#able township

[mars1749]

Just finished my first run this morning and wow, I'm so excited. I do feel that this was my first time properly running in 2 years XD I'll keep y'all posted maybe gonna upload some fanart. Maybe I'm going on another run tonight :)

[shorterstrides-fasterpace]

Good Morning!!!

[dont-call-me-kaylee]

Ok, having some AI generator fun over here because I am bored at work. Introducing my Runner Five and Sam Yao!!! Pretty close to how I headcanon them to be fair.

[vitiateoriginator]

Birthday keroppi time B)

[whatislovevavy]

Sliding Stops & Beating Hearts

Reiner! Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Honeybee)

Summary: Tyler Owens has worked almost his entire life for this moment. And he's so glad he gets to share it with you.

Warnings: Tyler being down bad for his wife, afab!reader, fluff, swearing, smut (18+), oral (m+f), facesitting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it)

WC: 4.6k (I'm so sorry, but not sorry enough to make it shorter)

AN: Hey girlies :) Apologies for taking so long to post this, I've been very busy and it feels like I have to wait for what feels like some kind of astronomical event for me to be able to write. Tyler Owens is essentially Jake Seresin so yeah I'm writing for him now lol. Reining has always been one of my favorite equestrian sports to watch. Granted, I've never done it nor competed so apologies to any reiners out there if there's inaccuracies with how competitions go lol. Anyways, hope you enjoy :)

None of the pictures featured are mine and were taken off of Pinterest. All of my writings will be added to my writing side blog @sophs-writing-nook 

This is an 18+ fanfic, so minors scoot pls. You are responsible for the media you consume. Do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate this fic without my explicit permission as it is my own creation. 

The competition had been fierce and each ounce of caffeine in your veins from your strenuous, early morning drive from Arkansas to Oklahoma had done nothing to quell your nerves. 

You could feel the sweat emulate from your palms as you watched each rider and horse pair complete their routine with near flawlessness, confidence, professionalism, and near perfect scores on maneuvers. 

Tyler would need to give it his all to bring home the NRHA world championship title for this season. 

You watched with bated breath as the pair before Tyler’s exited through the in-gate, applause and cheers ricocheting off the concrete and aluminum walls of the stadium. The announcer’s voice crackling and echoing through the speakers as the pairs score was displayed on the JumboTron that hung ominously above the center of the arena, threatening to crush Tyler's lifelong dream if a perfect score wasn't achieved. You fiddled with the competition program in your hand, waiting for the announcer to give the go ahead for Tyler Owens and Coppertone Boy, or as he was affectionately called at home, Copper, to enter the arena. 

“Come on, honeybee, I think you're more nervous than I am.” The fingers of your hand stop gingerly massaging into the muscle between Copper’s alert ears, eyes meeting Tyler’s unnervingly calm ones. You sighed, bringing your hand down to softly stroke the stallion’s velvet muzzle, looking back out at the arena that would be vacant for only a few moments more. “It's just the anticipation is all.”

He swallowed, dipping his heels down further against his stirrups, his weight settling on the back of the palomino American Quarter Horse. His thumb running along the smooth leather reins in his moderately calloused hands, his posture straightening. Tipping his hat on his head, eyes drifting from your almost perfect facade of calm collection to the no longer virginal arena footing. 

He gingerly scratched at Copper’s strong, gilded withers and neck concealed by the silken, alabaster strands of his freshly detangled mane, easing any anxiety the 10 year old stallion may have had. 

“Copper will take care of me out there, and I'm coming back, Sweets” his lip quirked into a gentle smirk, letting your anxiety ease a bit. 

Copper gently nudged you with his head, trying to get one last scratch in before entering. Or maybe to try to reassure you. “I know, I-,” you took a breath, licking your lips,” just really want this for you, and we're so close. I can taste it.” 

His eyes glazed a bit, a special kind of warmth spreading in his chest. You had helped him hitch the trailer to pick up Copper from the auction a few townships over back in his early twenties. You were the one who was with him every step of the way, through every high and frustrating low of training him and getting him ready for every competition. You were the one to stay up all night with him when Copper coliced during a muggy spring night a few years back. You were the one who encouraged him to try reining after his bull riding rodeo career came to a halt. You were the one to hide out with him on his family's ranch in Arkansas during the summer thunderstorms in the hayloft as kids and lovesick teenagers. And you were the first person he got to kiss out in the back field after the haying season was done, laying under the cover of Cassiopeia and The Big Dipper with homemade strawberry moonshine. It made the wedding band on a chain around his neck all the more meaningful. The microphone crackled as the announcer cleared his throat, announcing for Tyler to enter the arena. 

“Come on, baby, I need my good luck kiss before I go out there.” His urgent, but sweet, tone made you chuckle.  Stepping on your tippy toes, you met his lips that only seemed to get softer the more you kissed him. As your lips left his, you gave the stallion that gleamed like a new penny under the stadium lights a last, quick rub at his withers and a whispered “take care of him for me.” The stallion nudged his pink and gray muzzle into your side, letting out a puff of breath, seeming to listen and affirm your wish. 

You turned back to the man you had loved since you were a sophmore in highschool. “You'll get something a lot more when you come back.” You said softly with a flirtatious tone, trying to lighten the nerves that seemed to electrify your fingertips. Your eyes told an unspoken “whether you win, or lose.” His eyebrows rise before a smirk settles on his lips. “Looking forward to it darlin,” he winks before turning his attention to the packed arena. He gives the stallion a gentle squeeze of his sides with his calves to get him into a working walk, head low, and relaxed as his metal shoe-clad hooves rhythmically ricocheted off the pavement leading up to the arena as applause and whistles from the crowd marked his entrance like a gladiator entering the Colosseum. You watched him leave your side with bated breath. 

You always envied how he was able to feed off of the crowd instead of cowering under it, even when he was getting tossed around as a professional bull rider in the local rodeo circuit. It was a trait that Tyler and Copper had in common that made them a perfect pair.

You watched each calculated movement he whispered to Copper through his hands, legs, and seat. Each movement done in perfect harmony, from flying lead changes to each heart racing spin and rollback. You practically knew the routine like the back of your hand, softly mouthing the required movements right as Tyler and Copper conducted them with  complete poise and confidence. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flit back and forth from the golden stallion enrapturing the attention of the crowd and the judges scribbling down notes that had the potential to cut like a blade. Tyler had a calm, at-ease aura around him; his hands still with just the right amount of contact on the reins, loose hips and strong legs that wrapped around the barrel of the strong, powerful, and graceful horse below him. Copper’s ears kept at ease, each one flitting back to listen to each whispered task Tyler gave him. His mane and tail swayed beautifully with the rest of his muscular, golden dappled frame; steel horseshoes gleaming under the large overhead lights. You felt your anxiety rise as Tyler only had one maneuver left to accomplish- a sliding stop from a full gallop, the most exhilarating maneuver in reining.

Your breath felt like lead in your lungs as you watched each stride Copper took to complete his routine. With an impressive stall of his hind quarters, Copper planted himself against the arena footing to come to a full stop, his hind legs slightly folding under him as Tyler kept his body steady. The arena went quiet for only a second as Copper found his footing, remaining in a halt. As soon as the judges gave Tyler the go ahead to leave the arena, you jumped up in glee, applauding and whistling, just like the entirety of the arena   as Tyler gave Copper a loose rein, giving his strong neck deligent pats of encouragement and rubbing his withers as he made his way out of the arena at a working walk pace. After all, he had earned it. 

But would it be enough to win?

You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as Tyler met your gaze with a heart stopping grin, his handsome dimples on display, timothy grass green eyes shining for you as his chest rose and fell from his exertion, and the sweat evident under his Stetson at his hairline. 

As soon as he cleared the in-gate, he was out of the saddle and embracing you, lips on yours as you giggled against him as he picked you up and spun you around, your fingers splayed over his stubbly cheeks. Copper stood patiently as his reins hit the cement floor. Your fingers resting at the back of his neck, feeling his sweat, natural scent, and the smell of leather and horses caress your senses. 

“I’m so proud of you, baby,” you said, voice thick with tears bubbling beneath your eyes as your hands encased his gently stubbled cheeks, his grin matching your own, voice thick, “Honey, whatever happens, I’m-,” his eyes becoming glassy, “I’m just so glad I’ve been able to do this with you. I love you so goddamn much.” He brought your lips back to his in a sweet, love filled kiss that made your stomach flutter.  The crackle of the microphone breaks you both away from your kiss, his embrace still on your hips. Tyler cranes his neck to look up at the JumboTron. 

Your eyes widening, putting your hands over your mouth and looking up at Tyler’s shock-parted lips as the arena broke into cheers. Tyler swings you around by your hips before bringing you to his lips again. 

A perfect score. 

—

As soon as Tyler rode out on Copper with you by his side during the award ceremony, and your picture was taken with his NRHA Championship trophy and Copper got his red, blue, and yellow tri-colored ribbon, you both were ready to load up Copper and drive all the way back to Arkansas. 

Photographers, interviewers, and cameras followed your little group out of the arena. Tyler and Copper both walked with pride in a way that showed a healthy balance of confidence and natural charisma. Copper not once flinched as cameras flashed as Tyler had him periodically stop for interviewers to ask questions, reins loose in his hand. Copper seemed to almost pose for the camera with his ears forward and moving with momentum whenever the cameras flashed; aware that he had done a good job and was being appreciated. You, on the other hand, preferred to be on the other side of Copper’s strong withers, away from the cameras, gently running your hand along his glistening coat; it took you and Tyler countless hours for it to gleam like gold. 

“Who would you say is someone who has always supported you on the road to winning this NRHA world championship title?”

You felt like you were hiding behind the near two ton animal, peeking over his strong neck to watch Tyler with his tipped up Stetson and near alabaster dress shirt. He turned from the interviewer to you with an easy grin on his face, gently reaching behind him to take your hand from underneath Copper’s neck, bringing you around his large head and into Tyler’s chest, placing a kiss to your forehead. You couldn’t help the blush that spread across your cheeks like wildfire as you gave the interviewer a shy toothy smile. 

“I’ve had the undeserved pleasure to have by my side, during this entire journey, the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known; my wife.” You felt your throat tighten and tears start to bubble up in your eyes at his gesture, all while trying to subtly hide away into his shoulder as the interviewer seemed to soak up the sweet moment between the new NRHA world champion and his wife. 

“You’ll have to forgive her, my honeybee’s a bit shy.” he chuckled, the interviewer following suit before asking her final questions with you by his side. 

As the last of the interviewers left to talk to the other competitors, you and Tyler led Copper back to the trailer to get him bedded in the trailer for the long way home.

You tried to keep your thoughts pure as you walked through the trucks and trailers with Copper in tow, passing competitors that turned into friends; like Bradley Bradshaw and his oil black quarter horse gelding, Turn and Burn, and Natasha Trace and her sorrel chestnut mare, Rising Phoenix. Both of which had gotten in the top 5 tonight out of 38. 

But Tyler looked too good right now. Too good. And his display of affection in front of the interviewer made your insides warm and jumble inside you. 

His hair peeking out from under his stetson, the color subdued from sweat; his taut jeans around his slim waist; his obnoxiously large belt buckle that glimmered in the overhead lot lights; his flushed, sweat soaked skin; bright, fern green eyes, and the defined line of his jaw to his handsome dimples. 

It didn’t help that you got distracted watching him tend to Copper as you put the tack in the trailer, biting your lip as you watched the thin material of his shirt cling to his back muscles. 

“Honeybee, you alright over there?” You almost needed to shake your head out of your trance, before trying to quickly put the tack away in the closet of the trailer, trying to focus on the task at hand and not on your lewd thoughts. 

As soon as you turned around from putting the tack away, Tyler was at the entryway. Both hands on the edge of the storage space prevented any chance of escape, sluttily leaning his weight on the frame like the scantily-clad men in those romance books Tyler always teased you for reading. He didn’t have anything to complain about though; he reaped the reward of it everytime. 

Your eyes met his mischief filled ones. “You got something on your mind, Honey?” 

You diverted your gaze from his eyes to his Stetson. He noticed, promptly removing it and placing it over his denim-clad pelvis with a teasing smile as he saw your eyes follow his movement. He always loved the dust of pink on your cheeks when he flirted with you. He took a step into the trailer, feeling his intoxicating scent invade your senses. 

You took a step forward, letting your eyes obscenely run over from his sweat-slicked back hair, to the slight crook in his nose, to his plush lips. Leaning into his ear, “I’ll tell you once Copper is in the trailer. Fed and watered.” Tyler almost shivered at the barely decent tone you used. You both were in a public space for Christ’s sake. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

You bit your lip, a chuckle vibrating in your chest at his pace towards the patient stallion grazing from his well deserved hay bag as soon the words left your lips.

—

After ensuring all of your belongings were packed away, you went to check on Tyler and Copper. As you turned the corner, Tyler was just finishing up putting the latches on the trailer. “How’s our big guy doing?” You asked, leaning against the side of the trailer. 

He turned to you, “fed, watered, and out like a light. Copper’s going to sleep well on the ride home. Gave him a few extra flakes of hay to keep him occupied.”

“Now,” he took a step closer to you, a smirk painted across his lips, “I wanna hear what was on your mind earlier, pretty girl,” he purred. 

You took a step closer to him with a flirtatious smile blooming on your face, reaching out for his belt loops on his jeans. 

— 

“Honeybee,” he whimpered, heading hitting back against his truck as you sunk to the dusty ground beneath your knees, scrambling to unbuckle his obnoxiously large belt buckle, and unzipping his denim jeans with a harsh tug. He hissed, “careful, sweets, don't want to damage the goods,” you chuckled before bringing his jeans down to his knees. His breath freezing in his throat as you ran your palms against his defined Adonis belt and abs, scratching at the hair of his happy trail as your smooth palm found its home - wrapped around his thick, pulsing cock in his briefs. Tyler's eyes clenched shut, a hiss leaking from his kiss-swollen lips as you began to pump him in a corkscrew motion. God, he looked so good like this. Letting you take care of him and make him crumble beneath the palms of your hands. 

“Jesus, sweetheart.” His hips stuttered as you gave his oh so sensitive, engorged tip delicate kitten licks before taking him into your mouth, sucking softly. Eyes drifting shut as you savored the subtle musk of your husband and the salty taste of the precum leaking out of his cock. You hummed around his dick as his fingers weaved into your hair, keeping his cock encased in your hot mouth. 

Jesus, the glorious sight in your mind- Tyler’s head and Stetson tipped back, lips agape, cheeks flushed pink with sweat and arousal, dress shirt unbuttoned, strong abdominal and pectoral muscles exposed from years of ranch work, hips jutting out as his jeans and briefs tethered his ankles as you worked his fat cock. 

