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jals-stuff · 1 month

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Some Rayne brainrot...

this is some stupid (and a bit horny??? no? yes? i don't know) stuff that went through my mind last night

MDNI PLEASE! this spawned in my head, no context

warnings: female reader, rayne is ooc and pervy, he is staring, dubcon (bit steamy at the end), bit of swearing, bit of horniness, mentions of boobies and peen...

i am very sorry, i wrote this with 0 hours of sleep. barely proofread. enjoy

Rayne Ames. The Divine Visionary, the Sword Cane.

If you watch animal documentaries, you are probably aware that cheetahs can stay in the same position for up to sixteen hours without moving at all…

Well, it so happens that Rayne’s facial expression is like a cheetah. He somehow always looks like you’ve told him a really bad pun, and he’s judging you for it (not funny, did not laugh). He probably even has this face on while he sleeps, eats, showers, and probably even while he decides to please himself.

And yet, despite looking annoyed every second of the day, despite looking like the unfriendliest guy in the whole Academy, he looks absolutely stunning. Anyone would agree that Rayne Ames is a feast on the eyes. And you, as his seatmate in class, aren’t one to deny this.

.....................................................................

It was your last class hour for today and you couldn’t wait to go back to your dorm room and rot in bed like the absolute lazybone you were. Changing out of your uniform was now an emergency, as the shirt you had picked today was somehow way too tight for you.

Being clueless with basic things such as laundry had its pros and cons. Sure, your clothes were smaller now and you could barely fit; but it made you look incredibly sexy! …or so you kept telling yourself. Maybe you were just trying to cope with the fact that you were incredibly bad at basic human tasks.

You made your way to the classroom and got your notebook out.

Today’s subject was pure theory, and you would’ve fallen asleep if you didn’t have the most scrumptious distraction sitting right next to you. You spent the hour doodling, taking notes whenever you paid enough attention to do so, and mostly throwing quick glances at your seatmate, Rayne, who was way too focused on the soporific theoretical experiments your elderly professor was passionately explaining, to pay attention to you.

When the old man turned around to write something on the blackboard, Rayne finally turned a fraction of his attention towards you. Of course, this happened during the minuscule amount of time you weren’t looking at him, and he took notice of a few things.

First of all, your notes were an absolute mess. Instead of trying to keep them consistent, you had picked a few words the teacher said, and chose to throw them into an adventure with other words, picked at different moments during class, resulting in an abomination that wouldn’t make sense, even to you. But you wouldn’t know, of course, since you never read your notes anyway.

He would give you bonus points for the adorable little bunnies you had been doodling for the majority of your time in class, though.

Secondly, you seemed like you were about to sleep, but given the way you were taking notes, everything sort of made sense. Not your notes though, only the fact that you weren’t invested enough to stay awake.

Third of all, your shirt. He wished his eyes hadn’t lingered for such a long time on it. Why was it so tight? “Is she so dumb she can’t even do laundry?”, he wondered to distract himself from the fact that the button that kept your shirt closed around the chest area had the strength of a thousand lions.

His eyes moved back to your face, and at this very moment, you chose to look at him. Your eyes met, and his expression was, as always, unreadable. Was he bored? Upset? Annoyed? At this point you were pretty sure he didn’t know any better. But it seemed a bit different this time, you could’ve sworn you saw his lower lid twitching slightly.

You decided to turn your attention back to the teacher— or at least pretend to, for a while, and it lasted for a whopping fifty seconds. Efforts had been made! You deemed yourself deserving of a little treat, and an attempt was made to look at Rayne once again.

His eyes were still on you. Now it really felt like he was upset. You were used to his icy glare but it was getting a little uncomfortable, and so, as one does, you had a great shitty idea. You decided that stretching your back could maybe help you release some of this discomfort, and your button, may it rest in peace, gave up on its sole task of keeping your shirt closed.

You couldn’t tell where it went at all. In fact, you didn’t even notice, but you did feel a little more comfortable now that your chest area was no longer being compressed, except it was in a literal meaning now, and not just figuratively speaking. You could still feel Rayne’s eyes on you, and decided that you wouldn’t look at him for the rest of this oh so boring class.

What you hadn’t noticed was that his eyes were no longer on your face, but rather on the missing button’s previous spot. “Is she so dumb she can’t take care of her clothing?”, he wondered to distract himself from the fact that he could now clearly see your bra.

He could see that one mesmerising spot where your breasts were pushing in a wondrous effort to get out of their insufferable lace prison. In fact, pretty much anyone could’ve seen it if they had turned around, but it seemed this professor was either hypnotic or soporific because everyone was staring in his direction.

You were then blissfully unaware of the fact that Rayne was now leading an internal battle. He had to get his eyes off of your cleavage, for your breasts were not the only things screaming for freedom anymore. Ah, perhaps Rayne was also bad at laundry, because his pants felt increasingly tight the longer he stared at you.

Divine Visionary or not, he was but a man, and what power does a man hold when presented with sweet bosoms? None. That’s right. He tried to think about anything else. Rabbits? His little brother, Finn? The concerning relationship Lance had with his little sister? The way alcoholism thrived amongst the ranks of the State police? No matter what went through his head, he couldn’t take his eyes off of you.

He had to do something about it, and you were probably not escaping this one.

.....................................................................

As soon as the bell rang, he closed his coat as much as he could, and grabbed your arm before you could leave, and this time you could tell he was pretty upset. Why? How could you know? You didn’t know anything. Had your head not been attached to your shoulders, you would’ve probably lost it already.

Instead of giving you any sort of explanation, he immediately dragged you with him. Your life felt like a movie that was playing in front of your eyes. My time has come, you thought, but… not quite.

You found yourself in Rayne’s dorm room, locked in with him. His roommate wasn’t there, and it was clear this crime would leave no witnesses.

It took him half a second to remove his coat and— oh. You were suddenly in Egypt.

Everything was there: the stone hard pyramid, the Sphinx (that seemed ready to pounce on you), and the heat. Oh boy, the heat. As a very refined lady (yes you are), you brought your hand to your chest in indignation, and oh, how distraught you felt when you realised that your beloved chest button was nowhere to be seen. It was all starting to make sense.

Without a word, he pushed you against the wall and his lips met yours in a rough, steamy kiss. Your whole body felt like it was on fire; his toned chest was pressing against yours and breaking your buttons further, his clothed erection was slightly rubbing against your clit through your panties and his hands roamed your body hungrily while his tongue left no corner of your mouth unexplored.

It was all a lot to take in but it felt so intoxicating, the way his large hands held onto your hips to keep you from squirming too much underneath his passionate touch, and how his teeth were grazing against your lips while a mixture of both your salivas dripped from the corner of your mouth.

His body was grinding against yours like waves on the beach, and both your breathings were becoming increasingly noisy. Only after long, delicious minutes of this make-out session did he break the kiss, panting for air, as he looked into your eyes with a lustful gaze you were now used to seeing.

It wasn't your first time pushing his buttons like this, and it certainly wasn't your last.

“You did it on purpose, admit it.”

Whaaat, you? Pfffft, never! But… let’s just say you’re not usually that bad at doing your laundry.

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smol reminder that i am very bored and i also take requests for mashle, hsr, genshin, jjk, elsword, tower of fantasy...

xoxo

#rayne ames #rayne ames x reader #mashle x reader #mashle #rayne x reader #magic and muscles #anime #anime character #mashle smut #rayne ames smut #rayne smut

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braxiatel · 4 months

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You know that “if it were a drawing I would call it a doodle or a sketch” incomplete fic I posted a while back?

Well here’s another from a few months ago.

Mumscarian (shocking, I know) hunger games au except instead of being told from the POV of someone in the hunger games it’s told by someone they left behind.

Content warnings are all similar in style and detail to the hunger games books, anx include injury (with specific mention of broken bones, spinal injuries, eye injuries, burns), references to genocide, displacement, and loss of a parental figure. Child- and animal endangerment, dissociation, non consensual body modifications, and possibly more that I cannot recall at this moment. Proceed with caution.

———

Cats have healing powers.

Scar was the one who told him that, on a cold winter’s day in front of the fire. Had it really only been months? It felt so much longer…

Something about their purring, Scar had said. He had been more specific than that, but Mumbo’s head was somewhat hazy at the moment.

But the purring healed you, Mumbo could remember as much.

Still, he was pretty sure Jellie alone wasn’t going to get him out of this one, not for lack of trying.

It was her fault he was here anyway.

… No, that wasn’t true. He would have said as much to himself if not for the fact that even moving his lips to take in gasping breaths was agony.

They had been warned before the bombs started to drop. There has been time to run, Pearl’s hand in his so they did not lose each other in the crowd.

Until he saw a woman carrying a goat in her arms and remembered-

“I have to go back,” he panted through strained breaths - he was nowhere near as fit as Pearl, who had been washing the coal-smeared clothes of half the Seam since age eleven to make ends meet.

“What?!” Pearl asked, continuing to pull him towards the hovercraft that was waiting on the green. “Mumbo if we stay we’re going to die. Whatever you forgot it isn’t more important than your life, if can be replaced, I promise. Just-”

“Jellie,” he interrupted her. “We forgot Jellie.”

Pearl’s grip slackened. The crowd kept moving around them, indistinct bodies pushing them forward and together.

