#den prefers the softer mountain

[dyrewrites]

The Mountain and The Runner

"Runner" is a misnomer, Delmas takes a cab as much as possible.

But he is quite fast, despite what the softer physique might suggest.

So there's a thing in Pale Blood what comes up a few times, and that is Delmas' old career, as a holo-boxer (meaning his matches were projected in the center of Upper Dolor and he was kind of a big deal).

When he was boxing, he was known as The Mountain ("because no one could topple him") and was just as big but also kinda shredded and hard as his namesake. He also had long hair, took better care of his beard, and lived in the sun so was a little less pasty. He was also a bit of an asshat that took advantage of his groupies.

Ten years later and he's a softer mountain, with shorter hair (there's reasons but they're amusing and so I won't spoil them), who lives in the slums with the smog that refuses to let any sun in (but enough to terrify full-blooded fangs)...and he is still a force to be reckoned with. When he can be assed to try. He is also decidedly less of an asshat.

I wanted to try and draw both of these versions of this character...for man practice, and also because I like him quite a bit and he's a lot of fun to write.

I hope they amuse you.

[karlachismylife]

[redacted] || The Queen of the Clan pt.3,5

CW: brief description of animal genitalia, brief description of animal sex (basically it's boys being hyenas, greetings and fucking, nothing too explicit). Still, this is NSFW and I WILL block every ageless blog (as well as minors) interacting with it, so please, put your age in your bio/pinned post. I feel sad when I have to block people :(

No one dares to stop him as his huge shadow stalks through the darkness of the night savanna. Even alone, Ghost is a formiddable presence, forced down the ranks by cruel laws of nature, but persevering and thriving against the odds - a lioness on her hunt strays away from him, preferring not to pick up a fight that might end with her jumped by a clan - a small, doomed without a female leader, but tight clan.

It still feels like the ground, cooled off by the night, burns under his soft paws, as he flies through the tall grass and bush, whipped by the shame of being caught, a dark missile set on a clear target - as he approaches the den they use during their out in the wild missions, he whoops, warning his clan of his arrival.

When he gets no immediate response, he slows down, raising his voice - a uniquely his, haunting, rumbling at the lower notes sound cutting through the air over the ochestra of cicadas. Finally, two voices respond - Captain somewhere on patrol, leaving two fluffy muppets to welcome his Lieutenant back. A softer, melodic call coming from Kyle gets overridden with quickly approaching whooping that even in the animal form sounds heavily accented - just one Scot's tongue seemingly built differently (specifically to get on Ghost's nerves).

Johnny almost rams Ghost's side, barely braking himself like a cartoon animal, dust clouds up in the air and deep traces where his hind paws dragged along before finally stopping. He lines up against his Lieutenant, lifting a paw impatiently - his thick member proudly erect, and Ghost would never be able to answer the question if Soap is just that eager to demonstrate submission to him or he's just getting horny from the sight of the dark-furred mountain with a blong mane alone. Earning a nip meant to keep him in line, Johnny shoves his muzzle into Ghost's crotch nonetheless, deliberately ignoring that the dominant hyena didn't even move his legs to accomodate such greeting - and then suddenly pauses.

Lifts his wide head, fluttering his big round ears, whines quietly, then, when Ghost stays silent, repeats in a more demanding tone - and by the time Gaz finally jumps out of the bushes gracefully, Ghost is already being full-on harassed by Johnny, who pays no mind to the bites and paw slaps he recieves from his bigger mate and keeps sniffing at his mane, going as far as to chomp on Ghost's nape and chew on on his light-coloured fur.

If they weren't out in the middle of savanna, Simon would've already shaken his animal form off and pinned Johnny down, but instead he has to fight off his Sergeant, who uses his height to his advantage as he escapes Ghost's grip and avoids being held like a guilty pup in the terrifyingly massive jaws capable of biting through a giraffe's thigh bone.

Of course, Kyle comes to his support, distracting Ghost by a quick greeting and using that same hind leg he lifted for him to push Ghost's snout away. He smells it too: the sweetness, the tanginess, the womanhood that lingers on the dark fur, something their Lieutenant clearly wants to hog for himself, as Soap tells Gaz in short, sulky whoops, getting smacked with Ghost's long tail in the face for the slander. He ain't hogging nothing, he just doesn't want to be their chewing toy for the night, even if he brought the smell that all of them already memorized from short encounters with the soft, plump, so perfect for cuddling in a pile and laying big heads on her lap, girl...

No matter how strong Simon is, being jumped by two muscle-packed hyenas isn't an easy fight to win, and after several more minutes of wrestling he finds himself pinned down on the ground by Soap's weight, as the chonky hyena plops on top of his superior officer and nuzzles into his mane with pathetic, needy whines, already grinding into Ghost's back, humping his poor tailbone like it's just a pillow for him to satisfy the need caused by a female's scent etched into his lover's hide.

Gaz keeps himself together just about as poorly, stuffing his wide nose between Ghost's ribs and inhaling with low wheezing howls. He's not rutting into Simon directly, but he's one hot-running furnace pressed up to the big hyena's side, leaking onto his fur and licking at the scented mane and Ghost's ears - well knowing that is makes his Lieutenant softer and more pliant.

It's no wonder that by the morning Price finds them in their den in a messy, sticky pile, paws entangled and traces of seed and saliva smeared on their sides, as if they were too exhausted to clean up even as they fell asleep. But even in the thick, musky mix of his subordinates' smells, he picks on the faint, delicate, sweet note - and immediately pinpoints it as the reason two Sergeants couldn't keep their paws off Simon.

Surely, after such an action-packed night Ghost won't mind being woken up by long, wet tongue of his Captain licking him clean thoroughly.

Part 3 | Part 4

Series masterlist | Main masterlist

Tagging: @elaineiswithyou-blog @creepingeva @my-halo-is-a-little-broken @sillymanjaro @ihatethinkingofnames10 @ravensfeatheruniverse @yaminax @ljh861 @darkangel4121 @ginger-n-coco @grey-shadow6475

So yeah, I guess these [redacted] parts (I just can't come up with as much spots-related puns and names as I'd like) will be a reoccuring thing, because writing fluffy hyena boiz is fun. Hope you enjoy these just as much as the main parts! Also I am accepting requests for this au, they might even get into the main storyline, so feel free to send in ideas!

you can ask to be added to the taglist under series masterlist post

Also maybe vote here for a little drabble?

[madangel19]

Oh. All the Prompts are very nice, I can't decide.

"You're mine" with Swiss and Delia, Please?

Oh boi, this is a perfect prompt for these two and now I can finally work on it >:3

Warnings: Spooning sex (idk what's it's called, but they're spooning), vaginal sex, daddy kink, somnophilia, implied oral, fluff and smut, a little bit of a breeding kink splashed in there

Word Count: 1571

Rehearsals had run a lot later than Swiss was used to. The multi ghoul stretched his aching back as he made his way back down to the ghoul den. The rest of the pack was slowly making their way down. All of them didn’t say much to each other. It was definitely a harder rehearsal that left everyone exhausted and ready for bed. 

Hopefully he didn’t leave Delia waiting for him too long. He had promised a nice romantic evening together, but things took a turn during rehearsal and Copia wasn’t pleased until they got everything just right. 

He noticed a nearby clock on the wall and saw that it was well past 1 AM. She was probably asleep unless she decided to stay up for him. Even if she was asleep, he would still absolutely love just crawling into bed and snuggling up beside her. Maybe the right amount of touching and quintessence would awaken her for some lazy fucking before passing out together. 

He murmured several good nights to his fellow pack members who went off in small groups or by themselves to their rooms. The ghoulettes all went to Cumulus’s room together. Dewdrop and Aether went into Dew’s room, the smaller ghoul clinging onto the quintessence ghoul like a tired child. Rain and Mountain went to their own rooms, not saying much to anyone. Most of the time, Swiss would have gone with one of them or taken some of them to his room, but he had his favorite human to cuddle up with. She didn’t need to sleep in a ghoul’s nest all by her lonesome. 

Swiss opened his door where he was greeted by the combined smell of lavender and weed that hung heavy in his room. He paused, sighing in content while breathing in that sweet smell that was coming from his bed. He noticed several incense burners in the room before his focus went to his bed. Laying on top of the covers was Delia, who was fast asleep while clutching one of his dress shirts to her chest. She was dressed in an enticing see-through purple babydoll nightgown that perfectly showed off her body. Her purple hair had been let down from her usual bun, letting it splay out around her and making her look all the more angelic. On the nightstand was a half-finished blunt and a lighter along with several vibrators, a dildo and a bottle of lube. The poor thing must have been waiting so long for him that she decided to enjoy herself. He was definitely going to have to make up for making her wait so long. 

Swiss took a moment to take in every sweet detail of her before undressing and putting on a simple pair of boxer shorts. He would shower in the morning, preferably with her joining him. 

He crawled into bed next to her, purring softly as he wrapped his arms around her middle. She felt so soft. Much softer than usual. She smelled like the sweet-scented soaps in the bathroom. She even bathed for this. How adorable. 

Delia grunted in her sleep when his arms were around her. She briefly stirred, her arms slowly moving to touch where he was holding her. 

“Mmm, Swiss?” She murmured, slowly lifting her head and looking around sleepily. 

“I’m here, sweetheart. You go back to sleep,” Swiss cooed, nuzzling her cheek and using his quintessence on her to make her all the more comfortable. 

“I…I was waiting…so long. I wanted to see…you,” Delia whispered, taking his right hand and placing it over her breast. He chuckled and gave it a gentle squeeze, his smile growing when he felt her heart beat faster. 

“I wanted to see you too, baby. Rehearsal just took longer. I can make it up to you if you want,” Swiss whispered back before planting a kiss on her neck, getting a delightful shiver from her. 

“I…might fall asleep since it’s…so late. I want you…to feel good.”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetheart. Just let me put you back to sleep in my own special way and in the morning, we can have as much fun as you want,” he purred, giving her breast another squeeze as he slowly grinded against her. 

Her thighs were already wet from when she was pleasuring herself, adding another wonderfully delicious smell to her. In just a few moments, he was going to make her even more wet and he would gladly clean the mess he made while she slept.

“Mm, I’m…already warmed up for you, daddy,” Delia moaned, slowly wiggling her ass and pressing it against his already growing boner. 

“Perfect,” Swiss crowed, removing his boxers with ease, freeing his cock.

He pulled her closer to him, his cock rubbing against her thighs. The combined smells coming from his favorite human had him beyond aroused. He needed to be inside her now or else he would just cum from rubbing against her thighs.

“Lift your leg for me, baby,” he said.

Delia obeyed. Swiss grabbed a hold of her butter-soft thigh, squeezing it and adoring the way her flesh felt under his claws. He slowly pushed himself into her, hissing in pleasure at how soft and wet she already was for him. Delia moaned adorably as he slowly thrusted in and out of her. Even if he were to cum quickly from this, they still had plenty of time together in the morning. If he was lucky, he would wake up before her and fuck her awake.

