#barking folk festival

[plungermusic]

Gourmet rural fare in the land of beans on toast …

Plunger associate Kelly Bayfield, David Edward Booth and (now, after this year’s belated first  viewing) Honey & The Bear with the wide-open, big sky, sun-kissed (at least when we’ve been there) rural expanse of distant Suffolk. So it was a welcome surprise chancing across Honey & The Bear’s forthcoming appearance (with Kelly & Dave) at Barking Folk Festival just a tube ride away from us.

Bounded by the North Circular, the A13 and the C2C line to Southend, Barking Abbey Grounds seemingly couldn’t be more different to Easton Farm Park but the organisers and crew had done a good job of creating a friendly atmosphere (even the security guy on the gate complimented us on our ‘bag search’ etiquette) and with the main stage flanked by trees and backed by St Margaret’s Church tower it was a pretty rustic setting for East London (if you kept your back to the tower blocks).

Sadly the weather couldn’t have been less dry-and-dusty Suffolk: leaden skies and alternating rain and drizzle dogged us on the walk from the train through the Abbey ruins and churchyard to the festival (leaving the slushy sellers and ‘water point’ bowsers looking a bit forlorn and surplus to requirements, this year at least!) The wet weather didn’t stop a few hardy souls from standing (or even sitting on the corporation deck chairs) in front of the main stage as Jack Valero came on, although most had parked themselves on straw bales under the partial cover of some awnings. 

Jack and his band took a little while to warm up and hit their groove, but were on song by Heaven Help Me Now (“Every songwriter must have a lockdown song, this is mine…”) with fine harmonies, and the breezy bustling Coming Home. There were hints of 50s poppy rock’n’roll in a Buddy holly vein in the upbeat Something You Can Do and also (combined with a splash of Buzzcocksy punk) in the surprisingly positive optimistic This Is A Nightmare with tub-thumping toms, brisk acoustic strumming, and some twangsome electric guitar. After noting his familial connections to the area (and his father’s in particular) Jack’s last song, played at the request of his dad, was a solo rendition of Billy Bragg’s New England… at which point pretty much all of us went, “Oh, so THAT’s who his dad is!”

Plunger’s faith in miracles was bolstered by the simultaneous discovery of where the bar was, and the rain stopping, just as Honey & The Bear (Jon and Lucy Hart on guitar and upright bass - most of the time at least, with Kelly on harmony vocals and David on drums) did their soundcheck, the latter event drawing a few more folks out from under cover.

Their set opened with The Miller, combining loping bass, rustic acoustic guitar (including a dextrous solo) and a Featy drum shuffle with sublime three part harmonies for a TTB-ish vibe. An appropriately mellower feel came in the Laurel-Canyon-Ronstadt-meets-English-folk air of Sweet Honey with its traditional-sounding melody. Back to back covers saw an entrancing (if abridged) rendition of Helplessly Hoping, where (it seemed to Plunger) Jon took on the Stills role, Lucy Crosby and Kelly Nash in the stunning harmonies. Jon switched to an electric guitar for a punchy 70s west coast run at Gillian Welch’s Look At Miss Ohio.

Returning to their own accomplished originals, the hypnotic Riverman featured aptly fluid, restless picking on acoustic, rafter-shaking bass punctuation and tom-led drums for an almost Native American feel: piquant harmonies in the verse alternated with gentler, C&N tones in the chorus. One of Lucy’s older songs took us to a whole other sonic landscape - having swapped bass and guitar roles for this one number - the Waitsesque, Hot Club De Paris, 30s-cabaret bounce of Why Am I Always Saying Sorry also featured some manic whistling from Lucy.

After one of the crew popped his head round the back of the stage to advise “This’ll have to be your last one” (which Plunger for one thought was rather premature) the set closed with Wristburner: clever changes and less-obvious harmonies, tricksy timings, and a frenetic Gordon Giltrap-doing-Gerdundula urgency, topped with more fabulous harmonies.

Although we were naturally disappointed we couldn’t hear more, and a little suspicious when the MC announced shortly after, “Since we’re running ahead of schedule...” there were to be an extra 10 minutes of the (to Plunger’s ears, but de gustibus etc.) execrable-but-unaccountably-popular next artist, this brief but very tasty performance more than justified the slightly nervy tube ride and the rain-dodging, and gave us an appetite for more!

Honey & The Bear have a new album due out in November, with a short tour to promote it, details, dates ad merch here: https://honeyandthebear.co.uk

[dilf-issues]

Big Bad Wolf & Little Lamb: Lesson 1. (C.M)

Synopsis: You met Maeve, your best friend, in College and over the years you have become two peas in a pod. Maeve decided to invite you back to her hometown in Ireland for the summer break and that’s where you met her dad, Cillian.

Warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD. Age Gap, (all legal of age), Corruption kink, Innocent! reader, Cillian’s massive tease, Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Cillian teaches the reader EVERYTHING. Virgin! Reader, inexperienced! Reader

Chapter warnings: sexual corruption, innocent reader, age gap, dom/sub, masturbation, voyeurism, sudden panty sniffing?

Disclaimer: THIS IS FICTION AND IT IS NOT REAL LIFE.

A/N: Cillian looks like Lenny Miller in this fic!

.

After months of planning, Maeve finally convinced me to come visit her countryside hometown during the summer break. As I stepped off the plane, the fresh Irish air filled my lungs, and the friendly smiles of the folks at the airport greeted me. Maeve was waiting for me outside, and she looked more radiant than ever in the warm Irish sunshine.

"You made it!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me in a tight, familiar hug. I laughed, returning the embrace, and then we picked up my bags and made our way towards her car. As we drove out of the airport, the familiar countryside views and winding roads brought a sense of tranquility and anticipation for the adventure ahead.

Maeve chatted excitedly about all the things she wanted to show me – the breathtaking coastlines, charming villages, local festivals and hidden gems. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and I couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation for the adventures ahead.

As we drove, Maeve filled me in on her family situation. "You'll love my dad," she enthused. "His name's Cillian – he's a bit of a character, but he's a total softie at heart. My parents are divorced, so it's just the two of us."

“Is he a scary person?” I asked quietly. I don’t deal with strangers too well, and I am not exactly a friendly person. Not because I don’t want to, it is because I am socially anxious. When me and Maeve first met, she was the one who came up to me to pair for a group assignment. “I don’t want to bother him, that’s all”

Maeve chuckled, noticing the slight hint of trepidation on my face. "Don't worry," she said. "My dad's a sweetheart, I promise. He might seem intimidating at first – he's a big, well not really in height but in size, burly Irishman – but he's the gentlest person you'll ever meet."

“I hope he likes me, so we can stay friends” Maeve suddenly pinched my cheeks as I flushed at the gesture.

“Why are you such a cutie, Y/N!”

“I’m not!”

"Oh, he'll love you," Maeve reassured me, patting my knee. "He's always excited to meet my friends. Just be yourself, and you'll win him over in no time."

As we approached Maeve's home, I could feel my heart hammering in my chest. Meeting a friend's parent was always a nerve-wracking experience, and the fact that it was Maeve's dad – a man she clearly loved and respected – made it all the more intimidating.

“Why do I feel like I’m meeting your dad to have his permission to marry you” Maeve burst out laughing as she nodded in agreement. There was really nothing to be afraid off, but since I was a generally anxious, I couldn’t help it.

Maeve must have sensed my nerves because she squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You got this," she murmured, as we walked up the cobblestone pathway towards the front door.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door and stepped into the cozy, welcoming home of Maeve's childhood. The sound of a friendly dog barking greeted us from the other room, and a moment later, an imposing figure strode into the hallway.

As Cillian stepped into the hallway to greet us, I couldn't help but internally gasp at his sheer presence. He was beautiful, with broad shoulders and a rugged, masculine air about him. His eyes were a light, piercing blue, and his dark hair was speckled with flecks of silver.

"Hello there, you must be Y/N," He said, his voice deep and gravelly. He smiled warmly, and I noticed the lines at the corners of his eyes, hinting at years of laughter and experience. “Maeve told me a lot about you, I’m pleased to have you here, love. Make yourself at home”

I felt shivers ran down my spine the minute I heard him talk, his voice was deep and smooth just like how you would feel drinking an expensive espresso if that’s how I could describe it. It’s a stupid comparison to say the least, but it is true.

I couldn’t even meet his eyes to greet him back, but I didn’t want to seem rude so I quickly glanced at him and for some reason bowed slightly, as I quietly replied, “Nice to meet you, Sir”

Cillian chuckled at my timid response, the sound rumbling deep in his chest like distant thunder. "No need to be nervous, lassie," he said, his accent thick and lilting. "I don't bite."

Maeve laughed as she gently nudged me, I stayed quiet still, “Sorry dad, she’s generally like this”

“It’s alright” I heard him respond. I didn’t know how to describe it but someone I can feel his gaze burning holes into me, as if he was studying me from the top of my head until the bottoms of my feet, “Well, why don’t both of you settle in. Maeve, get the darling settled into the guest bedroom, will you”

Maeve excitedly pulls me upstairs, as I followed her. However, I felt like I needed to take a last glance at Cillian and when I looked back,

He was already looking right at me.

My heart pounded in my chest as I quickly averted my gaze from him, running along with Maeve. Cillian on the other hand, I couldn’t read his expression. He wasn’t smiling, nor did he looked angry. He just stared at me with this look on his face that I couldn’t exactly describe.

“How old is your dad?” I asked, curious of his age since his appearance looks quite youthful for his age.

“He is 47, why?” Maeve replied absentmindedly, helping me unpacked all of my clothes and putting them in the closet.

“Nothing, I’m just curious” I muttered, as I joined her.

Maeve suddenly stopped what she was doing, “You don’t have a crush on my dad now, do you?” She pointed out, accusingly.

My eyes widened as I violently shook my head, “No! What are you talking about?!”

“Okay good, I trust you” I raised my brows at her, “It’s just that most of my friends fancies him, that’s all. The most disgusting thing is they keep trying to make advances towards my dad. I don’t know what they see in him, ugh” Maeve cringed as her whole body shook as if she was shuddering.