“It will break Scar if he comes home and finds out she’s gone. I’ll just… two minutes, okay? I’ll be two minutes. I’ll go to his house and if she isn’t home I’m leaving without her. I just have to try.”

Pearl had looked as though she wanted to argue. She was practical though, in the same way Grian was, in the same way every child that grew up in the Seam was

“No sense in wasting time then. Go. Two minutes, Mumbo, and no more.”

Jellie continued to purr in his arms, unaware of the danger they were still in.

Suppose he had fancied himself a romantic, running back into a doomed town to save his sort-of-boyfriend’s cat.

Grian would laugh and call him an idiot… or he would have once. Grian didn’t do a great deal of laughing these days.

Mumbo could taste blood on his tongue. He wondered if any of the animals that lived in the forests beyond District 12 could smell it, if at any moment a mountain lion might finish him off, defenceless as he was.

He wondered if any of the animals were even still alive.

There had been blood on his tongue the day it started too.

His father - his adopted father that was - always chided him for the habit of biting on his cheek when he was nervous. But not today. Xisuma may have been smiling under his breather, but the Mayor of 12 was anything but calm. Wishing that another boy - any other than Mumbo - would be the one whose name was drawn today, did not sit well with Mayor Xisuma, who had been appointed to keep the citizens of 12 in line and dedicated himself to keeping them safe instead.

Today Mumbo bit his cheek, lined up with every other boy age twelve to eighteen in the district.

Well, almost. Scar had offered him a wink from the line of girls, standing out like a sore thumb in his trousers and the white shirt that had long ago been tainted a greyish brown by wear.

Although Scar was only a little more than a year older than Mumbo, he had been towards the back with the other seventeen-year-olds, while Mumbo was perfectly in the middle, still two weeks shy of sixteen.

“You look as if you’re about to implode from sheer stress,” a familiar voice has said from behind him.

Mumbo couldn’t remember what he had replied anymore, but he did recall how the hints of blonde in Grian’s hair had stood out in the sun that day. Pearl, he knew, always insisted on both of them having a proper bath before the reaping.

They would have shared the same banter they always did. Grian would tease him for being nervous when his name was barely in the draw at all, and Mumbo would mentally assure himself that Grian was right, he was safe.

That had been the day he learned what he should actually have been fearing all along.

The world had stopped turning when Scar’s given name was called out.

It had taken a moment before anyone had recognised it, it had been years since he used it last after all.

“I prefer Scar, actually,” he had corrected, stepping out of the lineup with a smile on his face.

Scar’s nose wrinkled when he smiled and meant it. Mumbo had admired it a thousand times in breaks between lessons and walking home through the Merchant’s section of the district, had tasted it on his lips far too few times for Scar to go off to his death now.

Grian’s hand was a steadying presence on Mumbo’s back for only a moment before the next name was called.

“Grian Xelqua.”

This time the world had stopped spinning altogether. In Mumbo’s memory it did anyway.

His next real memory was sitting opposite Grian, in a room adjacent to his father’s office, babbling about making sure Pearl wouldn’t be left alone through sobs.

He had felt so awful about those tears. There he was, crying about the prospect of losing Grian and Scar, when his best friend and his boyfriend were both about to leave to die horribly in the Hunger Games.

He had only been given a moment with Grian before Pearl arrived. Even thinking about the look on her face as she went to tell her twin goodbye still chilled Mumbo to the bone.

Next, he had guided to see Scar, the seat still warm from Cub having sat there only moments ago.

Most people would have put Cub’s quick departure down to the fact that he and Scar were cousins so many times removed they were only barely more related than anyone else in the Merchant’s section.

Mumbo knew the truth to be something else entirely. Cub was a man of few words and a practical one at that. In the coming weeks, many would look sideways at his apothecary as it continued to be open even as Scar fought for his life in the games. Mumbo understood, though, and so did Scar.

“I love you,” it had been the first time either of them had said it, their romance still new. Now Scar spoke the words carefully, stroking Mumbo’s tear-stained cheek before he continued to add: “But when I leave this building I am going to have to forget that, and I want you to do the same. I love you, Mumbo, and that’s why I’m going to make sure you don’t lose both of us.”

At the time he hadn’t thought he would ever know greater pain than having to hide his feelings away, watching Scar use his golden tongue to charm the masses of the Capitol, convincing them of his undying devotion towards Grian, never once mentioning Mumbo in all of his interviews.

He was certainly in more pain now... Mumbo had always been a bit of a spoon, though, so it was no wonder he was wrong about that too.

Jellie crooned in his arms and Mumbo forced his right eye open - the left remaining stuck shut just as it had since the fire had licked across his skin.

Jellie’s fur may be a little singed, but Mumbo’s blood had put any fires that had touched her out. He almost wanted to laugh at that, but his lungs were stinging from the smoke and the ash in the air and it was all he could do not to choke on it.

Above the chasm he was lying in the wind blew harshly, stoking the fires consuming the forest around him.

It was definitely ironic that he should die this way. For months now he had had nightmares of flames, ever since that fateful day when the 74th Hunger Games had ended.

Grian had all but dragged Scar through the forests, Scar’s left leg trailing after him like deadweight and his right barely able to support him, fire chasing them ever forward.

Mumbo had been sick three times that day. When the fire started, again when a dagger was wedged into Grian’s right eye, and finally when the game makers had announced that Grian and Scar could not win together after all.

He had missed the part where they took each other’s hands and walked to the edge of a cliff, ready to throw themselves off together instead of either of them winning alone.

The fire crackled above the chasm again.

“Go,” he hissed through uneasy breaths, nudging Jellie with his shoulders. “Please.”

Scar would be devastated if she were to die this way, and he had only just started smiling again…

Hollow. That was the only word Mumbo had known that might describe Grian and Scar when they returned from the games. Facades, stitched together and polished by the best the Capitol had to offer, the very picture of Capitol beauty with none of what mattered left.

Scar had smiled and joked that hey, at least they had taken the tits while they were rearranging his skin to cover the fact that his leg had been mangled beyond recognition by a trap once meant to hold a fully grown bear. Mumbo had laughed. It hadn’t been funny in the least.

And while the things Scar said rarely failed to make Mumbo feel sick to his stomach, it was Grian’s silence that disturbed him.

That had come to a head one evening when Grian had torn the prosthetic eye from its socket, hurtling it so hard against the marble walls of his house in the victor’s village that the plastic had cracked. A new had arrived within the week.

Mumbo coughed and hacked, pain wracking his body as the smoke clawed on the inside of his throat and his lungs.

Stupid, stupid Mumbo. He had known the chasm was here, he had seen it on his adoptive father’s maps of the district enough time that he should have known to run the other way.

Granted, it had been more than half a year since he had last stepped foot in the mayoral office, when his father had disappeared overnight and his uncle had been put in charge of District 12 in his stead.

Xisuma’s brother had never been fond of either of them, and he paid little mind when Mumbo simply moved into one of the many spare bedrooms in Grian’s house in the Victor’s Village after they returned from their victory tour of Panem.

Officially he had become Cub’s apprentice, the district still needing medicine even though their one apothecary was now living with his cousin-nth-removed in luxury.

Unofficially he and Scar had finally talked again, combing out the tangled knots of their relationship and what it could even be now that Grian and Scar were only alive because of their status as the star-crossed lovers in the eyes of the citizens of the Capitol.

Mumbo loved Scar enough that he did not mind only holding Scar’s hand in private, did not mind how Scar looked at Grian in public view and in quiet moments at home when he thought no one would notice, did not begrudge Scar a single bit of the patience and space he needed before he was ready for Mumbo to kiss him again.

Scar, in turn, had not minded how Grian latched himself to Mumbo, how Mumbo and Grian would share a bed when nightmares kept them awake, and how Mumbo could not help but blush whenever Scar spoke of Grian.

In another world, they might have spent years dancing around the issue before they developed the emotional maturity to recognise that there was love enough between them for all three of them to share.

In this world, however, they were not afforded the luxury of time. It had felt as though Mumbo had only just gotten his two favourite people back, only for it to be announced that in a few months time, he would have to see at least one of them leave again, off to compete in the 75th Hunger Games as the only two living tributes in District 12 apart from Impulse, whose experience as a mentor was the only thing standing between Mumbo and the very real possibility that both of the boys - the men - he loved would return to him in a coffin.

Mumbo sobbed at the thought, then sobbed again when he continued to shake, muscles tensing and untensing around broken bones and ruptured organs as the morning sun rose to greet him, crimson red through the not-so-distant fires consuming his home.

Surely Grian and Scar were dead by now. The games… Mumbo was not politically savvy the way his two partners were, but he knew well enough that they had been supposed to die in the arena.

“Go,” he begged Jellie again, the burns on his face stinging as salty tears ate away at them.

Scar wouldn’t want her dead. Scar wouldn’t want anything, because he was no doubt dead in a box somewhere far, far away in the Capitol, but he wouldn’t have wanted her dead had he been alive.

The fires were close now, the air so thick even Mumbo’s desperate attempts for air seemed to yield none.

No one would miss him.

It hit him just then.

He was going to die, a broken body left to rot or burn in a chasm by a broken District. Grian and Scar would die too, his father had been dead for months. No one would even know that he was gone, just one name on a dizzyingly long list.