A sound akin to a mewl left his lips as you bobbed your head along his length, working his cock with your saliva soaked hand. 

“Oh fu- baby, that feels so fucking good.” His graveled voice made you clench your thighs, his eyes opening to see you pumping his cock as you playfully sucked on his balls. Saliva dribbling down your lips to the dirt below, leaving your mark on the event grounds. Your sinful acts hidden in the shadows of your truck and trailer. 

This was definitely the best way to celebrate a world championship win, he thought through a hazy conscience as he failed to find a steady tempo of breath. 

You could feel the tightness of his balls and the steady throbbing of the vein running underneath his thick cock. His fingers tightening in your hair. 

“God-Fuck-” His trail of words were cut off with a deep groan he tried to muffle the best he could.

 His hand kept your mouth around his cock as he shot his load down your welcoming throat, letting you swallow every hot drop he had to give. His body slumping against the truck, catching his breath as you rose up off the dirt, tenderly tucking him back into his jeans, bringing your lips to his. 

After a few moments, Tyler deepened the kiss,  reaching for the backseat door. He broke away from your lips, littering your neck and collarbones with messy, open-mouthed kisses. Your lips would get swollen soon from how hard you were biting them to conceal your mewls. His hands palmed and toyed with your cotton-clad breasts, feeling his calloused fingers slide under your t-shirt to fondle at your steadily peaking nipples. “Baby, we might need to do this half-clothed,” you murmured against his lips. He let his lips leave yours, realizing where you guys were: on the outskirts of the arena grounds. 

“Well, Honeybee, we’ll just have to do it with your pants down then, pretty girl.” He smiled sinfully. His gravelly tone always made you clench your thighs in need, and feel excited and jittery inside; like a new-born foal learning to run. 

He stripped off his dress shirt, leaving him with chest and abs exposed in the shadow of the truck. Before you had the chance to admire his half-bare body, he was unzipping your jeans and pulling them down along with your panties in one fell swoop. He guided your legs out of them before placing his beloved Stetson on your head. The sight of you bare below the waist and his white stetson had his cock twitching again. 

He hopped on the seat, laying down on the leather upholstery. “Come on, honey girl, get up here. I want a taste.” He purred, eyes raking from your face down to the little honey stash between your thighs with a Cheshire-like grin. 

You chuckled, excitement thrumming through your belly like a current of electricity. His hands guided your hips over his twitching dick, over his thick pecs, and right above where he wanted you. Your breath catches in your throat as Tyler brings your hips down with his broad hands, clutching at your soft waist as he starts lapping at your drenched core.  

“Fuck, Ty-” you clutched at his tufts of hair that peaked through your fingers, like the daisies in the hayfields. He toyed with your clit, his stubble scratching deliciously against your sensitive inner thighs. He gently sucked on your clit to pull each sweet moan and gasp from your lips. His thick fingers forming troughs along the soft flesh of your hips and thighs, keeping your weeping pussy pinned above his eager mouth. 

“Please.”

He grunted as your hips rocked against him, his grip tightening on your hips, guiding your movements. Your head tipping back as your thoughts failed to construe into something tangible besides broken moans and words. It’s amazing how Tyler’s Stetson has stayed on during your impromptu ride. 

God, the sight he had from below your thighs; black t-shirt riding up to just below your bra, your hands clutching at his hair and your covered breasts, beautiful parted lips, reddened cheeks and his staple atop your head.

You looked divine like this. Hell, you were divine for wanting to marry him in the first place. 

He gave your clit a delicate kiss, just enough to make you whine a little. Littering kisses along your inner thighs, feeling the tender flesh quake above him as you protested him giving attention to places that weren’t where you needed him to be. He licked his lips savoring the sweet taste of you on his tongue, and gently teased two fingers at your entrance making you gasp and whimper at the intrusion.

“Baby, you look so good from down here, so fucking good.”

His graveled voice was marked by a unique breathlessness that times like these brought him. Your hands pushed your t-shirt up and your bra down to toy with your exposed breasts and perky nipples as the Oklahoma evening air pebbled them. Your hazy gaze looking downward at your lover’s tousled hair, flushed cheeks and lust-blown pupils with a characteristic devilish grin on his arousal soaked lips.

“Fuck, baby”

He smiled as he guided his fingers into your welcoming heat, your pretty moans music to his ears. 

His fingers finding the perfect tempo against that little spot inside you that made your toes curl against the upholstery of the car. His free hand holding an iron grip on your hip, keeping you steady.

If you hadn’t felt like you were going to cum before, you were now.  

Tyler could feel your velvet walls constrict around his welcomed digits. A soft yelp leaves your lips as he finds your clit again; toying and sucking at the delicate bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. He sucked harder the more you pulled at his hair.

“Tyler, I’m so close, please make me cum baby-please.”

The wanton, sultry tone your voice got in this state made him ache in his jeans and move his fingers that much more eagerly. 

You felt the familiar build up of pleasure in your tummy and the sparks of pleasure traveling from your toes. Tyler watched as you fell apart over him with a wracked moan of his name as his fingers continued to rub that special spot inside you, and as he continued to toy with your poor, abused clit.

He slowed his movements to a halt, letting his fingers leave to hold your hips steady, bringing his lips to languidly kiss and lathe at your cum soaked folds, drawing out any last sparks of pleasure and the sweet, little noises you always made for him. 

Your thighs shook with the aftermath of your orgasm, your body still ringing with small sparks of pleasure and sensitivity, your whimpers pouring out. 

He lathed his last set of kisses to your pussy before sliding your hips down to rest over his throbbing dick, hidden behind a layer of denim. 

Tyler brought both hands to encase your face, bringing your lips to his in a kiss full of teeth and tongue, your mouth going to the prominent vein on the side of his neck, lathing and marking the flesh as your own, spurred on by the deep groans of the man underneath you. He growled, feeling you bite into the skin there. It would surprise him if you didn’t draw blood. 

“I want to ride your thick cock, baby.” you simpered.

“Fuck, you make me so hard, Honeybee.” He growled, feeling you unzip his jeans, pulling out his aching cock and lining him up at your entrance. Gently teasing the tip, running it along your folds, letting it soak up your arousal. You smirked as you listened to the borderline moans that reverberated from his chest. He felt his eyes almost roll back at the feeling of your walls welcoming him in; back home. You watched with lust hazed eyes as his face was consumed with tension; his eyes clenched shut, brow lines rippling the tanned skin of his forehead, his tense jaw and kiss swollen lips. 

He guided your hips, savoring the feeling of you. His hips bucking up into your awaiting pussy as he got more and more invigorated for his release. 

“Fuck, Honey-fuck!” He growled as he felt your walls squeeze him for all he was worth. 

“God, you’re always so good for me, such a good fucking girl” he said as he held your hips tighter, fucking up into you at a faster pace than before. Gasps and moans falling from your lips as he pummeled that sweet, heavenly spot inside you that had you seeing a kaleidoscope of sensations behind your eyes, and your fingers clawing at his pecs and shoulders for stability. Tyler could feel the coil in his stomach tightening as his release was barreling towards him like a train going into a station. His abs tightening, pace unrelenting as he chased his high. He could feel you were close with this new set pace, your lips parted as sweet sounds echoed from your lips. He held on until he felt your walls snap close on him like a vice, your thighs shaking as your high washed over him with a broken moan and tremor. His hips rose, fucking into you one last time before releasing his hot load into your pretty pussy with a deep growl. 

—

He gingerly pulled up your panties, keeping his cum trapped between your folds. He snapped the button of your jeans closed as he languidly made out with you. He changed into a t-shirt that hugged his biceps just right, keeping his jeans on. You both silently changed into your new set of clothes with content, lovesick smiles on your face. You gave him a kiss as he passed you his sweatshirt to wear during the ride home. 

You both settled into the front seat of the truck. By now, most people had gone home, the bright stars above watching over you. He placed his Stetson on the backseat, smirking as he watched you reach out for the cowboy hat, placing it on your head with a cute smile that made him smirk and shake his head. 

He leaned over, placing a soft kiss to your lips. 

“I love you, Honeybee.”

“I love you too, Ty.”

You give his thick thigh a squeeze, smiling as he groans into the kiss. He pulled black from the kiss, putting the truck into drive. As soon as his hand is free, he takes your hand in his, making your cheeks warm at the gesture, kissing the back of it as he pulls out of the dirt road onto the interstate towards Arkansas.

Let me know what you guys think :) Be sure to leave a comment and reblog :) My inbox is always open to requests and any thoughts you have <3

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[cuppajj]

Neo Beast Head cannons?

WOOWOO

✨Saint Vanilla Cookie

He’s the only one who goes wherever he wants. The other beasts are pretty stationary for the time being, but Saint’s on a mission and he will show up literally anywhere

Still loves animals and thinks they’re incapable of sinning, so they don’t get the purifying touch. It’s why raisin’s crows are still alive

Speaking of raisin, he does miss her but he thinks she’s in a better place. Calls her his martyr and talks about her like she’s still alive

He has tea every morning

It’s unknown where he sleeps when he’s traveling the world

He keeps Crepe’s headset extra clean for the day they meet each other again

❤️‍🔥Dragonberry Cookie

She is still the same old Hollyberry who loves drinking berry juice like there’s no tomorrow. She even brings pints to Neo beast meetings

Even though her pride has given her a massive superiority complex, she still views her family and even Pitaya rather fondly, though it doesn’t prevent the latter from being spared any sort of pain. She sees everything as playful until it’s not

Does frankly miss Tarte Tatin and Royal Margarine even though one or both of them has Snapdragon, who she’s trying to get her hands on

Snores

❄️Frigid Cacao Cookie

Rarely speaks but when he does it’s usually to give orders, and half of that time he asks for food

His incense always remains lit

Alongside the cookies left, sometimes the licorice sea monsters that now roam his halls act as his servants. He can also use the licorice ooze to do wacky things like teleport from one place to another

Sometimes he appears in the fog of the snow like an apparition, something you can barely see but know he’s there. It’s one of the rare sightings of him outside

Another thing he does when outside is stare at a frozen Cacaoian. Sometimes he touches the icy surface, maybe kneels. Who knows what he’s thinking?

☀️Celestial Cheese Cookie

A lot of her mannerisms are akin to white diamond from steven universe, she was actually one of the main references I used for her design

She can summon as many golden arms as she wants and they operate on hydra properties. Cutting one will grow two

Despite this, she doesn’t have the legit Midas touch where everything she touches turns to gold, she can be selective. Which is good when she wants to pet jackals

Her growing kingdom is full of converted desert inhabitants and travelers, maybe a handful of townships, and it’s remarkable how she’s been able to grow a lot from nothing. She does get a bit of an inferiority complex when comparing herself to the likes of Dragonberry, but it motivates her to conquer more

🥀Midnight Lily Cookie

She picked up playing the harp after she became queen, and she plays often. The silver fae like to gather around to listen to their queen perform, and her harp can be heard across the kingdom

She’s grown more accustomed to speaking like the silver fae as well at times, her voice songlike despite how neutral it sounds. She’ll sing as she plays the harp as well

Despite being a beast, she’s the least accepting of that name for lack of a better word. She doesn’t see herself as being corrupt, only staying true to her decisions and her sovereignty, what she believes is right for herself and everyone. It just so happens that it enables the bad to do worse, but it’s not her problem anyway.

Her kingdom is still strict to outsiders, probably on the same level as cacao. You might need an invitation inside or risk the silver fae being free to do whatever they wish with you

As I mentioned previously they operate similar to the fae (unseelie in aesthetic) so you don’t want to bother chaotic neutral creatures

The only one allowed without invitation is Saint Vanilla, who has a habit of showing up in her garden to lay among the flowers. Lily can only imagine what he thinks of when he sees her

[daryldicksuckon69]

Ride His Motorcyle (18+)

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Era: Alexandria Era (No particular season, Glenn, Abraham live and there's no Saviors)

Tags: Smut, Cowgirl Position, Rough Sex

Word Count: 4.22k

Summary: Daryl and Reader find themselves in tight quarters for hours on end and nothing came of it to the dismay of them both. Daryl grow balls and addresses the *situation* smut ensues.

Ride His Motorcycle By @daryldisuckon69

With the rise of the sun comes the trials the day brings. However, for the past few years, the challenge of living has been constant and ever present. The group had earned their place in Alexandria, fought for one another and the citizens of the naïve township.

It had been three years since you’d all arrived but everyone had seemed to find a role in the community well. Daryl had found it particularly difficult to assimilate, as did Sasha, with all the horrors and loss endured on the way, it seemed coming back wasn't an option. 

You’d look at Maggie and Glenn at the farm, seeing their interactions and relationship develop to now being married and pregnant with admiration. With all this stability, members of the group in turn felt more inclined to settle down and build foundations. Now Rick and Michonne and Sasha and Abraham have been settling down, you were surrounded by happy people, people in love. 

Sure, some days it you felt lonely, but it always seemed so trivial: finally having all this space to feel comfortable and happy, not always worrying where the next meal or bed would be, if there was any at all, complaining about not having a person; to vouch for you, to love you, to touch you and make you feel good. 

You knew you could feel that with a certain brown-haired motorcyclist, but even with the whole town rooting for the pair of you, nothing ever came of it. 

“Speaking of coming, how did you and Daryl go on this morning’s supply run?” Rosita asks, opening your communal kitchen’s shelves, taking a couple glasses and placing them on your makeshift bar. 

Even with the amount of houses in Alexandria, you had decided to stay in the original house you share with Rosita and Tara. You all got along well and honestly, you couldn’t stand the idea of having a whole house to yourself. 

“Ha-ha, we— uh, didn’t have any luck. Ran into an old chemist with like 12 walkers and no supplies.” You tap your nails on the benchtop, glancing upwards to meet Rosita’s knowing expression. We’ll be talking about this later, she had this way of knowing there was more in your words than you let on.

“Those two are adults! Please, think of the poor neighbours.” Carol shakes her head as she dries her hands at the sink, she and Sasha had made some pound cake for this friday’s festivities, Sasha had quickly ducked to her house to change thus, the immediate exclamations from the woman who previously dated her current boyfriend, Abraham.

“God forbid you pass their house at any off hour of the day, the two of ‘em screaming and panting,” Rosita sighs exaggeratedly, continuing to stir the drinks aggressively. 

Every Friday you had happy hour in the kitchen, it was a nice way to keep track of the weeks while winding down from the days and nights endured in between; a reminder you were all alive and able to enjoy it now. Rosita snorted as she continued pouring the drinks while Tara takes a seat at the makeshift bar, raising hands in surrender; “Hey, I’m not complaining yet. Those two were a long time comin’.” 

