eye and filling out sketchbooks worth of passersby. Every drawing a stranger, every subject unique.
Until the empty business space across the street is finally leased out to some new bistro, and suddenly Soap only has eyes for one person.
A man too well-built to be a server, surely, with arms Soap could watch flex all day as he brings out orders to customers on the patio. Soap never knows what expression he wears not because of distance, but rather the black face mask that obscures the lower half of the man’s face.
When, weeks later, Soap notices that he’s suddenly almost filled an entire journal with sketches of the server, he decides to finally pay a visit to the bistro.
It isn’t at all luck that gets Soap seated in his—the server’s section, just the pathetic fact that he’s long since memorized the man’s oddly reliable schedule.
If Soap were a stronger man he’d never admit to the feeling of his knees going weak when the man comes to take his order. The name tag tacked to the white dress shirt that stretches over broad shoulders reads Simon, and god, does Simon have a nice voice.
As soon as he’s gone with Soap’s request, Soap’s sketchbook is open. He’s quick to scribbling out every line and curve he couldn’t possibly have seen from afar, and ends up so enraptured in this new angle that he doesn’t notice Simon has returned until he’s looming over his shoulder, gaze fixed on Soap’s journal.
“So that’s what you’ve been drawing.”
Soap startles, slams his journal shut. All he can manage is a weak what? as he looks up at Simon.
The server jerks his chin in the direction of Soap’s building. Soap notes, with some distant observation, that he’s still balancing several plates on his forearms with ease.
“I’ve seen you in the window a few times,” Simon tells him.
Soap wants to melt into the floor. He desperately needs the earth to crack open and swallow him whole.
“I’m sorry, it’s not—it wasnae—“ Soap stammers, his fingers drumming an anxious pattern on the faux leather cover of his book, “I’ll stop.”
“I don’t mind,” Simon hums, leaving it cryptically at that. He finally sets Soap’s food on the table, bidding a good meal before disappearing off to go do his job.
Soap doesn’t think the buzzing warmth on his face ever fades for the entirety of his time spent at the bistro. Simon never checks in with Soap like he does other patrons, either, so Soap just gets to wallow.
Things are hardly made better when Simon says hope to see you around after Soap has paid, or when Soap gets home and notices the phone number scrawled on his receipt just as he’s about to ball it up and toss it out.
Going to the bistro was a mistake. Simon is surely going to be the death of him.
Or Soap is going to be the death of himself—especially doing something dumb as accidentally leaving his sketchbook behind in his haste to get out.
Soap’s cheeks burn.
And when he looks out his window to the table he’d been sat, he already sees the journal is gone.
Idiot. What a complete and utter idiot.
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