“You’re so sweet for me, Delia. You’re mine. All mine,” he purred in her ear. 

“I…I’m yours, daddy,” Delia moaned, gripping the sheets beneath her. He pushed harder into her upon hearing her calling him his favorite term of affection. It made him all the more eager to fill her up with his kits. 

“Fuck, I can’t wait to knock you up, Delia. Seeing you round and…and full of my kits is gonna make me go crazy,” he growled in her ear. 

He wrapped his tail around her leg and removed his hand so he could reach around and grab a handful of her breasts. Even with his large hands covering her breasts, they could never hold enough.

“I…I’m already round, daddy,” Delia said with a giggle before it turned into a beautiful moan when he lovingly squeezed her nipples between his claws.

“You know what I mean, baby,” Swiss replied.

He let out a hiss the deeper he thrusted into her with ease. The lube helped him with reaching further into her. 

Seconds passed and he could feel her pussy clenching around him as her little moans turned to the sweetest gasps. His tail was starting to tremble while keeping her leg up. He was already so close. 

“You…you ready for me, baby?” He murmured while slowly picking up the pace. 

“I am, daddy. Give it to me,” his beloved little human moaned, her hand clutching his. He interlaced his fingers with hers, rubbing his thumb over her hand before spilling himself into her with a low growl. He held back the urge to bite down on her soft flesh while pumping her full of his hot seed. He didn’t want to ruin her when she was so soft and beautiful like this. 

Delia sighed softly as he filled her, melting into him and feeling like a sweet dream. Swiss unwrapped his tail from around her leg, letting it carefully drop down. Once he was sure he was done filling her up, he relaxed around her, his cock still deep inside her. 

“That feel good, sweetheart?” He asked, giving her hand a gentle squeeze before kissing it. 

“It did. Thank you, Swiss,” Delia whispered back to him. 

She shifted her body, causing him to pull out of her as she turned to face him. Swiss grunted at the change, not wanting to pull out just yet, but once she was looking up at him while nestled safely in his arms, he quickly changed his mind. She smiled at him sleepily and reached up to caress his face. Swiss purred happily, closing his eyes in pure bliss as he leaned into her touch. 

“I love you,” she cooed before yawning adorably. 

“I love you too, baby. Get some sleep. I’ll clean you up,” he purred, kissing her tenderly and filling her lungs with the smoke he used to put people to sleep. Delia smiled into the kiss with a happy sigh before she became limp in his arms. Swiss chuckled as he pulled away from the kiss and admired his work. 

“See you in the morning, Delia. I’ll wake you with a surprise,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers going down to gently prod at her soaking pussy. Delia shivered in her sleep and instinctively bit her lower lip. 

“Yes…daddy,” she murmured in her sleep.

“I’m going to give you the sweetest dreams, sweetheart,” Swiss purred, slowly planting kisses all over her face and chest before making his way down to the sweet treat in between her legs. 

He paused to yawn and rested his head on her thighs, gazing up at Delia lovingly as she breathed calmly with such a pleasant smile on her lips. If he ended up falling asleep in between her legs, then he wouldn’t mind. It was simply a dream come true. 

“Fuck, I love you, Delia,” he murmured before continuing to kiss her thighs.

[catis15]

Sandwing Society

Basics - Is not only one of the largest territories but also the most diverse (past cities like Sanctuary or Beetle Lake)While not overly common there is a population of hybrids in the sandwing kingdom - Between the scorpion den not caring as long as your useful, the close relations in the eastern territories, Queen Thorn and Princess Sunny being in a hybrid family, and sanctuary being so close, hybrids are bound to happen and are generally accepted - Population remains predominantly sandwing - There are small populations of hivewing and hybrids, with even smaller amounts of mudwing, nightwing, rainwing, and skywing - There are almost NO icewings and its considered a rarity to see one - Similar experience with seawings, silkings, and leafwings - Too dry for seawingsSilkwings just prefer taller structures instead of vast openness Or grassy fields, but even then they prefer trees or mountains to be within eye distance Leafwings feel like there isn’t enough vegetation and it reminds them too heavily of the hivewing savannah

Territory Sandwing territory spands the entire desert region. It ends in the Nightwing kingdom and is sperated from the Sky Kingdom by Red Sand River. 

Royalty - Having a reigning queen is still the norm in sandwing society  - The queen does have a court of advisors, and one or two second in commands/ head advisors that take over if needed - These are appointed by the queen and can be any dragon she so chooses - While not technically required siblings, close royal family, scribes, and high ranking generals are almost always apart of it - One of those ‘unspoken rules’ - There are three different types of ‘noble’ in sandwing society - Anydragaon appointed by the queen - If the queen chose you for a job your respected (mostly) thats that - This includes anyone in the military - Merchants or Artists; the more art and pretties you have the more rich you are seen - Crime lords; Queen Thorn let the scorpion den exist because of her attachments to it and it is now almost a government of its own

Culture - Art forms still hold heavy prevalence More music and pottery than paintings as the heat ruins the paint - Dragons working on heat proof paint?Dragons in the South-Eastern region tend to be heavily based in medicine and religious type magic - Being so close to both rainwings and mudwings provides rich medicinal culture - Ballads and poetry led to actual myths and beliefs  - There aren’t many cities in the Sandwing kingdom regardless of its size - There is the queens castle, then a golden city - Was the golden city created by both humans and dragons?Is it by an oasis? - Most are small sandstone or clay towns (like sanctuary) or nomadic groups that put up tents and such - Sandwings are usually ‘strongest lives’ type dragons - Not always physical strength; basically survival of the fittest - Fastest, strongest, smartest - Scavenging and trade is still larger than farming or agricultural attempts - Eastern villages trade with mudwings and rainwings often, occasionally skywings or nightwings (for food anyway, art is a different story)

Relationships Surprisingly ‘nobles’ tend to be the ones who marry for loveUsually softer relationships

Occasionally will be spicier but soft & build a family & open a little shop tends to be the norm for these typesGuards and kitchen servantsA stone carver and a merchant's daughterTwo royal advisorsSlightly less common for say an advisor and a kitchen servant, but its not like a huge deal, might just get some judgment from you peers Middle class has a couple different customs.Crime Lords and Lower Class marry for strongest, fastest, smartest type thingLower class is usually just physical fights a lot of times to the deathBetween two dragons fighting for anotherA dragon ‘proposing’ and the other fighting to see if their ‘worthy’Also a good chance for proposing party to see if they are an even match - if not they may leave or kill the other not wanting to seem weakCrime lords can be anything from physical duels to puzzles to marrying between gangs for more powerSometimes tournaments will be held to marry a crime bosses childCrime family gets more muscle or cunning and the winning dragon goes WAY up in the food chainBecause of the amount of physical challenges lower class and certain members of crime families have resistance to venom; particularly tail venomThis makes these dragons highly valuable For ‘good’ dragons they join the military and get out of the lower class lifeFor ‘bad’ dragons they join crime gangs as meat or valued members depending on leader, skills, personality, etc.

[seijorhi]

asks :)

once again, i’m terrible at answering things :)

First off, your newest Kuroo story WRECKED ME. OMMMMMG LIKE IT'S SOOO FUCKING GOOD. You are one of the most incredible writers ever, like professional style writing. These should be books and you should get paid for it, honestly. Your skill is totally unmatched, my friend. I just adore everything you write. I had two questions thou about the story, just because I am totally obsessed by it- so has Kuroo been obsessed with her since he saw her, I'm like curious how his obsession started 

like is it because she's young and he's interested? Cuz I totally got the vibes at the party that he was showing her off like she was his girlfriend and he seems like he has been wanting her for awhile. I was just curious about how it started cuz god I'm a simp for yandere kuroo- boss man Kuroo would make me weakkkkk. My second question is so is he like obsessively in love with her or is it like just a this hot piece of ass is mine to fuck kinda thing? Like does he want a relationship?

anyways, I love you and I love your writing. Everything you write is legit perfection! Thank you for all your beautiful stories you share with us! - Kai

first of all, whomst gave you the right to be so damn sweet???!?! dsgsjkl thank you, bby!

so, like with all my fics i kind of have a ‘read into it how you want’ thing going for it. whether or not kuroo actually has ‘romantic’ (i use that word loosely) feelings for the reader or whether he just enjoys fucking her because he’s in a position of power and she’s easily manipulated is left a little up to your interpretation and how you’d prefer to imagine it. however, having said that there are little hints throughout the fic that imply that there’s a little more depth to kuroo’s feelings. you’re not wrong with the whole ‘showing her off’ vibe at the party, and there’s mentions of confessions that kuroo gives while he’s fucking the reader - also the title of the fic, invidia, means envy in latin. so take that how you will 🤷‍♀️

and as far as how it all began, i like to think that it was kind of a slow build. again it’s implied that kuroo has met the reader (however briefly) a few times before - at games as nekoma’s manager, when she initially was introduced as his girlfriend and she has stayed over at their place in the past. it wasn’t so much a singular moment, but kuroo’s definitely been paying more attention to her than she realises. 

WHAT WHAT WHAT???? RHI UHMMM WAS KUROO IN LOVE WITH THE READER???? 👀👀👀👀 HOLY SHIT. I'm honestly mind blown rn like I have a lot of questions like did Shin know? Was he also into it? Omg the idea of Father and Son sharing reader...

(also I def did not hope that Bokuto was also there cuz that would have be fun....oppsss)🙊

hehehe

no, shin didn’t know but oh can you imagine the betrayal if he did? if he willingly set up the reader to be fucked by his dad 👀god damn

adsfgdhjfkfl there was a moment i genuinely considered having something more happen at the christmas party where bo would stumble across and one thing would lead to another.... but i decided not to go that route. this one needed to be solo kuroo haha

Rhi, what can I say, amazing as always!

ahhh thank you sm, bby!

Hi i absolutely love the kuroo fic at first no one would actually notice he was into and then story actually rises nicely however i would like to ask like what happens later im sorry im a little burnt out from my mountains of assignments that i cant think of a possible aftermath since the story had an open ending but yeah what happens later after the whole scene does y/n stay there for the 7 days and get r*ped again or she goes home early and like what happens to kuroo and shinsuke im sorry for annoying you with questions its fully up to you whether u would like to answer or not :-)

aw, thank you! I hope your assignments and stuff are all done? And pls bby, you’re not annoying me at all 💕💕💕

Honestly again, it’s kind of left up to what you like to think would happen, but personally I think that the reader stays, because there’s no easy way to get out of that situation without raising suspicion - which means that she then has to spend the next week trying unwittingly playing cat and mouse with Kuroo who’s gonna use every damn opportunity he has to push your boundaries 👀

Duuuuude invidia fucked me up! Like fuck, lol! The build up was so spectacular! It makes me wonder two things: how did kuroo’s obsession start, and what would shin have done if he caught them (and why do I feel like he’d join in... I guess it runs in the family lol).