“Whose together?” Sasha arrives just in time, with a fresh shirt and a cheeky grin and a slight perspiration.

Carol smiles politely, stirring the drinks “I’m just happy the two of you are finally together together.” 

“Real together these days huh.” You smirk knowingly, you and Sasha had shared your sex lives, her newly bountiful one and your lack of one, from sober watch duties to drunken kiss and tells often had on Friday nights, you began screwing the lid onto the whiskey. 

Rosita slapped your arm playfully, giggling like a child who’d gotten away with something naughty. 

“Hey, no use in being embarrassed now.” Tara points out, sipping her drink, eyeing Rosita knowingly. 

“Yeah, you weren’t embarrassed at those times, aye.” Rosita elbows Tara, causing the two to giggle profusely.

“Stop that! Look at her, she’s beet red, poor dear.” Carol glares accusingly at the two, breaking their giggle. Not a moment after you all break into a fit of laughter. A knock at the door stops you all in your tracks, you all look at eachother meaningfully. 

“Who could that be?” Tara sing-songs as Sasha raises her brow in suspicion. 

“It can’t be Abraham, he’s at the house and,” Sasha pauses as the group breaks into knowing laughter, 

“You’ve obviously ridden him out.” Carol finally joins in on the cheeky fun, sipping her drink with a slight blush on her face. Rosita and Tara hit each other playfully as they continued to laugh. 

“Y/N? Ya there?” Daryl’s husky grunt emanated from the front door, making you all stop completely.

“No fucking way.” Sasha’s eyes are wide open as she sets her glass down. They’re all staring at you now, in complete awe. 

“Congrats L/N, I didn’t know you had it in ya.” Tara pats your back supportively, making you fall forward slightly with her heavy hand. 

“I knew you didn’t let on everything that happened this morning, but this isn’t what I was expecting.” Rosita glances at the others pointedly. 

“I didn’t do anything, he’s probably just here to update about this morning’s supply run.” you point out, stirring your drink with your finger before downing in all in one go in an attempt to calm your beating heart. 

“She really doesn’t see it?” Tara looks around the room, raising her hands in exasperation. 

“How can you be so blind?” Sasha follows suit in the frustration. They were all aware of your infatuation and had been encouraging you since they’ve known you, but no matter, you’ve always been stubborn and naive to the works of love. 

“What the hell are you guys on about?” You scoff unconvincingly, you knew they knew and you couldn’t admit it to yourself. Admitting your feelings to yourself, let alone him, would hurt you more; you feel you couldn’t allow yourself to fall even further into this relaxed state of feeling. If you let your guard down, you could lose him. Which was such a ridiculous statement, since Daryl was the one who taught you most of what you know to survive; hunting and long range combat. No matter, it seems anyone who gets close to you dies or leaves: all except him. 

“The man’s in love with you.” Carol says pointedly, looking at you knowingly. She, out of them all, has known you as long as Daryl has, who has known this secret that’s been burning a hole in your pocket since the beginning. She wouldn’t lie, not to you: not about this.

You snort in disbelief, there’s no way that Daryl Dixon, the man that would sacrifice anything for any member of the group, and has never shown interest in anybody platonically, let alone romantically, would have feelings for you of all people.

“How can someone be so smart yet so stupid!” Tara smacks her hands against her face frustratedly.

“You help Michonne with making up laws and charters for the communities: facts. And yet you can’t see the fact right in front of your face.” Carol explains, setting her glass down and staring at you with that look; the look you all know: the look of pure transparency.

“Which is?”

“Dixon wants you.” Rosita finishes, pouring more whiskey into her glass. 

“I go on supply runs with him all the time and he never comes to check up on me afterward,” Tara adds, your brown furrow in thought.

“He also personally brings you food and water on your guard duty days.” Sasha mentions, glancing at Tara in solidarity.

“The lights are on, who is in there?” Daryl’s voice echoes throughout the house, shaking you from your trance.

“Well, if you’re not going to open the door,” Rosita smirks and pauses before leaping up from the bar and breaking into a sprint for the front door. You react slowly, sprinting after her frantically. 

“Fuck you, wait!” Before you can say any more, Rosita has already opened the door to a dishevelled looking Daryl. 

“Good Evening Dixon,” Rosita smiles politely, head leaning on the door.

“Hey Rosita, is Y/N home?”

“Hey Daryl”

“Oh.” Oh. 

Daryl steals a glance down at you, taking in your striped sleeping shorts hiked a little higher than comfortable from sitting down. Your hair is slightly messy, in a cute way, he thinks, as you have trouble making eye contact with his piercing blue eyes, those eyes you know more than the average group member, but are crying out to know more.

“C’we talk?” he grunts, “In priv’te, if thas' alright,.” clearing his throat nervously.

“Sure, just give me a sec, I’ll catch up.” he nods, smiling shyly at Rosita as he tucked his hands behind him, walking down the road.

As you wait for Daryl to be a safe distance away, you say your goodbyes. 

“Ride him like a motorcycle!” Rosita half whispers, half screams grinning as Tara and Sasha whoop from the end of the hall. You shush them impatiently, embarrassed you then shut the door and make your way to Daryl’s side. 

“So, what did you want to talk about?” you fidget, following two or so steps behind him, being even this close to him set your heart on fire, as well as other, nether, regions.

“This mornin’,” Daryl practically spits out, quickening his pace, you follow suit. 

“Is that all? Well you could’ve given me an update back there, why bring me all the way out to,” you pause and take in your surroundings. 

A Few Hours Earlier

“Hey Dayl! Look over there!” Daryl’s head shoots up to look at whatever you were pointing at, an old shop across the road with the word ‘Helen’s Apothecary’ written on it. He doesn’t respond, blankly staring at the building. 

“An old apothecary,” you point out obviously, staring at him pointedly. 

Daryl looked at you incredulously.

You sigh, “Old herbs and meds, probably untouched,” you squint through the Georgian heat of July, from what you could see from your distance, there seemed to be no walkers inside or out. 

“I’m gonna go ahead and check it out,” you hop off the counter your were sitting on, sneaking an indulgent glance at Daryl’s biceps as he ploughs through the limited items on the supermarket shelves. 

You didn’t know it but he could see you so obviously checking him out, he was almost proud of himself, if not for the detail that he wasn’t yours to check out. 

You and him weren’t even on track to being a couple, maybe a couple of friends, but nothing even remotely similar to the fantasies Daryl’s brain has been conjuring nonstop since the day he met you, seemingly worsening the more the pair of you spend time together. 

He was almost grateful for the distance, but your gaze was sweltering and he could feel the tent in his pants already warming up. He coughs awkwardly, adjusting himself in his pants as he uses his red rag to cover his predicament. 

“‘M comin’,” Daryl says simply, slinging his crossbow around his back. 

“You don’t have to do that, I’m perfectly capable of handling myself,” you say pointedly, shrugging your shoulders,

“I wan’ to,” he grunts as he begins to make his way over to the store, and you jog to catch up with him. 

"'Sides, if there's really as much as ya let on in 'ere, you'll need all the help ya can get,"

He’s knelt down, about to open the door when he feels your gaze on him, he turns slowly to you, arms crossed. 

“Found this place fair and square Dixon, shove over,” you kneel down and shuffle over until you’re shoulder to shoulder with him, he feels his cheeks warming up and before you can notice, he stands up; turning around to keep duty. 

“Whatever you say, L/N.” he mumbles, handing over the pick lock.

You snort, taking them in your hands as you attempt to break the chain, with each manoeuvre it seems you’ve barely made any progress. Frustrated, you take the hammer from your belt,

“Fuck it,” you grunt, smashing the glass door near the handle, unlocking it from the inside.

“What, the fuck is wrong with you.” Daryl says, a smile threatening to break at your situation. 

“I got it open, didn’t I?” you raise a brow, smiling. You put your hammer back in your belt and turn your flashlight on, he follows suit, taking his crossbow off his back, holding it up in defence. 

You take in your surroundings, the place is absolutely chock-a-block full of supplies. You gasp at your discovery, “You seein’ this?” you laugh, grinning like an idiot as you run through each isle in absolute awe. This will save so many lives. 

“Well, shit. Not bad L/N,” Daryl allows himself to crack a small smile, gazing at your overjoyed figure running through the store. 

“I think we’re gonna need bigger bags to fit all of this,” before you can continue, an arrow flies past your head, you turn in shock to find a dead walker at your feet. You sigh, “Thanks Dary—,” Daryl’s hand is covering your mouth, he’s so close to you, he pushes you against the wall and points to the front windows, you see a car full of men, large military grade weapons and frightening looks on their faces, before you can even react he takes his other hand and places his index finger on his lips, as he looks around for a way out, his heart is beating out of his chest.

He knew he shouldn’t have taken that shortcut you suggested on the way here, people must’ve heard the loud thrum of his motorcycle. He brought you out here just to see you die, it seems. 

Finally spotting a door towards the back of the store, he guides you to it. Ushering you in and shutting the door behind him. As he turns around to meet your eyes, wide and terrified. 

“What the fuck do we do?” Only then does Daryl notice the lack of space in this room. With the surrounding walls covered in cleaning shelves, you are forced to almost be pressed against one another. If he breathed hard enough, he reckons his chest would meet yours. He scrunches his eyes in frustration. 

“My bike is out there in the bushes hidden, if they’re as stupid as they look, we’ll be safe.” he assures, hands held together. 

“For now.” you sigh, looking anywhere but at him, which proved difficult as your neck was craning in this tight space. 

“Jus’ gotta hole up here until they leave,” he whispers, adjusting his posture; however long it took, it was gonna be excruciating.

“Wherever it is we’re going.” Daryl grunts in response, you continue to follow him down the Alexandrian streets, absolutely oblivious and wishing you brought your glass with you.

“Jus’, follow me.” he sounds frustrated, more frustrated than usual you acknowledge. His hands are rigid fists at his side, knuckles turning white as he continues to trudge down the street, turning another corner; you know where you’re headed.

You reach Carol and Daryl’s house as Daryl opens the front door, not bothering to hold it open like he usually does, he opens the basement door and trudges downstairs in a huff. You’re practically sprinting after him at this point. 

Once you reach his room he makes a beeline for his workbench, slamming his hands onto it with a loud thud. You jump, suddenly terrified. 

“What the fuck Daryl?” you shout, squaring your shoulders. There’s no way he’s going to drag you across half the town just to get mad at you, no way in hell you’re letting that happen.

More silence follows, you stand there, not knowing what to do, then you sigh;

“Can you just tell me what’s going on? I feel like I’m going crazy.” you say, evenly. A moment passes before he slowly turns to face you, his eyes never meet yours. 

“Sorry,” he starts, eyes darting around the room, looking for anything more interesting to look at, but there isn’t. 

“I jus’, don’ know if I can handle this anymore,” your brows soften, taking a few steps towards him in concern, he cowers away almost immediately. 

“Handle what?” you impatiently blurt, hands on your hips. 

“You don’ get it do ya?” he rasps, eyes suddenly meeting yours, sending a shiver down your spine. 

“If you tell me what’s the matter, I might be able to help you!” you cry, attempting to meet his avoidance eyes.

“Help me? You couldn’t even help yerself this mornin’!” He yells, pointing to the general direction of this morning's scavenge. 

“And how would you know what’s best for me huh?”

That seemed to strike a nerve, his whole body seemed to tense at the question. He shifts awkwardly, when he looks back at you he glances at your eyes before fixing his gaze at the trees behind you. 

“Trust me girl, I know,”

“Aww you’re just such a good guy, takin’ care of me like I'm your little sister! Guess what Daryl, I’m not.” You lean forward and straighten yourself up as best you can, chest heaving in frustration. 

“What ya see me as yer older brother?” Daryl dares to take a step forward, lighting this candle, you don’t reply. Looking back to when you first met one another, you knew that you could never see him in the way you so desperately hoped for. 

Daryl grunts, “Thought so,”

“Excuse me?” your brows furrow in frustration, crossing your arms around yourself in exasperation. 

What you don’t realise is Daryl’s sorry attempt in not looking at your now pushed-out breasts in your particularly low-cut top. Daryl glares at you obviously. 

“What happened this morning—”

“Should’ve happened long ago.” your breath catches in your throat, you can’t believe your ears. 

“Why would you say that?” you question, carefully: the situation seeming a lot more delicate than previously realised.

“I would’a known,” he looks away, brows furrowed, “would’a realised it.” Daryl rambles, gaze stuck on the floor. 

“Would’ve realised what, Daryl?”

“‘ave been fuckin’ stupid since the start,” He spits, pacing back and forth. You stand there, looking particularly stupid. 

“We were fuckin’ stuck: pressed up against each other all morning, and yer tellin’ me ya don’ get it!?” he yells, pausing to compose himself. 

“‘Fore it was all muddled, if I—” he paused for a beat and stared down at you, but before you could comment, his hands were on your shoulders, pushing you into the wall, pressing his body against yours; you could feel his hands shake. 

“I’m sweet on ya,” Daryl doesn’t break eye contact, his body flush against yours. You can feel each other's heavy, shallow breathing: chest to chest, heart to heart. Just the same as this morning. You almost lean into him, you feel safe in his warmth. 

“Ya got anything to say about that?” 

“I—” you begin, your throat caught in your throat, you can’t think of what to say. 

“I can’t,”

“Ya can,”

“Daryl, I really can’t,”

“Say it again,”

“Sorry?”

“The part where you say my name,” you pause, staring into his eyes, his beautiful, crystal blue eyes and you know in this moment, you can no longer hide your affections.

“Say it again, Y/N, please,”

You sigh, closing your eyes momentarily, afraid of the reaction you’ll get, you feel Daryl's large hand envelop your own, squeezing it encouragingly.

“Daryl.” you breathe, feeling all the nerves shot up like lightning at the sound of your voice, breathy and flustered. You feel like you’ve left your body, simply witnessing the event taking place.

“Now say it.”

“You know I can’t Daryl.”

“I don’t want to hurt our relationship, I— I can’t: I don’t want you to not talk to me again.” 

“You know that’ll never happen, Y/N.”

With deep breaths, you try to calm down. But the proximity of Daryl and his intense gaze aren’t helping things. 

“Jus’ tell me ya got something on ya mind— so we can stop dancin’ ‘round what’s goin’ on ‘ere.” he rasps, continuing to stare at you. 

“I—I,”

“It’s okay, darlin’.”