Silly, silly Mumbo, running back into a town doomed to burn to save a dead man from a broken heart. Pearl had been right, he shouldn’t have gone back.

Oh, Pearl! She would know he was gone. How had he managed to forget her? He felt he ought to know but his mind was providing nothign but static.

Another pang of guilt. He had promised Grian she wouldn’t be alone once, and now she would, all because he had been too sentimental. Because he had been too slow, clinging tight to Jellie as he watched the hovercrafts take off. Because he had taken a wrong turn, getting himself thrown into this stupid chasm by one of the countless bombs that had devastated the only home he had ever known.

“Go away,” he hissed at Jellie while he still had air left in his lungs to do so. “Shoo.”

Jelliw finally rose from her position at his side, earning herself a wet sob when her fur rubbed against one of Mumbo’s burns.

She yowled back at him, a familiar tone of complaint that most often harbingered-

Mumbo cringed when the first drop of rain hit his ruined skin, but instantly felt a wave of relief as water cooled his burns.

Soon the air was clearing too, his breaths less ragged but just as wet as it travelled through his ruined chest.

His one good eye fixed on Jellie as she sought shelter under an outcropping of rocks, looking expectantly at him, unaware that he couldn’t move to join her.

For now he was enjoying the relief of the rain anyway. His burns cooling, fat drops of rain slipping between his cracked lips to wet his tongue. He was certain he was far too calm when he congratulated himself on the fact he would likely bleed out rather than die of thirst.

Above him the fires hissed and sputtered, and for the first time since the alarms had sounded, he allowed himself to disengage from the situation.

His mind floated to the town he had grown up in. Would any of the Merchant’s Sector still be standing? He very much doubted it, given how long the bombs had continued to shake him to his bones and make his teeth clatter even after his tumble to the bottom of the chasm.

If any parts of the Seam were still standing it would only be because it covered a far larger part of the town than the Merchant’s Sector ever did, most of the houses barely able to withstand normal wind and weather.

Mumbo had called the Victor’s Village home for the past several months, but he found himself hoping it had been destroyed as well. There was nothing left for him there, even if he had held any hope of surviving.

Mumbo opened his eye with a start realisation: he very much did not want to die.

Silly thing to forget, really, but as had been established Mumbo could be rather silly.

He must have been drifting in and out of consciousness, because by now the crackle of the fire had grown distant, leaving a deadly quiet in its wake. The rain had stopped, and the clouds cleared enough to allow him to see the last rays of the setting sun painting the sky bruise purple.

He heaved in fresh air, his whole being shivering and shaking with the cold rain soaking his broken body.

His eye drifted to the side, to where Jellie was lying on her paws, watching him intently. She had a cut on her ear he had not seen through the haze of the smoke, but seemed otherwise unharmed.

Here were his choices:

He could stay where he was, dying of exposure or to his wounds.

Or he could try to move, and at least die somewhere slightly more dry and comfortable.

The choice would have been easy to Grian and Scar, he thought. Grian would have clawed his way out of the chasm by now, and not even death could have stopped Scar from holding Jellie in his arms.

To Mumbo it was far from simple.

See, Mumbo didn’t want to die, but he very much didn’t want to be in pain either and he had a feeling moving would hurt a great deal.

His mind was hazy, something that had been vivid earlier unclear to him now. Why did the thought of Grian and Scar make his eyes sting with sticky tears?

He didn’t want to leave them…

With a sob Mumbo realised he really had no choice at all.

“Jellie?” he asked. “Get Scar, won’t you? I need you to get him… I need you to get Scar so that he’s here when this is over.”

Jellie for her part stood and stretched, and that was enough to convince him that somehow the cat had understood his pleas.

Okay. This was it…

He flexed his toes but otherwise had no luck kicking against the ground.

No other thing for it, then…

If pain had weight the one that hit him must be hundreds of tons.

His lungs screamed for air, seizing as he dragged himself one little bit forward. The bone clicked in his arm, but far worse was the white-hot burning radiating through his spine and into his legs.

He wouldn’t have made it much further than half a metre when he collapsed against the wall of the chasm, his ears ringing… or perhaps that was simply the screams echoing through the chasm?

With each thundering beat of his heart panic spread further through his body, seaping into every muscle and every fibre.

“Help,” he called, voice hoarse and throat dry. “It hurts.”

A noise from above his head. A flicker of hope.

The rain had washed the blood from his face, at least enough that he could force his other eye open and locate the source of the sound. Jellie, despite her age, was quite athletic and had made it almost all the way to the top of the chasm.

Well, it wasn’t help, but it was a start, right? Jellie would run home and get Scar, or Grian, or maybe even Xisuma. Someone would find him…

The sun rose and at some point in the night Mumbo had stopped feeling the bite of the cold - in fact the chill dew on his skin was quite refreshing, as was the trickle off water next to his head.

He couldn’t move to drink it all, but with a tilt of his head he was able to gulp some of it down, soothing the dryness in his throat.

The forest was so quiet today. Mumbo had only ventured beyond the fence with Grian and Scar twice in his life, but what he recalled most clearly was how alive it had been compared to the stifling settlement they called home.

There were no birds now, no rustle of the wind in the leaves, not even the distant sound of hares and other small animals skittering through the forest floor.

Mumbo’s stomach churned. Was that roast meat he could smell on the wind? When had he even last had something to eat…?

He wished his clothes were not so heavy. If only they were lighter, he might be able to move and remove his shirt. When had the sun become so warm?

He tilted his head to drink more water, mud and ash sticking to the sides of his mouth.

The moon, too, was warm tonight. Mumbo had never known it to be as much before, but nonetheless, it was even warmer than the sun had been. He felt as though he was burning up.

The stars were so bright, as bright as Mumbo had only ever seen them through his father’s telescope. It had been the nicest thing they owned, the lense scratched but still functional enough that he had been able to look through it and dream himself far away.

They moved oddly, reflecting in the helmet of the person standing at the top of the chasm.

Their language was garbled too. Mumbo never knew there were animals that looked like people in the forest…

He blinked, tilting his head a little for a better look.

The person-animal recoiled and Mumbo wanted to shush it, tell it he grew up sheltered in the Merchant’s Section and had no idea how to harm it even if he wanted to.

It made another garbled sound. Except…

Except…

“-Nd a survivor. I repeat I have found a survivor. Requesting urgent medical attention.”

The person-animal - who may in fact just be a person, come to think of it - climbed down the side of the cave.

First they removed a glove, revealing pale skin, and then their helmet. A cascade of red curls fell out, framing a young woman’s face.

“My name is Gem, Scout for District 13. Can you hear me? Can you tell me your name?”

He blinked, certain he ought to know how to respond to that. His tongue, however, remained unyielding.

“Mumbo! MUMBO! Let me go! I need to see him!”

Mumbo wished he had the energy to turn his head and look up and see the owner of the voice, but he was simply too tired.

“Get him out of here and start working on getting a stretcher down here, I think his spine might be broken,” Gem said over their shoulder. Their tone was far softer when they turned around and spoke to him. “Mumbo? Is that your name? Mumbo, listen to me, you need to hang in there. Whatever you saw during the bombing of 12 could be very valuable to the resistance, so you have to hold on a little bit longer so we can get you to a doctor.”

The bombing of 12…

Mumbo knew he should feel something. Panic, grief, anger, anything at all.

In reality, he just felt tired.

“Grr… ggi,” he tried.

“You want Grian?” Gem asked. “Sure, sure. He’s on his way to the hovercraft and in a moment you will be too. I’m just going to give you something for the pain and the fever, okay?”

Fever? Since when did he have a fever?

A weight on his chest lessened a little, relief flooding through him as the dull throbbing of pain he had been feeling from his everywhere began to subside.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Gem instructed. “You might get a little tired but it’s very important that you don’t fall asleep.”

Mumbo wanted to open his mouth to tell them that of course, he wasn’t going to fall asleep. Instead he blinked and a moment later he was somewhere new. It looked like home, looking like the Market Square, only not at all. The Market Square should be bustling with late afternoon activity, judging by the sun being in the west. The market Square was surrounded by buildings on all sides, whereas this place barely had any rubble worthy of being called ‘walls’.

There was a mask over his face, one that reminded him of his father’s breather, its edges digging into his flesh.

“Let me go this instance or I swear I walk - and don’t think Scar won’t do the same. We both care about him and- Mumbo!”

Grian’s face entered his view. The Capitol liked to style him in a way that made him look older than a mere seventeen, but that was not the reason Mumbo could see no trace of the boy that had once sat next to him in school barely more than a year ago.

His one remaining eye was dark, clouded by unbridled fury.

His gaze softened a little when he sat next to Mumbo.

“Can I touch him?”

Yes, Mumbo wanted to say. His body felt so wrong, cold and hot and numb and aching, all of it all at once. He wanted Grian to hold him, wanted Scar to join in as well. Come to think of it, where was Scar?

“If you’re careful.”

Hold on, that voice was familiar. Cub? Why was Cub here? And where was ‘here’ anyway?

That train of thought died as cold lips pressed against Mumbo’s temple. Odd, Grian normally ran hot.

“Hey.” Another kiss, this time on his forearm of all places. Then again, it was one of the few places that didn’t tingle with pain… “Thought I’d lost you for a moment,” Grian whispered, one of his fingers trailing over the part of Mumbo’s arm he had just kissed.