“N-No, you know I would never do that to you” In someways, saying that seemed wrong.

“I know. Out of all my friends you are the only ‘good’ ones and I’m pretty sure you won’t try to fuck my dad”

“That’s crazy, Maeve. Did any of your friends tried to do that?”

“Trust me, most of them do. But whenever they do, my dad just tells me to never invite them over again” I nodded, not replying anything to her story.

Of course, I wouldn’t do that to Maeve. Hell, I wouldn’t even touch any men with a ten-foot pole. Not that I’ve had anyone taking their interest in me, I was mostly too focused on my studies to even notice. All my life, it had always been about studying and succeeding and it wasn’t even because of peer pressure from my family, it’s just because I really enjoyed it.

So even if somebody liked me, I wouldn’t want to do anything with it.

.

After a few hours of catching up, the house grew quiet as night fell outside. I laid in bed for a while, but eventually, my thirst got the better of me. Quietly, I got up and crept downstairs, not wanting to wake anyone.

The house was silent as I padded down the stairs and into the kitchen, flicking on the light.

As I poured myself a glass of water, I heard a faint shuffling sound from another room. Curiosity getting the better of me, I turned to see a dim light coming from the living room. Peering through the door, I saw Cillian sitting in an armchair, nursing a glass of whiskey.

He looked up, seeing me standing in the doorway. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. "Having trouble sleeping?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble in the quiet room.

I blushed, feeling a little embarrassed at being caught. "Just got thirsty," I said, holding up my water glass sheepishly.

I was just about to turn and go back upstairs, but Cillian's voice halted me. "Come sit for a spell," he said, gesturing to the armchair opposite his. "It's lonely drinking alone."

I wanted to reject his offer but it would have seemed rude and I didn’t want to make that impression of being Maeve’s best friend.

I hesitated for a moment, feeling a mix of shyness and curiosity. Finally, I padded into the room, settling into the armchair across from Cillian. The light from the side lamp cast a warm glow on his features, making them look even more rugged and handsome.

Cillian took a slow sip of his whiskey, studying me from across the room. "So, Y/N, tell me about yourself," he said, leaning back in his chair. His gaze was intense, but not unkind.

“Um... There’s not really much to talk about... I’m not an interesting person” For some reason, speaking to him made my voice slower, as if I was scared of him. But I wasn’t, I was merely nervous about his presence.

“I think you are... Maeve told me you’re a great student” Cillian imposed, “She told me about how good you are in school”

My eyes widened slightly, “So basically Maeve told you I’m a nerd?” I groaned quietly, there was a small part of me that wanted him to think I was cool which was pathetic.

Cillian chuckled, shaking his head, “I’m not sure being a nerd is a bad thing, love. I think it’s great” He smirked.

There it is again, the pet names. The pet names made me feel butterflies in my tummy like a stupid school girl who has a crush on their teacher.

“It just means you are dedicated to your studies and I admire that, I’m glad Maeve became friends with someone like you” I muttered a silent ‘thanks’ at his statement but I didn't really know what to say afterward. There was a deafening silence between the two of us, I just sat in front of him quietly as I kept drinking my water. I was looking at the fireplace as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. However, the hairs on the back of my neck kept standing up because I knew Cillian was staring at me intently, his gaze never breaking from my figure.

There he goes again, looking at me as if he was studying me.

“Are you scared of me, darling?” Cillian broke the silence, making you jump slightly when you heard his voice. “You won’t even look me in the eyes”

I blushed heavily, caught off guard by his direct question. I had been trying to avoid looking directly at him, feeling intimidated by his intense gaze. I stammered a bit before finally meeting his eyes.

"I'm sorry," I said, my voice sounding small in the quiet room. "I don't mean to be rude, it's just... you're kind of intimidating."

“Am I, now?” I nodded in response, still not looking at him. “Look at me while you are talking to me before I make you”

I felt a shiver run down my spine at the change in his tone. I looked up to meet his gaze, my heart beat quickening. His eyes seemed to pierce through me, their deep blue hue holding me captive.

“There you go, darlin’,” Cillian said, his voice softer now. “It’s not so hard, is it?” He took another sip of his whiskey, studying me over the rim of his glass.

“No,” I muttered, unable to look away from his piercing gaze. “It’s just...you’re so intense." My voice was barely above a whisper.

Cillian hummed, “You know, the previous girls Maeve brought home they weren’t so scared of me”

I blinked, surprised by his comment. "They weren't?" I asked, feeling a pang of self-consciousness. "Is it a bad thing that I am slightly intimidated by you?”

“No...” For some reason, Cillian had stood up from his armchair, walking towards me with the whiskey glass still in his hands. Cillian walked over to the empty side of the sofa I was sitting in and took a seat. With every step he took, I could feel my heart beating faster and faster.

I couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness as he approached me, his large form seeming even more imposing in the intimate space of the living room. He settled in beside me on the sofa, his thigh mere inches from mine.

I could feel his warmth radiating from his body, and the scent of his cologne filled my senses. I tried to remain calm, taking slow, deep breaths to steady my racing heart.

“Every time she brought them over, I felt like throwing them out. It seems like their parents don’t teach them...” He paused before taking a sip of his whiskey, “...Manners”

I felt a lump form in my throat, feeling a mix of shame and fear. I knew I hadn't been very good at hiding my timid behavior, and now it seemed like I was being called out for it.

"I...I'm sorry," I mumbled, still unable to tear my gaze away from his intense eyes. "I'll try to be better."

“Such a good girl, aren’t you?” He muttered, my face burned even hotter at his words. I was used to being called ‘good’ by my parents or my teachers, but coming from Cillian’s mouth, it sounded different, deeper, and more intimate.

I fidgeted slightly under his gaze, feeling both flustered and strangely drawn to him.

"Thanks..." I murmured, not quite sure how to respond. I took a sip of my forgotten water, trying to hide my shaky hands. The silence stretched out between us, and I could feel Cillian’s gaze still on me, studying me intently.

"You're different from the other girls Maeve brought home," he said suddenly, his voice seeming to echo through the quiet room. "I can see it in your eyes, you've got a hint of...timidity."

I felt embarrassed at his accurate observation, but there was something else in his tone that made me shiver. Was it mockery, or was there a hint of something different? I couldn't quite tell.

I nodded slowly, not trusting myself to speak. I could feel his gaze on me, like a physical weight against my skin. I fidgeted with the hem of my t-shirt, feeling strangely out of sorts.

"There's nothing wrong with a little bit of timidity," he said, his voice a low rumble. “But a girl like you...you'll need someone to bring you out of your shell, teach you how to be brave.”

“What do you mean by that Sir?” I suddenly got curious. Cillian took a deep breath, realizing how innocent I was.

‘How can you not know what he was trying to do?’ He thought to himself.

“Call me Cillian for now my love, save the honorifics somewhere else, yeah?” Cillian was hinting at me but of course, I didn’t know the context of his words. “I’m sure you can call me, Sir... Sometime in the future”

“What do you mean?” I repeated the same question again, it seemed like Cillian was speaking words with double meanings that I could just not understand.

“If you keep calling me that, I might do something that I’ve been dying to do since you walked into my house, pet”

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. I had never called anyone 'Sir' before, but something in the way Cillian said it made me shiver. I felt torn between my natural nervous nature and a strange, unexpected curiosity at the thought of submitting to him.

“O-Okay, I’m sorry Cillian...”

“How are you such a good girl, hmm? You listen to everything I say”

I felt a flutter of flattery at his words, and a small part of me liked the way ‘good girl’ sounded coming from his mouth.

"I try to be... respectful," I mumbled, feeling a bit self-conscious. "It's how my parents raised me, I guess."

Cillian chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Your parents raised you well," he said, his eyes never leaving me. "They taught you how to listen, how to behave. But have they ever taught you how to be disobedient?"

“N-No... I never had to”

Cillian hummed in acknowledgement, the corners of his lips twitching into a small smirk. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. "You've always done what you're told, haven't you, darlin'? Never questioned it, not even for a second?"

I nodded, feeling a bit bashful under his intense gaze. "I...I guess so..." I mumbled, fidgeting with my fingers. "I don't like making waves. It's just...easier to follow the rules, you know?"

Cillian chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down my spine once again. "You're a rule-follower," he said, his tone almost amused. "You always do what you're told, never rock the boat, yeah? But deep down, darlin', don't you ever wonder what it would be like to be a little... mischievous?"

As he said that, I noticed he sat closer and closer to me. His arms rested on the back of the sofa and I felt myself getting smaller. I gripped the glass in my hands tightly as I decided to set it on the coffee table before I actually break it.

I felt myself becoming increasingly aware of my own small, trembling form. It was like I was being swallowed up by Cillian's presence, his large frame dominating the space between us. I fidgeted with the hem of my t-shirt, trying to keep my hands from shaking too visibly.

“I-I don’t know... I’ve never had the thought of it I guess...” I responded as he smirked.

“Tell me now, do you have a boyfriend?”

“No, I’ve never had one” I felt my heart skip a beat at his question. It was such a personal, direct question, and coming from Cillian's mouth, it felt oddly intimate. I blushed heavily and shook my head, feeling a mix of shyness and... something else I couldn't quite identify.

"No boyfriend, huh?" he murmured, his voice a low rumble. "A pretty thing like you, I'm surprised." He shifted slightly, his body moving even closer to mine on the sofa, “That’s good”

Cillian’s hand suddenly went up to my neck as he brushed over the loose strand of hair that fell on my shoulder, his fingers lingered on my skin as it tingled and sent shivers down my spine.

“C-Cillian?” I gasped as his hand brushed against my neck, my skin tingling at his touch. His fingers lingered on my bare skin, igniting a strange sensation that sent shivers down my spine. I suddenly felt very conscious of our proximity, his body so close to mine on the sofa.

“Have you ever touched your pussy, sweetheart?” At that moment, my heart dropped at the sudden vulgarity that he had. It was such a crude word, crass, anything to describe how bad it sounded coming out of his mouth. I was speechless and I couldn’t even focus on what to say since Cillian's hand still lingered on my neck as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper. “You like that, darlin’?” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. “Feel that... shiver running down your spine? Your skin’s already got goosebumps, yeah? I can see them. All over your neck, your arms…even your chest”

It was a feeling I had never felt before in my life. Something coiling deep in my gut as I felt myself clenching my thighs due to my... Private parts... Pulsating, at his words, his voice, everything about him.