I loved it sooooo much and im also so creeped out lol. Can’t trust other people’s dads. Everything about it was perfect!

glad you liked it, bby!!

shin’s a good boy and he genuinely loves the reader, but i think if he did stumble across the two of them he’d just shut down and walk away. it’d be the biggest betrayal in his eyes - it wouldn’t matter if you were drunk or he was, who came onto who - the two most important people in his life going behind his back would just break him :( and i think he probably wouldn’t give either of them a chance to explain

but if we’re talking degenerate shin... 👀👉👈

imagine if invidia! reader gets pregnant and Shin thinks it’s his, but its actually his dad’s 🤭

oooh kuroo would be such a smug little shit - he’d get extra touchy feely with the reader, drop ‘casual’ hints, basically doing everything outside of straight up admitting it to him, just to see how far he can push until shin starts to doubt whether he’s actually the father - when it’s just the two of you though... i think he’d be a little softer - but equally as possessive - you’re his, and so’s the kid growing inside of you

Kuroo: son do you know what a cuck is? Shinnosuke: no? Kuroo: wOULD YOU LIKE TO FIND OUT - @south-korea-cakes

dagshjskl i snorted when i read this but you’re not wrong lmao

hi rhi! i have a question about Lion’s Den! did oikawa purposely set the reader up to witness his true nature? or was it chance that she saw him kill?

no - i think he’d rather have kept you in the dark a little longer and tried to let things develop ‘organically’ but he’s not upset that you did find out the truth - gives him an excuse to move things along and take what he wants 👀

hey rhi:) soo my boyfriend of two years just broke up with me and so far a major comfort has just been rereading your stories. something about feeling desired, ya know? anyway, thanks for making me feel a little better <3 - @theofficialhufflepuff

aw i’m sorry to hear that :( i’m glad my fics can help make you feel a lil better - sending love bby! 💕

omg i adore everything in the soulmate series hello !! would any of the soulmate pairings ever end up feeling lowkey competitive w/ the other?? like all of them seem to mutually respect the other but would there ever come a point where smth pushes them into trying to outdo ur other soulmate when it comes to ur affection?

also have i mentioned how much i love ur writing bc i love ur writing

hmmm, not so much with oikawa & iwa or ushijima and tendou because i think they have pretty rock solid relationships with each other prior to the reader coming along - if they did it would only be minor stuff

the twins on the other hand - good fucking luck with them because they’ll turn everything into a competition. the moment one twin thinks you’re favouring the other too much expect to get dragged across the room and forced to spend ‘quality time’ with the other. it’s all very petty and exhausting and there is no possible chance for you to win. but thank you sweetheart!!

tonight im thinking about The Final Girl! boys forcing you to share a bed with them for the first time. With Kuroo’s face buried in the crook of your neck, one big hand palming your breast for good measure, Bo holding onto your waist, and Kaashi’s legs tangled with yours. its suffocating, really😪😓

asdgdhjdkdl suffocating? yes. now where do i sign up?? 🥺

you are so talented in writing it's crazy!! just the way you articulate things is ugh *chef's kiss*. i hope you are doing well and not receiving hate 🥺 ily pls

ahhh thank you so much, messages like these always make me so happy! ily bby! 💕

more karasuno first years soon? 👀

who’s to say?? i don’t have any full fics planned but maybe some concepts and thirsts??

if you make a yandere msby fic i’ll literally lose it i love your writing

👀i am considering it

[quixoticnexus]

Sleep Canons

Decided to do some National Day of Sleep headcanons for all the muses that volunteered information. Hopefully this’ll be more concise than literally everything else I’ve written, lmao. (Update: It Wasn’t)

In most verses, Xavier was raised in the wilderness, and as such is a fairly adaptable, light sleeper. Hard surfaces are fine and blankets are optional, as long as he’s not freezing. That being said, he prefers softer textures for his “den”. The only thing he can’t stand is light, and as such, he’ll usually cover all the LEDs in his room with electrical tape so he doesn’t have to deal with that. He gets a good amount of sleep each night -- usually around 8 hours, though less if he’s stressed out. He usually sleeps curled up in a ball or fetal position. Also naked, if he can get away with it and it isn’t too cold. Talk about being close to nature.

Adrian is one of those people with a very strict bedtime ritual. He always showers about two hours before bed, drinks chamomile tea, puts on some relaxing jazzy tunes, and reads until it’s lights-out. He prefers firm mattresses, but luxurious silky sheets with high thread counts because he’s spoiled rotten. He usually sleeps on his side, as well. He gets more sleep on average than the average person -- usually 8-10 hours. He goes to bed at the same time every night, but can wake up on his own without an alarm because he’s a spoiled rich asshole who doesn’t have a job. Also he has silk pajamas that probably cost more than your car, because fuck you.

Out of all my muses, Kouki probably sleeps the most on average because he also wakes up with his own body biology and also naps kind of excessively. I’m talking 9+ hours regularly. He prefers sleeping on soft mattresses with really soft, fluffy pillows and blankets and sheets, partially for the texture and partially because he gets cold pretty easily. He doesn’t really have any rituals before bed, though he does like drinking warm (oat)milk with sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg in it before turning in. He’ll usually sleep in fuzzy pajamas, but sometimes wears a night gown. He usually sleeps on his stomach, too.

Toby probably sleeps the least out of all my muses, but that’s because he has terrible sleep hygiene and also has a Fucking Job. He’s the type of guy who will drink flat mountain dew at 6 pm and wonder why he’s having a hard time falling asleep at 10. He’s also the type of guy who will stay up late squeezing in just one more match of Rocket League before he turns in for the night. He regularly gets 6-7 hours of sleep, though he’ll often try to “make up” for it by sleeping in during the weekend and subsequently wrecking his circadian rhythm even more. Don’t be like Toby. He’ll often sleep in his boxers most nights and sleeps on his back. He also snores surprisingly loud for someone as scrawny as he is. Also jacking off before bed is like a nightly ritual for him -- don’t ask, he swears it helps him sleep better.

Kaneda:

Kaneda places a lot of importance on getting a good night’s sleep because bags under your eyes is So Unattractive! He needs a lot of setup to make sure he gets all 8 hours though -- a sleeping mask, white noise, perfect climate control, melatonin -- everything. At the end of the day, though, it’s still pretty difficult for him to STAY asleep because he often suffers from nightmares that can interrupt him and he has to calm himself down before trying again. For that reason, he tries to give himself 9-10 hours for “sleeping time” whilst allowing for the fact that one of those hours is probably going to be spent trying to convince himself that everything is safe and he can safely drift off again. He often sleeps on his side, but he needs a pillow, a stuffed animal, or pet to cuddle as he sleeps. That also has the added effect of lessening the likelihood of nightmares. He’ll usually sleep in pajamas or old, comfortable clothes.

Touma:

Touma may be an ex-ninja, but he sleeps like an utter rock. He’s never had much trouble with getting asleep and staying asleep and could probably do so while sitting up. He doesn’t really have any rituals or anything. He just... goes to bed when bed time... and wakes up when it’s time. Easy. The way he sleeps can be kind of bizarre, though -- his family affectionately calls it “coffin practice”. He sleeps on his back with his arms and legs pointed straight down at his sides. He kind of looks like a plank of wood with a face. He also tends to sleep in the nude, so yeah, enjoy that mental image, I guess.

[ainawgsd]

The Allegheny woodrat (Neotoma magister), is a species of "pack rat" in the genus Neotoma. Once believed to be a subspecies of the eastern woodrat (Neotoma floridana), extensive DNA analysis has proven it to be a distinct species. It is the second-largest member of the native North American rats, and can weigh up to a pound, roughly the size of an eastern gray squirrel.

The Allegheny woodrat is a medium-sized rodent almost indistinguishable from the closely related eastern woodrat, although slightly larger on average, and often with longer whiskers. Adults typically range from 12 to 18 inches in total length, including a tail measuring 5.9 to 8.3 inches. Males weigh 357 g (12.6 oz) on average, while females are slightly smaller, weighing an average of 337 g (11.9 oz).

The fur is long, soft, and brownish-gray or cinnamon in color, while the undersides and feet are white. They have large eyes, and naked ears. Their most distinguishing feature is their tails: while the tails of European rats are naked with only slightly visible hairs, the tails of woodrats are completely furred with hairs about one-third of an inch long, and predominantly black above and white beneath. The whiskers are unusually long, typically over 2 inches in length. About 50 whiskers are found on each side, consisting of a mixture of stiff black hairs and softer white ones

Allegheny woodrats prefer rocky outcrops associated with mountain ridges such as cliffs, caves, talus slopes, and even mines. This is mostly true for Pennsylvania and Maryland. In Virginia and West Virginia, woodrats are found on ridges, but also on side slopes in caves and talus (boulders and breakdown) fields. The surrounding forest is usually deciduous. Throughout their range, they are found in mixed pine-oak forest, but they are also found in a range of other forest types, most commonly with a mix of hardwood trees.

Their diets primarily consist of plant materials including buds, leaves, stems, fruits, seeds, acorns, and other nuts. They store their food in caches and eat about 5% of their body weight a day. Predators include owls, skunks, weasels, foxes, raccoons, bobcats, large snakes, and humans. At one point, the Allegheny rat was hunted for food and sometimes killed due to false identification based on its resemblance to more problematic European rats.

Nocturnal, Allegheny woodrats spend their nights foraging, collecting food and nesting materials. They are most active during the earlier part of the night, from about a half hour after sunset, and again shortly before dawn. Individuals are generally aggressive towards each other, especially when competing for nest sites, and, while home ranges may overlap, each actively defends its own den. These rats form small colonies in which their nesting areas consist of a network of underground runways and many conspicuous latrines. Latrines are large fecal piles the rats deposit on protected flat rocks. In some cases, researchers have found dried leaves placed around the nesting area which appear to act as alarms to warn the rats of approaching danger.

They also collect and store various non-food items such as bottle caps, snail shells, coins, gun cartridges, feathers, and bones. This trait is responsible for the nickname "trade rat" or "pack rat". 

In parts of their range (New York, New Jersey, and Pennsylvania), the Allegheny woodrat population has been in decline over the past 30 years. They have been extirpated from Connecticut, Massachusetts, New York, and parts of Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Maryland.

The reasons for the decline are not yet entirely understood, but are believed to involve a combination of factors. The first reason is a parasite, the raccoon roundworm, Baylisascaris procyonis, which is almost always fatal to woodrats. Raccoons easily adapt to environmental change, and have thrived in the traditional woodrat habitat, increasing infection by the parasite. Another frequently cited cause is near total loss of American chestnuts caused by chestnut blight and of defoliation of oaks by an invasion of gypsy moths (lowering available supplies of acorns for woodrats). Increased competition for acorns with overabundant white-tailed deer, and increasing populations of black bear and turkey may also have a negative impact on woodrat survival. Predation by great horned owls has also been cited. Finally, increased human encroachment causes fragmentation and destruction of the woodrats' habitat.