The world shook, and Mumbo’s body went slack with pain.

“Gently,” Grian hissed over his shoulder. He looked at Mumbo again, and he looked so very human. “Be gentle… Mumbo? Mumbo?! Mumbo, you have to-”

If Grian actually told Mumbo what he wanted him to do, it was lost somewhere between the humming of the world around them and the static in Mumbo’s ears. His eyes had slipped close, and for the first time in days he felt safe to rest.

—

Mumbo was aching.

That was the first thought that crossed his mind. Next was this: he was not at home in the Victor’s Village, nor was he in the small apartment in the Justice Building that had been his childhood home.

The bed was too short for him, the linen too coarse, and most offensive of all there was an incessant beeping next to his right ear.

Heavy footsteps - familiar ones at that - approached and a door swung closed with a whir.

Right. The door opening had woken him in the first place.

He opened his eyes and had to blink when he saw the familiar face of his dead father.

“Xisuma?” he tried to ask, the name muffled by the mask sitting on his face.

“Oh, Mumbo, thank goodness,” his adoptive father said in the same tone as he would normally use when Mumbo came home half an hour late after taking the long way home from school with Grian and Scar. “Grian, he’s awake.”

Mumbo strained his eyes, only barely able to make out the bright red colour of a familiar sweater.

“What?” Grian, too, seemed to just have woken up. “Oh! Mumbo!”

A chair scraped across the floor and a moment later Grian came into view too.

“You’re alive,” Mumbo tried to say, trying to enunciate the words as much as he could with his mouth being as dry as it was.

“We could say the same to you,” Xisuma told him, pushing a lock of hair out of Mumbo’s face just as he had done when Mumbo first came to him at age seven. “I don’t know if you have the worst or the best luck in the world. Falling down a ravine like that, and staying safe from the fires and the bombs. Do you know the scouts only found you because Jellie found them and insisted they follow her? She’s getting a well-deserved rest now, but you’d better thank her when you’re up and about again… or well… Well, yes, when you see her.”

Though his father’s rambling was a comforting background noise Mumbo had missed dearly, one thing stuck out to Mumbo.

The bombs. The fires.

“12 is gone,” he shuddered.

“Some of the people made it out,” Xisuma told him. “The ones smart enough not to go running back after lost pets.”

Oh, had he really done that? Mumbo was certain he must be blushing with sheer embarrassment.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it, though. Scar would have been devastated if anything had happened to Jellie.

Scar.

The thought struck him and the beeping sound increased.

“Gri?” He asked. “Where’s S…”

Mumbo choked on the words, his throat aching from the smoke he had inhaled and the dry air flowing through the breather covering the lower half of his face.

Grian waited for him to finish coughing, his hand resting on Mumbo’s right arm as a steady presence.

“He’s okay,” Grian told him, though the waver in his voice told Mumbo otherwise. Grian had always been a terrible liar, and Mumbo knew him far too well to believe him.

Judging by Grian’s expression he realised this too.

“He’s alive,” Grian corrected. “The Capitol have him. But we’re already looking into saving him. We’re going to get him back, Mumbo, I swear. You came back and he will too…”

Grian rose to his feet, kissing the same part of Mubmo’s forehead he had earlier.

“I’ll fix it all,” Grian promised him. “The two of us, we’ll find a way to bring him back, even if it means burning the Capitol to the ground.”

#hermitcraft #hermitshipping #mumscarian #mumbo jumbo #GoodTimesWithScar #gtws #Grian #Pearlescentmoon #geminitay #XisumaVoid

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hey-august · 22 days

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Ooooooh let’s go!

PORTRAIT

-wait come back

-I’m full of surprises

🖤🎪🖤

Yeaaaaah, thank you for requesting!! 🖤🖤🖤

Prompts: Portrait, "Come back." "I'm full of surprises." Teaser: “You tried, it’s cute,” he muttered at the paper. The confession came out slowly with trailing thoughts since half of his mind was dedicated to the moving pen. Warnings: SFW. Established relationship, Buggy x GN!reader, slight profanity Word count: ~900

Check out my 250 Follower Prompt Event and see fulfilled prompts here.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The shelves in the captain’s quarters were packed. Books, scrolls, and folded parchments were scattered throughout the nooks. Contraptions in various states of dismantling or creation were crammed into crannies. There were busted compasses, rusted knives, and broken telescopes. Half-eaten snacks, grimey forgotten glasses, and greasy fingerprints were added to a list in your mind.

Amongst the chaos there was calm. You dragged your hand along the sections with organized piles of your personal books and belongings until you reached a special space. A space that was more decorative than functional. Nudging aside a few gems and seastones, you grabbed an empty blue bottle. The dried flowers in your hand whispered amongst themselves as you nestled the bouquet into the bottle and placed it back on the shelf.

A bundle of papers in the shadowy corner of the shelf caught your eye. You carefully retrieved one from the top of the pile and unfolded the paper to expose familiar handwriting and drawings. Crabs and seagulls from your memories explored the edges of the paper, moving between seashells and small sketches of grassy hills and sandy dunes. The remnants of time passed kindled a longing in your chest, with heat that radiated out and burned in your fingertips.

---

Buggy returned to the shared room and found you sitting at his desk, head bowed with focus that kept you from noticing the door opening. The sentry lounging on the corner of the desk was too lost in her afternoon cat-nap to notice his appearance either. Buggy paused for a moment, remaining a quiet observer. He watched how you carried the pen across the paper. Your movements were both airy and fluid - you were drawing something.

Curiosity and restraint grappled in the pirate’s body. He wanted to see what you were creating and could easily send over the necessary pieces to satisfy that desire without detection. But spying on you felt wrong. But you hadn’t noticed him and it would be easy. But still wrong. But he wanted to know.

Splitting the difference, Buggy took a few long strides to reach the desk. The bootsteps from his approach broke your concentration, but he walked quickly enough to get a peek at the paper. Doodles and…something else.

“Oh, hey! I didn’t know you were back.” Your words and movements were flustered as you stood up and flipped the paper over, hiding your work.

“It was time for a break. What are you up to?”

“I was putting some flowers away.” You gestured towards the dried bouquet on the shelf while trying to slip the paper off the desk. The movement was halted by the strategic placement of Buggy’s hand while he leaned on the furniture.

“Are those my flowers?” The captain asked the rhetoric question with a grin. The kind of grin that made your stomach flip.

Buggy changed position so that you were between him and the desk. He leaned into your space, filling your vision and your thoughts. You nodded.

“And what’s this?” He shuffled the paper behind you.

“Nothing. I was just passing time, it’s nothing,” you said, feeling a heat creep on your face. It was a mix of warmth from Buggy and nervous embarrassment.

The paper sighed as it was flipped, revealing all of the nothing you did. A little pirate ship sailed a wavy sea. A large lion and a small cat sat side-by-side. A silhouetted acrobat walked across the high wire, with a bucket of popcorn waiting to catch them below.

Buggy tracked the paper, following the multiple versions of his Jolly Roger that you drew, each one slightly different and absolutely perfect. The rasp of his touch stopped at a particular sketch towards the bottom of the page.

“Is that supposed to be me?”

You turned and looked, despite knowing the answer. Fuck. It looked worse than it did a few minutes ago. The long hair looked like a mess of worms on their deathbed. Two piercing eyes stared into the darkest depths of your soul. A round circle that was so simple it looked out of place. And a smile that looked okay until you shaded around it, extending the expression into something that looked like it could eat a whale in one bite. There was no denying that this was a drawing of Buggy, but it looked nothing like the man standing in front of you.

“It’s nothing. Just ignore it.”

His gaze was locked on the paper. You tried to pull it away or flip it over, but his hold prevented you from removing the nightmarish art from his view. Giving up on retrieving your shame, you chose to leave it behind and walked away.

“No, no, no, wait! Come back,” Buggy said. His hand tugged at the sleeve of your shirt. “I like it.”

You stopped. “Don’t lie. It’s awful, I can’t draw people.” You turned around to see Buggy hunched over the desk with a pen in hand.

“You tried, it’s cute,” he muttered at the paper. The confession came out slowly with trailing thoughts since half of his mind was dedicated to the moving pen.

“There, finished! Come look,” Buggy said excitedly, slamming the pen onto the desktop.

He drew you. Well, it was more of a sketch, and it somehow matched your choppy attempt. There was a noticeable difference in skill, but his was used to adjust his style to compliment your clowny portrait. Seeing your faces side-by-side was…well, he was right. It was cute.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you said, admiring his attention to detail.

“You could say that I’m full of surprises.”

You could hear the smirk on his face. A smirk you leaned in to feel on your lips.

#buggy x reader #buggy the clown x reader #buggy the clown #buggy x you #x reader #buggy op #opla buggy #one piece buggy #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #hey-august 250 follower event

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fishfingersandscarves · 1 year

Text

unsent - 1989

[Excerpt from an unsent letter found on Robert “Hob” Gadling’s shelf in the Library of the Dreaming]

Dear Stranger,

Funny.

You know, you’d think with all my years of writing letters and sending letters and burning letters I’d be better at writing them. Maybe I’m just too talkative for my own good. All these words get jumbled up in my head and stop just before they leak out of my pen; it’s easier to talk it out. Stream of consciousness and whatnot. I shall endeavor to do my best, but I’m no James Joyce.