It didn’t feel okay, especially as you said the words, those words you kept in your heart, to yourself, didn’t even let Rosita or Carol know, the words you didn’t want to accept were how you feel; but say you do.

“I love you, Daryl.”

A beat, you close your eyes as time seems to stop. You feel your heart beating from your chest, and the occasional tremble of your breathing. 

Before you can elaborate, Daryl closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours roughly. You reciprocate, pressing yourself against him, he continues to kiss your lips, your cheek, down your jaw and your neck. 

“Yer,” he kisses your lips, “As stubborn,” he kisses his way down your cheek, “As,” he continues pressing kisses down your jaw as you lean into him, mouth open in ecstasy, “A Mule,” he kisses your mouth again, hands on your hips as he presses himself against you. You break the kiss, and breathily reply.

“As stubborn as you.” you moan into another kiss, placing a hand in his hair as he grabs onto your ass. 

“Been wanting to say it to you since the beginning—God have I been this naive for so long?”

“Jus’ shut up.” he breathes, kneading your ass as he sucks on your neck, spurred on by your moans.

His arm drops down to your leg, hoisting it up and wrapping it against his hips, he begins to grind into your core as you attempt to match his rhythm; the friction making it hard to hold back your voice. 

He licks the mark he left on you before sliding his tongue inside your mouth, open mouth and moaning as you feel your breath catching and pushing him off you before you get carried away.

The pair of you stare at each other, flustered and breathing heavily. 

“You alright? Wanna stop?” Daryl inquires, chest still heaving. You grab a hold of his forearms, rubbing them up and down. 

“God no.” you gasp, 

“Good,” he grunts, he lifts his shirt up. 

“You let me know, if ya wanna stop.”

Still breathing heavily, you lean into his touch, holding onto his large bicep as he devours your neck, leaving love marks in his tow, he guides you back onto his bed as you shuffle up the bed, Daryl on top of you.

"I'm gonna make sure everyone knows who's claimed ya," Daryl grunts between licking and sucking your neck, one hand on your hip and the other at your jaw, gently guiding your neck as he tries to suck deeper in your neck.

Pulling away you take your shirt off with the help of Daryl, you lie down, lifting your pelvis up and he slides your shirts off, you look down to your clearly soaked panties, taking a deep breath as he rubs his chin.

“Fuck,” you smile up at him, you hook your leg around his and with all your body weight on him, you tun him on his back, straddling him.

Daryl holds you up as you rub your pussy along the length of his cock, coating him with your slick, you wish you could drag this out longer but you’re so turned on the only thought crossing your mind is feeling Daryl inside of you. He stays still as you position yourself on top of him and closes his eyes with a deep groan when you slowly sick down on his cock.

His sheer size almost sends you over the edge, pausing for a moment you stay still. Daryl runs his hands up your legs and sides, and over your stomach. Your skin prickles with the heat simply from his touch, your nipples hardening. His large hands cup your breasts and that’s that.

“‘M gonna take good care of ya, sunshine,” he smirks up at you, that cheeky boyish charm seeping through.

Driving yourself up and down on him, Daryl’s cock in and out of you rough. You can’t look away, the look of greed and desire in Daryl’s face takes your breath away.

You lean forward, letting him lean in and hungrily take your breasts in his mouth, the way he sucks and licks at you, Daryl drives you so wild you ride him harder than you would any of the motorcycles his hand over the years, his girth filling you, driving you over the edge; leaning back your mouth hangs open, his name tumbling over your lips.

He’s holding onto your hips now, pushing up into you with short, hard thrusts while your muscles tense and clench around him, he massages your clit in between frenzied thrusts. Daryl quickly pulls out of you, causing you pair to gasp at the feeling, moaning as he paints his stomach with his spend. 

You collapse on top of him, exhausted, hair damp with perspiration, he begins stroking your hair while leaving tender kisses on top of your head. 

“You held your end of the bargain,”

You lift your head to look him in the eye, “Rode me like a cowboy more like it, though.” he grins, completely satisfied. 

“Shut up.” you can’t help but smile at that.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! I had a lot of fun making it, comments and feedback is much appreciated.

My requests are OPEN! DM, Ask, Comment. I'm active as shit I'll see it and try my best to get to you <3

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[scotianostra]

On March 3rd 1883 three hundred inhabitants of the remote Shetland island of Foula were on the point of starvation as the first supply boat of the year reached the stormbound community.

Foula, often described as the "Edge Of The World" is our most remote inhabited island. It is situated in the Atlantic Ocean approximately 20 miles to the west of the Shetland mainland. It is an island of crofting townships, breath-taking sheer cliff drops, and a wealth of wild flowers and wildlife.

Over a century ago, in 1881, Foula had a population of 267, mostly employed in fishing...at the last census in 2001 that figure had dropped to just 38.

On March 3rd 1883 the Shetland Times published this;

The Weather and Mails – Foula

Nine weeks have now expired since our last mail was landed, and all our resources are almost exhausted. Sugar and tobacco have been all done for more than a fortnight, and tea, coffee, etc, are now done also. Those who had a little meal to spare have helped those who had none, a thing often done in Foula, but if the weather does not moderate we will soon be all alike. The boat has been in readiness now for some time to go to Walls for supplies, and as the weather has become a little more moderate today they are going to make a start, so we hope that they may get safe through, and a chance to return again soon. But we doubt if the mail boat will be able to cross today yet, as the wind still inclines to the westward.

There isn’t much more than this about their plight, but it seems that same day they breathed a sigh of relief as a boat must have made it to Mainland and back successfully.

Today crofting as well as fishing are the main activities, half the population living at Hametoun in the south east and the remainder to be found at Ham near Ham Voe on the east coast. The island is not connected to any mainland electricity grid system. In 1987 a community electricity scheme was constructed, comprising a 3.3kV island grid which linked diesel generators, a wind turbine and a hydroelectricity scheme to the island’s properties. This scheme gradually fell into disrepair and has undergone a major refurbishment, funded primarily through grants.

Before refurbishment, the entire island's power was supplied by one of the two diesel generators which operated between approximately 7.20am and 00.30am. That’s not to say they were without power for the, just under 7 hours the generator is off, a battery/inverter system was installed between 2006 and January 2007, a solar charging array helps top up the batteries as well . The system was fully commissioned at the beginning of March 2007 and already the islanders not only have continuous power ( instead of the previous 17 hours per day) but are noticing considerable savings in diesel fuel use. Since diesel has to be shipped in by ferry (and often the weather is too bad for the ferry to run for up to 3 weeks on end) this of huge value.

An interesting feature of the island's people is that they still observe the old Julian calendar, replaced in 1752 in Britain by the present Gregorian system which deleted 11 days from the year. Remote areas of the country kept to the old calendar, adding an extra day in 1800, which was a leap year, and some parts of Shetland continued to observe festivals 12 days after the dates in the new calendar. The most remote areas kept to the old calendar longest, and the people of Foula still celebrate Christmas on 6 January and New Year's Day on 13 January

Travel to the island is by sea or air and is completely dependent on suitable weather conditions.

A wee bit more, and a short video can be found at the link below.

[mary-bell-radiation-authority]

Management: Update on the MBU burning

Hello, residents of Mary Bell Township. As you know, on the 21st of June this year, a violent attack was done on our township by detonating bombs on the Mary Bell University. (MBU) We at the MBRA have been working tirelessly this summer to find the perpetrators of this terrible act. Unfortunately, we have not have any proven attackers, but we have gathered a list of suspects. - Camp Vernon Vernon was present at the University the night of June 21st, claiming to be "hanging out with [his] friends." After the attack, he was one of the very few people with major injuries, signifying he was in the University during the explosion and/or the fire. We have tried to interview him further, but we have not been able to locate him. If you have contact to, have recently seen, or locate Camp Vernon in the future, contact the MBRA immediately. Vernon is our most wanted suspect. - Varen "Mod" Leary Leary was also present at the University during the attack, they were occupied in their dorm that evening. They sustained very minor injuries. However, they seem to have been heavily involved with a group of people that included suspects such as Camp Vernon, possibly also treating the injuries of him. Leary has also not been present to interview. Once again, please report to the MBRA if you locate or can contact Mod Leary for an interview. Finally, if your name is on the list below, please report to the MBRA for an interview or you will also be considered a likely suspect. - Los Cooper - Millicent Wood - Euphemine "E" Aikido - Nature Tapes - Rein Agony - AVE

[mars1749]

Week 1 workout 1 complete!! ✅

This is actually so easy and my form wasn't as bad as I suspected. It was raining quite a bit today but it was actually really refreshing. I'll hopefully check it tomorrow about my second workout! I'm enjoying this a lot. Have a nice day y'all

Runner five, signing out! 👋

[blues824]

I love the way you write the headcanons about the First Years + Ortho going to the reader's world! Could you do the same with the Second Years, please?

Riddle Rosehearts

Favorite Country/City: He would love to go visit Stratford-Upon-Avon in England, as he is one to enjoy being in the city of one of the most famous playwrights and authors in history: William Shakespeare. Also, there is tea available at most shops, so he will still be able to follow the Queen of Hearts’ rules.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: Again, his favorite dish is strawberry tarts, and they apparently originate in France as tarts were used to showcase the seasonal not-berries. That aside, he also does appreciate French cuisine as a whole.

Favorite Drink: Again, he enjoys tea, but I think he would like strawberry lemonade. More specifically, the strawberry lemonade from those restaurants that put those slices of strawberries into the drink.

Favorite Souvenir: A small Shakespeare bust that he can place on a bookshelf as a book holder.

Favorite Singers/Songs: He absolutely loves classical music, specifically from the Classical Era. He prefers the classics: Bach, Beethoven, Marianna Martines, etc. Favorite song would be Für Elise, by Ludwig van Beethoven.

Favorite Movie: The Phantom of the Opera, but the 1927 silent film version.

Ruggie Bucchi

Favorite Country/City: I originally was going to say that he would have liked Luxembourg because it’s one of the richest countries in the world, but I decided that would be too easy. I feel like he would love to go to Cairo in Egypt. It’s very rich in history and culture, and I’ve heard they have good food (someone confirm, plz).

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: His favorite food is donuts, and I looked it up and they apparently originate from either Ancient Greece/Rome or Medieval Arab chefs. That being said, either cuisines (Greek, Italian, or Middle Eastern) would be his favorite. He has a very diverse palate.

Favorite Drink: Depending on if he prefers coffee or tea, he would like either Mazboot or even Zjada coffee, or karkade (please correct me on any of this, I am not from the Middle East and have never been so if it’s incorrect you can tell me. Got this info from online).

Favorite Souvenir: A small, handmade pot that he found at one of the markets. He thought it looked interesting and thus purchased it. The vendor was really kind as well.

Favorite Singers/Songs: This is kind of hard, but AMERICAN HORROR SHOW by SNOW WIFE would be his favorite, meaning hyperpop would be his favorite genre. He gives me TikTok boy vibes for some reason, and he would also like most songs that popped up on his FYP.

Favorite Movie: Lion King, and I’m not trying to be funny. He just likes the “It’s not funny, Ed”, where Ed erupts even more into laughter. It makes him snicker a bit as well. Maybe I was trying to be funny.

Azul Ashengrotto

Favorite Country/City: He would love the township of Cavendish in Prince Edward Island, Canada. It’s got the ocean, it’s got the small town vibes, and it inspired L.M. Montgomery’s fictional town of Avonlea in Anne of Green Gables. Speaking of, he would totally resonate with Anne because they both entered a society that they weren’t knowledgeable of the norms of. 

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: Because he loves fried chicken, I would say his favorite cuisine is that of the Southern United States. You can’t go wrong with coleslaw, cornbread, green beans, mashed potatoes, and Southern hospitality.

Favorite Drink: Iced Tea, specifically from the Southern states as well. If we’re talking about cocktails, then Long Island Iced Tea would be his go-to. However, he prefers to drink at home because he doesn’t have to call anyone to pick him up.

Favorite Souvenir: It’s stated that he likes collecting coins, so yeah.

Favorite Singers/Songs: This man loves Elvis Presley’s music, and no one can fight me on this. He’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, so he loves either Heartbreak Hotel or Can’t Help Falling in Love is his favorite song.

Favorite Movie: Romeo and Juliet, the one starring Leonardo DiCaprio. The movie’s great, the actor not so much. He’s a bit of a hopeless romantic, as I stated before, so he would very much like a Romeo to his Juliet. Mans wants to be in a tower with a window sill and he wants someone to be standing below to talk to in a romantic way.

Jade Leech

Favorite Country/City: He loved going scuba diving in the Mariana Trench, and since the Trench is located between Hawaii and the Philippines, I think he would love staying in the Philippines. The city he favors would be Boracay, even though it’s in the middle of the Philippine Islands and a bit further from the East.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: His favorite dish is octopus carpaccio, and it’s kind of obvious that it’s Italian. He does enjoy Italian cuisine as a whole as well. However, if we are taking the octopus components of the dish, then I believe he would also be a lover of Japanese cuisine.

Favorite Drink: It is recommended that with octopus carpaccio, you should have a Pinot noir, and he agrees. However, if he’s just going to a bar, he would order a limoncello spritz. It’s typically a post-dinner drink, and he likes the lemon flavor along with the kind-of-like-soda, kind-of-like-wine game that the drink offers him.

Favorite Souvenir: He loves smaller, easily portable trinkets, so as basic as it is he loves collecting keychains and magnets. His favorite keychain is a shell that had a hole in it, and a small child actually handed it to him out of nowhere. He got a ring and attached it to his backpack.

Favorite Singers/Songs: His favorite song is 24 / 7 / 365, by Surfaces. It’s laidback, it’s chill, and he likes it. Songs that remind him of the beach are ones that he likes. He plays it when he’s attending to his terrariums. 

Favorite Movie: Jaws, and none of the sequels. All the sequels suck. He has watched the first Jaws so many times that he sings along with Quint when he starts singing “Farewell and Adieu You Fair Spanish Ladies”. 

Floyd Leech

Favorite Country/City: He wants to go places where he can do things whenever it strikes him. He would also want to go somewhere with clear water. Thus, I believe he would love to go to Tahiti. There’s a market, he can go scuba diving with whales and sharks, he can go surfing, he can go to the museum, and if he wants to stay in his hotel room then he can.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: His favorite dish is Takoyaki, so I think it’s safe to assume that he likes Japanese cuisine. However, it is stated that shiitake mushrooms come from mountainous regions in China, Japan, Indonesia, and Taiwan, so he likes any dishes without the mentioned mushrooms.

Favorite Drink: As funny as it is, Sex on the Beach, as it’s a summer drink that he loves to enjoy on the beach. Also, he has the emotional maturity of a 7th grade boy, and the name was hilarious to him. 