[dragonladdie]

Star ref sheet

Slight spoilers for White Raven ahead!

(note: will be continuously updated as story progresses)

BIO

Name: Star

Gender: Cis mare

Pronouns: she/they

Age: Young adult, would be in her early 20s

SO: Lesbian

Coloring: Grulla

Voice claim: Nathalie Emmanuel as Deet

General physical description: Very small, just barely taller than a riding pony. Naturally curly mane, and longer hair around her hooves. She has odd green eyes that she inherited from her father. The only white markings on her body is a single star on her forehead.

Personality: Kind | Passive | Empathetic | Naive | Ambitious | Natural leader | Curious | Friendly | Determined | Impulsive | Stubborn |

Relationships: 

Frond(mother, deceased): The two were very close before Frond passed. Even though it’s been a long time since the incident, Star still misses her.

Bear(father): Her feelings about her father are... mixed, to say the least. He values the traditional herd laws a bit more for Star’s liking, but, as her father and Chief she looks up to him.

Rabbit(grandmother): Star has always adored her grandmother’s stories, and wise lessons. But, as an adult, she seeks out the wisdom of Rabbit more and more often. 

Dandelion(adopted guardian): Frond and Dandelion were good friends. Some even would say Dandelion acted as a second motherly figure to Frond. Ever since Frond was attacked and killed by a mountain lion, Dandelion took it upon herself to help raise Star.

Slate(half brother): Dandelion’s son. As a foal, Star thought he was weird. Slate would charge headfirst into trees, prancing a wee bit too close to bison herds, and eating any weird bugs he’d find. But, when Dandelion adopted her, the two started to spend more time with each other, and then became inseparable. Star was sad to see Slate leave when they both turned a year old. But, after she and Dew Frost escaped the Man’s Den(a fort during the American Frontier wars, similar to the fort Spirit was taken to in SSotC), they stumbled upon Rain’s group, where Slate and Wolf had joined. 

Wolf(half brother): Wolf and Star would always wrestle and bicker as foals. Like Slate, she is very close with him. The two would always lead the other foals on “daring adventures��, and would always argue over who’d be leader. Looking back, Star takes pity on Wolf, as his mother, Acorn, hardly cared for him. When her other half brothers left, Slate and Wolf stuck together and joined Rain's group, where they reunited with Star a while later.

Hawk(half brother): Owl’s twin brother. Hawk was a snitch, to put it simply. Whenever the other foals were doing something fun(stupid, dangerous), he would always run off and tell Bear, or his mom, or their moms, anybody who’d listen. But, even though he was annoying, they still cared for each other. 

Osprey(half brother): Hawk’s twin brother. There was hardly a time when Osprey wasn’t talking. He would constantly blab about anything that popped up inside his mind, even when the rest of the herd was trying to sleep. There were more times than Star could count where either she or her other brothers had to bite him to get him to button his yap, but they still got along just fine.

Hemlock(half brother): The shy, nervous one of the foals. He was always the one saying “Um, guys? I’m not so sure about this!” whenever they were doing something possibly dangerous. He and Star shared a love for Rabbit’s stories, and the history of the horse species. They got along, even though they were somewhat polar opposites.

Dew Frost(friend/love interest): Star met Dew Frost when she was captured by men. Almost immediately, she thought she was the most beautiful mare she'd ever seen. After a few conversations with Dew Frost, seeing how cynical she was, and catching how she'd look beyond the walls of the fort in longing, Star became determined to help her escape. When they did, Star was overjoyed to see how happy Dew Frost was to be finally free. It was the first time she'd seen her genuinely smile, and she tries to make her smile like that every day.

Rain(ally): Rain wasn't that fond of Star at first, and she knows it. Although she tries to be passive and non-confrontational, she's the only horse that matches his level of stubbornness, leading to some rather nasty disagreements. Star wouldn't go so far to call Rain her friend, but she trusts him, and he does too, more or less.

Neran(friend): Not going to lie, Star was intimidated by the larger mare at first. And, considering how Star accidentally trampled her brother when they first met, Star didn't exactly give a good first impression. But, as she spent more time with her, she started to see a more vulnerable, softer side to Neran. Star now has grown quite fond of her.

Garoh(friend): Given the conditions of their first meeting(Star not looking where she was going and colliding into the poor stallion as he was trying to relax), Star would have expected that he would have held some sort of grudge against her. But, he didn't seem to be upset at all by it, and now they're good friends.

Nahlay-Hain(friend): Star was at first hesitant to welcome Nahlay-Hain, as their herd's sick "traditions" nearly got Garoh slaughtered by a mad wolf. But as time passed, Star noticed that they both shared the same passion of the history of the horse species, and soon became friends.

Trivia/Character notes:

- Stripes on her legs can be simplified.

- Cinnamon roll

- Is what you would call an "uwu bean"

- Surprisingly strong for her small size

- Wasn't born with her star marking. Not saying why because spoilers but it is important

- chumby,,,,,,,,,

- Larger ears

- She prefers to sit down and talk stuff out but she'll fuck up ur shit if she's gotta

- Every once a while she has this dream where she's standing in a clearance in a forest, under a full moon. Sometimes she'll see eight white ravens overhead, or something moving in the trees. But, it always ends the same; with the moon cracking, and something bursting out of it right as she wakes up.

[crimsoncompendium]

“Are you okay?”

Tilly reeled away from the crack in the door.

When she’d heard the knock, she'd remembered she was alive; her heart had started thumping in her chest. But it wasn’t who she’d expected. Of all the people to show up unannounced at her door, it had to be her cousin. Ihana looked great. Of course she does. Tilly hid her face behind her hand.

Ihana pushed the door open and stepped in on clicking heels. “Holy shit, Tilly. What the hell is going on here?” She leaned to gape at the mess in the dining room.

Tilly regarded the remains of the liquor cabinet indifferently. “It fell.”

Ihana looked at Tilly. Her eyes were so bright, her curls so fair, her lips so pink, her skin so porcelain. Tilly envied her for it. Of course she's young and beautiful.

“Are you okay?” she asked again, softer this time.

Tilly found herself somewhat disarmed, but held her cards close to her chest nonetheless. “I, uh...” She looked at the broken glass glinting dully on the dining room floor and pushed thoughts of Nic out of her mind. If she started thinking about him, she would cry. “...It’s just been a messy few days.”

Ihana shut the door behind her. When Tilly heard the lock click, she shook her head. “Unlock it.”

Ihana paused, looking at Tilly uncertainly.

“Unlock it,” she murmured in repeat.

Ihana unlocked the door. “I brought you something,” she chimed, lifting a long black instrument case.

Tilly looked at the case, then at Ihana. “Let’s go to the balcony.”

Ihana slipped out of her heels and followed Tilly’s precarious path through fields of broken glass and over the mountain range formed by the overturned liquor cabinet. At the top of the stairs she discovered a nest of pillows and blankets in Tilly’s den. The fire in the hearth illuminated an open book with sketches of a man littering both visible pages. “Oh, Tilly.”

Of course she's keen. Tilly cringed. She would’ve preferred to keep that detail to herself. She continued to her room to reach for a familiar container under her bed.

“That’s not necessary,” Ihana said first. Then, quieter, she asked, “Did you love him?”

She glanced at Ihana, angry. The air around her felt hot. She was already licking her teeth in preparation for the inevitable outburst when she looked at the tin. The thin grey light of an overcast day gleamed against it.

There on its surface slept the dark grooves of a thumbprint. It was bigger than hers, not her own. Confronted with the evidence of better times—times that would now never return—her rage cooled.

When she returned to the present, she knew her regret was written all over her face. “Yeah, I guess I did,” she finally answered. There was never any guessing involved (and the word did was another lie), but Ihana didn’t need to know that.

“Why aren’t you sleeping in your bed?” Ihana asked as she followed Tilly out of the room and up the stairs.

“There’s a leak.” She took a seat at the table on the balcony and, carefully preserving that salient pattern, began to roll Ihana’s clove spliffs.

Ihana stood awkwardly nearby, still holding her case. “Really, you don’t have to do that. Do you want to see what I brought you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Tilly lied ineffectually, “sure.”

Ihana pursed her lips, but took a seat and set the case on the table.

Tilly popped each of its three latches and lifted the lid. Ihana was already prattling on about “hardware” and “specifications,” but it was easy enough to tune her out, considering what lay in the crushed red velvet lining of its custom case: a prosthetic, newer and sleeker than her current one.

“How did you do this?” Tilly interrupted.

“Dad still has all of his plans and notes from when he designed your old arm. I wanted to take a crack at an updated version.” She gestured at the prosthetic. QED.

Of course her father spends time with her.

“I got the idea when you came and stayed with us for a while,” added Ihana.

Tilly looked down. So much had happened since then that it felt more like a half-forgotten dream than a proper memory. Her stomach churned uneasily.

“I thought we could have it ready before you left,” Ihana continued with a chuff. “It was a big project, though. Ended up taking a much longer time than I ever would’ve guessed. But I’m glad we did it. We both learned a lot. And we’re happy with the end result.”

Of course she’s smart. Of course she’s generous. Of course she’s a good girl with a perfect life. Tilly didn’t want to hug her cousin. She couldn’t manage to feel any gratitude. But she stood up and embraced her perfunctorily while Ihana stayed in her chair. “Thanks, Ihana,” she said with a sudden pang of guilt for her insincerity.

Ihana passed Tilly a meaningful look. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Tilly’s reproachful thoughts manifested in hard, hateful angles in the corners of her mouth. Even so, she found she lacked the energy for such searing self-loathing and breathed a defeated sigh. She had to start telling the truth to herself.

“You were in the Vigil, right?” Tilly eventually asked, depositing herself back into her chair. “You went to Maguuma?”

“That’s right.”

“Did you ever see anything out there that...” Unsure of how to put it into words, she did her best hoped Ihana would understand. “...You couldn’t come back from?”

She noticed how Ihana’s mouth took on those same hard angles that had tightened her own just seconds ago. “I quit, didn’t I?” was her answer, delivered with a cool smile.

Tilly’s heart ached. Tell the truth. She lit the spliff she’d finished rolling and took a draw, then offered it across. “I wanna know what you saw.”

Ihana’s face betrayed a flash of guilt. “I told Drake I wasn’t going to do this anymore after the baby.” Frowning, she finished: “But if this is what you want to talk about.”

They traded hits in the long silence before Ihana finally started talking, her yellow eyes fixed to some distant point. “There were a few mechanics aboard each ship just to make sure things kept running, but the bulk of the auxiliary unit didn’t show up until after the crash.

“I thought I was just going out there to patch up some airships and fix cannons. Turned out to be a search and rescue.” Her voice lowered. “Thing is, when an airship goes down, almost nobody survives. These ships got pulled down—if they weren’t crushed in the sky.

“So it was a lot of searching. Not a lot of rescuing. A lot of...piles of things. Remains. We still don’t know for sure how many of us we lost. In some cases there was just...nothing left.