Anyway, letters. I didn’t exchange letters with Eleanor, though I learnt them some twenty-odd years before we met. Ironic, nowadays, for a printer to be illiterate, but you know how it was in those days. I’m sure you’re well-read, you seem the type to love stories. Grand ones, probably. Myths and folksongs, and those crappy paperbacks that Summer lends me.

(We met in Lucerne. Cloud topped mountains, clear waters. Lots of cows and cats everywhere you look. There’s this lion relief that’s there, looks straight from those C.S. Lewis books. Anyway, we saw the lion, walked the bridge and ended up having a drink. She was on break and was working on her thesis on Gender Communication in Germany during the 1400’s and I was drinking my way through the rest of Europe. So it goes. She’s a good friend.)

Eleanor had wide handwriting. Probably wasted more coin on journals for her than I could afford, but it was worth it to watch her smile and worth it more to glimpse her doodling in the margins. I started copying her O’s, I think. A reminder.

Elspeth and I exchanged letters like currency. A last-ditch effort to resist the novel of the telephone on her part. She loved old things. (ha) But was so excited when we sat for a daguerreotype the very first time. As always, she was late to the trend, but I remember the moment afterwards, when everything had cured and the photographer had tilted the copper plate to catch the light and I could see us standing there, clear as a reflection in glass, all miniature and solemn. I kept it until I couldn’t anymore. Lost it on a sailing ship out from Bombay in 1912, I think. I remember it though. She had spidery print, like she was always pressed for time. She filled both sides and more every time she wrote me. Tried to learn shorthand to save time but she would get it all mixed in with her cursive instead. I swear it was like I was deciphering code at times! Her long spiking Y’s still follow my hand. It gets messy and I tend to smudge, as you no doubt can tell.

I don’t know if you know any of this already. You know everyone so… I suppose you probably know this all too.

Well.

Enough stalling I suppose.

I waited for you. Into the wee hours, until Martin, the bartender, clicked on the lights and told me to go home. Smoked a whole pack and then some out back afterwards, loitering by my car like some bloody dolt. I kept thinking, “Maybe this’ll be him.” Stupid, I know. I feel like a sucker. Some great idiot. Like this is all one cosmic joke. I know you’re not human, I’m no fool. You’re long-lived like me, that is certain. You were interested once. In my experience. In me. I wonder how long you can hold a grudge. Two hundred years? Three? I’ll wait for you. Of course I will. I shouldn’t have said what I did back then. I should’ve thought it through. But, here I am, talkative, stream of consciousness. All fancy words for someone who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up. When not to push.

I should’ve just said it outright. That I’m lonely too. It gets hard and then it gets better. But it’s easier when we’re not alone. People need people. And who knows? Maybe you’re not people. But you’re my friend Maybe I’m not either, not anymore. And us not-people need to stick together. I would weather the loneliness with you if you’d have me.

I wish I could see you. I wish it wasn’t like this. Me, waiting and wanting. I want to see you. I want to know you. I want more of you, in every way.

I’ll be here, in 2089.

I promise.

[Torn and crumbled, here, the letter ends]

now on AO3

#my writing #the sandman #dreamling #the sandman netflix #dream/hob #smth smth memory of people can be shared through habits retained #i havent written epistolary fic in a hot second #also elspeth is from the comics! fun fact

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thylacines-toybox · 1 year

Note

i love love love love the chimera character in your icon!! did you make them? if you did, do youve detail pics and/or wip pictures? i really want to make / modify a sensory plush for myself so i love the addition of things like the teether tail and would love to see all the little beastie's features and learn more about them if youre ok with sharing!! and in general, do you ever post WIPs or tips abt sewing?? thanks for your time and sharing your amazing work with us!

First off, yes I do have a few bits and pieces of sewing advice in my plushie advice tag! There could always be more, though…

I’m glad you enjoy my chimera, I love him too! He was such fun to make and come up with all the babyish details for, and I’m very proud of him.

I don’t really have wip pics of the chimera (since I was kind of in The Zone making him) but I can take you on a, uh, short tour of his features, that sounds fun!

The baby boy himself… lots of pictures and words under the cut!

Here are the first doodles of him as I came up with his design! I was trying to make a cute lion/lamb (the meanings of the two parts of my irl name!) which is basically a chimera already, and the combination of primary colours, rainbows, and a cloud-like wool mane made the weather theme just happen.

Obviously I just had to sew this! He already looked just like a colourful baby toy.

Here is his lovely little face. I took style inspiration from a lion toy I had already, and to keep him accurate to a baby-toy style, I used embroidery stitches to make his face rather than any “choking hazards” like plastic eyes. I’ve not really used embroidery before so it was pretty hard to do neatly!

He’s also got ribbon loops for whiskers (or are they sun rays?) and you can also see a bit of star-textured minky fabric on his face and ears. Fun textures are important!

His mane is made with a super soft and fluffy fur fabric. Maybe not strictly “baby safe” since it can slightly shed fibres, but it’s very nice, and I’m not exactly a real baby lol. His horns have a nice ridged texture, you’ll see what those were made from in a moment…

Oh, I also added a banana scent chip from Build-a-Bear into his little head, because I love that smell. He’s a multi-sensory plush alright.

His front paws have some noises in them! In the red one is a squeaker, and the blue one is a rattle. You can buy these especially for putting in toys, but the rattle I used in him was actually just a little plastic capsule with a few beads inside like pictured!

All four paws have a bumpy rubbery texture on them. Rather appropriately, they are made from actual baby socks! I found a multipack of different colours that matched my planned colours perfectly by sheer luck.

The ridged horn material came from the top of the red sock!

Here is the tummy, also made with a star textured fabric. It has a cylindrical chime inside which makes a lovely musical jingling sound when he’s tipped around.

While bean filling probably isn’t baby safe either, I did put a beanbag in his bottom because I like a bit of weight and it helps him sit nice.

The wings have matching dimple textured minky on one side and smooth minky on the other. I feel like dimple minky is a must if you want to make a babyish toy!

Inside the wings are some pieces of (clean) cereal packet to give them a light crinkle sound. You can buy crinkly material especially for this too, which can be a lot noisier! He’s actually very quiet as crinkly toys go, but I’m okay with this.

He’s got some little raindrop patches made from dotty cotton, with more embroidered edges which I recall having a lot of difficulty with… looks good though! As well as textures, you gotta include some fun visual patterns in a baby toy too.

And finally, the tail! A thick rainbow ribbon holding a cloud shaped teether - another lucky find in a baby shop! It came attached to a squeaky sun and crinkly rainbow, currently held by another toy.

Originally I’d simply stitched the end of the ribbon in place around the teether, but then I got some plastic snaps (for making bandanas with!) and found they gave it a much nicer finish.

And that’s about it! Hope you enjoyed getting to know the little chimera and his features!

#plushie advice #baby toy #sensory toy #thyl-ask-ine #chimera

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scarletfire03 · 9 months

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when I first got into half life I was still very much a furry. so here have fur-life doodles Also yes this AU started out as a furry AU.

gina and gordon are both hyenas but gina is a striped hyena

vvv some lore and explanations for shit vvv

you may notice I didn't choose obvious animals for some characters. most people would probably make adrian a shepherd dog of some sort since his last name is literally shephard. I don't like using domesticated animals for furry designs tho. its too easy, its overused and kind of a weird concept if you think about it. how the hell were these guys domesticated. instead, I like to go for less popular choices and more uncommon animals. I chose a close relative of sheep for adrians design because i think its a bit ironic that the shephard is a sheep. also they have cool color patterns which I really like :D

as for gordon being a hyena, this was originally just a random idea I had. just tried choosing a cool animal. but when I developed this idea I realized that I could do a lot more with this. hyenas are seen as scavengers that aren't very strong and they are also seen as not very intelligent cough cough the lion king cough cough this is completely false. spotted hyenas are highly intelligent and social creatures and they take down their own food for the most part. they are strong. have you seen their jaws?? they are capable of breaking bones with their bite. I wouldn't dare to mess with one. the more I thought about this the more I felt that it was very fitting for the guy that is considered a goofy idiot by most of his coworkers (every fucking scientist at black mesa seems to treat him like hes just an intern and like he has 0 skill) to be a hyena. hes completely misjudged by everyone around him. and during the resonance cascade he showed the world that everyone was wrong about him. at the same time, his actions might've strengthened those stereotypes in some people that saw him. I mean, he kind of did turn into a killing machine back there. even if he was saving my life I would be wary of him. you just cant trust someone that kills without hesitation. the resistance might also be more divided in their opinion about him (something I'm still keeping for my AU because the canon resistance is boring as fuck sorry) and not everyone thinks he is the savior of mankind.

also like, LOOK AT HOW SPOOKY THAT LOOKS

gina is also a hyena because during development she was literally just female gordon. like, she was supposed to be the female player choice. to keep that theme at least somewhat i made her a hyena aswell. to make her design more unique i made her a striped hyena though.

colette is a lynx (a siberian lynx in the doodle but I later decided on her being an iberian lynx instead)

alyx and barney don't have that much story behind their designs aside from me wanting to have an avian character and not just a bunch of mammals.

eli is also a cheetah obviously and i was thinking of making kleiner something like a slow loris cause they look funky and he is very funky

also on a side note: gordon furreemans head looking like a radiation symbol was an accident at first because i was trying to draw him more cartoony and then I noticed this and now he has a radiation symbol for a head. also that doodle is where my current angular lookin style originated.