Favorite Souvenir: Two little figurines of a guy and a girl dancing with each other. They fit together in a way that was complex, making it a puzzle of sorts.

Favorite Singers/Songs: Either Laffy Taffy or Sneaky Link 2.0 are his favorite songs. This man is searching for his Mrs. Bubblegum. He is looking to be somebody’s sneaky link. He lives for drama, and no one can tell me otherwise.

Favorite Movie: The Meg, because who doesn’t love a giant, prehistoric shark that escapes from the gaseous layer at the bottom of the Mariana Trench? He has sharp teeth like the megalodon, and he likes the jumpscare where the shark jumps up.

Kalim Al-Asim

Favorite Country/City: He loves tropical areas, but he loved the Bahamas and the capital of Nassau the most. The resort there was great, and the people were very friendly. It was a laid back time, and it was not even a five minute walk to the beach. Plus, coconuts grow there apparently (correct me if I’m wrong), and coconut juice is his favorite food.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: A lot of Thai food, specifically the desserts, use the flesh of the coconut, so I think I have substantial evidence to say that he does like Thai food. He would be very hesitant to try Thai curry, though… unless he had somebody to try it with him.

Favorite Drink: Piña Colada, doesn’t matter if it’s virgin or not. He loves the song that accompanies it as well. Anyways, the drink is a very fruit-filled drink. He thinks it’s the right amount of sweetness, so he loves to enjoy it.

Favorite Souvenir: A singular photograph, as he somehow found himself involved in a volunteer program and he took a picture with children from one of the villages he was volunteering at.

Favorite Singers/Songs: He also likes songs that remind him of the beach, and I stated that he probably likes the song Escape (The Piña Colada Song), but it’s not his favorite. His favorite song would be Celebration, by Maffio, Farruko, and Akon (feat. Ky-Mani Marley).

Favorite Movie: I have a feeling that he would love the movie Shrek. It’s funny, a lot of memes have been made from all the movies, all the sequels are great. What’s not to love about the movie(s)?

Jamil Viper

Favorite Country/City: He gives me a vibe that I resonate with on the historical front, so I would think he would like to visit somewhere in the Middle East, as that is where ancient Mesopotamia was. Specifically, he would love to visit Ur, in Iraq. Not only is it located in a desert (familiar territory), but it’s one of (if not the) first cities in the world.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: Unlike Kalim, he loves curry, so that gives me reason to believe that he would enjoy Indian cuisine the most. Syrian food comes in second for him (I spend a lot of time at my friend’s Syrian house and they make good food… I’m hungry now).

Favorite Drink: This was difficult, but I feel like he would move towards margaritas, and not just because of the song. Because curry can be spicy, I would say he likes a spicy margarita as well. His favorite non-alcoholic drink would be a mangonada.

Favorite Souvenir: All the books he picked up to learn different languages. He learned along the way as well, and all of the books have annotations within them so he has them for future reference.

Favorite Singers/Songs: He likes breakdancing, so he likes any song he can breakdance to. I am not very involved within this genre of music, so after doing some research I have come to the conclusion that he would love the song The Witch, by the Bamboos.

Favorite Movie: Footloose, as it’s a movie about dancing and rock music being banned. He saw it because it looked interesting, and he learned the Footloose dance. Also, the song Holdin’ Out For a Hero makes him feel like he wants to be someone’s hero.

Silver

Favorite Country/City: Carrickfergus, as it holds the Carrickfergus Castle. It may be a Norman castle, but it’s because of the history (and the fact that he may be based off of both the Princess and the Prince and thus deserves a castle {personal opinion}) that he enjoys his time in the town.

Favorite Cuisine/Dish: This is the first time I’ve actually dove into investigating Silver’s likes and dislikes, and apparently he likes mushroom risotto, which is thought to originate from the Italian region of Lombardy.

Favorite Drink: He strikes me as the type to like wine, and not the bitter stuff. He likes sweeter wines, especially white wines as they pair nicely with the risotto he loves.

Favorite Souvenir: A journal, in which he writes about his many journeys around the world. 

Favorite Singers/Songs: I think he is a Swiftie. That being said, his favorite song would be Love Story, as he is looking for his Juliet. However, he is not one of those over-excited fans who will tear someone up for saying they don’t like Taylor Swift’s songs. He will just judge them quietly.

Favorite Movie: Gladiator, partially for the plot, partially for Russel Crowe. It reminds him of the training he had to go through as a knight.

[imaginesofeverykind]

Witches Brew ~ Chapter 1

Warnings: HEAVY mentions of blood/gore, magic described as visceral, catholic-centric monotheism demonised, gore themes, Aegon being the epitome of ‘omg i’ll do whatever except tell mum’, Body horror, 18+ Minors DNI

Tags: DnD-Esque style AU, Targaryens aren't royalty but they are Noblefolk, some things are purposefully vague :S :S

Chapter Song: Go Tell Aunt Rhody (RE7 soundtrack) - Michael A. Levine, Jordan Reyne

Summary: To practice magic is to slight God with the devil's embrace. It is evil, sin, consuming and the price one pays is never worth what one seeks. Yet people, in times of desperation often turn to desperate measures, in Aegon’s case, medicinal remedy is not an option. No healer can undo what has been done. But the Hag tucked away behind reeds, water topped with algae and the voracious bog may be able to. For a price.

Word Count: 3.8k

Series Masterlist

Vicious rapping squanders the peace and quiet of a relatively silent part of the swamp. Moonlight splits off, cutting through the canopy of overgrowth that shields a peculiar abode entangled within the trunk of an elder tree. The crickets sing among the toads’ baritone croaks until they cease, abiding by the loud pounding on the wooden door that barely stays on its hinges, splintering from wood rot.

”Please!”

A guttural plea, desperation lingering atop the vowels. No one ever came to the decrepit hut unless they were on the brink, teetering the veil of life, quite literally on death's door. But death hardly answered, in its wake, oftentimes stood you; for those who braved the trek.

He had almost given up, muscles begging him for rest, for a modicum of reprieve from the toil it took just to arrive at the steps of a stranger's hut. The weight, the pain, it was enough to finally buckle his shaky grime covered knees, splinters embedded themselves into the palms of his hands the moment his hands hit the wood beneath him. 

“I need —,” a whimper, is all that managed to escape his throat. His eyes flickered to the body beside him — not body, he wasn’t dead yet — to his brother laying beside him, laboured breaths that sucked through his barred teeth in discomfort. 

Lips curled into a snarl, he brought his fist down on the decking one final time, “open the door you fucking wretch!” 

He nearly cowered when the door yanked open, yellow light spilling out into the dark bog from the hearth that roared inside. No one stood in the frame of the door, no one beckoned him inside the derelict home and despite this, he rose to his feet, scraping his newly acquired trousers. There was little energy left in him, just enough to drag the mauled body of his brother - one that inched closer to the afterlife - over the threshold of the hut.

”Sit.” 

He spun on his feet, nearly tripping over the pile of wood stacked beside the hearth when his eyes landed on you, who had appeared, simply materializing from nothing. It was only mere seconds until he was set on you again, a frantic torment that willed him near you, “Hag, you must help him!” Despite his weary disposition, he demanded help.

A nobleman. You think, taking his appearance in. Both men donned the same white hair, similarly crafted attire that screamed wealth and you are automatically aware of who was inside your abode. The township off the Kings Road comes to your mind, owned by a Lord as it had been for the past century.

”Well?! Must I get on my knees?” He was angry, that much was clear, but he was more afraid above all.

You waved dismissively, though not toward the stranger, the Lordling. The table of apothecary jars and dissected creatures vanish, though they never are truly gone, and you gesture for the man to place his injured companion. He’s confused at first, most people are when they come to you. Magic was no longer what it was, you could feel it wane the harder religion sought to destroy it. He most likely has never seen it this close.

But he silently obeys, with great effort hauling his brother up on the table and like you had before, appeared behind him as silently as the fog that began to seep through the crack beneath the door. He flinched away instantly, you fought back a sly smirk but your focus was on the man with long matted locks. The hair was a brilliant white, the same as his brothers, identical as the Lord of the closest settlement, but it was marred with the crimson syrup of blood.

You bring a finger to his mutilated face, your pointed nails more akin to talons than that of humans, they threaten to crack the white porcelain of his skin. Swiping a long line down, coating the pads of your fingertips in blood and bringing it to your mouth for a taste. Bitter. The able bodied man recoiled at the sight, but you pay him no mind as you examine the injured one.

His eye was gone. That was a shame. You were fond of eyes as payment.

”Can you heal him?” The man beside you asked, voice small, almost childlike and feeble. ”Name your price, make him whole again and I’ll — I’ll give you whatever you want. Fix him.” His anguish raked through your ears and rattled against your mind like razor sharp teeth, your neck instinctively lolling from left to right as if to ward off the discomfort that followed.

”They’ll know.” You answer cryptically, caressing the side of the younger man's face much like a mother would when tucking in a babe for the evening.

“Can. You. Fix. Him?” His patience was wearing thin.

You sigh, turning to face him properly for the first time since he arrived. Violet eyes. Magic touched his very heritage and yet his own kin sought to erase it, the irony was not lost on you. “He will be different.” You say as a warning, a politeness he certainly didn’t deserve yet you gave it anyway.

Anger overcame him, outstretching his hands and coiling his fingers around the scruff of your filthy dress to yank you toward him. You happen to catch the brief glint of silver, but you had caught it, the blade with your hand wrapping around it to stop it from piercing your chest. Not that it would have damaged your heart, you wonder if his intent was to scare or if he simply forgot which side the human heart resided.

The blade cut through your skin, rivers of red beginning to run down your wrist. The pain is welcome.

“Fix him. Or else I’ll drag you to Oldtown where you can burn in the circle you filthy animal.” 

Animal. As if you were no longer good enough to be likened to a person, a human person capable of human things. ‘They fear what they cannot control,’ the voice is recalled into your mind, a vague memory of the past resurfacing as though it meant to reassure you.

Your lips twist into an awry smirk, and the second he blinks you have once again dissolved through his hands like an apparition. Reappearing by his brother's side, sliced hand outstretched to let your own blood drip tantalizingly slow over the unconscious man’s face.

In your other hand is a surprisingly ornate steel flask, an eyesore amongst the natural clutter. Whatever liquid you have delicately poured down the man’s throat is sanguine, syrupy thick like honey. You sense there is something not quite right mere seconds before the man begins to convulse violently, gasping for air that he cannot breathe.

”What have you done?!” Nostrils flared and ire rising, the able bodied one charged toward you like a boar gone rabid. 

You grew tired of his impetulant outbursts, whispering a soft incantation with hurried hand flourishes and his movements ceded. Burnt into the wooden boards around his feet, still smoking with specks of orange embers were runes, etched into a circle. Something felt off, the air reeked of acrid mildew mixed with copper and you knew instantly what triggered the reaction.

Ignoring the binded man’s threats you let the magic sing to you, caress you, consume you while softly speaking in a forgotten and forbidden tongue.

The windows and door fly open, inviting in a malstrom of wind, tempestuous and bludgeoning, the centre it wishes to converge is at the body on the table still choking, still clawing at himself for air. His spirit dwindles at every garbled breath but you sense his will and you could feel his fight, he was a warrior through and through even in the face of imminent mortal peril. Not many of those who seek you, offer the same resoluteness. 

The older brother is driven to shield his face from the vacuum of wind battering him against the unseen magical force which keeps him in place. Fear was evident in his eyes, perhaps even a touch of regret and guilt though you don’t linger too long as you shout a final mantra, holding both your forearms with formidable strength that is unbroken until the last word passes your lips, you break your grasp.

And then suddenly, the gale force of destruction dissipates.

Silence follows. And you are sat beside the young brother, placing a paste across the part of his face which had been torn away viciously. “What attacked him?” It was the first time you had spoken so directly, but it was because you knew the answer, the nobleman before you couldn’t possibly know what lurked through the mangroves and stalked beneath the stillwater.

He doesn’t appear to comprehend the question at first, muttering to himself a litany of false truths to explain what had happened right in front of him. His very own trembling brings him back from his prison of thoughts as his gaze lifts cautiously to meet yours, “a Direwolf.”

“How did you know it was a Direwolf?” You ask instantly, predicting that he would say as much. No matter, you step over to the cabinet that housed jars filled with all sorts of assorted components for potion making or spell casting, the moon light coming through the window casting an eerie shadow on the workspace.

”What else do you call a giant fucking wolf, what does it matter?” He grew restless again.

You dripped a small phial of black liquid into the mortar filled with other ingredients with great haste, eyes curiously peering out the window looking at the moon as you grimly sigh and mix together what’s been obtained. “It matters,” you grit, trying to grind the remainder of the paste, “the difference between a Direwolf and what attacked him is an exceptionally vindictive blood curse.”

He blinked at you, “what?”

You discard the mortar and cross the room swiftly, shelves littered with bones, glowing rocks and a variety of ceremonial looking daggers. Though magic and its very history were being erased by the ‘new god’, you still hoped those within the settlement weren’t entirely sheltered. 

“He will know no master lest it is the moon, he will know no anger stronger than wrath, he will know only pain and isolation.”

The expression that fell across his face told you all that was needed; He understood fully what was at stake, just as you had moments before. Though his resolve hardened and he met your gaze once more, “cure him. Whatever it takes, I do not care!” Both of you knew he was in no position to demand, not when he was still held in place by unseen magic and you had proven many times how easily it was to simply disappear.

And that is what you did, if only briefly, shooting him a coy smile before vanishing and leaving him in ruination for the moment. In the silence, forced to look at his brother made his lip tremble. He hoarsely called out to him, shaky words choking in half sobs to beckon him awake and rip him from unconsciousness to no avail.

”He’s not here,” You softly say, causing him to jump when you reappear and brush past him. “His soul is in limbo, he won’t hear you.” But I can, you think, the energy sings to your soul in a gentle hymn and your blood sings back to it. In your hand a lock of silver hair clasped in your fist, having come from where you disappeared to, though it caused immediate alarm for the man. 

He pointed a finger at your hand and grimaced, his bottom lip still trembling but no longer from hopelessness. Though he doesn’t ask the question out loud, you know what he’s thinking and you were certain he wouldn’t like the answer regardless of how you explained it.

“Whatever it takes,” you gently repeated his words and it was enough to silence him, for far longer than you thought was possible. Though the silence was welcomed, encouraging concentration while you handled the spellcraft with the care and love that had been taught to you. The woman in your memory that provided warmth and affection was not your mother by blood and yet she lived through your very essence as if she were.