Cillian looked down as he scoffed, noticing how my thighs kept clenching, his hands lowered down to my thighs as he tried keeping them apart. I did nothing to stop him.

Deep down, I knew how wrong it was for my best friend’s father to be touching me like this. But I couldn’t help it, I felt scared and maybe... Maybe I liked it. But I was scared of what he was going to do if I imposed, we were already in too deep and I felt like there’s nothing I can do.

However, there is. I could’ve stopped it... I just didn’t want to.

“Answer my question and be a good girl. Have you ever touched your pretty little pussy, darling?” I whimpered silently as his fingers began to roam closer to my inner thighs. I clamped his hand after feeling an unfamiliar gush of wetness flowing out of my core, “Keep your fucking legs open, alright?”

Cillian growled and I immediately spread my legs wider than before, “That’s a good girl” His voice turned soft once again. “Now, what did I ask you?”

“I’ve never touched myself... Down there, before...” I closed my eyes, breathing heavily as I felt like the feeling in my core was starting to become more and more painful.

Cillian hummed deeply, his fingers growing dangerously closer and closer to my pussy, and the next thing I knew, his hands completely touched my pussy over my shorts. Instinctively, I grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“What if Maeve finds out?”

“She sleeps like a log, the world could be ending and she won’t even wake up” Cillian muttered, pulling my hand off of his wrist, “I won’t tell if you won’t... I know how much of a good girl you are and you promise me you would keep those pretty little mouths shut?”

I simply nodded. I don’t know what possessed me to be so obedient to whatever was happening. Normally, I would have run away catching the next flight home, and never returned. However, Cillian was making me desperate, desperate to know what was going to happen next.

“I’m going to take off these cute shorts, alright?” I nodded once again, listening to everything he said as if I was under a spell. He took off my shorts as he pushed my legs apart. He was greeted with a sight, so wet, my underwear was soaked and I didn’t even realize it, “Pretty little thing...”

His index finger softly tapped the pulsating tiny bump, as I jolted in his grasp. I whimpered, raising my hips, asking for more.

“Such a fucking desperate slut” He groaned as he continued to rub circles on my clit, at this point I was writhing underneath him, my underwear getting wetter and wetter by the second. I would usually be offended if someone had called me such a degrading name but coming from him, it only made me want more, “Lean on me”

Cillian had instructed me to lean on his chest, my back close to him as he had his arms around me.

“I’m gonna teach you something, baby” I blushed at the new pet name he came up with, “I’m gonna teach you to touch yourself and I want to see you do it”

“O-Okay...” Cillian took my right hand and placed it on my sopping cunt, he pointed out my index finger as he slowly starts to rub circles on my clit. I whimpered almost too loudly as my left hand immediately covered my mouth. “C-Cillian! It feels nice!”

“I know, pet... Just keep doing it yeah, you’re gonna feel better once you cum” He encouraged, his eyes never leaving my writhing figure above him. I could feel something hard poking at the low of my back, it was hot and throbbing. “Fuck, so fucking pretty. The prettiest I have ever seen”

I was too focused on touching myself, drowning myself in the sensation to notice Cillian had my underwear in his left hand, burying his nose in the center as he took in the sweet and musky scent, his tongue darting out to taste the juice that previously leaked out to the material.

“Put a finger in and ram it inside, the faster you do it the better it feels” Cillian demanded, as if he was getting impatient, he took my finger once again directed it to my entrance, and shoved it in.

I was no longer whimpering, I was now moaning so loud I didn’t even care anymore. Cillian didn’t give me time to adjust, he just completely rammed it in and out at a fast pace that I couldn’t even catch up, he was doing it all on his own but with my own fingers.

“C-Cillian! I feel funny, please! Please, stop! I feel like I’m going to pee!” Cillian scoffed at the statement, he knew I was close to cumming but I didn’t know that. Instead, he taunted me, going even faster if it was even possible. He then placed his left hand on my lower tummy and pressed down hard. “No! No! No! Stop!”

“Cum. Fucking cum right now!” As if on queue, I cummed all over his hands, liquid gushing out of my hole rapidly as I cried out, the feeling of my first orgasm overwhelming me. Something I have never felt before. My whole body shook and twitched violently above him as I cried out, feeling tears of pleasure well up in my eyes. “That’s a good fucking girl, such a good girl for me...”

On my lower behind I felt a wet spot, indicating Cillian had also come undone in his pants. Cillian was as shocked as you because no woman could make him cum without touching him.

“You’re going to be the death of me” Cillian cursed as his fingers dipped into your entrance and I jolted in shock and overstimulation. His fingers went up to his mouth as he sucked all of the juices seeping out of my throbbing cunt, “Fucking delicious”

“C-Cillian... I can’t walk...” He laughed deeply, as he swiftly carried me and stood up from the couch.

“I’ll get my princess nice and clean, yeah?”

As he walked up towards my guest bedroom, carrying me without a problem, I could feel my thighs shaking as an aftermath.

“Cillian, are you gonna do those things to me again?” I stared at him with watery eyes, all fucked out from before, hopefully asking him.

“I’m gonna do more than that, sweetheart” Cillian paused as he opened the bedroom door, he placed me on top of the bed as hovered over my body, “I’m gonna fucking ruin you”

[27dragons]

New Year Countdown: Jan 1!!!

We made it!!! To all my followers and anyone else who reads this, I wish you the happiest of new years. May 2024 treat us all better than the last few years have.

To start the new year off, have a little knight/lord au with winteriron making their own new year's resolutions...

Jan 1 - Winteriron - Knight/Lord AU - Resolution

Sir Barnes found the prince on the upper ramparts, watching the lights down in the city as the common folk lost themselves in celebration. Bonfires crackled in every square. The cathedral was lit from within by dozens if not hundreds of candles, making the stained glass windows glow with almost too-bright color. The movement of torches and lanterns betrayed merrymakers moving from one festive gathering to the next. The wind shifted, bringing them snatches of song and laughter, and also bitter cold.

“Your Highness,” Sir Barnes ventured. “You’ll catch your death up here. Come inside.”

“It’s not much warmer in the castle,” Prince Anthony returned. He glanced back at Sir Barnes before turning back to the view below. “I thought all the knights were planning to spend the night dancing around the fires with a pretty girl or three. Did you draw the short straw?”

“I volunteered,” Sir Barnes said. He’d found himself reluctant to let the melancholy prince out of his sight.

Prince Anthony watched the shadows of dancers as they crossed in front of the fires. “I’ve heard that the commoners have a tradition, on the New Year,” he said. “Each makes a resolution, something they want to change before the year is done. They write it on a scrap of paper or a bit of birch-bark, and toss it into the fire, so the smoke will carry their will to the gods.”

There was a folded bit of paper tucked inside Sir Barnes’ shirt that he would throw into the kitchen fire when he passed through on his way back to the barracks at the end of the night. In it, he resolved to finally tell the prince his feelings. “That’s true, Your Highness.” Boldly, he added, “What would your resolution be?”

The prince was silent for a long minute, and Sir Barnes thought he had overstepped, and the prince wouldn’t answer at all. But the answer came, almost too quiet to hear except that the wind shifted just in time to bring it to his ears. “I resolve to be worthy of the one I love.”

Prince Anthony straightened, then, and turned. His face was flushed from the wind. “I shouldn’t keep you out here in the cold, should I?” he said, suddenly brisk. “Let’s go inside, and we’ll see if we can find a fire of our own.”

[jpitha]

Just a Little Further 16

Part 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

The group of Administrators - former Adminstrators? No, I'll still need Administrators. These though? Maybe? - leads us through the promenade of the Starbase, past the gawking crowds. Now that they're pretty sure I'm not going to start a riot or a war, I have a lot more curious onlookers following a... respectful distance behind. We continue on through the promenade towards a...

group of shops?

They're small, ramshackle shops, selling hot food and other small trinkets. If tourists came to this Starbase, I'd call it a tourist trap but I have a feeling that many locals rely on places like this for their daily meals no matter how much the Aviens and Mariens say there is plenty of food.

We stand in front of a shop where one of the Insect people is frying something in a large, shallow pan with a flame under it. Oh!

"Rapid River Roaring, what is the name of this species of sapient?" I ask.

"They are known to us as Azurians."

I look at the Azurian. They are making small efficient movements, transferring food to the large fryer, turning them quickly, and then another moves the cooked food to a rack to dry.

"Good day, may I have one of those?" I ask gently.

"2 Skys, exact change." They say without looking up. I make a show of patting my pockets dramatically, and then look at The Smell Of the Ocean and raise an eyebrow.

"You stand in the presence of a Builder! Know your place!" He barks at the Azurian at the fryer.

The Azurian lazily looks up at them, then over at me with my royal blue outfit and crown and wings, and then back to The Small Of the Ocean and says "1 Sky then. Discount."

I tip my head back and laugh. Really, I love these Azurians. I need to make sure they're taken care of. They don't care a single bit about who I am. I look again at Ocean and say "Well? Pay them please. I would like to try what they're cooking."

Ocean looks at me with a shocked expression. I'm sure they had not planned on this when their day started, but even for that they're still surprised.

You are not how they expect a Builder to be.

Good. Maybe they'll stop trying to treat me like they already know how I'm going to react.

Ocean takes out a small purse and digs around and takes out a small, green, metallic coin. They plunk it into the box next to the fryer, and the Azurian who was removing the cooked treats hands me one. It's hot and oily and crunchy and delightful.

"These are so good!" I say around a mouthfull of food. I swallow and look at the Azurians cooking. "Thank you so much, those are amazing." I turn to Ava, Mei and Fer'resi. "You need to try these. Ocean, buy three more!"

The Azurian looks up again. "2 Skys each since they're not Holy."

I look at Ocean again and raise an eyebrow. They dive into their purse and pull out six more coins. Three fried treats are produced, and everyone tries them.