#half life #art #my art #furry #furry art #fur life #gordon freeman #adrian shephard #barney calhoun #alyx vance #gina cross #colette green

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miscfandomwrites · 9 months

Text

Mama: Chapter Four

A/N: Did you know that I make all of these collages myself? I’m considering making some for fanfiction writers in return for ideas/help with some of my fics. Or just in general. If you’re interested let me know!

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Mom! Avenger! Reader

Warnings: Cursing (*Cough*swear jar*Cough*) FLUFF

Words: 1.2k

Tagging: @tyler-t0t

“MOOOOOOM!!!!”

A yell woke me out of my sleep, and I stumbled out of bed, almost taking my entire bedset with. Still half asleep, I stumbled into Lillith’s room.

“What’s up kiddo?” I dreary asked, yawning.

“Breakfast!” She answered cheerfully. She was doodling in one of her several sketchbooks with a set of markers Clint got her for Christmas last year.

“Yeah, yeah, let me wake up first, yeah?” I told her as I headed back to my room.

After blinking a bit, I headed to the bathroom. I splashed some cold water on my face and got out my morning routine supplies. I noticed that I felt….sticky.

“Shit.” I said quietly. Another nightmare. I hope I didn’t wake Lillith up.

I hopped in the shower, nearly shrieking as cold water blasted on me.

After a quick shower, I got dressed in a red t-shirt and black overalls.

“You’d better be dressed by the time I come out!” I yelled to Lillith.

“Okayyyyyyy!” she yelled back. I chuckled as I pulled my shoes on.

After making sure my hair wasn’t a complete lion’s mane, I walked out. Lillith was holding her sketchbook and the bag of her markers, dressed in a t-shirt and leggings. What made me question her outfit were the two different shoes-a rainboot and a slipper.

“You’re wearing those shoes? I thought you wanted to make pancakes.” I told her. I leaned against the doorway and watched as she ran back into her room, and came out wearing a pair of sneakers.

I pulled her into a side hug, kissing the top of her head. “Good morning, love.” I told her.

“Good morning mom!” She replied back. After releasing my grip on her, she ran to the elevators. I got in with her and pressed the button for the main floor. The main floor consisted of the kitchen, bar, main hangout space, library, part of the gym, and only Stark knew what else.

It'd take me a week or more to explore the tower fully. Damn millionares, making things so difficult by having like Fourty fucking floor buildings.

I rubbed my eyes as we came to a stop. Damn, I was tired.

We walked in, and immediately I wrinkled my nose. Something was burning. We walked towards the kitchen, where I heard yelling.

“How the hell did you catch the eggs on fire?!” Spoke someone.

“I had no idea eggs could catch on fire!” someone else yelled.

I walked in and the burning smell became almost overpowering. Sam and Steve were standing in the kitchen, flabbergasted. Natasha was holding a smoking pan of what I assumed were the eggs. She looked like she was shocked by what just happened. James was sitting at the island, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper, acting like it wasn’t new of Natasha to catch food on fire.

“...so that’s the burning smell.” I commented, looking towards Natasha. She scowled at me and put the pan in the sink, running water over it. I shook my head and helped Lillith in one of the island stools, and sat her next to James. She started coloring, occasionally looking towards James’s newspaper.

I walked into the kitchen, gently moving Natasha away from the sink. I ran lukewarm water over it, then cold once the smoke stopped. I let the pan soak and turned towards her. She was leaning against the island, her arms crossed and a frown on her face.

“Next time, don’t use that much oil.” I told her. She scoffed, and grabbed what I assumed was her cup of coffee, and sat next to Lillith.

Lillith was sat between two ex-Hydra assassins, and both of them were commenting on her drawings. I smiled at that. I poured myself a cup of (favorite drink) and started to get out the ingredients for pancakes.

“Chocolate chip or blueberry?” I asked Lillith.

She looked up from her drawing and grinned at me. “Chocolate!” she yelled to me.

“Are you helping or drawing?”

“I’ll help with the mixing. You cook em!”

I laughed and watched as Natasha helped her off the stool, and she practically ran over to me.

I grabbed a step stool and helped her up on it. I grabbed a bowl and fork, and set out the measuring cups and ingredients for Lillith. We’re double batching this, because I know the boys will eat more than half of the first batch.

“Why are you using a fork? We have whisks you know.” Steve told me.

“The batter gets too sticky, forks work better.” I replied.

I helped Lillith measure out the ingredients properly, and put them away as she used them. Right before we got to the wet ingredients, I instructed her to mix the dry ingredients together. After doing that, we carefully mixed in the wet ingredients. After cleaning all that up, I got the bag of chocolate chips.

“How chocolaty will this batch be?” I asked her. She hummed and grabbed the bag. I grabbed the table griddle and plugged it in, turning it on.

I looked over to Lillith, who had tore open the bag and was dumping the entire thing in the batter.

“Guess that answers that.”

Sam burst out laughing, and Steve was grinning. Thankfully, it worked out. With the batter doubled, we could use the entire bag. We usually ended up using half with a normal batch. But there’s nothing normal about four super soldiers, a God, a 6-year old that somehow can manage to eat half her body weight in food, a man with anger issues that is supposed to consume something like eight hundred thousand calories everyday to keep up with his alter side, an archer who spent more time in ventilation shafts than on solid ground, a witch teenager, someone that somehow managed to be Capsicle’s friend, and man in a metal suit.

After Lillith mixed and evenly distributed the chocolate chips, she grabbed one of the measuring cups and scooped the batter in it. She handed it to me, andI poured it on the hot griddle.

I flipped it after a bit, and was rewarded with the golden-brown color, a tell-tale sign of a damn good pancake.

We served them as I cooked them, and they were quickly eaten by the time we were half way through the bowl. Everyone had come down to eat some free breakfast.

Thanking the compliments, once I noticed everyone had eaten besides Lillith and I, I told her to go sit down so she could eat. I fixed her pancakes up and slid the plate over to her.

She happily munched down as I finished my pancakes and turned off the griddle. I put the bowl and the rest of the supplies away or in the sink; then plated my pancakes.

I leaned against the counter and laughed as both Natasha and James stole a piece of pancake from Lillith, who in turn stole nearly an entire pancake from James. How she got away with it was beyond me, but she did.

I’m glad I have that kid. Sam started a conversation with Lillith about the pancakes, and she happily replied about all the Saturdays where I’d wake up early and make pancakes.

#miscfandomwrites #natasha x reader #marvel x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #marvel x mom! reader #avengers x reader #black widow x reader #black widow x mom! reader #avengers reader #mom! reader #mama

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pomrania · 8 days

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Here's my rendition of the mlekragg, from @maniculum's Bestiaryposting. My progress thread for this piece can be found here.

I have seen fantasy artwork that perfectly matched the given description; I didn't want to replicate that, therefore I had to get Creative. Here, I did that by interpreting the verb "to have" in an unorthodox manner for the context; the creature "has" a man's face and a lion's body, in the sense of possessing those objects.

It has the appearance of grey eyes, because its head is grey in the location where the eye holes would open onto. It has three horns poking through the mouth hole, not three rows of teeth. The lion skin and "face" would likely be soaked in blood, but I didn't feel like drawing that, so assume this is a mlekragg which hasn't yet gotten around to it.

Now, the creature features I came up with on my own volition. The horribly long and folded legs can be traced to my original vision, of some nasty stick-like creature, and I just took it further and in a fun direction; there's so much POTENTIAL with a creature who looks like it's one size, then it stretches and oh no it's actually MUCH larger; the bittern is a real-life example of such a thing. A relatively large chest combined with a thin body can lead to the appearance of emaciation, ESPECIALLY when you add in protruding vertebrae; bit of advice, "spine spikes" on their own also work well for that. I didn't have any real reason to give it a set of nasty little arms, other than to make it even more horrible.

In my first attempt at doodling out this creature idea, I had the "face" be very obviously a torn-off face that it was wearing as a mask; I looked at it and went "no" and then deleted the image. (Not before adding it to my progress thread, of course, but the first post has a read-more for a reason; I did NOT want to keep looking at that thing.) I then had to find a way to use that concept WITHOUT wanting to shut down my computer every time I looked at it, which would have been counter-productive to my goal of drawing something; conveniently, what I settled on was also just plain simpler to draw.