She was there with every spell, whispering gently and coaxing a power buried deep within you. She was in the walls of the hut, imbuing you with much needed protection from creatures and men. And she was here, watching you through omniscient delight as you dedicated part of your essence to a stranger and his injured brother.

The serenity only just takes the edge of tension away, as if you weren’t tending to the impossible feat of near resurrection and stitching a man whole together once more. Life was fragile, mortality was inevitable even to those who yearn against it but magic could manipulate it enough even if it took great energy. It wasn’t without drawbacks, though. Transactional in nature, to undo what has been done required blood magic, the type of magic you were versed well in but it almost always came with consequence.

’What is taken, must be given back’ the words of your ‘mother’ echoed superfluously everytime your duty required meddling with the laws of nature. Perhaps that was why many travelers or townsfolk revered you as a hag, if not for the way you dressed or looked or lived, then for your duty as an indiscriminate arbiter of unfairness and misfortune.

Magic was fair, balanced and it obeyed karmic laws, this was why you cradled such energy. Life was not, it was often unfair and that much had been made clear the moment your real mother left you in a swamp to be taken by whatever monsters prowled in search for their next meal.

So you do what needed to be done - if only a little self serving to you personally but - you give back the injured man what had been clawed away and take something from his family locked away in their fortress within the walls of their beloved township. Not without a final twist in the knife for the older brother who demanded your help many hours ago. Appearing beside him like a shade, gripping his wrist abruptly and slicing a line across his palm to draw blood.

He attempted to fight back but he was bound, he could only wince and complain while you squeezed the blood into a medium phial. When you had finished, he snatched his hand back, holding it to his chest as if to soothe the pain and grimaced at you almost childishly, “you could’ve asked.”

A faint smile tickles the corner of your lips, though it was no matter of if his words were amusing or his mannerism when he calmed down were fascinating, there was still a task at hand. 

The final part of the brutal rite fell appropriately on the witching hour, where the crow sings thrice while the moon is still high. To complete everything, you dropped several dribbles of the brother's blood into the injured’s mouth and finished off your words of sacrilege.

”He will recover,” You announce, finally after what seemed like hours upon hours of the sounds of your transfixed mumblings and careful spell work.

The man hadn’t heard you at first, in fact he had barely registered the runic circle by his feet had disappeared quite some time ago which meant he was no longer bound in place yet he still remained as if he were. But the only thing that broke him from his trance had been the shallow breath followed by his younger brother lurching forward in a confused panic.

No longer was his face torn, eye gouged, the only indication of that was the faint pink scar that remained. His eyes — both, set on you and he surged forward straight toward your neck. Not that you could blame him for being in such a state, though it would be rather humorous to allow him to indulge in his urges and let him throttle you, you step out of his reach like an alluring treat that only served to frustrate him.

The older one flung himself forward, fretting over the younger and the tension immediately dispersed into quaint relief. Though it lasted no longer than a matter of moments, chaos stalked the two like they were messengers from the god of chaos himself, the energy between them repelling from one another like static in a storm. You could merely watch on in light amusement at the bickering duo.

“— I already think so low of you and yet you exceed expectations once more. Bringing me to this devil whisperer's den?!”

”Well I was simply not going to bring you home marked and dying!”

“If you must lie that you care for me dear brother, at least have the conviction to not pretend you had my interests at heart when we both know you wish to save your skin. Now I have to explain to mother why I stench of sin.”

You laughed, quite loudly it had broken the two from grappling one another to look over. The glimpses of lives you often see when people stop by are often times quite enlightening, just as it appeared in the present between two quarrelling brothers. One who thirsts for recognition and appreciation while the other wishes to disappear and fade to obscurity.

“Do we amuse you, hag?” The younger ones eyes set on you, his grimace was apparent as he did little to hide his contempt.

“Quite.” You hum, barefoot toes curling into the splintered wood while thinking aimlessly. No words followed, not when your gaze cast on the elder who had gone a shade lighter in his face, his limbs beginning to quake and tremble. Cracked lips curling into a smile as you watch him collapse to the floor, writhing in what one could assume was unrelenting pain, the type of pain that embedded itself into a person.

“Aegon — Brother!” The younger falls to his brothers side and you watch curiously, how interesting the dynamic was between the brothers. Their resentment ran deep yet there was still a matter of love beneath it, a bond that weaved itself between them despite such obtuse differences.

The younger was furious, shooting his deadly gaze at you with nostrils flared and he lunged at you, this time for mere entertainment, you let his hands wrap around your neck and press you hard against the cabinet. “You fucking monster! What have you done to me! To him?!” He spat, rightfully so, you thought that someone as pious as him would befall such a fate, though from the little information you’ve gathered on the two, Aegon — as you now know him — did not share such piety.

A weary smirk pulled at the corner of your lips, choking out, “I am no monster, little lordling though it pleases me so, to bestow a mark on your family who seeks to reject their very own heritage.” 

The screams and pleas of Aegon in the background fuelled this one’s anger, “we’ll have you burnt for that —“ His hands tighten their grip, leaving you to his mercy for now in his hands like a ragdoll force to move at his whim, jerking you forward and then slamming you back into the cabinet. Glass shattered from the impact around the both of you but your focus remained on him, the only thing to do in the instance was laugh and so you did.

“Quite the ferocious brute you are — you’d have made a fine servant to the moon, though I cannot say the same about your brother.” His hands squeezed down on your windpipe with malicious intent but you remain unperturbed despite the immense pressure building within your head. Like a bubble about to burst.

The elders' whimpers of pain droned on in the background, mixing into the symphony of nature that carried on throughout the marsh. You had a little too much fun toying with people, if they were to treat you a certain way, who were you to not at least get amusement from it? 

You laughed, bringing a fist full of powder up and flicking it in his face before disappearing through his fingertips like grains of sand. The powder served distraction enough, staggering him back and you silently thank your motherly figure for always ensuring you carried turmeric. Even if it was to ward off bad spirits only.

When you reappeared, your lips barely skimming the shell of Aegon’s ear as you whisper a soft incantation, it felt lewd and profane but at once his pain ceased. The wrinkling in his forehead and face softened while beads of sweat trickled downward, threatening to sully his eyesight by falling into it.

In your hand was the phial of blood you had taken from Aegon, the other held the scruff of his neck. His brother only just recovered from having powder flung in his face, the searing and burning had barely stopped when his eyes settled on you, hovering over Aegon like an enchantress with ill intent.

You crushed the phial in your hands, glass cutting the insides of your palm mixing two bloods together, placing your bloodied hand to Aegon’s sweaty forehead and began muttering swift words. You turned to the younger one, haggard and crazed with a look in your eye that seemed to elicit fear in both of them, raising a clawed hand up you pointing directly at him.

“I have done what is asked of me, to unmark and unburden you. And the cost has been paid. He —“ you look down at Aegon’s fearful eyes, and something in your mind whispers to you to show mercy, it is not your voice, rather hers the one who taught you the ways of magic, “he may now be a servant of the moon but he is bound to me.  Every lunar cycle when the moon is at its fullest he must come to me lest he be made an example from the zealot’s who poison your minds with promises of false salvation and piety.” You were still rather on the theatrical side, not truly enforcing a blood bind on him. And yet, it had the desired effect. Fear.

“And if he doesn’t?” The younger asks in mock defiance, serving as a mask to hide the fear so prevalent in his eyes.

“Then when you pray at night you better hope your false god listens.”

——— Taglist ———

Lemme know if you wanna be tagged for the next update! :D

@karlachs-soldier

[lichmyass]

Yautja WIP - 18+ / Trigger warning

Will eventually be a romance...maybe. again, super long. NOT FOR MINORS. TRIGGER WARNINGS- ALL OF THEM. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRESION.

Flies buzz among the hides left to tan under the baking sun, drawn by minuscule fragments of fat. My mind lazily floats in a haze of childhood memories as my eyes stare at nothing.

Acrid air thick with cigarette smoke, the smell of overflowing trash bins, cicadas screaming en masse, and the summer heat distorting the air outside the dingy window visible beyond the nails driven into its rotting wooden frame. Muffled screaming from another room as my mother fights with one of the many men she dubs 'boyfriend.' Anxiety pulses through my body, matching the dull aches left from bruises and broken bones.

The throbbing pain from my early memories isn't too different from the numb pain radiating through me now. I shift slightly, and the heavy chain tethering me to the ground by the ankle clinks, drawing me from my thoughts. Sweat drips down from my hairline, dampening my brows. The heat from the cracked, baked earth rises, fading into my sore body.

I’m unsure what to feel in this situation. Initially, there was panic, fear, and icy horror at the surety of imminent death. I witnessed men torn apart in ways that made reality itself quake and tremble. These men, who seemed to be made of diamond and steel, violently broke my body as if it were made of paper.

The men shattered bloodily, as if by the air itself, until waves of their blood bathed the forms of invisible monsters before my eyes. It was over in less than a minute. When I blinked, the monsters became real, and I was circled by three titans.

I held my breath, awaiting the verdict of their silent judgment.

A full night and half a day passed. Now, I sit chained to the ground where they had deposited me before shimmering away into the ether. If they don't unmake me like they did the others, the sun will surely burn away what little life I have left. I’ll be little more than a dried-out corpse in no time, like a worm on a sidewalk.

Living in a rural township in Oklahoma, I was already secluded. Now, I've been carted off further into sprawling, long-abandoned farmland withering in the record-breaking summer heat. The only ones likely to find my body will be buzzards and coyotes.

My skin stings, and I know the burns will blister and scar. My throat feels as dry as the dirt I sit on. Wasps rise and buzz away intermittently from the cracking brown stalks of prairie grass around me. I hope to pass out soon, letting death overtake me as painlessly as possible.

I let my body slowly fall from my sitting position to lay belly-down, relieving my strained back muscles and letting blood circulate through my legs and rear. The dirt itself somehow smells like heat. I cast my eyes to the only shade around, the small puddles under the hides stretched over makeshift racks of bramble. I envy the insects that seek refuge there.

The hides, remnants of men who are now little more than muffled memories. I hadn't really known them, scarcely able to summon names to their faces. Only a familiarity from living in a small town, seeing the same faces from the other side of the register during my shifts at the local food mart. One might have been in my graduating high school class, but nearly two decades and evident drug habits had made that idea more a suggestion. Another wore the uniform of the local prison staff—the prison being the county’s only notable feature.

Their looks made me uncomfortable as I scanned their beer and cigarettes, but I maintained my standard retail employee fake smile and wished them a good day. Not long after, the store manager announced a prison break over the speaker, advising everyone to return home.

Prison inmates escaping wasn’t unusual. One or two managed every year. The news was more an annoyance. As I shut down my register and counted my till, I noticed more police officers on the streets than usual, several from other counties. That wasn't unexpected either.

What struck me as odd, as I walked through the store to the office and past the front windows, was the strained expressions and tense body language of the officers in the parking lot. They gathered and discussed something urgently. Typically, they got excited, even giddy, at such events. It was usually the most activity they got all year.

I clocked out and exited through the side door into the alley beside the train tracks, which I always followed for about a quarter of a mile home. I never made it that far. The men had been waiting behind an abandoned auto-shop, a blanket of empty beer cans and cigarette butts littering the eroded cement around them.

As a woman, I was aware of the statistics. But a tiny part of my brain had always assumed I wouldn’t contribute to them. Boys in school wouldn’t have touched me with a ten-foot pole and were vocal about it. A tiny reassuring voice always piped up, ‘oh, you won’t have to worry about all that,’ whenever a newscaster reported an attack on some poor woman. The photos always showed pretty little things a quarter my weight.

I thought I’d be safe from that particular danger, more likely to get bitten by a copperhead on my way home late at night than singled out by men with ill intent. I was wrong. It took me a shameful amount of time to recognize the threat as I walked past them with barely a second thought.

They followed me almost the whole way home. I didn’t notice until I smelled cheap beer on their breath and felt a grimy hand clamp down on my shoulder. One grabbed a handful of my hair at the base of my skull as another punched me so hard in the gut I threw up. I was dragged through a vacant lot into what had once been an RV park, where they started beating me.

Beatings weren’t new to me. Strangely, a part of me was resigned to lay there and let it pass. A morbid feeling of familiarity rustled inside my skull. It wasn’t until belt buckles clicked and wheezing chuckles filled the humid air that panic pricked at my skin. Two of them held me down, pressing my arms into the ground as gravel embedded itself into my belly. I began kicking furiously and screaming, my voice a death-rattle. The back of my head was struck, and I saw stars as my mouth opened and closed like a fish in desperation. I felt dirty fingers tugging at my waistband, and then everything stopped.

For a moment, the world froze around me. Then came the screaming and the blood.

And here I am, wondering if this situation is any better than the fate I would have had. I know I won’t last much longer, and every second I do will be hell.

Fractional relief comes once the sun sets, though the slightly decreased temperature and lack of sun exposure come at the cost of swarms of mosquitoes descending upon me, irritating my already blistered flesh. I close my eyes lightly, to avoid stretching my stinging skin. My head swims as pain throbs in my bones.

The insects abruptly silence around me. I crack my eyes open and stiffen. Somewhere to my right, something emits an ear-piercing scream that makes my hearing fuzz out. Suddenly, I’m on my feet quicker than I thought possible, crouched low and heart pounding. It’s not the sound of any animal I know, though it resembles a coyote’s scream. There's a quality about it that---

struck me as inherently wrong. Thankful for the small amount of light from the nearly full moon, I scanned my surroundings for something, anything, to defend myself with as the tall grass rustled before me. Gritting my teeth, I slowly crouched lower and began to wind the chain tethering me in my hands, stopping when it grew taut.

The grass stilled, and there was a low hiss, akin to a cat’s. I could just make out the moonlight glinting off something dark and smooth, coiling as if about to strike.

With strength I didn’t know I had, I strained my muscles to the breaking point and ripped the long metal spike pinning the chain into the ground free. No sooner had it come loose than the creature launched itself at me. Its body struck, and I hit the hard ground with a thud, the air forced from my lungs.

Sharp claws tore at my shoulders. Instinctively, my hand found the metal spike, and I drove it as hard as I could into the creature’s head—elongated and slightly curved, with no visible eyes. I wasn’t strong enough, a part of me noted grimly, as the creature screamed and flailed in rage.

Scrambling frantically, I managed to push myself out from under it as its long tail slashed through the air and its maw snapped shut. I rose to my feet as it hissed again. The bottom of my shoe found the head of the spike. With a scream of desperation, I put all my strength into it, dropping my body weight onto it. Relief flooded me as I felt, rather than heard, a sickening pop and crunch as the creature fell limp.