Ava gobbles hers down. "Melody! You're right, these are amazing! We have to make sure we can get more from them. I wonder if they'll give us the recipe?"

"Probably, but I know we can't get the ingredients back home." I say with a smile.

"Well then, we'll just have to stay here. These are worth opening up a trade relationship with the folks at home. Mel, Fer'resi, what do you think?"

I look over and the food is gone. Both of them practically inhaled them. Mei'la is grinning "Melody they're amazing! They taste...familiar. Like a food we eat during one of the festivals."

Fer'resi nods. "It's very similar to the fried treats we eat during... The Ceasing." He thinks a moment.

"The Ceasing?" I ask.

"These days, it's a harvest holiday. When the work in the fields cease and we take a week or two before rotating to our next fields so as to not overwork the soil. It's a time to get together with family and have a party, visit with your neighbors, that kind of thing. There were records of the holiday being related to something else in the old religion, but most people figured it was always a harvest holiday, but now I wonder."

"What, like celebrating the closure of the Gate?" I ask.

"Yes, maybe it originally celebrated when the Builders ceased coming."

Fer'resi looks at his empty skewer thoughtfully. "Well, we can research the history of K'laxi religion later I suppose. And as delicious as these were, why are we here?"

Actually, he's right. I turn to Ocean. "Other than the snack break, why are we here, Ocean?"

With a sigh, he walks between the stands. We follow.

The people running the stands stare as we weave through them, but nobody stops us or even asks what we are doing. The benefits of being a Builder with the station Administrators I guess. We reach the wall behind the stands and The Smell of the Ocean looks at Rapid River Roaring. "It's around here, isn't it?"

Rapid River Roaring nods "Yes, but neither we or any of the Mariens could work out how to open it." They turn to look at me. "Empress, the entrance to the Throne is around here, but as we are not Builders...we don't know how to open the door."

I look out at the wall. It looks ancient. Like it's been here forever. Soot and dust cling to the walls. There has to be a switch or a lever or something right?

No. It's designed for a Builder to open.

Yes, but I've been a builder for what, two full days at this point and Empress for one? I don't know what I'm doing.

Think like an Empress. Think like a Builder.

Ugh, that doesn't help. Everything I've felt so far as shown me that they're self righeous, demanding people who just... get what they... want.

Is it really that easy?

I look up at the wall again. We seem to be in the middle as near as I can tell. Over on one side, it goes for 10 meters or so and then ends in a decoration that looks a little like a pillar. I turn and look at the other side and... yes, it's the same.

This isn't a wall, it's the door.

I look at the door now, and think about it. It looks like it would slide into the floor, or up into the ceiling. I bet it hasn't been opened in millennia. I don't want to hurt anyone who has set up shop here.

Think like a Builder, Melody. What do Builders do? They Build.

Okay okay. Let's think. If I have enough Nanites that I can make clothes for myself and my friends and I can make a frigging glowing crown and wings then there is probably enough to be able to...

I look at the wall and concentrate. Think like a Builder they say. Fine.

A breeze erupts from me and a light fog flows around my feet towards the wall. It clings to the wall until it covers an area that would be a comfortable doorway. A moment passes, and

"Hey, a door!" Ava says. "How did you do that?"

I turn back to her and wink. "I'm a Builder. I have no idea." Ava giggles.

Mei'la looks at the hole. "What happened to the matter in the wall? You can't just make it disappear.

Hmm, I look around, the walls didn't seem to get thicker, and I don't think I took the wall material and rebuilt it into more nanites, but the floor... sure is dusty.

"Look at the floor Mei'la, I think it's dust now."

Drifts of dust blew at our feet as she looked. I guess it was the same color of the wall. That must be it.

I walk over to my new opening and stand there. It smells of stale air and dust. There are no lights and no air movement.

"Come on everyone, let's walk purposefully into the dark and scary hole I made into the wall without really having a good understanding about what I'm doing or how I did it!" I call out to everyone as I go through the door.

The light from the market illuminates a small patch in front of me. It's just bare, dusty floor. I look up and see... nothing. Okay, okay, think like a Builder, act like I own the place.

Because - in a very real sense - you do.

Okay, first thing I want are lights. I think about how I'd want it to be lit, and concentrate and...

There is a loud, distant humming sound and with a dramatic flourish, lights come on in the room, just the color I was thinking.

Ava pushes her way in behind me and stops dead. "Melody... is that your Throne?"

It's breathtaking. About 100 meters from us, nearly 10 meters over our heads is what can really only be described as a Throne, A wide staircase leads up to it with platforms every 10 steps or so.

The Throne itself is... massive. It's a chair made of green shimmering metal. Towering and spindly, it reaches up behind where the Empress would sit, almost organically, towards the ceiling. Touching the ceiling it spreads and branches like the roots of a tree and disappears into the ceiling. I think it's connected. Maybe data connections? It is clearly meant to impress.

Doesn't look too comfortable to sit in though.

"I think it is, Ava. At least the Throne for this Starbase. The Nanites tell me every Starbase has one."

"Do they all look like this?" She looks around, eye wide.

"I don't know. I suppose in time, I'll go and find out."

Mei'la comes in and hearing that turns to me, "So, you're going to stay? Be their Empress? After how many millennia of them not having one you'll just... show up and say 'Hey, I'm in charge now' ?"

It is your right.

"I-I think that I can do some real good here" I say, weakly.

You don't need to justify it to them.

"How Melody? You're an Information Warfare Officer, you never even had a command."

You are a Builder.

"But, look at the people here, look at the Aviens and Mariens who are in charge hate each other! It won't be long before they start shooting each other!" I'm feeling panicked and I don't know why. Mei'la is right, what am I doing?

She is nothing. You are everything

Mei'la crosses her arms. "The only person who has said that they hate each other is you Melody. Nobody else on FarReach who has been to the station has seen it."

They can't see. They won't see.

I look out through the door to the promenade. "The people that live here sure don't look like they're living a free and easy life. We met a slave! Those food vendors we bought treats from sure don't look rich to me. If you look around it looks like... poverty. Like people barely hanging on. I can fix that."

Mei'la keeps staring at me. "How Melody? How will you fix it? You don't know the first thing about how to rule."

I whirl around "Do you? Please, enlighten me then." Wow, I almost used the Voice. I have to be more careful. That was close.

I throw up my hands. "So, what do you expect me to do then, just... go home? With all this that's happened to me, with all that's been given to me, to just waste it on tricks and being able to watch movies without the subtitles? Dr. Irenimum says the Nanites can't be turned off. So now I live for who knows how long with the full package giving me the ability, the knowledge and the power to rule and... I don't?"

Mei'la looks at me, eyes wide. "Melody, what are you saying?"

Ava stands next to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. "She's saying she's an Empress now, and she intends to rule."

I nod without thinking. Ava gets it. Ava gets me. No, wait. What's going on, what am I doing? Ugh, I need a minute to think, my head hurts.

Mei'la turns away and looks over at Fer'resi. "Fer'resi, you talk some sense into her. She isn't interested in listening to me."

Hey, wait a minute, that's not fair

"Hey Mei'la, that doesn't seem fair. I've got... a lot of stuff that I've just been introduced to. I need time to... process it."

"Fine then, let's head back to FarReach, we can process it while we go to the next system." She turns to leave.

Ņ̶̛̞̬̲̪̲̝͑́͆̈́͌̈́̊͝ͅȍ̸̡̞̫̖͕͈̮͌̍̆́͌͗͛͛͒̌͘!̶̢̛̫̦̺̣͍͕͇̳̟̂̊̓̀̕͜͝

She stops without thinking. She turns and looks at me, fearful.

I clap a hand over my mouth. Uh oh.

"Sorry! Sorry! What I mean is... No. I'm going to stay here and think things through. You can head back to FarReach if you want." I look at everyone "You can all leave, you're free to go anytime, But I'm going to keep going and see what's here for me. I need to do this."

The moment I say they're free to go, the Aviens and Mariens with me bolt. They run away as fast as they can. Ugh, good Empresses don't have their subjects run from them in terror, do they?

No, Great Empresses do.

Mei'la looks at me sadly. "Goodbye, Melody." and turns to leave. Fer'resi looks at her, then back at me, then at her. "I-I'm sorry Melody." He stammers "I-I-I need to get back to FarReach and... learn more about these translators you got us. Thank you for them, and for showing us how to wear them." Looking back one more time he leaves.

Ava smoothly transitions her hand on my shoulder into a hug. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily. I'm here to see this through. This is too cool just to give it all up and go back to FarReach and continue on like nothing's wrong." I lean into the hug. Ava knows what I need right now.

She's right. See it through.

Fine. If I'm the Empress, then I'll be the Empress. With newfound determinization, I walk up the stairs. I approach the throne and look at it.

There's no dust.

It's completely clean, how did they manage that trick? I'll have to ask the Nanites later. I turn and plant my rear end into the Throne.

I lean back in shock and gasp.

Part 17

[outofangband]

Birds of Dor-lómin

I have decided to make two posts at least for the birds of Hithlum, this one and one for Mithrim and greater Hithlum

As I take inspiration from several European and Asian countries for the environment of Dor-lómin, the species here reflects that however to the best of my ability it is ecologically consistent. Obviously this will not be a complete list and I will go back to it!

And as always requests are open! I’m also always willing to put together ecological world building based on specific real locations!

Flora, fauna, geography and environment of Arda Masterlist

Note: I use Hadorian here to refer to the folk of Hador and of Marach including cultural practices that might predate Hador himself

The eastern mountains and forests around Húrin’s house: hazel grouse, brambling, northern wryneck, common buzzard, Zitting cisticola, grey headed woodpecker, black redstart, grey heron, common quail, great spotted woodpecker, dusky thrush, white winged crossbill, Bohemian waxwing, ring ouzel, tawny owl, common raven

The western border and Firth of Drengist: horned grebe, osprey, black crowned night heron, little gull, black tern, great white pelican, common kingfisher, common starling, little ringed plover, rocky pipit, white tailed eagle

Note: many of the mountain, sea and wetlands birds here are incidental species occurring in Dor-lómin because of migration or other factors. This is also true of some of the species listed for the eastern mountain borders.