“And then we won. Killed the Dragon. But all those people he killed...all those families with holes in them. Our victory couldn’t fix that.

“And for some reason, I lived. Me. Mothers, fathers, people much stronger, smarter, and faster than me. Braver than me. Purer than me. All dead. All irreplaceably, irreversibly dead. And there I was.”

Ihana’s voice wavered. “I would’ve given anything to trade places,” she said, hiding behind a spent spliff.

Tilly had forgotten not to stare. She’d watched her, watched her face, watched her hands, listened to her voice. She looked at the prosthetic lying in its case.

She had envied and hated Ihana for as long as she could remember, even when they were children. She’d hated how everyone doted on her, the baby of the family. She’d hated how Ihana had wound up more talented than her, hated how Ihana’s marriage wasn’t in shambles, hated how the baby hadn’t ruined her body. She’d hated how perfect Ihana was, but more importantly, she’d hated how flawed she was in comparison.

Somewhere in Ihana’s recollections, Tilly had begun to see the human in her—the scared thing, the small thing, the fallible thing. She’d glimpsed that same human loneliness in Ihana as she had in herself and understood that, on some level, Ihana was just as flawed as she.

Through years of envy and enmity, Tilly reached for Ihana’s hand. Tears stinging her eyes, she asked, “Will you please stay?”

[monstersandmaw]

Male selkie x reader (light nsfw) - Mermay story #5

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Shsshhhhhhh, it’s still Mermay ok. Good? Ok. Let’s continue.

I hope you like this new boy. Something a little different this time, back to High Fantasy setting, rather than Starfall, and we find ourselves taken on as a guard at a castle by the sea which has one or two more secrets than most castles do…

Content: very light nsfw and a gender neutral reader.

___

You’d stumbled up to the colossal old castle gate little more than a month ago, bedraggled, with a notched blade and not much else to your name, wounded, and utterly exhausted. Mercifully, instead of shooting you on sight from the parapets, the guards had taken you to the little infirmary and you’d been taken care of there.

In order to repay them, you’d offered your services on the watch, or as part of the guard. After surprising the Captain of the Guard by proving yourself more than capable of wielding a blade - you could take care of yourself alright when you weren’t outnumbered six to one by bandits, which was how you’d got into that mess in the first place - you were given a bunk in the barracks and told to report to the castle’s armourer and smith for a mail shirt.

The smith was… colossal. With shoulders practically as broad as the castle gates, he towered over you, but as you entered, he glanced up from his work, and from one look at his handsome, dark-bearded, fire-stained face, you saw a gentle, kindly man beneath the grime and the muscles. He had a bit of a paunch too, which made him seem jovial and friendly, softening him at the edges where the muscles of his arms might have made him seem aggressive or dangerous.

“Alright?” he asked in a gruff, deep bass voice.

You nodded. “Been sent for a mail shirt. I’m joining the guard.”

“Ah, welcome,” he said. “I’m Dennek. I’ll be seeing more of you then, I suppose,” he added with a wonky grin as he extended his dirty hand to you and clasped your own in a bone-creakingly strong grip. “So, you managed to get lost yet?” he asked, his grin only broadening when you rolled your eyes.

“Yup,” you said. “Only about, four times… This place is a labyrinth!”

His friendly expression flickered suddenly and you watched his shoulders drop just a little. “Don’t go poking around this place, alright? Stick to your guard patrols, and the upper castle.”

“The ‘upper’ castle?”

He licked his lips. “Yeah. There’s been a castle on this outcrop for, well, thousands of years. As long as you stay up here, and don’t go exploring down into the cliff itself, you should be fine.”

“What’s down there?”

“Nothing but empty tunnels for miles and miles, or so I’m told,” he said. “Most folk who go wandering around down there either don’t come back at all, or come back stark raving mad.” He clearly saw the look on your face and added with an empty chuckle, “But you’ll be fine. I didn’t mean to scare you. Come on, let’s get you fitted out with some new gear.”

The blacksmith’s words stayed with you, and in fact you found them echoed by the Captain of the Guard, who told you in no uncertain terms that you were not to go ‘poking around’.

Between your new duties and the training regime, you barely had a moment to yourself anyway, and all you wanted to do at the end of your rotation was crash into a bath or a bed. Preferably the former then the latter.

You formed a few close friendships in the first months of being at the castle, but perhaps your closest was with Dennek. He always seemed pleased to see you, and recently had taken to offering you a cup of tea whenever you dropped by the castle’s impressive forge.

“What’s on the anvil this time, Den?” you asked, leaning against the wooden door frame of the separate smithy and making him look up at you from his work with a fond smile. The forge-fire reflected in his huge, dark eyes, and his lashes you suddenly realised were very long indeed. Something fluttered and turned over in your stomach at the discovery.

“Oh, just horse shoes today,” he said. “I seem to make more nails and more horse shoes than anything else. Can’t make a new sword everyday after all…” he grinned. “Even for His Highness up in the tower,” Den added, jutting his chin up in the direction of the highest tower of the castle.

“I’ve been here six months, and I’ve never once seen the prince,” you said, stepping inside. The heat and the smoke and smell of the forge had become a comfort to you in your time there, and you came to associate the smell of hot metal and leather with the strong arms and dark eyes of the smith.

Dennek chuckled and rubbed at his close-trimmed black beard. “Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that. He’s the shy and retiring type.”

“I heard he was sick,” you said. “But I’ve also heard that he’s mad and that the adviser is the one with all the power…”

The smith’s heavy brows darkened and he shook his head. “Where’d you hear that rubbish from?”

You shrugged, unnerved by the hint of outrage in his tone. “Same place I hear stories about a skeleton that wanders the castle, glowing green in the dead of night, and of folk that transform into wolves or seals at night and steal away young virgins from the safety of the castle walls… The guards and the servants like to talk…”

Dennek’s usual ruddy complexion paled instantly, but he recovered himself and turned away. That was hardly the reaction you’d been expecting. “Codswallop, the lot of it,” he muttered, sticking the blank, glowing horseshoe into a trough of water to cool it and tossing it into a pile of similar ones nearby.

“Den?” you asked, taking an uncertain step towards him.

He huffed an awkward laugh and turned back to you. “Fairytale stuff from superstitious folks, that’s all. Magic and all that has been dead for a thousand years.”

You nodded slowly and let your gaze drift towards the fire, and your thoughts went with it. Now that he’d lessened the air intake, the coals were glowing more softly and you sighed as you stared at it.

Dennek murmured your name and you jumped, not realising that the huge smith had crossed back over to you to stand so close. “What is it?” he asked in a gentle murmur. It seemed strange that someone so large could still manage to be so quiet.

“I wish… I wish it hadn’t all died out, you know? I wish there hadn’t been the trials and the burnings… I wish we still had magical creatures. It sounds foolish, I know, but my father used to tell me stories about the fair folk and healers who were also witches, about goblins who lived in the mountains and selkies who lived in the sea.” You let out another sigh. Beside you, Dennek had gone very still. You smiled sadly and exhaled. “I always ached for it to be true. I think part of me still does.”

You shot him an embarrassed look, expecting him to laugh, but his face was oddly unreadable. “Maybe it is still true, somewhere,” he muttered under his breath.

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” you smiled.

To your surprise, he shook his head, his curly black hair bouncing with the movement, and he moved away from you. “It’d be miserable for them, living in hiding, always in fear…”

“I guess…” you said, unnerved by the sombre quality his deep voice had taken on. You hopped up lightly onto his anvil and perched there like a crow on the castle parapets, and said, “Well, that turned gloomy… What are you doing tonight? You want to come to the tavern with me?”

He turned from where he’d been stowing his tongs and hammers back in the neat rack at the side of the forge, and you took the opportunity to admire his incredible body yet again. His pale shirt was scruffy and dirty beneath the leather apron he wore, his softer stomach very much evident beneath it, and since he’d cuffed the sleeves up to his elbows, you could clearly see the iron muscles of his forearms and the smudged and scarred, darkly tanned skin. His brown trousers were simple and baggy, tucked into clunky boots which were falling to pieces at the soles.

Those big dark eyes gleamed in the low light of his forge, and he looked at you with an intensity you’d never really noticed before. Den was always quiet, thoughtful, but something else seemed to have leached into him that day.

“Den?”

“Love to,” he said a heartbeat later, and his smile was back. “Meet you at the Wingspan Inn at seven?”

You nodded. “Perfect. My shift finishes at six.”

Dennek was already there when you pushed the dockside tavern door open.

It was one of the pubs frequented by the employees of the castle, but this one also had a mix of folk who lived in the town which had grown up at the base of the outcrop on which the castle had been built. The smell of iodine and salt followed you inside as you stepped over the threshold, but it was quickly swept away by the smell of food, gathered people, and spilled ale.

The smith was deep in conversation with a beautiful young man, lithe and slim, with long dark hair and pale, freckled skin, and he was openly flirting with Dennek.

The man’s slender hand slid up Dennek’s muscular arm, and you watched as the smith laughed and leaned more heavily on the bar, chin resting on his balled fist. When he glanced away and saw you, his eyes lit up and he excused himself from the young man and patting him rather patronisingly on the upper arm as he passed him by in favour of you.

“You’re popular,” you couldn’t help snipping as he joined you, and he shrugged, blushing a little.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “The man might have had sweet words, but he’s not you that’s for sure. What are you drinking?”

He got you something to drink and you followed him to a quieter corner of the bar.

“How was the rest of your day?” he asked as he leaned back and stretched out his long, thick legs beneath the table with a grunt. One caught your calf as he crossed them at the ankle, but he didn’t apologise. He only smiled and left his leg where it was, a warm weight against your own.

You told him about your day, but you couldn’t really focus. His eyes were so bright, his smile so warm, and his presence just so… big. You’d been drawn to him since the moment you'd first met him, but now you felt something new, something deeper binding you to this huge, gentle man.

“You know what?” he asked as he finished his beer and set the heavy glass tankard back down on the table with a clunk. “You want to get out of here?”

You nodded, and he held out his hand to you, helping you to your feet. He almost didn’t let go of it, but then he let you walk ahead of him through the closely-spaced tables of the traditional old pub.

A large, older man caught his attention by yelling his name and laughing, and Dennek chuckled ruefully. “Excuse me just a moment, will you?” he asked you, and turned to speak to the grizzled man. You thought you saw a familial similarity in the two as they clasped forearms and clapped each other on the back.

“Uncle Jordan,” he said.

“Laddie, when are you coming to visit again! It’s been too long. But life in the castle is clearly doing you good - look at you lad!” he chortled, slapping Dennek’s slightly round belly with the back of his hand.

“I’ll visit tomorrow, I promise. But tonight, I’m a little busy.”

Jordan dug him in the ribs with an elbow and laughed. “Ach, get on with ye,” he said with a twinkle in his dark eyes. “Have your fun, but remember…”

“I’ll be careful. I remember.”

A frown tugged at your brows at that, but it was erased when Dennek turned his own eyes on you and smiled.