#no fandom #original content #not a reblog #drawing

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lanternlightss · 1 year

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Venti or collector hcs gimme

Any kind welcome but perhaps silly ones I could doodle 👀

them them them

(digs through hc folder) okay okay, so

(this got a little long 😭😭)

venti:

his wings? absolutely massive. it takes more than a few people to get all the stuff out of it. vennessa, dvalin, and andrius like to sit down and groom his wings (all in human form, don’t wanna pull a feather out via claws!) they’re one of the few people he trusts to do it.

venti practices puns on zhongli. he picked them up from a few past friends (ragnvindr and bard, sometimes vennessa.)

whenever he gets excited, venti likes to run up to people, give them a hug from behind, and spin them both in the air. he did this a lot with vennessa, and usually smacked his wings into something in the process XD.

wispti LOVES to be (gently) tossed around. you can catch the bard swinging venti around his fingers like a butterfly knife at any given moment.

when lost in thought, venti will braid anything that’s in front of him. he has accidentally somehow braided his lyre strings once.

adding on to that last one: venti loves to crochet/sew. he’s a little embarrassed by how many braided projects he has. the thousand winds like to use them as scarfs.

when he’s very, very relaxed and comfortable, venti will make sounds he used to do as wispti. this includes chirping, trilling, chiming, purring—anything!

venti has a silly nickname for all his children. he’s accidentally called jean, “little dandy lion,” to her face once. they have both silently agreed to never bring it up. (jean secretly wishes he would do it again.)

venti will steal your clothes. if you are friends, and he is comfortable with you, Your Clothes Are Being Yoinked. this has happened with many people, but the pipeline so far has been nb -> vennessa -> jean. (they’re who he does it most too. it’s not his fault they have good styles!)

slightly angsty, venti has the original nb cloak, and pulls it out and around himself whenever he feels down. if he pretends enough, the hands holding his face are the bard’s.

collector:

pat their head. they Will bonk into like a cat would.

oh they absolutely do the flappy sleeves. sometimes they like to pretend they’re an “airplane” or a “bird” or a “really big dinosaur that could swallow you in one bite!”

he has matching plushies with almost… all the main cast? his favorites are king, luz, raine, and amity. (though all of them are his favorites, those are the ones he carries around the most.)

luz gives them a good witch azura book. she has read all of them to him. they do re-enactments of scenes sometimes, with everyone.

thinking….. about collector trying to get along with hunter. every time they are trying so hard not to ask “how did it feel to grow out the ground like a plant?”

collector has called hunter a sprout before. he didn’t get it.

collector either does not like shadow puppets, or likes them a lot. however, he loves puppet shows. sometimes he makes his own “scenes” with the plushies of his friends.

they made a little diy green slime. no one says anything when he twists and mangles it into nothing before fixing it. it’s therapeutic for them.

they made hats for all his friends. you know the little hat they wear in canon? he made personalized ones for the main cast. they all have little “things” at the dangling bit of the top part (think jester hat). like, hunter’s has a red bird!

luz has taught them what an “oc” is. he is unstoppable. (all of the ones he makes are based on his friends.)

loves loves loves to talk about space!!!! they will literally spend weeks talking to you about it, please ask them about stars, or galaxies, or the beginning of time.

loves nicknames. “little star,” is one of their favorites so far.

a very, very good narrator! during their book clubs with luz, they will make an entire theatre to act out parts. they try to make it as interesting as possible without breaking anything.

will mash together the most godawful abomination of foods. pancakes + glittery glue + pepperoni + cake frosting is one of their go-to’s.

every time he interacts with someone physically, like a hug, they are so so careful with it that it feels like nothing at all. they kind of know their strength, but he did also. maybe. punched a rock thirty feet below ground.

absolutely fascinated with the smallest things. once spent an entire day staring at a lava lamp.

#shsjsjsj sorry for how vague collector’s is i am. still getting use to them #they are a silly little guy #also ty ty for the ask aqua <3 #the collector #venti #genshin impact #toh #lantern replies #mutuals !

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leaves-and-inks · 1 year

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🍁🌾 Sketches and Creature Designs 🌾🍁

Here’s some sketches from the past week and a half!! I felt like designing a unicorn, so here’s this funky little guy- it’s got forward facing eyes and sharp teeth, so you might want to tread lightly if you encounter it- just kidding, its an omnivore that doesn’t hunt humans… mostly. I also went down to the beach last weekend, so I sketched out some rocks that were in the water. During my last DnD game, one of my friend’s Dire Wolf puppy she rescued played with some floating lights in the Fae Wilds, and he was so cute I had to sketch him!! There’s also a couple of dragon designs and witchy stuff and a little wolf-deer-bird who I showed before in a sketch post, and will probably feature in the next one I do. I swear I’ll try and post more than once a week- my latest excuse to why this one is late is that I did something foolish and hurt my wrist for a couple of days- it’s pretty good now though!! ^^

[ID: A sketchbook surrounded by Ivy and tall grass with four pencil sketches of an unconventional unicorn design. The unicorn is more deer-like in posture, and has a bent, dark horn, cloved hooves with long fur on its lower legs, forward facing, vacant, eyes, fluffy cheeks, a lion-like mane and tail, and a long snout with forward facing eyes, and a mouth like a cat’s. The first sketch is a full body of this unicorn, standing and facing left. It’s head is tilted up slightly, its right legs more in front than its left legs. It’s tail is flicked up, and its deer-like ears are pricked forward. It sits on a coppery, hatched rectangle, surrounded by four pointed stars. Below it are three more sketches of this unicorn. Starting from the left is another full body sketch, this time floating in air and facing right, its hindquarters twisting back slightly. It’s hooves are gathered partially underneath it, its left leg and hoof blocked by the rest of its body. the middle sketch is a bust, it’s head tilted down so most of its mouth and jaw is obscured. its left ear is perked up, while its right ear lays flat. the last sketch on the right is another bust, the unicorn facing 3/4 left. it’s ears are relaxed back, and its mouth is open, revealing sharp canines and molars. four pointed stars surround these sketches as well.

Image 2: 2 pencil sketches of the previously described unicorn design with real autumn leaves laying on top of the page. the first sketch is on the top, and is a full body sketch facing 3/4 left. it’s ears face forward, and it looks somewhat curious. its tail forms a “u” behind it, the tip curling back down again. the second sketch sits on the bottom right of the page, and is another full body, this time facing right. the unicorn’s neck is lowered as it flares ahead, blowing smoke from its nostrils. it takes a more sturdy stance, its tail partially pointing behind it.

Image 3: Pencil sketch of an ocean jetty with waves crashing into it, with real autumn leaves aging over the page. the rocks are loosely sketched and shaded, and water is hinted at in the front, as a wave crests to the right of the pile, and slams the rocks at the back of the pile. the page rests on the knot of a tree, and some clover can be seen.

Image 4: three pencil sketches with real autumn leaves laid on top of the page. the first sketch is on the left, and is a doodle of a potion in a round, corked bottle. the potion swirls on the inside, and the neck of the bottle is tied with a ribbon that has various plants tucked underneath it. the second sketch is a full body dire wolf puppy on a black background facing right towards some glowing lights. He sits in a playful pose, his hindquarters raised. he looks up at three glowing lights slightly in front of and above him. the third sketch is a scaled dragon bust facing 3/4 left. it has a wrinkled snout with horns on its brow bone, head, jaw, and cheeks. Its lips have skin flaps in the middle of its mouth. two rows of spikes with skin stretched between them on its spine.

Image 5: pencil sketch of a witch’s broom with real autumn leaves overlaying the page. the broom is a classic straw broom, with some of the straw curling up. it has a wooden hilt that has mushrooms growing on it. along with another branch towards the top. on the left of the page, the claws of a dragon and a dragon head bust can be seen, partially obscured by the leaves. the page sits on a grassy background.

Image 6: 5 pencil sketches with real autumn leaves overlaying the page. the first sketch in the top left corner is a full body of a mouse facing right, hunched over a seed. its fur stands on end as its tail curls up and down behind it, and it stares forward with vacant eyes. the second sketch is a full body of a wingless dragon holding a large sword with a branch-like hilt in its back right claw. it floats on the page, facing 3/4 right. it has a wrinkled nose, curled antler-like horns, vacant eyes, long pointy ears, and a furry jaw and top of the head. the fur continues down its spine and front of its body, along with on its upper arms, and full coverage on its long tail. The rest of its body is covered in scales its front legs are bent in front of its head, its claws slightly tensed. the third sketch is a wide eye, with long, stylized eyelashes. it’s pupil and iris are small, and staring. the third sketch is a bust of the previously described wingless dragon, facing left with its mouth open slightly too wide, revealing an upturned tongue and rows and sharp teeth. the last sketch is another bust of the dragon facing left, its mouth shut this time. The sketchbook sits on top of a tree root and grass.

Image 7: three pencil sketches of a wolf-like creature with real autumn leaves overlaying the page. the first sketch shows the creature facing forward. it has features from a bird of prey, deer, and a wolf, with a canine face, fur and tail, deer ears, horns, posture, and back legs, and bird wings and front legs. it also has a wrinkled snout. Its wings are mostly folded at its sides, and it’s tail points left behind it. the second sketch is a full body wolf-deer-bird facing 3/4 left. it’s back hoofed legs are more visible. its wings, which have a single thumb claw, are outstretched up. the third sketch is a full body facing right of the creature trotting. it holds its head up high, its eyes shut and smiling. it’s wings are open, and it lifts its opposite legs up high. it’s tail is also raised. the sketchbook lays on a grassy background./end ID]

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guildtree · 1 year

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First of all, how did I not realize it was you TreeofWords!! Welcome to Tumblr. Glad to have you here finally! :D

40 Fic Writer Ask:

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Hello! I am here. You all have lured me to Tumblr like a stray cat with treats. Thank you for the asks!