The fields and open lands: Greylag goose, corn bunting, little owl, gadwall, mallard duck, wood lark, bearded reedling, hedge warbler, twite, common grasshopper warbler, yellowhammer, greater scaup (migratory), nightjar, stone curlew, barn owl, black headed bunting, whinchat, little grebe, goldfinch, blue throat

Throughout: common wood pigeon, fieldfare, hobby (migratory), common crane, mute swan, house sparrow, merlin, common buzzard (primarily in the Southern mountains), black woodpecker, gryphfalcon

World building notes:

-The people of Hador keep ducks, geese, chickens and pigeons including a species like passenger pigeons. They are the only group of Atani in Beleriand that has a practice of keeping birds primarily for eggs as well as meat and who uses eggs in cooking semi frequently. The Haladin, Bëorians, Drúedain and other groups do eat eggs though not usually chicken eggs and do not often use them as ingredients in baking (although there are some Bëorian dishes that involve bread with quail eggs)

-Hadorian food is a combination of farming and agriculture and hunting and foraging. Grouse, pheasant and wild ducks are sometimes caught for food

-Sea birds are relatively rare but can be seen in western Dor-lómin near the Firth of Drengist and the border to Nevrast. The northern Sindar who live in western Hithlum including western Dor-lómin keep oral records of the presence and appearance of sea birds and mentions of them appear occasionally in song

-Feathers of geese are designs associated with the Hadorian midwinter festival. They are sometimes worn but more commonly embroidered or painted.

-The northern Sindar by the caves of Androth paint birds on the cave and cliff walls, using pigments made from minerals, bark and sometimes shells. Herons, gulls and starling shapes are the most common.

-Random character HC: Sador’s favorite animals to carve are birds especially ground birds. Some of these he even paints or polishes when he has the time.

[kmp78]

He uses that mic to bark orders to the crew and only the crew is meant to hear it, but sometimes these dingdong tech folks at the festivals eff up and hook his crew mic so everyone can hear it... 😂 »

Yes I know there's a second microphone for him to talk to his team after I'm not sure it's his team that he does on purpose 🤭 There are other technicians who are from the festival, it may be them who are wrong

what does he say I don't understand 🤔

In this instance he was telling the lighting crew how he wanted the stage/crowd lit during the next song. 🔦

This time he luckily escaped without an egg on his face, unlike the last time when we got to enjoy Principessa in all her vain glory. 😂💇‍♂️

I don't know how he managed to get up on that stage so bravely with a dent in his hair. 😭

So inspirational. 🙏

[xxlordalexanderxx]

.: The Annual Xandora Eventide Revelry :.

It seemed like every year without fault Alexander would be requested to bare audience to the pleas of the people, in hopes of getting him to help fund the annual sunset festival in the main city. Or more aptly titled: The Annual Xandora Eventide Revelry. A holiday in which the people celebrate the longest evening of the year, typically happening within the middle of October.

The evening would last about six to ten hours before the sun would finally set. Rather than see this as inconvenient the beast folk decided to celebrate this strange phenomenon. After all, evening would be typical hunting hours, and the hunt was always something to celebrate.

Many years have passed and Alexander would mostly be reluctant to fund such a silly activity, but this time he’d surprise the local event planners when they would once again, propose the festival and the need for his money.

“Very well,” He relents, waving them off with his talons in approval. He barks an order, and several Pawns haul out troves of gold and jewels, while Knights and Bishops haul out baskets of produce, cured meats, and aged wine, at least enough to get them started. They still would need to provide for themselves as they always had prior to his generosity. No doubt the local butchers and bakers and wine makers will have their won stands peddling goods.

“I might consider attending said festival with my loved ones and friends. If any of them are interested that is.” He huffs, taking a sip of his tea.

“You will be watched however, that money is to go towards the festival only, if there is any left you may disperse it amongst yourself. Cromwell will see to it that you do as intended…”

[velvetwarfare]

“ — Okay, ready! One…two…! “

The old camera was set up and just about to take a picture, the young Vistani woman scrambling to get in the photo. Christmas lights gleamed and the stockings were full, gifts wrapped neatly under the tree and vintage ornaments aglow. Beside the red head were three older men — an earth elemental master, a psychic, and a mentor fighter. All dressed in beautiful cloths of festive patterns, the tallest bent down to wrap his slender arms around Betty’s shoulders as the tanner one held up a peace sign, the last one simply munching on a gingerbread man lazily and beaming a goofy grin. The sound of a dog barking echoed somewhere in the large vardo, soft Christmas carols heard outside the window as more folks gathered around to join in on campfires and stories.

“ — THREE! MERRY CHRISTMAS! “

.

The forest was silent. Betty stared blankly up at the tree she had decorated with the ornaments she kept throughout the years, honoring her deceased family. The undead will always outlive the mortal realm.

Every year was the same.

“ Merry Christmas, kompanya. Wherever you are now… “

[jackhkeynes]

Revillon

Revillon (Borlish Reveglon /ˌre.vijˈlɔn/) is the Borlish term for the eve (and often the entire day) before Christide. It refers also to the specific cultural practice on the island of the Winter Feast (y Fest Reveglon), a celebration held on Revillon in churches across the land to which everyone in attendance brings food.

The Borlish name Reveglon means "vigil", and is a Middle Boral borrowing from the synonymous French reveillon, itself originally from Latin ēvigilō "I wake up". Earlier names include jolveisre (modern jolleistr "excursion, jaunt"), taken from Old Norse jólveizla "Yule feast", and fleðoul (of unknown ultimate etymology), both of which referred specifically to the celebrations.

Evidence of similar winter solstice festivities involving communally-prepared feasts on Borland predates even the Roman invasion, making Revillon one of the longest continuously-practised folk traditions in Europe (bearing in mind that the practice has evolved considerably with time). Third-century Roman historian Ammian Marcellinus provides us with an early written mention of the Winter Feast, which appears (under its original name Flidōlus, which gave the aforementioned fleðoul) in one of his asides on the Northwestern Isles. Post-imperial sources in the first millennium almost exclusively criticise the tradition as pagan and unholy; however, by the twelfth century the practice is fully appropriated by the Church.

Queen Natalia II of Borland abdicated on Revillon of 1894 as part of the political upheaval surrounding Borland's entry into the Drengot Collusion.

Food

Foods traditionally associated with the Revillon Feast include:

tort dell'ivan /ˈtɔʀt ˌde.liˈvan/ ("child's pie", in reference to the Christ child), a savoury dish often of lamb. The practice of scoring a cross into the lid and hiding a small wooden object inside (traditionally also a cross) is a later innovation, but compare the similar galette des rois seen on the continent. This name for the dish is attested as early as the tenth century in Old Boral torte del ifan /tɔɾ.tə dɛl iˈfan/, although the modern recipe including lamb and potato is not seen in writing until the eighteenth century.

jonnovar zucarrað /ˌʒɔ.noˈvaʀ ˌzi.kaˈʀaθ/ "candied butterflies", a sugar-spiced cakebread particular to the island which ever since their earliest iterations have been generously spiced (usually with dalassine bark [cinnamon] and inchroot [ginger]). At this time of year they are formed into butterfly shapes, popularly thought to represent the metamorphosis of a dead winter into the new life of spring.

[justicefanged]

"Well now, who is this?" Though he had approached the young man with goodie-bag in hand, the moment Sigurd laid eyes on the puppy he had become distracted, depositing the goodie-bag into Linus's hands to kneel to the dog's level, smooshing the dog's cheeks affectionately. "I had seen that we would be expecting a four-legged friend, but I hadn't expected such a good boy!" 

(The bag is of a plush sapphire velvet with braided gold drawstrings. If he were tempted to peek inside, he would find the festive goodies of the typical Chalphy holiday season: roasted nuts coated in a caramelized warming spice mixture, a hand-pulled twisted peppermint stick, decadent candied orange peel, and a holiday cracker to be pulled later with little knick-knacks within.) 

It took a moment of this for Sigurd to recall that he'd also a human guest to attend to, and he rose, laughing, to clap a warm hand on Linus's shoulder. "Welcome, my friend – we have met before, have we not?" Winking, Sigurd recalled the moments he had seen Linus as a blur during trick-or-treating, when he had barreled to his door and snatched handfuls of candy in truly spectacular fashion. "But now you are not here merely as friend, are you? Or, perhaps you are – you are close with my niece, are you not?"   

Sigurd's eyes flicked across the young man in assessment; built hardy and strong, with large calloused hands. But it wasn't the ability to destroy that made a man; it was the ability to create. 

Sigurd smiled. "I hope that the two of you enjoy the party. Ah! Apologies - " He knelt, rubbing the pooch's ears vigorously, "The three of you!" 

Linus barked out a laugh as the goodie bag is handed off to him, and then he's almost completely forgotten in favor of the puppy that had been padding alongside him. He didn't really mind -- after all, puppy's had this effect on a lot of people -- and it gave him a second to poke around in the bag. He pulled out the peppermint stick with a noise of appreciation and promptly shoved it into his mouth; it really wasn't meant to be eaten in such a way, and was sort of awkwardly placed in his mouth, but all it took were a few well placed crunches and that was all sorted.

Honk is ecstatic to be here and get attention right off the bat! The puppy is quick to scramble closer when Sigurd kneels down, doing his best to slobber over the hands that are squishing at his face. His whole body is being wiggled by the forceful wagging of his tail, the little green and red bowtie that has been incorrectly tied around his neck looks like it'll come loose any second.

"Figured it'd be good to let y'all know 'bout him." A rare instance of foresight on Linus' part. "Think we did -- ya know, bit of a fast an' furious first meetin'," he grinned, "Nice to know that first candy run wasn't a fluke!"

At least some rich folks didn't have a problem with sharing their good food around.

Linus swallows at the question -- ah, minty fuck -- coughing a little. "Definitely more than friends, but I dunno if we're at the...y'know...Goin' at her comfort. Whatever, uh--"

Wow, that was weird and awkward, and more than a little embarrassing.