“Sorry about that,” he muttered as he joined you and ushered you out of the pub. “Overbearing family who lives locally…”

“They care about you. It’s nice,” you said. “I wish I had family who lived nearby and looked out for me like that.”

“You never told me about your family,” he asked carefully as you stepped out into the chilly evening and headed along the empty cobbled street towards the shore.

With a snort, you said, “There’s nothing to tell. Yours seem nice enough though?”

Dennek fell into step beside you, his footsteps oddly quiet for a man so big. He towered over you, but you somehow felt protected instead of dwarfed, which was ridiculous because you knew you needed no one to protect you. Still, it was nice to have the luxury.

He bowed his head in mixed apology and acceptance. “You want to walk towards the beach? The tide is out.”

You and Dennek made your way along the road, and in that strange, empty space, something seemed different now between you. There was a tension that had not existed in the months you’d been friends, and you realised that although you’d been out together before, it had always been in the company of others from the castle. This was your first time alone with each other.

Cool night breezes wafted in from the sea, and it carried with it the scents of the ocean and the call of gulls. Dennek lifted his head, his thick, curly hair lifting in the sea air as he inhaled deeply, dark eyes fluttering shut. He had the longest lashes you’d ever seen on a man.

He caught you looking at him and his lips quirked behind his beard. “What?”

When you told him your thoughts on his eyelashes, he tipped his head back and barked a booming, deep laugh that came from his belly and made his throat bob. “Aye, I’ve heard that before,” he said.

“I bet you have,” you shot darkly, and his laughter cut off immediately.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked in a very soft and gentle voice.

You sighed. “Nothing.” You shivered. “I’m cold. I want to head back to the castle.”

Dennek nodded, unaffected by the chill air, and the pair of you wove through the streets in silence. That shivering tension had tightened and you sighed.

You said goodnight to him in the castle courtyard, simply raising your hand and thanking him for the evening as you walked away.

Dennek watched you go until you were at the very door of the barracks and only then did he turn around and enter the little door of the smithy.

The next morning you woke well before dawn feeling unrested and twitchy. Your watch was not due to start until midday, and you had free training before that, but you didn’t feel like swinging a sword around the training ring that morning. Instead, you dressed in light clothes and set off at a jog out of the castle.

As you crossed the courtyard, you glanced up at the highest tower, which had affectionately come to be known as the Prince’s Tower, and you glimpsed a hooded figure, shrouded in darkness, standing on the balcony way above you. You blinked, and a moment later there was nothing there. Feeling odd, you shivered and turned your back on the place.

Your feet took you through the town below the castle. Mist clung to the rooftops and hung between the houses, and as you reached the beach, the sand of the shore still dark in the wake of the retreating tide, you saw a group of seals on the rocks at the far end of the curving bay. You smiled and thought fondly of the stories of the selkies your father had told you as a child.

You jogged along the hard sand towards them, enjoying the way your muscles had to work to balance you, to work a little harder to propel you forwards, and welcoming the burn in your lungs with every inhale.

Out of the waves, another seal emerged much closer to you.

This one was huge and really rather chubby, and the moment it breached the surface, nostrils flaring, and saw you, it went utterly still.

Water washed over its stone-grey back, swirling around its flippers and caressing it gently as your own feet faltered and you watched it in wonder.

“Hello,” you said, crouching down. “It’s alright. I won’t hurt you.”

One of the seals on the rocks barked a warning and the one before you jumped as though startled out of a trance by the sound.

“It’s alright,” you said again. “Here,” and you stretched out your hand, fingertips trailing in the cold foam at the edge of the lapping waves.

To your surprise, the seal lumbered forwards and pressed his - something made you think it was male - nose into your palm.

“Well, aren’t you just the sweetest?” you chuckled, and the seal snorted indignantly, spraying your hand with salty water.

You laughed, and then sighed as you stared into its inky eyes. The seal blinked slowly and made its awkward way a few inches closer to you, cocking its head to one side in a manner that, oddly enough, reminded you of Dennek.

“You know,” you said, “My father used to tell me stories about shape shifters. I always dreamed they were true.” You scratched the seal under the chin and stood up, turning to go. “Maybe you’re one,” you said with a rueful smile. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be so patronising.”

The seal lowered his chin to the sand and lay flat as he watched you leave, the same way a hound watches a beloved friend go, knowing he must remain behind.

When you finally jogged back up to the castle, you paused outside the smithy. Curious, wanting to satisfy your strange whim, you knocked on the door, but it was all shut up, cold and quiet. “Dennek?” you called, trying to peek in at one of the windows.

You heard your name called across the yard, and you turned around to see Dennek come running in through the gate, out of breath, hair curling and wet, dripping into his face, and his damp shirt open at the neck to reveal a little of his skin. His chest heaved from the effort of running, and you frowned, turning to go back to him. Over the crook of one arm, he carried something silvery and shiny. At first you thought it was a finely woven mail coat, but, looking at it more carefully, you could see it was an animal pelt.

“Den?” you asked as you got closer. “You ok?”

“It’s true,” he whispered, still trying to catch his breath.

You drew level with him and halted. “What’s true?”

He leaned in close and you smelled salt water and sweat on him. “What you just said to me… on the beach… it’s true.”

Your world tilted. “You mean…”

He nodded and your knees went weak.

“Come inside,” he said, jutting his chin towards the smithy behind you.

His knuckly, scarred hands shook as he slid the key into the lock, and it took him a couple of goes. The pelt across his arm was a seal pelt.

It was all true.

Selkie.

He turned around to face you as you came inside and shut the wooden door behind you. Swallowing, you looked up at him and smiled. “Promise me this isn't some kind of sick prank…” you said. “Tell me what I told the seal on the beach, and I’ll believe you.”

Dennek smiled gently, fear still obvious in his dark eyes. He licked his lips and said, “You said that your father used to tell you stories about shifters, and that you dreamed it was true. And that you shouldn't be so patronising.”

You sank down onto a wonky, three-legged stool as your knees gave way.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you rasped. A moment later, you added, “That was really you?”

He nodded.

“How…? I mean… Are there many of you?”

He shook his head, dark curls bouncing. “Few enough of us survived the troubled times. I’ll tell you about it one day. Do you want something to drink? Are you alright?”

With a weak little laugh, you nodded. “Yeah, a drink would be good.”

The smith smiled and dipped a copper ladle into a bucket of clear water from the well and filled a pewter tankard for you. He handed it to you with a steady hand and knelt before you. He looked up into your face and you were suddenly, viscerally reminded of the seal on the beach.

With a laugh, you said, “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before.”

“You weren’t looking. No one is, these days, thank the gods. The prince has done a lot to protect our kind and to make the people forget, to make them think that it’s all just foolish superstition.”

“The prince…” you thought about the shadowy figure on the balcony. “Is he… different too?”

With a shy, private smile, Dennek gave a tiny nod. “Yes, but that’s not my secret to tell. He’s not a selkie though.”

“Right. But you are.”

“Yes.”

Dennek looked at you with steady, dark eyes. “Den…?”

“Yes?”

Your fingers twitched. “May…?” you bowed your head and looked at your lap instead, your courage draining away.

“May what?” he asked gently, still kneeling before you.

You swallowed thickly and let out another awkward chuckle. “I was going to ask if I could kiss you.”

“If you were to ask,” he said, “I would say yes. Does that make it easier?”

And at that, the tension snapped, and you began to laugh. In fact, you couldn’t stop laughing.

Suddenly his rough hands, callused from years of forge work, were on your cheeks, his thumbs tracing a soft arc over your cheekbones. The crinkles at the corners of his eyes drew you in, and he was still laughing softly as he kissed you. His beard was scratchy and rough, but his lips were soft, and his kiss was so tender it stole your breath.

All you could hear was your heart hammering as he kissed you. He stood, drawing you to your feet and pulling you close, back into the kiss.

You pulled back, breathless with amazement. “Dennek…”

“Yes?” he rasped.

He’d been pushing you, guiding you gently towards the single bed in the corner of the humble room, but he suddenly froze, as if he’d just realised what he was doing.

You smiled and bit your lip. “I… I didn't know you were interested… I mean… in me…”

His hands skated down your sides to your hips and he pulled you tight against his body. You felt the hard line of his cock tenting his loose trousers, and as you looked up into his large, warm, dark eyes, you had your answer.

************************************

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[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

“Come here. Let me fix it.” for Strickrot

“Come here, let me fix it.”  It’s an order, not a request, that comes out of Angor Rot’s mouth.

Strickler looks up long enough for a large drop of his blood to gather and fall from his arm onto the floor.  He blinks, and goes back to unsuccessfully bandaging his arm.  He grimaces, but says, “I require no assistance from you,” anyway.

Angor sighs.  He glances forlornly at his laptop and his studies.  His online veterinary class has a test coming up in a couple days.  He’s still adjusting to all the new terminology they use.  Ensuring he has the right knowledge for his wards is important.  However, he can’t just let Stricklander bleed out all over the floor.  Who would tend to their monetary needs then?  Angor has enough to learn without adding ‘modern human financial customs’ to the mix.

He stands, strides over to Strickler, forcibly takes the gauze roll from the changeling’s good hand, sits down in the chair next to him, and takes over the bandaging process.

“I said I don’t need—”

“You will be conscious to clean your blood off the floor when I’m done,” Angor growls.  He inspects the wound.  Two cuts.  Not deep, but one hit a vein.  Hence, all the blood.  He applies pressure to stem its flowing.  “Was there poison involved in this?” He asks.  For the first time, his voice takes a rare softer tone.

Though Arcadia itself adjusted to the presence of trolls, the two of them live outside the city limits.  Some of their neighbors got used to them.  Others did not.  The trolls who made their dwellings in the nearby mountains fall into the second category and, in Angor’s opinion, would have an easiest time acquiring poison.

Strickler scoffs.  “As if I’d be so careless as to allow myself to be—”

“If there is poison in this wound, I’ll need to treat it with one of the antidotes before bandaging it.”  Angor glares.  Strickler’s attempts to conceal his weakness will do nothing but extend the length of time before they’re finished.

“Yes,” Strickler grumbles.

Angor nods curtly, retrieves his antidote collection, and continues his work.  Strickler doesn’t meet his gaze.  He won’t say anything more until the process is done, Angor knows this.  The changeling hates moments like these.  Hates showing vulnerability.  As if all his puffing out his chest and prancing about are actual shows of strength.  Ha!

Not that Strickler isn’t competent in a fight.  He has his edges.  Sharp enough to brutally maim, or kill when necessary.  But, the way he goes about it reminds Angor of a tall, green, featherless peacock.  One that refuses to stop displaying itself despite having nothing to display.

Angor hates it.  He’s accustomed to it, and he prefers it to the company of literally anyone else, but, he still hates it.

“There.”  He finishes wrapping the gauze around Strickler’s arm.  “Go rest.”  He gestures to the doorway into the den, where a comfy, if covered in hair from a wild assortment of animals, couch awaits.