How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

I have about 3 that are actual ideas instead of cloudy blobs of inspiration. The first is a short Kasjory and Gorrik/Taimi thing that I want to drop on Valentine's Day and that I'm actually drawing an art piece to go with! I want to make an Aurene fic that involves her talking to and coming to terms with her extended dragon family through her magic, but I'm waiting for the Soo-Won legendary set to drop so I can get a better feel for her character. And finally, I have ideas for a sort of sequel to Left Behind set in Season 4 and following Kas and Jory's travels through the desert: one part action road trip, one part relationship drama.

Do you write your story from start to finish, or do you write the scenes out of order?

I usually write start to finish so I can use the cool parts I want to write later in the fic as motivation to slog through the boring parts. For longer stuff, it's also helpful for me to have the earlier parts set in stone so I can build off them later. Very occasionally, I have written down a later scene that was just crystal-clear in my head and that I was afraid I would forget later.

If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

This is hard for me because usually I don't want to write someone else's fic - I want them to write more of their fic! A large part of why like a particular writer is their technical style, and I feel like I can't really replicate that (not that it's impossible to copy someone's style, it's just hard and I don't really like doing it). If I had to choose, there is this great Miyani and Zommoros fic by Arutyh called First Winter in Lion's Arch, which has some interesting djinn lore in it. I would write a sequel or prequel to that (maybe how the two of them met?) just so I could use the lore.

Would you ever kill off a canon character?

Sure, though I'd make sure I specified it as an AU and tagged appropriately and all that. I have Procreate doodles of Marjory as an Awakened simply because I got bored and thought it might look cool (sorry Jory).

#my fanfic #40 questions for fic writers #accidentallyadorable #thank you!!!

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rise-uncalledfour · 1 year

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I did some Uncalled Four drawings, but as yokai, but our computer doesn't have a camera so you get descriptions

{Image one: Large red marker in Nicks handwriting, "NICK!" It is a yokai lion wearing a black leather sleeveless jacket, the arms seeming to have been torn off. Under shirt is a faded red shirt with a rose on it. Ripped jeans that go to his calves, and no shoes. His arm is on his hip and he is smiling. 6'3. Side shows different expression of happy, crying, and yelling angrily. Right bottom corner has a full body doodle of him stimming, his arms going up and down.}

{Image two: Neater than Nicks, but still messy is Brooklyn's handwriting in red, "Brooklyn". A maned wolf yokai, long limbs. Arms are crossed and has a deadpan expression. Clothes are a Pantera shirt and red flannel, and shorts with black tights under that hide her legs. Wearing brown doc martens with large soles. 5'3. Side images are expressions, including mad with her ears drawn back and snarling, shocked, and rolling her eyes. Small doodle of her pinning down someone with her foot and having their arm pinned behind them.}

{Image three: Cursive yellow writing: "Miguel <3" A small wobbyk (creature by the Endling series) With a small yellow shirt that's faded and a satchel hanging around his shoulder. He is smiling happily and has his large ears perked upwards. He has three long tails that are fluffed up. 3'7. Three expressions include laughing, scared, and feral. Doodle is of his back, and he is looking behind him to look at his tail (a ceremony completed when a Wobbyk has made a courageous feat and is an adult).

{Image four: Blue handwriting hard to read: "Winstonnnnnnn" the N's go off the page. A golden retriever yokai, smiling and raising a fist in the air. He is wearing a brown shirt and black pants that have knee pads tightened around his knees. Large black doc martens. 5'2. His expressions include happy, nervous, flustered. Doodle is of him lifting a finger and smiling, and a ball shooting at his face.}

{Doodles: Winston, Nick, and Brooklyn all helping Miguel braid his tails. Brooklyn reading and holding a book on the floor, her long limbs assisting her into looking extremely uncomfortable, when she feels fine (she actually does this and her poses sometimes are terrifying). A white hand is extended to pet all of their heads, Miguel chirring contently, Winston leaning into the hand, his eyes closed and smiling, Brooklyn with a narrow look and her head extended backwards, away from the hand, and Nick sitting there with the words 'wtf' hanging in the air next to him. A picture of Winston pointing and laughing at a normal golden retriever, mocking it. Brooklyn crocheting. Miguel staring upwards at everyone else, who is extremely tall compared to him.}

#The Uncalled Four rambles #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #the uncalled four rambles #asks #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt oc #yokai #maned wolf #lion #golden retriever #rottmnt self insert #wobbyk #endling

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holidayvisa · 1 month

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16 March 2024 - Woke up at 6:45 am and dragged myself out of bed. I got on the motorbike and rode to Cam's house. Cam offered me some toast with cheese and tomatoes for breakfast. I ate my toast, grabbed the keys to the van, and drove to Auckland. I got to the sky tower and found my clients, three college-aged kids from Utah, Zach, Cora, and Shennai. When I found out that they were from Utah, we bonded over that! They'd heard of Lambs Knoll and Yankee Doodle Canyon! Zach had climbed in and around Zion, and Cora mountain biked all over Moab. In the car ride, we sang along to the "Hercules" soundtrack playing on my ipod from 2007. We stopped at the top of Piha for a quick photo of the beautiful beach and Lion Rock with a clear blue sky above.

When I opened up the AWOL shed in Piha, I found the afghan that Elise had left for me! Agh, she's so sweet!

They were all capable and fit clients. We crushed the hike up to the top of Kitekite in like 10 minutes or something like that. The whole day was cruisy and easy. When we got to the final abseil of the canyon, the marker rock was submerged. Uh-oh.

Some background - Piha Canyon is safe to do at low flows. When there's a lot of rain, the flows will increase. Descending Piha Canyon at higher flows is still very safe for the first three abseils, but the fourth abseil (the one that goes right down the center of the full flow of the waterfall) can be questionable at higher flows. The guides have a marker rock that we use to determine if the flow is at a safe level or not. When the marker rock is out of the water, we continue descending down the fourth abseil. But when the marker rock is submerged, we bail out of the canyon before the fourth abseil because the flow is higher than normal.

Today, the marker rock was just barely submerged. Like, the top of the marker rock was less than a centimeter below the surface of the creek. I looked at the marker rock, and I said to the clients, "I've got bad news, you guys. The marker rock is submerged, so we can't continue down the canyon. We're going to have to hike down to the bottom." We all looked down the waterfall at the heavy flow of the waterfall hammering down the fourth abseil. The clients were bummed. I debated with myself about whether this was an appropriate time to break the rules. "These clients are capable," I said to myself. "Do you guys feel comfortable doing this?" All three of them nodded their heads yes. "Okay, let's do it!"

I gave them the talk about the fourth abseil, stressing that it's important to stay calm and not panic if water is hammering them in the face. I also told them that I was going to lower them, and that they wouldn't be in control of their own descent. They all agreed that that made sense. One-by-one, I lowered them down the abseil, and they were whooping and woohoo-ing the whole way down! They LOVED it! I LOVED it! It felt pretty badass to abseil down the waterfall, just getting smacked by the water, the force of the waterfall pushing down on you, beating down on your head, shoulders, arms, and legs. Everyone did so well, and I felt really good about my decision to continue down the fourth abseil instead of bailing out of the canyon before the fourth abseil. We finished out the canyon, and the clients said that this was one of their favorite guided trips ever! I drove the clients to Piha Beach, and while they were walking on the beach, I picked up a sleeping bag, a sleeping pad, and a tent at Elise's house. I drove the clients back towards Auckland, stopping at my house to drop off some wetsuits and harnesses and gear. I dropped them off at their hotel in Auckland, then returned the van to Cam's house.

I drove the motorbike home to Henderson, and Jimmy and I loaded up his car with all the canyoning gear and camping gear. Jimmy and Arnie were detangling the lights that Jimmy had bought for our upcoming barbeque. Jimmy said, "I look like a bloody Christmas tree, and it's not even Christmastime, mate!"

Jimmy and I drove to Coromandel! We saw the beautiful sunset as we drove towards Sleeping God Canyon.

We stopped in Bombay for some kebabs for dinner; we ate on the road. We arrived at Trestle View Campsite at the Kauaerunga Valley road end. We ate our kebabs in the warmth of Jimmy's car while waiting for Jordan and Wilson to show up.

When Jordan and Wilson arrived in Wilson's van, they invited us to come hang out in their van. We all four of us hung out in the back of Wilson's van, chatting and talking about canyoning, hearing about Jordan's and Wilson's day through Bull's Run/Rangihau Canyon today. We hung out in their van for over an hour, just hanging out and enjoying each other's company. It was super fun; I wish I had a photo capturing that. At a certain point, sometime around 11 pm, Wilson gave us a subtle New Zealander hint to GTFO of his van. Jimmy said that he "couldn't be bothered to set up the tent tonight," so he planned to just sleep in his car. That did NOT sound comfortable to me, so I set off looking around the campsite for two suitable trees. I set up my hammock! I slept in my hammock for the first time in a LONG time! I can't even remember the last time I slept in my hammock. I think it might have been March of 2022 during my WFR course in Kanab, UT. Anyway, I LOVED sleeping in my hammock. I was so warm and cozy, snuggled in my sleeping bag in my cocoon of a hammock.

I'm thankful for capable and fun clients. I'm grateful for a wonderful and fun day in Piha Canyon. I'm grateful that the clients I had today were the right clients for descending the fourth abseil at a higher-than-normal flow. I'm grateful for Jimmy and for our roadtrip down to Coromandel. I'm grateful to Wilson and Jordan for sharing their van space with us and hanging out with us before bedtime.

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