My brief victory was cut short when the bottom of my foot began to burn. I ripped my shoe off quicker than lightning, watching it melt away on the ground where I’d dropped it. Plopping down on my butt, I gathered my foot to inspect it, wincing when I ghosted my fingertips over the sole. Luckily, it didn’t feel worse than a slight burn.

I realized I was breathing hard, practically panting, my veins buzzing. I eyed the creature for a long, hard minute before letting myself fall backward with an exhale, satisfied it was truly dead.

I breathed in and out, closing my eyes for a moment. When I rose and pulled the chain, I found most of it dissolved like my shoe. The remaining length was awkward—too short to carry but long enough to trip me up or catch on brambles. With a huff, I removed my other shoe and pulled the laces free, wrapping the chain around my ankle and securing it with the laces. I didn’t want the chain making any unnecessary noise; not if I was going to try to make it back home without another one of those things finding me.

The terrain would be hard on my bare feet, but it wouldn’t be any worse than what I’d already suffered.

Taking a deep breath, I took a few steps in the direction of home, promptly hitting the ground as my overly strained muscles turned to jelly. My brain filled with curses as I balled my fist and hit the ground, letting out a growl of frustration. I got on my hands and knees and began to crawl. I didn’t care how long it took; I just wanted to get home.

Unfortunately, I hadn’t made it more than a few hundred feet—my knees already raw and bloodied—when rapid clicking sounded around me. I froze. I knew this sound. Them.

My eyes frantically darted around, but I saw nothing through the dry blades of grass I was hidden in. If I was lucky, maybe I could stay hidden and wait them out. I tensed and held my breath, heart pounding in my ears. The grass around me rustled softly. I felt like a fox surrounded by hounds, fighting the urge to bolt. I knew I wouldn’t make it far. I doubted I’d even get to my feet, let alone run. Even if I could, I wasn’t a fast runner by any means.

Abruptly, I was pulled backwards. I found myself huffing out and blinking skyward, my brain stuttering.

A large, masked form stood over me, chittering like an insect. In the moonlight, his mesh-covered scaly skin looked almost iridescent, like an oil-slick. His hair-like tresses, not dissimilar to dreadlocks, swayed slightly as he cocked his head. I tensed as he suddenly crouched, massive claw-tipped fingers reaching up to pull small hoses from his mask with a hiss before he removed it. My eyes widened.

Glowing orange eyes set deep within their sockets above a quartet of long digits growing from each cheekbone and either side of his jaw, connected by a thin membrane like a bat's wing over a wickedly sharp fanged maw. No discernable nose or nostrils. A large sloping forehead ending in a fanned crest tipped in subtle spikes. His mandibles spread slowly, only to close just as slowly as my eyes numbly took his visage in.

I emitted a sound, low and scratchy, like a brooding hen. He blinked.

Shimmering into my vision, his two companions stared down at me, their own steely masks affixed as the trio exchanged what I assumed must be words of some kind—a series of clicks and vowel sounds. The individual before me rose, addressing the one to his left and my right, moving his large hands expressly as he seemed to speak. I flinched as he gestured to my ankle, then back toward where I had been. The one to my left spoke, and silence fell as three sets of eyes focused on me.

I tried, and failed, to sit up. The trio cocked their heads. I sighed and closed my eyes. I didn’t have any strength left. None at all. Silently, I hoped they’d just leave and let me die in peace. No such luck. The unmasked one crouched again, grasping my upper arm and simply pulling me to my feet like a ragdoll. Once I was standing, he released my arm, and I gasped, clutching his hip—just under chest height for me—to stop myself from falling.

The creature hissed and swatted my hand away. I fell back to the ground with a hard thud and a groan before another repeated the first's action, keeping a firm grip on my arm to keep me steady. When it became evident I could only move at a slow hobble at best, I gasped again as I was swept up into giant arms, carried like a child, over-tired from play.

The rough texture of scales rubbed painfully against the burnt skin on my shoulder as I was awkwardly carried back to the site with the tanning racks. The one carrying me obviously wanted to minimize physical contact, one hand spanning my right shoulder and the other bracing my lower back from the left.

Back where I had been tethered, another interacted with a gauntlet on his right forearm. A structure shimmered into view—a large ramp descending silently. I distantly realized it was some sort of aircraft as I was carried inside and deposited roughly onto a large stone platform covered in animal pelts.

My eyes roamed over strange carvings on the metal walls, pausing on the far wall which displayed an armory of strange weapons—spears, knives, whips, and other sharp metallic objects. The trio exchanged more words as one rummaged through large metal crates and another exited briefly, returning with the head of the creature I’d encountered earlier. He strode across the room and behind a large partition made of hide. The unmasked one regarded me from where he stood before me, clawed hands on his hips.

The one searching a crate paused and lifted something out, showing it to the unmasked one, who simply nodded and stalked over to me, large hands pinning me down by the shoulders. I frowned and clenched my teeth as the other appeared to my left, brandishing what looked like the world’s biggest needle before jabbing it into my side without ceremony.

Pain unlike anything I’d ever known seared through my body. All I could do was gasp like a fish as my vision went white, too overwhelmed to even scream as massive hands kept me firmly pinned down. I wasn’t sure how long it lasted. Feeling nauseous sometime later as the white-hot waves of pain began to ebb, sweat slicked my skin.

I blinked rapidly up at the alien face regarding me stoically. Its molten gaze seemed almost…curious.

“Ouch,” I croaked out, surprising myself as much as the alien above me. I hadn’t meant to speak, but maybe the look he’d had inspired me to provide an unasked-for response.

The one who’d injected me made a sound then—a low, rasping series of growls that sounded like laughter. I glared at him for his audacity. Returning my gaze to the unmasked one, I lifted my brows at the mirth I found there as he slowly released my shoulders and took a single step back.

I sat up, mouth parting as I felt my strength returning. Slowly, I raised my hands to run my fingers carefully over my face, finding that my skin was smooth and unburnt. I turned my head to scowl at the one who had injected me, who only laughed more.

The unmasked one had scales composed of shades of black and gray, reflecting light and reminding me of a mythical dragon. The one who had healed me looked more crocodilian with dark green scales mingling with lighter green and pale yellow on his palms and exposed belly. The third one, who had disappeared across the room, had similar coloration but with more earthy brown mingling with his green, and the paler parts were more tan.

Faster than I could process, I was jabbed again, this time behind the ear. I squawked and clapped my hand over the newest injection site. My tormentor held his hands up in peace, what appeared to be a piercing gun dangling from one large finger as he continued to chuckle at me.

My ears rang, and I clenched my eyelids shut, letting out a hiss as the ringing slowly faded. I reopened my eyes to glare daggers at the needle-happy sadist as the unmasked one leaned forward with interest. Both he and the masked one stared at me, unblinking. I blinked back at them.

“Did it work?” asked the one who had injected me, in perfect English. I gasped, looking at him with my mouth open. “Ah! It seems to have worked,” he added, stepping back and tilting his massive head. The unmasked one crossed his muscled arms over his chest, fixing me with a slight glare of his own.

“Why doesn’t it speak?” he asked, his coquelicot eyes narrowing at the other, who merely shrugged. “Perhaps it is defective?”

At this, the other placed his talon-tipped hands on his hips indignantly. “Veidei, you of all should know that my technology is without fault, and I—”

Veidei silenced him by raising a hand. “No, you fool. I refer to the ooman. Perhaps it is defective,” he spoke, scrutinizing me.

I frowned as they stared at me, mirroring them as I crossed my own arms over my chest. “Maybe so, but I can speak,” I managed, my voice rough. “Why did y’all save me?”

They regarded me silently. The dark one—Veidei—inhaled deeply, casting a knowing glance toward the other.

“Routine planetary scans alerted us to the presence of Kainde Amedha here, and they are not permitted to be on this planet outside of a sanctioned Chiva. So we were dispatched to eliminate them and investigate the nature of their presence here. It seems that your governing body purposefully introduced them to your ‘prison’ in what we can only assume was some form of idiotic experiment,” the green one stated matter-of-factly. “We destroyed them, the site, and all involved. Except for the singular one that you yourself seem to have dispatched, somehow.”

I let this information sink in. The ‘Kainde Amedha’ wasn’t something the apparent translator implanted behind my ear could parse. Given what he’d said, it was obviously the thing I’d killed. The concept of more of those running rampant inside the prison made me feel queasy. I shook my head to rid the image of the creature from my mind.

"That's all fine and good," I began, leveling my gaze at him as best I could despite the metal mask he wore. "But that didn’t answer my question."

He cocked his head, and his mandibles clicked behind his mask.

“I will elaborate, Tho’ka. It was on my orders that we acted,” spoke Veidei, leaning down a bit to better catch my gaze. “We were scouting the area and noticed one of the males exiting the site. We followed him, thinking he might reveal more information. He did not. We watched as he and the two other males became intoxicated and were about to return to the site when they acted dishonorably. So we dealt with them.”

I furrowed my brow and shifted uncomfortably where I sat, my fingers finding a loose thread at the hem of my shirt and worrying it. “Dishonorably? So you killed them because they tried to rape me?”

Veidei and Tho’ka cocked their heads in tandem. “Of course. It was dishonorable,” stated Tho’ka, as if confused that I didn’t grasp the concept.

“But...you don’t even know me. You’re not even human,” I replied numbly. “Why? Why bother?”

Veidei reared back as if he’d been slapped and let out a rumbling growl. “We are Yautja. We have Honor. Do not think we are like oomans who would permit such acts to go unpunished. When you stand by and allow dishonorable acts to happen, you may as well be committing them yourself. We honor Paya by remembering this, as we honor ourselves by remembering the codes of our people,” he spoke, eyes burning with passion as he stood tall.

I blinked as Tho’ka nodded in agreement.

“So then you tied me up and left me to die of exposure,” I deadpanned. Just like that, Veidei looked like a kicked puppy so quickly that I might’ve laughed if my mood had allowed for it.

Tho’ka strode around the platform I sat on to reassuringly touch Veidei’s shoulder briefly before he turned slightly to face me. “We might’ve underestimated how long our hunt would take, a little,” he spoke, having the courtesy to sound a bit regretful.

“Fine,” I said with an exhale. “So, now what?” I added, brow raised.

Tho’ka removed his mask and clipped it to his belt, stretching his mandibles slightly and leveling a citrine gaze at me. I braced myself for what instinct told me would be bad news as he took a small step closer.

“Our laws prohibit us from leaving witnesses,” he began steadily, raising his large hands slowly in a demonstration of peace. “But you were unworthy prey—killing you would have been against our laws as well.”

I stiffened, my eyes darting around, looking for exits as Veidei shifted to block me in from the right and Tho’ka blocked me in from the left. My hackles rose as I realized that, at some point, the other one—whose name I hadn’t heard yet—had come to stand behind me without making a single sound.

“So...” I stalled, gulping.

“You dispatched one of the Kainde Amedha. Which means you now qualify as worthy prey,” spoke Veidei, his voice low. “However,” he added when my panic spiked, “if you were Yautja, it would mean you were now a blooded warrior.”

Silence fell heavily as my heart pounded in my ears, the air thick with tension.

“We can either hunt you, or...” spoke Tho’ka, casting his gaze to Veidei curiously, as if he himself were unsure what the final decision would be.

From what I could gather so far, Veidei seemed to be the de facto leader of the trio. My eyes scoured his for any indication of his intent.

“Clearly, it is ill-suited to be a sain’ja,” spoke the one behind me.

“Perhaps an ‘aseigan,’” he added.

“Nah’kou offers a viable option, Veidei,” mused Tho’ka, as Veidei tilted his head in consideration.

I had no idea what an ‘aseigan’ was, but it sounded better than dead. I bit the tip of my tongue between my teeth and awaited Veidei’s decision.

Veidei's eyes, a fiery coquelicot hue, studied me intently. His mandibles twitched slightly, indicating deep thought. Tho’ka and Nah’kou, the one behind me, watched their leader, waiting for his judgment.

After what felt like an eternity, Veidei spoke. “An ‘aseigan’ is one who serves the Yautja, often a mark of great dishonor or redemption. It is not a role given lightly.” He paused, his eyes narrowing. “You have proven yourself resilient, if nothing else.”

I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “What does being an ‘aseigan’ entail?” I asked, my voice steadier than I felt.

Tho’ka stepped closer, his mandibles clicking softly. “It means you will serve us, follow our commands, and prove your worth over time. You will not be hunted, but you will not be free.”

Veidei nodded, his gaze never leaving mine. “Your life will be spared, but it will be a hard one. You will earn your place among us, or you will die trying.”

The reality of my situation sank in. Serving these alien hunters, living by their rules, was far from ideal, but it was survival. I nodded slowly, meeting Veidei’s intense gaze. “I understand,” I said. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Nah’kou let out a low, approving growl, while Tho’ka’s eyes glinted with something akin to respect. Veidei, satisfied with my response, straightened to his full height.

“Very well,” Veidei declared. “You will be our aseigan. Prove yourself, and you may find a place among us.”

With that, the tension in the room shifted. The immediate threat of death was replaced by the daunting challenge ahead. I knew my journey was far from over, but at least I had a chance to fight for my survival.

Tho’ka and Nah’kou began to converse in their native tongue, their voices a mix of clicks and growls. Veidei motioned for me to follow him. As I stood, I realized the gravity of my new reality. I was now part of their world, bound by their laws and expectations.

We moved through the ship’s corridors, the alien technology both fascinating and intimidating. Veidei led me to a small chamber, sparsely furnished but functional. “This will be your quarters,” he said. “Rest now. Your training begins tomorrow.”

I nodded, stepping into the room. As the door closed behind me, I felt a strange mix of relief and apprehension. I had survived the immediate danger, but my new life as an aseigan would be a constant test of my endurance and willpower.

I sank onto the small cot, exhaustion washing over me. The events of the past days played through my mind, a whirlwind of fear, pain, and unexpected allies. Closing my eyes, I allowed myself a moment of respite, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges and unknown trials.

For now, I was alive. And that was enough.

But as I lay there, the enormity of my situation loomed. What would this new life demand of me? Could I rise to the challenge and find a place among these alien warriors? The questions swirled in my mind, refusing to let me rest.

A soft hum emanated from the walls, a reminder of the ship's vastness and the world beyond this small chamber. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever lay ahead. This was not the end of my story—only the beginning of a new chapter.

Whether my future held redemption or further trials, only time would tell. But one thing was certain: I would face it head-on, with the same resilience that had brought me this far. As sleep finally claimed me, I made a silent vow to survive, to fight, and to find my place in this strange new world.