"'M mostly here for, like...if 'Tena needs a quick exit. I want her to have a good time, if she can. You're her family, yeah? That's...important, even if it's also messy and complicated, and a major fuckin' pain in the ass sometimes," Linus huffed out, stashing his opened goodie bag into one of the pockets of his jacket to keep his hands busy.

He was lucky that his brother was alive, that his sister was here. But there were others that were missing. Blood and chosen family alike. There would be no more gatherings like this. No stupid jokes told over cheap ale. No more songs or stories shared by firelight and dancing shadow on sturdy walls that kept cold winds at bay.

Linus wasn't going to have that sort of connection anymore with those of his family that were gone now. But Altena had a chance. Whether it turned out good or bad, he wanted her to be able to make that choice.

"It's a party, what can go wrong?" Linus tries to recover the utter embarrassing sappiness that had been this greeting so far, forcing out a laugh that was too loud. "I'm sure we'll have a blast!"

Honk, who had been exceptionally disappointed that he was not the focus of attention anymore, had been clumsily dancing around the two men's feet while yapping away. He almost bowled himself over in a rampant return of excitement when Sigurd returned to rub at his ears, oversized puppy paws making uncoordinated attempts to hold on to such good scritches.

[thedarkangelpuppet]

Did Janna ever take Mara to Siquijor, Central Visayas, Philippine, an island with a long-time reputation as a place of magic and hold festivals that focus on healing rituals where incantations are sung while the old folks make potions out of herbs, roots, insects and tree barks?

Yes she did :3

[peachonified]

I don't like leaving my house that much.

It's winter - and I don't like the cold.

There's a huge amount of dog anxiety too (ie my dogs barking and neighbours getting annoyed).

Actually, that's mainly it. I'd pop out and do a lot more things if I didn't have dogs. But... chihuahuas are long lived so I gotta find a way to deal with it.

That being said, the Japan Film Festival streams online for the next month, and there are... at least a couple of movies I want to see

BL Metamorphosis

We're Broke My Lord

Anime Supremacy

The Lines That Define Me

Father of the Milky Way Railroad

School Meal Times Graduation

The Zen Diary

Twenty-Four Eyes (tbh I hate war movies, but it says many of the folk songs are still sung today... so maybe I will just try and find a sound track)

that is more than I will probably watch, but I'll at least try and get to the first two!

[aria-ashryver]

so if snow in crimson is the end of the story right, whats starlight in gold

oh the evil grin this ask gave me slkfjsljf 😈😈😈

short answer? there's a reason I'm doing so much worldbuilding, and it ties to an original plot arc! long answer..?

(I'd say "spoilers under the cut" but its all stuff you've read before 👀)

 Oh! Speaking of meddlesome, old folks — your great-aunt Morag called while you were out tonight.’ ‘Tonight? Wouldn’t it have been the middle of the night for her?’ ‘Mmm. God, it must have been about 2am in Rannoch!’ Terri shook her head in derision. ‘She said, and I quote, she’d “been gifted a prophetic dream by the great Rannoch rowan tree” and it was crucial I pass it on to you.’

CH 3 - Our Future is Written in Ink

A sea of silver on black. A void of dying stars. A heaviness that crushed the senses in every direction. Beyond that, nothingness. Luca was pulled and stretched until they were thousands of miles from their body, hung, suspended in that witch-dark emptiness, devoid of all sense save for the acrid bite of blood on their tongue. Letting go, Luca saw.

--

‘That’s got to be the origin of the Autumn Festival!’ Gabriel noticed their fingers kept tracing the pages over and over again, skimming the passage about “tending to the trees” where it scrolled the page in looping, black-green ink.

CH 5 - All It Takes is a Leap Of Faith

He squeezed his eyes shut against the rolling wave of black and silver that blotted out the edges of his vision. Then suddenly, the darkness consumed him entirely, and Luca was suspended for a moment in a waking dream.

CH 8 - Some Things I Can Never Forget

Luca thought it was going to be one of those nights again. The ones where, no matter how hard he tried, sleep eluded him. As it was, the void of dying stars came upon him almost the very moment he closed his eyes, that eerie nothingness; as if it wanted him to see, to know, to understand. Surrendering to the wave of fatigue pulling him under, Luca fell headlong into the witch-dark.

--

'So, “O’Rinn” means “descendant of the stars”, right?'

'Just casually mention this in front of my great-aunt Morag and she’ll go on a whole spiel about how the O’Rinns are “descended from a great, ancient line of powerful witches'' or whatever.’

‘So, what does Luca mean?’ Gabriel asked. ‘Bringer of light,’ Luca said, with a jaunty little bow, ‘Luca O’Rinn, at your service.’

CH 10 - You Were My Haven

As if in a trance, Luca moved closer, until their hands pressed against the bark of the thick trunk. It felt warm beneath their palms, coursing with age and memory. ‘Would you like to make a wish?’

--

‘Life,’ Luca whispered, tracing the words with the pads of their fingers. ‘An invocation of protection.’

--

Luca strung up their paper wish from the tree.

CH 12 - Listen Closely Now

'She said, and I quote, she’d “been gifted a prophetic dream by the great Rannoch rowan tree”.'

--

Snow writ in crimson by ancients grown cold Who bleed out the life from the broken and bold Transmuted and woken, this bloodline of old Snow writ in crimson bears starlight in gold

CH 27 - Eomma

‘I think if I wasn’t so terrified, I’d be fascinated by it all; the heightened senses, the speed, the premonitions…’ Cas and Luca exchanged a significant glance. ‘The what now?’ Luca asked. ‘Premonitions?’ Terri frowned in confusion. ‘You know — the vampire blood sort of took our good old “O’Rinn gut instinct” and dialled it up to eleven.’

CH 29 - Those Left Behind

In the bare half-second before he bared his fangs, the elder vampire’s irises shifted. No longer silver. Gold. Rich. Like beaten metal. Like ancient coins, resting in the eye sockets of a long-dead corpse. They glowed from within, the power around him suddenly amplified a thousandfold, like his skin might tear from the very effort of containing it all within his earthly form. ‘Oh my god,’ Gabriel whispered, horrified. ‘What is he?’

CH 34 - Sink Your Teeth In, Pt 1

 ‘I remember there being nine… something about nine — all the Creators and their direct descendants were connected, somehow.'

--

‘What about O’Rinn? Didn’t you say you’d assessed them for gift potential, Astoria?’ ‘Somnio.’ 'That can’t be right. The somnio bloodline has long grown dormant — there have been no dreamers for centuries.’

[hollow-writer]

Why were the gods on the move

As the statue sat motionless, as statues do, at the rubble that once was a temple, it thought of half of its left arm lying somewhere underneath it all, along with all of the chipped paint from its abdomen. People, and statues, often find their thought streams spiralling down Charybdis, hopelessly so, when they are in distress. 

A young girl, no older than ten, limped in with eyes transfixed on the statue. It was fear in those eyes, recognised the statue. While adults had looked at its kind with reverence and piety, children were mostly afraid. It was surprising that there was still terror at a statue of any kind in this state, though. Not now. Not after the gods are gone, surely?

The girl carefully lowered herself against one of the surviving columns, keeping her left leg straight, landing with a small thud. She was covered in dirt; her hollow cheeks flushed from the piercing cold of northern Vietnamese winter. Here in the mountains, the temperature could get subzero, enough to make the statue shiver, let alone an emaciated little child in rags. She curled up as much as possible while still sitting back against the column.

***

The deities once worshipped here were a couple from the 7th century. The husband, whom the statue is supposed to embody, was a Tang literati sent to the region to administrate the unruly lands in the south of the empire. Colonisers often get influenced by the land they subjugate. This bookish bureaucrat fell in love with the land, lived the last 40 years of his life here and settled down with a local Viet woman. He was, as the legends told, completely fluent in local languages (for there were more than one ethnicities in the region), lived in a simple vernacular three-room wooden house, ate the local produce, cut his hair short and wrote songs that remain in the region’s folk circulation still this day. By all means, beyond his official post in the colonial regime, he led a life that was as native as possible.

Every year, during the festivities in honour of his memory, elders told stories of his just and wise administration. If these folk tales are anything to go by, not only was he skilful in his navigation of local politics, but also he was shrewd enough to know that as long as the people were allowed to keep their customs and culture and had their livelihoods secured, rebelling was never on their mind. 

So he and his wife became local deities venerated by generations, despite the continual flux of history. The statue, being the physical manifestation of the worshipped spirit, and the object of intense faith of the natives, gained a soul of its own. It could never speak back, but the old mandarin and his wife talked to it as if it were their child. In spiritual terms, it was indeed juvenile, merely 102 years old.

***

The sudden sound of bullets whizzing past startled them from their winter slumber. 

The girl dashed for the statue as quickly as she could, crawling desperately for cover. Only after she got behind it did she let out a small cry. There was no space to straighten her left leg. 

Two men rushed in while their rifles eagerly searched for a target. Given that they had seen someone and decided to fire first, it was inevitable that the little gap behind the biggest standing object would eventually be checked. 

A roar.

One man yelled triumphantly in a foreign language, as he grabbed and pulled the girl out. She fell awkwardly onto the ground, strangely silent. As the two soldiers rapidly exchanged words, she just sat there, eyes looking into the night. Most people in these wretched lands have learnt that pleading and begging were no use against beasts who only spoke the language of lust. 

The statue eyed them worriedly. The dark-skinned one seemed to be arguing against something, though he never raised his voice. His white colleague was practically screaming from the second sentence. Increasingly agitated, he was barking what may have been impatient words louder and louder from beneath his massive moustache. Suddenly, the black man stopped and pondered, then gestured towards the statue, mouthing something that must have meant:

 Would you please have some respect for the supernatural?

Bang. The white soldier instantly turned and shot the statue. Having left a hole in the torso of the wooden idol, he looked at his companion provocatively. 

Respect for this?

As the man kneeled down by the girl, no one at the scene was oblivious to what would happen next. For many of the troops, who couldn’t speak the language, and who look incredibly alien in a foreign land, desertion was not an option. Instead, all the pent-up frustration with the war was released in violence. And, unfortunately, for a lot of them, sex and violence were just two faces of the same coin. Thus, soldiers slaughtered enemies and civilians with a sexually-driven zeal, and they raped women and children with a violent rage. 