“The floor?”  Strickler flexes the fingers of his bad arm, and tries making a fist.  He winces.

“You have your orders.  You would do well to obey them.”  Could commanding Strickler rile him up?  Yes.  Could Angor resist it?  No, not in the slightest.  It felt too nice.

Strickler listens, and goes to lie down.

Angor makes swift work of wiping down the floor, and then returns to his studies.

[dyrewrites]

Pale Blood - Continuing my habit of posting entire scenes as they are written

Chaos puffed from the bloodbank as the glass doors slid open, the discordant voices within were loud and confused and Odea winced as she entered.

There were men she didn’t recognize standing around the counter, around Ron, and one bore a striking resemblance to a holo-boxer her mother used to fawn over nicknamed “The Mountain”–and it would delight her to learn he was one in the same, but she never would; Delmas held his past closer than others held breaths.

Odea gaped at him, at the rough leather coat and the mouse brown hair obscuring his eyes, and she knew–if for a brief moment, a second of clarity–the color of those eyes. That she had seen them, known them, and known him. But it was brief, fleeting, and replaced by irritation at the way the man was speaking to Ron.

He didn’t tower over him, as he would her, but he was still taller and his presence far too intimidating. Yet Ron was not frightened. He didn’t shrink from the man’s shadow; he glared up at it, into it, daring those hidden eyes with the bright blues of his own. That’s when she saw the other man, shorter than Ron and the mountain, yet still likely to tower over her.

He was slender, with soft features and hair longer than hers had ever been, offset by broad shoulders and muscled arms–Odea clothed herself in layers, covering every stitch of skin, but Den preferred to show as much as was legal and so she had plenty to study. The way he stood, protectively beside the other, spoke of a power beyond the gentle façade he presented. Then he noticed her and his eyes, so fierce and bright, burned into her own and Odea gasped. She couldn't help it, though she felt foolish after, when he smiled. Ron continued to argue with whoever the other man was, unaware of her presence, but the man that reminded her too much of a wildcat stalked toward her.

“You must be the blood-letter,” His voice was rich and smooth, but something growled beneath. He put a hand out for hers and she knew that burnt amber skin would be softer than silk, but she did not take it.

Odea did not enjoy shaking hands; she did not enjoy meeting new people. She took in too much of them–what they tried to hide often whispered to her–and the man before her then, and the one behind him, were more than she could manage and she froze.

Den waved a hand in front of her face, braved a tap to her shoulder, but the little witch remained perfectly still.

“Hey,” He called behind him, to the ghoul. “I think your blood-letter is broken.”

“My what?” Ron asked, rushing to the door when he saw her–the door which stood open, grinding and rumbling, unable to slide closed with her standing in its path. He shoved Den out of the way and pulled Odea fully into the bloodbank, bending to look into her eyes. “You’re alright, hon, you’re safe. I’m here.”

She gasped and shook her head before checking that the carrier in her hand, and the cat inside it, were secure, “I’m fine…just…forgot how to breathe.”

“Den has that effect on people,” The mountain offered, his voice deeper than the other man’s, it was kind and warm and welcoming.

He stepped up behind the wildcat, who slapped him before wrapping his arms around his middle. The mountain kept his distance from Odea and for that she was grateful. Once he’d turned his eyes on her, she had trouble looking away, trouble finding her voice but while he stood as far as he was she could focus and think clearly. It was a feeling she remembered, somewhere beyond memory, but the why of it refused to surface.

“You the fang that’s going to help me get my cat?” She asked the mountain, focusing her gaze on his hair or his nose, avoiding the bright hazel eyes that sang to her.

Delmas directed a raised brow at Ron, whose lips stretched in a wobbled grin before he looked away. Den laughed and smothered further giggles in Delmas’ chest.

“Look,” Delmas told Odea, “I don’t know what Ron promised you, but if you’re willing to help me out with the mess I’m in, I’d gladly return the favor.”

Odea nodded then lifted the carrier, “This is KB, he’s been stuck in this box for too long and I’m letting him out now. He doesn’t like people, but I am going to go out on a limb here and assume no one in this room is strictly a ‘people’. And if any of you upset him, in any way, I will make sure no one ever mistakes you for one.”

Delmas could have hidden his laughter then, could have snuffed it with a hand or buried his face in Den’s hair, but he didn’t. He laughed loud and hard and muttered something only Den could hear before the woman set the odd box she held on the floor and tapped the release. The translucent glass–or so it appeared to be, but was in fact a hardlight construct that allowed air in and out but nothing more substantial–blinked away and a pair of brilliant yellow eyes burned in the shadows beyond it. There was a growl, deep and whining, that forced Delmas back a step and earned him a pitying look from Den.

KB didn’t slink out, he didn’t peek out with cautious care. No, he bolted. Delmas felt him first; a hot ball of fur and purrs on his leg but, when he reached to pet him, KB slipped away. Then he slipped from Den’s grasp, through his legs and found Ron. Those legs he climbed and Ron squeaked, high and long, as he did. KB stopped on Ron’s shoulder, where he scrunched up and decided to stay.

“Why…” was all Ron had to say on the matter–and it was all anyone said about it.

“Del,” Delmas offered the small woman, her hair and glasses not standing out near as much as the puffy sweater she swam in. He’d seen one similar, on the wall screen of Bosch’s home, and he began picking through her other features for similarities when he put his hand out to shake hers. She didn’t take and he nodded, understanding. “This is Den,” he gestured to the wolf still clinging to his chest. “And may I ask who you are?”

Odea nibbled her lip while she considered her answer. Del? She repeated to herself, certain she had heard the name before. I’d remember a mountain, she assured her doubts, and it’s not an uncommon name. But if she wasn’t looking at him, wasn’t actively thinking of him, he would waiver in her consciousness. His name, his face, would wither. She kept her eyes on him but took her glasses off, cleaned them with the sleeve of her sweater, and replaced them before answering, “Name’s Odea, and since none of your last names were shared I think I’ll keep mine too.”

“That’s fair,” Delmas said, failing not to smile. Her name had been familiar, beyond the sight of her, but even her voice stirred memories. It was deeper than expected of her size, with a gentle rasp, and he knew it. Somehow, he knew it, but he couldn’t have. He’d never seen her before, outside the feeds.  I’d remember her, he thought as she slipped past him with the box the cat had been in. Bosch faked those feeds, he had to.

But he knew he hadn’t because Den had admitted to being there. In their cab ride over he had asked and Den had answered, admitting everything, even his attraction then. That confession had led to too much touching and Delmas’ insistence that he would not make the cabby uncomfortable by being ‘that couple’–which started a new conversation that he pretended to fall asleep during. No, he knew Odea, even if he couldn’t remember. Even if, when he looked away and focused on anything else, she began to slip away. He knew her but he didn’t understand why he couldn’t keep the memory–and wouldn’t, for longer than any would appreciate.

---

Taglist;

@rmgrey-author

@ruinmegently

[juttabluehberger]

Der "liebe" Asphalt

Das ist so eine Sache mit dem Asphalt. Laut Reiseführer ist der Asphaltanteil der meisten Etappen über 60%. Das ist nicht so toll. Denn es ist der Asphalt in Kombination mit dem Gewicht des Rucksacks, der meine Schmerzen auf den Sohlen verursacht. Eben das was man Sohlenbrand nennt.

Am Vormittag macht mir der Asphalt oft weniger Mühe, aber spätestens am Nachmittag suche ich so oft wie möglich nicht auf sondern neben dem harten Asphalt zu gehen. Da nutze ich jede noch so kurze Strecke mit weicherer Unterlage wie Kies, Erde oder Wiese am Straßenrand, die meine schmerzenden Füße schonen.

Glücklicherweise führt der Jakobsweg wenn immer möglich über einen Weg, der nicht direkt an der Hauptstraße verläuft. Immer wieder geht es durch den Wald. Die Strecken durch den Wald sind aber meistens mit viel Steigung verbunden. Zuerst bergauf, dann begab. Dann muss ich entsprechend langsamer gehen. Aber das lohnt sich.

Am Samstag gab es zwei Steigungen die es wirklich in sich hatten. Die erste hinten dem Haus vom Bergdoktor (DEM Bergdoktor) ging noch und der Weg führte über eine Weide.

Die zweite hatte ich zuerst verpasst und musste zurückgehen. Sie begann hinter der Talstation der Seilbahn und führte dann im Zickzack eine fast senkrechte Böschung hinauf. Das hatte es in sich! Aber danach verlief sie wieder durch eine wunderschöne Gegend abseits vom Straßenlärm.

Natürlich brauchen diese Strecken abseits auch mehr Zeit und Kilometer als wenn man neben der Hauptstraße geht. Das vergesse ich manchmal, wenn ich versuche die noch benötigte Zeit zu berechnen.

Aber es gibt auch Situationen, wo mir der Asphalt lieber wäre:

Seit Ende letzter Woche wurde immer für den nächsten Tag Regen angesagt. Der jedoch dann meist ausblieb. Darüber war ich natürlich nicht böse. So konnte ich die ersten fünf Tage bis auf ein wenig Nieseln im Trockenen wandern.

Für Sonntag schien es unausweichlich, dass es den ganzen Tag regnen wird. Als ich aufwache schien aber die Sonne. Der Vormittag blieb großteils sonnig. Als ich zu Mittag vor einem Restaurant stehen blieb, fielen die ersten Regentropfen. Für mich ein Zeichen, dass ich ins Restaurant gehen soll. Während ich drin war schüttete es aus allen Kübeln. Als es Zeit war, wieder aufzubrechen, schien es fast nicht mehr zu regnen. Es war dann doch gerade so viel, dass ich den Poncho brauchte. Wieder einmal fühlte ich mich von Gott beschenkt und umsorgt.

An dem Nachmittag verlief die Strecke fast nur durch den Wald und mehrmals sehr steil bergauf und bergab. Wie rutschig nasse Nadeln, Laub und Baumwurzeln sein können, habe ich bereits ausprobiert. Und so war ich extrem vorsichtig unterwegs. Da wo der Weg weniger steil verlief, bestand er oft aus schlammigen Lacken, die dann auch sehr rutschig sein können und einen ziemlichen Balanceakt erforderten. In dieser Situation wäre mir der Asphalt ausnahmsweise lieber gewesen.

Trotzdem kam ich am Abend gut im Quartier an. Unbeabsichtigt habe ich an dem Tag die dreißig Kilometer Marke geknackt, da die Strecke am Vormittag 18 km war und die einzige Vermieterin, die abhob als ich anrief, weitere 12 km entfernt war.

***

The "dear" asphalt.

The asphalt is one of those things. According to the guidebook, the asphalt portion of most stages is over 60%. That's not so great. Because it is the asphalt in combination with the weight of the backpack that causes my pain on the soles. Which is called sole burn.

In the morning the asphalt often gives me less trouble, but at the latest in the afternoon I try to walk as often as possible not on but next to the hard asphalt. There I use every ever so short distance with softer underground like gravel, earth or meadow at the roadside, which spare my aching feet.