Whatever it takes.

[its-short-for-jackalope]

THE SEARCHER IN THE SHADOWS

☆ Thoughts On Part One ☆

I have many thoughts and feelings and I am definitely not gonna be able to wrangle every last one in here, but I can do my darnedest to hit most of the big ones!

Dropped From The Clouds

The contrast of this first song compared to the start of TGOA makes me a little insane. Both songs are full of questions and uncertainty and take place after the characters have been teleported to another time and place, but When Are We? has the comfort and assurance of being with friends while Dropped From The Clouds has Rose isolated and alone without any familiar faces, and the parallel just reminds me of how much has changed and how quickly things are continuing to change. When are we going to slow down? Not now, it seems.

Dakkar's introduction, oh my god — "I'm nobody." [mildly threatening Radiance noises] "Give me the orrery." — and then he immediately goes into science mode. I need to draw him so bad. Also, side note, I already adore Jesse Bhamrah's voice.

He was/is a Traveler and a Searcher? so it seems the titles aren't mutually exclusive, then. I wonder if his unclear status as a Traveler has anything to do with whatever he's got going on that we heard in Transmission 14.

Fast Friends

CAPTAIN ADDISON ARVAD!!!!!! THE SCREAM I WANTED TO SCRUMPT!!! (also Natalie Masini sounds amazing)

"Lower your weapon, for God's sake." "The gun was your idea." I love them, your honor

So Dakkar and Addison were absolutely taking precautions in case Kal had possessed Rose, right? That's the vibe I get, anyway. Maybe they know he's capable of doing that sort of thing (maybe Sia has seen it happen? or, y'know, ✨️seen✨️ it) and that's why they wanted to check if she knew the GAD's publication date—Kal doesn't seem to automatically gain his host's knowledge, like when he didn't seem to know Morgan had already been sent away, so if he was possessing Rose then he probably wouldn't have known the date.

...Actually wait, you know what? Maybe it was Itzal they were worried about. We don't really know anything about what magic he could have at his disposal—maybe he can also possess people or change his form. and since he's a bigger, badder threat, I think it could make more sense for them to avoid saying his name rather than Kal's. 🤔

ADDISON IS A ROSE FAN???? ROSE IS PRETTY FAMOUS ON THEIR ISLAND??!? THEY HAVE A BRICK FROM TOWNSHIP NUMBER 9??!!?! Rose deserves the hype 100% of course but I have so many questions

okay I didn't expect Rose to meet Addison the very hour she arrived 2 weeks in the past, so I did not consider the fact that she and the crew would be here and they wouldn't have disappeared yet. I am now deeply afraid, because I know something happens to her. I have been so afraid of how the time travel will hurt me irt the twins that I didn't think about how many OTHER ways the time travel could hurt me.....

AND ROSE CAN'T WARN HER!!! So she just has to keep her mouth shut and let it happen and Addison must know that something happens, she and Dakkar didn't seem surprised that Rose didn't know who she was, but she's gonna go in blind anyway... 😭😭😭 okay wait, what if Addison and Sia's plan was for them to leave the Antikythera drifting for the others to find, but instead of returning to Lincoln Island Addison and her crew disappeared??

Destiny Strange and Sublime

...well now I just feel silly for not even considering that Dakkar would be the Searcher in the shadows 😂

I can't quite tell if the people he mentions he'd been unable to save is like... a personal thing, as in he actively failed to save them because of his own mistakes, or if it's more of a shared grief for the Blazing World and all its inhabitants. the first interpretation is definitely more angsty, lol.

I wish I had more coherent thoughts on this one but at this current time it mostly boils down to ohh pretty music, Dakkar is cool, Jesse Bhamrah is awesome, et cetera.

Arrival, part 1

HELLO PART 1 SONG!!!! I am excited to see how parts 2 and 3 may emotionally devastate me in the coming week!

so many people from the Blazing World! pleasantly surprised my island of refugees theory was correct. then again, I've spouted off enough theories that odds are at least some of them gotta be right, lol

Ahlaam my beloved!!! Virginia's voice is gorgeous, omfg.

The different creatures and plants from all over the world.... have the Searchers been looking for things that remind them of the Blazing World and bringing them back to the island to make it feel more like home? Crafting a facsimile of the Blazing World from pieces of Earth? (aough, and I thought "Ipomoea, just like home!" couldn't hurt any more than it already did...)

the phrasing of "OUR planet's biggest ocean" is interesting to me. Is the Blazing World connected to Earth somehow, thereby making it the same planet in some way, or is it just that this island has been home long enough for Ahlaam to feel attached? Or. Or. If the Blazing World is on the moon, then it would make sense for Ahlaam to refer to the Earth as her planet because the moon revolves around it and it's the moon's planet. (yes, hi, hello, it's a new pulp episode, we are once again in the Overthink Everything And Fire Off A Bazillion Theories era <3 )

They've been waiting for Rose for YEARS? ...would that be since 1835, or 1829? and we know they've been waiting for Margaret because, well, duh, but have they been waiting for Samuel and John, too? or are they all just Rose stans?

the crew of the Antikythera....... 😭😭😭

I love that a good portion of this song is basically just Ahlaam going "check out our sweet digs" lmao

The nights have been dark but this is the spark that will set the whole lighthouse ablaze — YELLING RIGHT NOW, oh my god. lighthouses are guides through darkness and stormy weather and they also cut through fog, I want to bite something (/pos)

this has got to be both very nice and very overwhelming for Rose, lol.

Addison & Dakkar and Ahlaam & Dakkar are both very fun dynamics

A Spell Is Just A Rule Made With Magic

THE FOG IS FROM A SPELL!!! ITZAL CAST A SPELL AND CORRUPTED HIS PEOPLE! "It saturates the heart with darkness 'till you forget life before the blight" oh my god, he convinced all of them that the fog is how they always were & were meant to be? No wonder Kal considers Sia and Margaret traitors. So when Kal says "soon the Blazing World will meet its end" he might not be talking about an actual place—in his mind he's probably talking about the traitors' movement & the ridiculous, dangerous ideas they have about replacing Itzal's world with one of light...

"A spell is just a rule made with magic, and any rule can be broken" AOUGH. CHILLS.

ooh they believe Rose is the key? aw man this adds more weight to "I was a hero and the heroes win — don't they?" in Vanishing...

"Capital." oh my god Mr. Dahan you can't do this to me. The similarities between Dakkar and AJ have to be intentional, right?? ...oh god, is Dakkar gonna make a bad deal to save lives? Is he gonna sacrifice himself in some way to save his people?

Two Weeks

I love this montage, it's such a nice way to go through this part. also I just really like how this whole first part is structured, having this entire part dedicated to Rose in this time is a great way to handle the time travel without being confusing by jumping back and forth, AND it gives us time to get to know the new characters a little bit! It's also a bit of a breather after how hectic the end of TGOA was. (I feel like part 2 is going to get super intense super quickly, lol.)

So they start with science and testing her mind, giving Rose access to all their research to see if she figures out anything there. And then they go to the volcano and scan her, starting to test her body for evidence that she might be able to help them in some magical way. (They're probably still going over the research too, ofc. Those were a lot of books, Dakkar.)

Day 9!!! Sia is here!!! I desperately want to know exactly what she and Addison were talking about. I think it might be a plan to abandon the Antikythera for Margaret and the others to find in a few days, but that's mostly speculation.

also Sia seems so much more relaxed and at ease here. maybe it's because she's at home with her people and she can be less secretive than she was on the satellite? (and because she isn't in a literal magic battle, lmao.)

Dakkar mentions phase three and they go to the lake to try doing stuff with illusion magic—do they want to try using magic on Rose to see if they can get her to activate whatever magic she may have? Or maybe how Rose reacts to the illusion magic could reveal something...?

Rose not wanting to go in the water, aoughhh 😭 and Sia helping her when she's scared 😭😭😭

Dakkar's Grotto / Mobilis In Mobili

when I saw this scene during the premiere I said "holy sci fi" and I stand by that. this environment is so cool. I wonder why the rest of the island isn't like this when they're clearly people with a lot of knowledge and technology... it's probably a matter of supplies. They fled to this island from Itzal and his spell, so they wouldn't have had time to pack a lot of stuff. I imagine whatever they did manage to bring and/or build is all dedicated to their efforts to find a cure and protect everyone.

we know they haven't found anything yet because they're still testing Rose's blood. man, that's gotta be stressful for her. (And the Radiance folks, yeah, but c'mon. so much pressure on Rose right now and she's brand new to all this. 🥺)

The Nautilus is here!!! and it's a spaceship!!! AHHHH!!! 🤩

SHIT IS GOING DOWNNNNNNN! Margaret is radiating and I am going to be Thinking about what it means that Sia can sense it—is it a part of her precognitive abilities? is it part of whatever bond they have that allows them to combine their power?

Rose blurting out a warning about the fog and Ahlaam and Sia immediately getting more concerned.... I hope that maybe since she waited until right before Sia left it won't influence anything negatively, if at all—it's only a very small part of the present that will be influenced and it's not like they totally altered their actions across two weeks to accommodate for that information so I'm sure it's fine. hopefully.

Rose is worried about Samuel almost drowning like she did (and is/will be)... she is not going to like hearing about the dangers he's actually facing. well, if anything is gonna wake up potential magic in her, learning that one of the bad guys attacked & has been harassing her baby brother will probably a good contenderrrrroh fuck I had a thought. uh, stay tuned, we'll get there.

oh god the Ellen Austin will be arriving soon and Samuel and Rose will reunite (they BETTER REUNITE ASAP) and Rose is going to be two weeks older and I am going to perish

not the little reprise of The stars appeared... that made me so sad last time.... 😭 I love how this version of it is positive. the parallels,,,,,,

Rose and the Stars

IT'S HERE AT LAST!!!!

The past stays soaked into our skin 😭

we are lit by suns that shatter through the dark.....

WE TRAVEL WITH THE SPIRITS THAT WE KEEP — ough, makes me think of the ghost of all my yesterdays in Behind Me. also the change from "Don't spend a second looking back" in ep 1 to "only looking back to see how much we've grown" has me feeling things idk how to describe rn, lol

THE CONSTELLATIONS TURN INTO A CROWN!!!!!! 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

Rose will shine again 🥺😭❤

A Few More Thoughts

Is the day Sia arrives also the day Addison and her crew left the island? we don't hear from her after this, and her disappearance isn't mentioned in the rest of part one but Sia knows that something happened to the crew when she confronts Kal on the Ellen Austin. If they had a plan for the Searcher crew to return to Lincoln Island and leave the ship for the others to find & investigate to kickstart Margaret's memories, but then the crew just didn't show up, I would think it would be mentioned? Unless they didn't want to overwhelm Rose and distract her from her work, or maybe they avoided discussing Addison & the Antikythera with her because of time travel rules...

oh and it is gonna take me a bit to grasp the time travel rules, lol. (sorry Matt, I haven't seen any Back To The Future since I was a kid.) I am going to be pondering the timeline for a while, particularly where Sia is involved. I feel like they probably want to avoid going back into the past as much as possible just based on how they are with Rose and how they put a lot of effort into not altering the present with her information about the future, but I don't think Sia would have gone from 1835 and skipped right ahead 39 years and stayed there? Like she has people to take care of and plans to make, she probably wouldn't just disappear on them for such a long time? maybe the Travelers who are experienced in abiding by Time Travel Rules are able to navigate backwards in time with more freedom because they know what they're doing. idk, like I said it's gonna take me a bit to wrap my head around this. maybe parts 2 & 3 will make it a little clearer.

OKAY, CONTINUING MY SAMUEL THOUGHT FROM EARLIER: Sia and her bunch believe Rose is the key. What if Itzal and Kal think Samuel is the key? What if that is why Kal was interested in Samuel on the Ellen Austin and why he seemed to really delight in antagonizing him? If Kal was hanging around long enough beforehand to see how close Margaret and Samuel are, then that could have convinced him that Samuel is Important™ to the Blazing World and that Margaret knows he is important to them. And maybe both sides are only halfway there, maybe it's both twins, together, who are the key, and that's why they haven't made progress towards the cure with Rose over their 2 weeks.

okay there are probably plenty of things that I'm missing and more that i could come up with and tack on, but I've been working on this post since last night and i want to finish it and get to other things so I am calling it here, lol.

...that is a horribly long sentence but I am not editing it. hope you enjoyed. <3

[darkmaga-retard]

Guest post by Tyler Durden

Bodycam footage from local Pennsylvania police reveal that in the moments after last month’s attempted assassination of Donald Trump, an officer says he told the Secret Service to cover the warehouse used by shooter Thomas Matthew Crooks.

“I f—ing told them that they needed to post guys f—ing over here…I told them that f—ing Tuesday,” said a Butler Township officer in audio captured by his body-worn camera and obtained by the Wall Street Journal.

“I talked to the Secret Service guys. They’re like, ‘Yeah, no problem. We’re going to post guys over here,’” the officer continues.

The footage paints a more complete picture of the anger and frustration moments after Thomas Matthew Crooks was able to fire eight shots at the former president from an AR-style assault rifle. A spectator was killed, two others were injured, and Trump suffered a bullet wound to the ear. The Journal obtained the videos under a public-records request Thursday. A police officer in one of the videos at one point refers to a suspicious individual who had been lost by authorities. The unidentified officer referred to “a gentleman with a flat face that we were looking for earlier. He was creeping people out.” 

The officer’s account, which was broadcast over radio channels, was captured by one of the body cameras. “He was watching people out in the woods by the water tower. I’m not sure he is the gentleman down or not,” the officer says.

Around 10 minutes after the shooting, another officer says to a fellow officer “I thought you guys were on the roof. I thought it was you. I thought it was you.”

To which “No” can be heard in response.

“What the fuck! Why were we not on the roof? Why weren’t we?” the officer replies.

[clove-pinks]

I had to go to Michigan today for Business Reasons, and my wife drove me because my car is still being fixed for an issue under warranty. I was able to enjoy more of the trip as a passenger and smiled to see signs for Frenchtown (Charter Township)—just like in the War of 1812!

I can't believe how close I am to River Raisin National Battlefield!!! This is even more exciting news than the fact that the same town also has approximately one million recreational marijuana dispensaries. (Yes Michigan, I have seen the 'Welcome Oh-HIGH-oans!' billboard).

It was a very scenic drive, crossing over the land divided by huge rivers in the vicinity of the Lost Pennisula, and we went over Glass City Skyway bridge, crossing the Maumee River with the museum ships of the National Museum of the Great Lakes moored below.

Here it is from the perspective of museum tug Ohio!