As they wrestled, the girl was still weirdly silent. The other soldier looked away, then studied the battered, dilapidated state of the statue. The white soldier got rougher, and at last, prompted sounds of agony from the girl.

It was praying to all the deities. To its surrogate parents in the spiritual realm who have long left. To the god of mountain Tản, the most powerful and revered mystical entity in the diverse pantheons of all the people settling around here. To anyone really. For it, a statue, a dead, inanimate object to gain the power of motion. For it to do physically what its parents have done in the ages past spiritually, to protect. 

The dark-skinned man stood mesmerised. He too had heard stories of natural spirits back in his homeland. The mythical creatures lash out in their death throes, biting the white beasts. Men died of mysterious circumstances. Obviously, it was pitiful at best. What use were curses and magic against the all-destroying machines of absolute rationalisations, of modern weaponry and of the enlightened creed of atheistic self-interest? He heard all that. His own elders told him to fear the land. Fear nature. They protect but they also attack. It will… They will…

He rushed at the beast. Black hands restraining white body, how new. The white French growled and tried to land a fist in return. The dark arms were steel-like, not budging until a dagger flashed quietly. Knife in flesh, the blades eagerly licking the blood of a child of magic. The black soldier lost his temper, and 

Snap!

They collapsed on the ground, white on black. The white man twitched once, twice and then stopped, neck bent. The black man was panting, each breath lifting the white soldier on top, then lowering him, then raising and dropping then… For a while, the statue and the girl watched, until the breathing ceased.

In the following dearth of motions, it was cold. There was no snow, but it felt like there should be snow. 

***

When they left two months earlier, the old couple felt sorry that they had to leave the statue. The taciturn wife only stroked its head. The northerner, who cherished this place enough that he continued to watch over it and its people even from the other side, had much to say. In his usual soft and soothing voice, he talked to the statue all morning, for they travel at night, the spirits. 

“Most deities protect what they like. They were not assigned an area by a higher regime. They were the souls of lovers of the natural world, adorers of the peoples and customs of the land or sometimes they were just the wishes and wants of a place in spiritual forms…”

“When do the gods move? Sometimes, when there is nothing more to protect. When whatever keeps them here in this realm, be it a people, a tradition, or the wild natural sites, vanishes, they go over to the other side. Worshipping past this point would be idolatry of dead woods and empty vessels. This gives rise to twisted forms of unhealthy spiritual existence for the unfortunate caught in it…”

“Occasionally, when the people move, the deities move with them. After all, so much of the supernatural world is the desires, hopes and fears of these very individuals channelled into a collective spirit…”

“What is happening now is different. The gods are on the move because there is no place for us anymore. Temples are being bombed by both sides. People are too famished and impoverished to even begin to tend to their spiritual needs. And when they do, we can do little. Now that men are the new gods, we cannot protect them from themselves…”

***

Movements rippled through the landscape again. Boots crushing dry leaves, cracking twigs on the ground, hushed voices layering on one another until the amalgamation of all the sounds was no longer quiet.

The group of men walking towards them were Vietnamese. Kinh ethnics. They were wearing casual clothes. Most brandished a grenade or two on their belt, a few had pistols, and a Chinese AK rifle hung on the back of the leading man. 

The sight of the two dead colonial troops soon alerted them. The weapons spread out, leading the men, hunting for men. Realising there were none to be found, the weapons sheathed themselves as the men gathered around the girl, now sitting on the pile of rubble, back against the statue. She is even more bloody, and filthy; her rags do not cover much anymore. The leader approached as his men gawked. 

As he walked up to her, he felt two sets of eyes on him, her eyes low, the statue’s glare high. 

“Are you hurt? Did they do this to you?”

She opened her mouth, but only meaningless sounds came out. Nods. There were no words in the first place. The statue knew. They were the same. 

The men quickly convened and decided she was to be taken to their base. As one of them offered to carry her on his back, she didn’t budge. She wrapped her arms around the statue as they tried to pry her off. It was an odd sight. The men didn’t need to do this, but they probably wanted to help. One would think that after what happened with the French troops before, she would have happily followed the communist troops. 

The words that weren’t there, those that couldn’t be said were only heard by the other mute at the scene. The statue heard the story of how the village next to her own was razed by the communist cadres suspecting Viet gian (traitors). It could hear her telling the stories of farmers persecuted, some executed during land reforms. As it looked helplessly, the statue thought of something the old deity said on his last night: “In times when the old ways are discarded, when old gods are slain and new gods battle, there is not much to do but step aside…”

“There could be no just nor right deities in war.” 

She told it no gods could be trusted, definitely not the human ones. 

As it thought of this, it prayed for the capacity to move once more. Spiritually reaching out into the world, it pleaded hopelessly. The girl held on; the men pulled. The statue suddenly moved with a loud noise. The men tried to back off before the tilting statue fell onto them all. No use. The statue seemed to be growing in size exponentially and falling more rapidly in the few seconds before impact. 

There were no sounds as the statue broke into a million pieces. 

[clarktooncrossing]

HEY THERE PEOPLE OF TODAY AND ROBOTS OF TOMORROW! IT IS I, SANTA CLARK! Chestnuts are roasting on an open fire. Jack Frost is nipping at your nose. Mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again. All the dogs in the neighborhood somehow learned to bark Jingle Bells in sync. Yet retail workers are still more annoyed with Mariah Carey. Snow is getting shoveled, tossed, and formed into sentient beings leading parades without permits. It makes for an excellent distraction as the Krampus abducts children for bad behavior. Fruitcake is exchanged only to find its permanent home in the garbage. Terrorists have hijacked the Holiday office party right before your boss can give you a Jelly of the Month Club membership as your bonus. And of course, the Turducken has returned to wreak its fiery vengeance upon an unsuspecting world! If all this doesn’t put you in the Christmas spirit, perhaps this festive slice of cheer from the Clarktoons will!

Let's make like The Ghost of Christmas Past and rewind back to 2014. Folks were suffering from Frozen Fever, both as a result of the movie and the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. That year also saw Jimmy Fallon take over The Tonight Show after Leno stepped away for real this time, The Amazing Spider-Man 2 swung low while the Guardians of the Galaxy aimed high, people still cared about Kanye and Kim's relationship as if either people are worth your attention, Bill Cosby was outed as the horrible monster that he is, and most importantly of all, I initiated the 12 Days of Christmas event. Yes, clearly that's as major a moment as those other things I mentioned. Starting December 14th I would post a new pic or comic everyday leading up 'til Christmas. Our first year saw the Pizza Bites writing their oddball letters to Santa (with help from Mr-Herp-Derp), Crocie visualizing his perfect yuletide, and even a full length action comic starring me as a seasonal superhero. And in case anybody asks: no, the Holiday Knight isn't coming back. Sadly, neither will the 12 Days at this rate. Despite my continued best efforts, this festive event hasn't been able to return ever since 2020. Blame that on the last four months of every year becoming an increasingly busy time for. Should the choice arise, I will always pick spending the season with my family over drawing. Weird to hear, I know. Still, that's not to say I haven't been hard at work. You can tell I have considering this giant page of sketches I found lingering in Clarktoon Christmas limbo. Thus we have Dumpster DUDELZ: Regifted Edition! Let's take a peak to what's waiting under the tree?

[1] KARL THE KRAMPUS People credit that crummy 2015 horror movie for introducing Krampus into the popular culture. To that I say; you're all wrong! Clearly I did that a year earlier with my own character, Karl. Being a Clarktoon take on a German folk monster, naturally he became a big, bumbling goofball envisioned to have the voice of Richard Kind. It also meant he encountered Croc's Swamp Gang the most, Xena and Bumper especially. After years of the two (or at least Xena) tormenting the fluffy demon, it was time for a facelift. Honestly this design is a drastic upgrade over the original, making Karl more monstrous while not losing his approachability. Cuz only in the Clarktooniverse will you meet a cuddly monster who drags naughty children of to hell. XD

[2] NUTCRACKER: REB00TED CAST Nutcracker freak'n sucks! I have made my opinions regarding this boring ballet no secret over the years. For crying out loud, I compared going to see it to the Five Stages of Death. Nothing against anybody who does enjoy it, just don't count me among your masses. Getting me to like adaptations lacking Mickey and Minnie is a challenge. Then again, I enjoy a good challenge. While contemplating what I would do with the story one year, an ad for Matrix: Resurrections dropped onto YouTube. After seeing it I thought: what if the world of Nutcracker was set within the Matrix? Hence we have Nutracker: REB00TED! I plan to diverge more plot details later, but for now you can at least meet our cast. Starting from left to right we have Prince Leon, the Nutcracker Prince who's grasp on reality is slipping. Helping to guide him is the Count Drosselmyer, turned into Love-A-Lot Larry Beary. Don't let his cuddly facade fool you, he will whoop yo' @$$! Alongside his niece Clara, the badass ballerina determined to rescue her beloved and free the kingdom from the evil Rat King! What does the king look like? Good things come to those who wait...

[3] ROSIE MEETS THE HOGFATHER Any excuse to draw Rosie Stardust is an awesome one! Even if the sketch is last minute like this one. During the Holiday season last year this random little idea sprung into mind of Rosie exploring Christmas contemporaries across the multiverse. This would include Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Festivus, Hearth's Warming Eve, Life Day, and of course Hogswatch. Anyone familiar to the works of Terry Pratchett will recognize the name. Just like those esteemed few will also recognize the mini-Claus counterpart the Cosmic Cutie's encountered. It's not the Hogfather she was expecting, but she will gladly take it!

[4] WILBUR'S PLASTIC TREE You'd think a collection of coupons would be the easiest to complete. Just like you'd think the monkeys would stop flying out of my butt at some point. Nope, that ain't happening. Blame it on my nitpicky attention to details, otherwise Wilbur's White Elephants coupons are already a third of the way done. In fact, the sketch here is already fully colored just waiting to be posted. Being the cheap sonuv'a bush he is, Wilbur naturally won't go for a natural Christmas tree, instead opting for plastic. No, the other kind of plastic. The kind that'll guarantee some poor tree manufacturer in Hoboken will get an angry phone call from an irate store manager. And in case you're wondering what he sounds like, my ideal voice actor is Daran Norris doing his Jameson voice from Spectacular Spider-Man!