Fortunately, the Way of St. James leads whenever possible on a path that does not run directly on the main road. Again and again it goes through the forest. The routes through the forest, however, are usually associated with a lot of slope. First uphill, then downhill. Then I have to walk accordingly slower. But it is worth it.

On Saturday there were two climbs that were really hard. The first hill behind the house of the Bergdoktor (THE mountain doctor from TV) was still okay and the path led over a pasture.

The second I had missed at first and had to go back. It started behind the valley station of the cable car and then zigzagged up an almost vertical slope. That was quite a challenge! But after that it ran again through a beautiful area away from the noise of the roads.

Of course, these routes off the beaten path also take more time and miles than walking next to the main road. I sometimes forget that when I try to calculate the time still needed.

But there are also situations where I would prefer the asphalt: Starting at the end of last week, rain was always forecast for the next day. Which, however, then mostly failed to materialize. Of course I was not upset about that. Thus I could hike the first five days except for a little drizzle in the dry.

For Sunday it seemed inevitable that it will rain the whole day. When I woke up, however, the sun was shining. Most of the morning remained sunny. When I stopped in front of a restaurant at noon, the first raindrops fell. For me a sign that I should go into the restaurant. While I was inside, it poured cats and dogs. When it was time to leave again, it seemed to have almost stopped raining. It was then just enough that I needed the poncho. Once again I felt blessed and cared for by God.

That afternoon the route was almost exclusively through the forest and several times very steep uphill and downhill. How slippery wet needles, leaves and tree roots can be, I have already tried. And so I was extremely careful on the way. Where the path was less steep, it often consisted of muddy puddles, which can also be very slippery and require quite a balancing act. In this situation, I would have preferred the asphalt for once.

Nevertheless, I arrived well in the evening in the quarters. Unintentionally, I cracked the thirty-kilometer mark that day, since the route in the morning was 18 km and the only landlady who picked up when I called was another 12 km away.

[alisonfloresus]

Where is the Arrival Point of Cable Asylum?

Majority of the audiophiles are agreed that one of the most critical factors in a hi-end system is the connection cables. There is no doubt about it. Different cables provide different testing and enjoyment. A good sounding cable in a system may not sound good in other system or a good sounding cable may not sound good if one of the units is replaced. Good is also relative to each person, that’s why I believe that it is not possible to pretend one cable betters then the other if both are good cables.

As a person who changed so many cables, I would like to share my own judgements with others. My aim is not to offend anybody or to break somebody’s heart but humbly contribute to the craziness of cable industry, contribute to consciousness and prevent buyers to be abused.

Some cable producers use the thinnest wires to eliminate skin effect. Some uses thicker ones to eliminate DC resistance. Some prefers silver due to open and rich sound, some finds silver sounding thin, un-natural and they use pure copper to achieve body. Some uses platinum, carbon and other stuff, some combines them or alloys them. Some producers attach importance to shielding, some are against to shielding but use braided designs. Some uses ribbons, some uses litz (various independent insulated wires). Almost all pretend their design as the best in the world.

Above list can be enlarged. This situation at least for me is the clear evidence that THERE IS NO COMPROMISE ON CABLES FROM THE ENGINEERING AND THEORY POINT OF VIEW.

Following me, the cables, particularly the interconnect cables are the most degenerated and misleading part of the audio industry. The biggest income ratio in audiophile word is generated by the cable industry. An amplifier that consist of various elements, labour, engineering, design, (consists of good silver cables too) can be purchased to 5.000 € but a poor interconnect cable costs 2.000 € or more. Most of the brands are imitation of the other. They provide various colours, thickness and nice appearance and pretend to be the best one in the world at list in their price categories. I found 137 different interconnect producers (listed below). Unfortunately the human nature of “how expensive or how big, the better is” belief, guides one to misleading. Such belief motivates the first sales, and followers continue by thought that “if the other purchasers are idiots!”

One thing should be considered that I never mean such cables are not bad sound; actually they are mostly the good ones. Problem is a % 1 better sounding cable is sold to % 1000 price of the other. After the promotion and acceptance of a very reputable cable, another one comes to market even by the same company to claim to be better and price is 3 times more. Price increase in cable industry is going geometrically by the crazy multiples.

Last year, Stereophile made feature with Caren Sumner, the president of Transparent Cable. I picked up below sentence; “Up to last year, the thickest cables and the biggest boxes on cable were on demand. If the cable was thicker or the boxes on the cable were bigger, the perception was such cables should sound better. So they sold in better quantities. But nowadays WAF (Wife Acceptance Factor) is more involved in it and the wives don’t like to see bigger and bigger things corrupting home decoration. As a matter of fact, we tend to produce thinner cables and smaller boxes in future.”

At least such sentence gives clear leak that the product is not thicker or bigger due to technical aspects but due to marketing technique.

I was curious one day to break the box of my M..T interconnects to look inside. There was a very simple coil occupied only 1/10 of the box. I also broke the same brand power cord’s box and realised only two ferrite rings that sold to 50 Cents each at the electronics shop. Another story is that ; a cable producer makes actively shielded cables. If you break the solid protected shielding unit, you see one resistor and one capacitor that can be purchased to 1 $ . The price you have to pay for that unit is 420 USD. You may think it is proprietary or invention but it is not. The concept was built on the design of Pierre Lourne’s DC Polarised Shielding Technology and used in professional audio industry for years.

According to me, a cable should be listened enough and alone prior to purchasing. If the critical listening is done with other people, physiology factor will act and people would tend to choose the most reputable one. If the difference is subtle, it should be thought again. Before coming to conclusion, other audiophiles should be called for critical blind testing. Cables should be tested without knowing which one is in connection. If blind test is done, every party should make careful and realistic observations. If they don’t have clear tendency, it will not be logical to buy that cable.

One friend brought me a well known digital reference cable that sold around 1500 $ . My cable was also a reference cable but reasonably priced (Illuminations D-60). We were three people and listened both of the cables properly. The other two immediately observed that the other cable was much better. It did not make the same effect on me. Mid sounds, vocals became softer and more natural but the bass became so slow and muddy. The energy and the slam at treble were gone. So it was and exchange but not additional. I had a feeling that physiology factor was in mission. I wanted to make blind test. My aim was not to degrade the other but just to find the answer why I did not hear the same thing with them. We made a blind test. Eventually both of them were decided and agreed on D-60. The discussion was over.

* Why they had the tendency to choose the most expensive or reputable one !

* Forget about it was worse, assume that they are the same, why the other cable cost 10 times did not clearly bit the other.

* May be my system was not enough revealing to stimulate that cable but if this is the case, I would pay 1500 $ unnecessarily as agreed by my friends.

Such cable producers generally target the people that don’t have any problem with money. Such people are basically located in New York, Far East, Hong Kong, Japan and such places.

Producers also follow up, sales volumes of most expensive electronics and penetrate their cables accordingly. They assume that “a person who spends 350.000 $ for an amplifier will never use a cable of 500 $ ”

My thoughts are not to offend cable producers, if there is a demand, somebody has to supply with no doubt.

I wanted to design an interconnect cable for my own curiosity. I am not an electronic an. I used my all theoretical knowledge as a hobbyist and made a DIY interconnect cable. I pretend my cable is at the same class with the reference cables sold up to 1500 $ . It will cost you around 50$ plus the Plugs that’s all. Difficult to make but it is worthy. Hearing is believing. I shared the entire steps with you. Give it a try DiyE.htm. You must use the best available connectors and silver solder but not the budget ones. That cable cost me 200 $ together with Home Grown Audio’s LOK RCA Plugs or WBT Top Of the lines.

How come that cable worked extremely well, for me better than the others ! I had no experience, no production plant, no engineering, research and development but it works. May be the answer is hidden in somewhere else, may be the other cable producers use the same method, design, listen, if works, claim and sell

February 2004 Ozhan Atalay

LIST OF CABLE PRODUCERS

1. Accoustic Zen 2. Acoustic Research 3. Acrotec 4. Alpha Core 5. Analysis Plus 6. Apex 7. Apogee 8. Argento Audio 9. Audience 10. Audio Magic 11. Audio Note 12. Audio One 13. Audio Tekne 14. Audioquest 15. Aural Symphonic 16. Aural Thrills Audio 17. Ayre 18. Bear Labs 19. Bel The Wire 20. Better Cables 21. Black Mountain Cable 22. BMC 23. Bogdan 24. Canare 25. Cardas 26. Celtic Silver 27. Chang Lightspeed 28. Chord 29. Clarity Lab 30. Coincident 31. Concierto 32. Creative Cable Concepts 33. Crystal Clear Audio 34. DH Labs 35. Dimarzio 36. Discovery Cable 37. Dunlavy 38. Echochrome Cables 39. Ecosse 40. Elco 41. Electraglide 42. Empirical Audio 43. Ensemble 44. Esoterika 45. Fadel Art 46. FIM 47. FMS 48. Granite Audio 49. Gutwire 50. Harmonic Technology 51. Hms Cables 52. Home Grown Audio 53. Infinity Audio 54. Ixos 55. Jena Labs 56. Jm 57. JPS Labs 58. K A S Audio 59. Kharma 60. Kimber Kable 61. Krell 62. Lat International 63. Lieder Cables 64. Linn 65. Luminous Audio 66. MAC Wire 67. Madrigal Audio Labs 68. Magnan 69. Magwire 70. Marigo 71. Mas 72. MIT 73. Monster Cable 74. Moon Audio 75. Music Metre 76. Naim 77. Nbs 78. Nirvana Audio 79. Nordost 80. Oehlbach 81. Omega 82. Orbeck 83. Outlaw 84. Perpetual Technologies 85. Primo 86. Prisma Cables 87. PS Audio 88. Pure Note 89. Purist Audio Design 90. Red Rose 91. Revelation Audio Lab 92. Ridge Street Audio Designs 93. Rosinante Audio 94. Scott Nixon 95. Shunyata 96. Signal Cable 97. Silent Source 98. Siltech 99. Silver Audio 100. Silver Dragon 101. Silver Sonic 102. Silversmith Audio 103. Sonance Audio Video 104. Sonic Frontiers 105. Sonic Link 106. Stan Warren 107. Stealth Audio 108. Straight Wire 109. Synergistic research 110. T. G. Audio Labs 111. Tara Labs 112. Tekline 113. Tg Audio Lab 114. Tice 115. TMC 116. Tone Audio 117. Transparent Cables 118. Tributaries 119. Ultralink 120. Vacuum Reference 121. Vampire Wire 122. Van Den Hul 123. Vantage Audio 124. Verastarr 125. Violin by Concierto 126. Virtual Dynamics 127. Wasatch Cable 128. Wicked Cables 129. WireWorld 130. XLO 131. Yamamura 132. YBA 133. Z Cable 134. Zocore Cables 135. Z-Squared Audio 136. Zu Cable 137. Eichmann

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