[5-7] REDESIGNS FOR RANDOLF, CUPID, AND ZED My, here's a jolly trio that haven't been seen in a good while. Probably because I keep wanting to give them better designs! This is an itch I can't ever seem to scratch! Since I've listed all three of them together, let's go over each character:

RANDOLF: The cocky but caring step-brother of a certain red-nosed reindeer, Randolf hosts the famous North Pole 1 radio show alongside his bear buddy Zed whenever not hosting the even more famous Reindeer Games. Out of all the characters, Randolf is the one who's design if the toughest to crack. I want him to look young, but not super young. Think early to mid 30s if you will. It'd probably help if I could pin down a potential voice for him. Sam Rockwell is the top contender in my mind.

CUPID: Following some messy drama between princessofDisney27 of Disney and I, the original version of Cupid was thrown out and reworked from the top down. With an extreme hairstyle I 'borrowed' from MLP and an athlete's need for speed, Cupid lives up to her namesake who first pulled Santa's sleigh years ago. No idea on who would voice her if I could afford it.

ZED: Raised by gay penguins on a diet of Polar Cola and smooth jazz, Zed is a laid back bear with a beach comber's attitude.  So long as wherever he is has a heater and is populated by his buddies, Zed will go with wherever the flow will take him. His design is the easiest, being a polar bear in a Hawaiian shirt. One of these days I wanna draw him with his two penguin papas too, but for now we at least have the bear. Again, not sure who I'd have voice him.

[8] BUMPER'S A STAR! A sad truth about my Christmas tree is that I can never put a star on top of it. Everything we've tried is too top heavy. For the longest time I meant to make one featuring everybody's favorite floating marshmallow, finally following through on this desire this year. I made a shape template in Illustrator, drew the front and back of Bumper around it, colored it all in Illustrator, printed both sides out and glued them together. I would've just printed both sides on one sheet of paper, but printers are evil devices meant to torture mankind as a whole. I hate them! But I love this tree topper! ^^

[9] PANICKED TURKEY It's a shame Panicked Turkey didn't get to come out of hibernation this year. Especially when I had some good ideas for tips involving Canon Events, certain cartoon rodents, time traveling, dragons, and Rosie. Chances are I'll be able to use these ideas again in the future, but for now I just wanted to post something with the cowardly bird. So here's the sketch detailing his redesign from last year. Like Karl, this is another change I really like, PT feeling more expressive than he previously was. Hopefully we'll get to see this design in action again next year!

[10] I'll Have a BOO Christmas Without You ...I'm not even sorry! XD

[11] ALIENS OF THE ROCKAPOCALYPSE! Hey look, more characters you haven't seen in forever! This is Phil, the Clarktooniverse's resident one-eyed rockstar from outer space. Back in the day I used to do mock album covers for Christmas, Phil's girlfriend Yezzi standing in for Mariah Carey on one particularly great one that still holds up. Sadly there's only so many iconic Holiday CD covers you can do that aren't just the same generic 'things coming out of a box' design. Heck, it's why the last one of these I did was based on a Manowar album. That following year would've seen an all-new, totally original creation depicting Phil and Yezzi rocking around a dried out Christmas tree in a Nuclear Winter Wonderland. Sadly the full sketch was never realized, save for Phil's rocker gear here. Worse still, these characters have been retired until I can iron out the finer details of their story. Once I do, expect the ultimate comeback tour from the Aliens of the Rock! Just in time for the yuletide / end of the world!

[12] PANICKED WHO? What turkey? I don't see any turkey. All I see is this friendly induvial with a mustache! One who was just drawn randomly with no other intent behind it. Totally. XD

[13] KREEPY KRAMPUS Once upon a time I was able to complete entire comic storylines before Christmas. That couldn't be said for this one comic where Bumper and Xena both try to buy each other Christmas gifts, each of them going after different notable Christmas creatures to pay for them. Bumper would've gone after the wild Nog while Xena would've picked a more frightful foe: the Krampus! This image of the German monster is what she'd find while searching for information online, my intent to be truer to the original folklore than my usual interpretation. It would've made Karl's inevitable appearance that much funnier. Part of me still wants to see this comic fully realized someday. Until then; let this haunt your nightmares!

[14] ANGELICIA, THE SPIRIT OF THE SEASON Remember earlier when I mentioned a comic centered around me as a Holiday hero? The one I will never bring back? Part of that idea involved a literal spirit of the season named Angelicia, an adopted sister of sorts to Finjix's own character Aklamos. Both of us have tweaked and upgraded her overall appearance over the years, this being her last for an intended Sketch BOOM that was scrapped. I really should use this character again, the question is for what?

[15] A TURKEY DINNER TO GO! Like I said, there was once a Holiday Sketch BOOM that was never completed. This Panicked Turkey sketch is one of the few things to survive from it. Ignoring how this design was pre-2022 makeover, I still think this silly little pic is hilarious! Next Thanksgiving I'll make sure to remake this in full color!

[16] THE NOG Along with Karl, the Nog has become a seasonal staple of the Clarktooniverse. For years mankind has wondered where the eggs for Eggnog have come from. Some silly saps think they come out of chickens, but we all know that's a lie! Obviously the eggs come courtesy of the wild, North American Nog! These rambunctious creatures hail in the colder climates, sticking primarily to the North States where they graze on wild berries, tree bark, and rare flowers. Whenever it's not foraging for food it's fending off wild predators, displaying its tusks for potential mates, running for Congress, or raising their young. That is, the young that actually get to hatch. Good luck drinking that next ice-cold cup knowing the Nog is 100% real and you're feasting on what could've been one of its young you sick monster!

[17-18] TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLE DOVES Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Doves! Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Doves! Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Doves! Heroes for the Holidays! BIRDY POWER! Back in 2019 I made a silly little parody of the Ninja Turtles based on the beloved Christmas carol "The 12 Days of Christmas". Was it an extremally obvious joke to make? Yes. Does my earlier pun prove I will stoop to such lows? Heck yes! Thus these two goofy characters were born and eventually given the names Currier and Ives by AnimatedTigerGirl. Currier is the one with the bo staff on the left. At home he's a easy-going party animal, but in the field he's a dedicated leader fighting to keep his family safe. Next to him is the nunchuck-wielding Ives, a hot-tempered brainiac with a big heart. Together the two must save their mother, face the 10 Evils of Christmas, and help out their new human friend Ash.

Standing in for their April O'Neal is Ash, one of their few human friends who helps her fine-feathered friends move about New York. Since this story is set during the 90s, she's naturally a skate-boarding tomboy ready to prove to her dad that she's more capable than given credit for. That chance comes suddenly when her father is abducted by the Partridge Crime Family and their ten specifically themed assassins. Now Ash must rescue her dad alongside these two magically enhanced bird-themed ninjas. Y'know, that old chestnut!

[19] SHORT-E AND SHER-I Dang, it's been a while since these two were seen either. I'm sensing a pattern here. At leas these designs have held up the best. Heck, they look especially good in their winter ensemble. SHORT-E wears basic gloves and a jamaica while SHER-I went shopping with EMIL-E to get fancier gloves and a beret! SLAY, QUEEN!

[20] SNOW CONIE MEETS THE NOG Yes, another refuge from the scrapped Sketch BOOM. This one featuring the unofficial mascot of the Sketch BOOMs, the Snow Conies! Or at least one, facing down the angry snout of a mother Nog. I envision these creatures having the temperament of wild hogs, much to the misfortune of this innocent sentient dessert!

[21] SIR PANICKED TURKEY, THE CANADIAN! Along with redesigning this cowardly bird, I also made a special bonus Panicked Turkey tip for Canadian Thanksgiving. It was very last second, going through a few iterations before settling on the final idea. Before then the plan was to either have PT surrounded by angry canucks with guns in a style similar to the John Wick posters or the giant chicken disguising himself as a Mounty, not yet realizing he'll find no peace in the Great White North. Ultimately both were dropped in favor or one menacing Mounty looming over the frightened fowl, which I thought wouldn't work until I saw the final product. Funny how that works, innit? Still, what about the entre in shining armor? That has to do with an idea I mentioned earlier, but I dare not spoil the surprise further than that. Like I mentioned, said idea can be reused for next year. So when Turkey Day rears its ugly head, Sir Turkey turned tail and fled!

[22] UGLY SWEATERS, TROPICAL WEATHER Yet again another idea I hope to bring back, though slightly modified. Originally the plan was to make Ugly Sweater pin-ups for the couples (or friends) of 3K with my friends Finjix and @burningthrucelluloid. This one was the only one sketched before Alec lost his Adobe art programs that would've allowed him to help in this project. Even then, my nitpicky attention to details got the better of me again and too much time was wasted attempting to draw the other pics. All we got out of this failed collaboration were Nerva and her buddy Weed Eater in their Hawaiian-style sweaters, the latter not happy about his situation. He was even depicted eating the sweater and partridge at one point. Who would've guessed the living Christmas tree would be a humbug?

[23-24] CROCZILLA VS TURDUCKEN When I released by Terror of the Turducken posters back in 2020, peeps said they would totally pay to see that movie. Hopefully the same can be said for its sequel, an epic clash between the titular Turducken and the colossal Croczilla! Why are they fighting? Who cares, it's two giant monsters beating the stuffing out'a each other! No doubt the posted to go with this creature feature would've been a legendary one! At least had it not been for my nitpicky attention to details. Plenty of poster designs were drawn up, including this one that was inspired by the then-current Godzillva vs Kong posters. Perhaps I can recycle this idea next year when the sequel comes out and the two fight another giant monkey. Until then, feel free to place your bets on which of these festive Kaijus come out on top!

And if you're rooting for the Turducken, enjoy this redesign of the character where each of its heads feel more distinct. Hey, if nothing else it's cooler to look at than another freak'n ape.

MAY THE GLASSES BE WITH YOU!