#native harrow

[sonicziggy]

"Follow Me Round" by Native Harrow https://ift.tt/VxsPk08

[eufoniaradio]

S23.E45: Winter Showcase

Episodio 45 de la temporada 23, al aire el 5 de Diciembre de 2022. Estuvimos Carlos Luis y Ciro Velásquez apoyados en todo momento por Willy en controles… Programa preparado con lo nuevo que debamos poner para mostrar en Diciembre ¡Disfruten! El Programa Elder [US]Innate Passage (2022.11.25 – Armaggedon Shop) “Endless Return” David Longdon [UK] Door One (2022.10.14 – Independiente)…

[the-official-account]

My issue is that I can't ever think of normal concepts. All I get is shit l like "woman is taught important lessons on grief and female family relationships during deeply unpleasant road trip by time traveling bacteria that, to it's horror, she insists on adopting" .....like what do I even

[sayruq]

One by one, we are forced into a truck. Someone who is not moving lands on my lap. I fear that a soldier has thrown a corpse onto me, as a form of torture, but I am scared to speak. I whisper, “Are you alive?” “Yes, man,” the person says, and I sigh with relief. When the truck stops, we hear what sound like gunshots. I no longer feel my body. The soldiers give off a smell that reminds me of coffins. I find myself wishing that a heart attack would kill me. At our next stop, we kneel outside again. I start to wonder whether the Israeli military is showing us off. When a young man next to me cries, “No Hamas, no Hamas!,” I hear kicks until he falls silent. Another man, maybe talking to himself, says quietly, “I need to be with my daughter and pregnant wife. Please.” My eyes fill with tears. I imagine Maram and our kids on the other side of the checkpoint. They don’t have blankets or even enough clothes. I can hear female soldiers, chatting and laughing. Suddenly, someone kicks me in the stomach. I fly back and hit the ground, breathless. I cry out in Arabic for my mother. I am forced back onto my knees. There is no time to feel scared. A boot kicks me in the nose and mouth. I feel that I am almost finished, but the nightmare is not over. Back in the truck, my body hurts so much that I wish I had no hands or shoulders. After what feels like ninety minutes of driving, we are taken off the truck and shoved down some stairs. A soldier cuts my plastic handcuffs. “Both hands on the fence,” he says. This time, the soldier ties my hands in the front. A sigh of relief. I am escorted about fifteen metres. Finally, someone speaks to me in what sounds like native Palestinian Arabic. He seems to be my father’s age. At first, I hate this man. I think he is a collaborator. But later I hear him described as a shawish—a detainee like us, with little choice but to work for his jailers. “Let me help you,” he says. The shawish dresses me in new clothes and walks me inside the fence. When I raise my blindfolded head, I get blurry glimpses of a corrugated metal roof. We are in some kind of detention center; soldiers walk around, watching us. The shawish unrolls what looks like a yoga mat and covers me with a thin blanket. I place my bound hands behind my head, as a pillow. My arms sear with pain, but my body slowly warms. This is the end of day one.

Read the rest of Mosab's harrowing tale in here (if you don't have a New Yorker subscription)

[qiupachups]

miles.g / wiles

.｡.+*☆ headcannons 👾💭

contents: general hcs, mention of his father’s death, i call 42-miles ‘wiles’, me sorta bullying him

a/n: after a lot of procrastination and harassment gentle encouragement from @vhstown i’m finally posting my hcs. :3c (they’ve been sitting here since july)

Despite his tough guy exterior and criminal career, he's actually a massive nerd geek. Like: gundham, comics, posters all over his room.

Until you bring up those interests, he won't mention them. But once you start a conversation about them, he can tell you all the lore front to back or tell you where and when each collectible is from. Just listening to Wiles and nodding along will make his day.

Accepting help from others is not an option. Ever. He's an overly D.I.Y guy since his father's death and it's staying that way.

... unless you're very close to him. Wiles will begrudgingly accept your help and then be adamant on repaying you. No matter how trivial it was, he'll show his gratitude through service.

Wiles has great memory and knows all the lyrics to his favourite songs. Go through his playlist and pick something at random- he'll recite them flawlessly!

A good memory also helps with remembering those flashes of songs playing on your lock screen. Just a split second glance? He's adding it to his playlist, maybe listening to it as he works on his latest gear.

Would be a straight A student if he were there half the time. The only thing keeping his total grades down is attendance, where he’s often absent.

However, if he’s in a group project with you, Wiles will put more effort into it. Getting a ‘C’ or GPA point lower is fine if it means keeping Brooklyn safer. What’s not fine is him being the reason for your lower marks.

Unlike his counterpart from 1610, Wiles’ art is more realistic. He tries to capture the subjects’ essence quickly and minimally, so colours are an afterthought.

Accuracy was his pride in art until it came to you. He’d be so nervous in getting your smile right, scribbling failed attempts over and over again. Wiles even resorted to a pencil sketch.

Following the passing of Jefferson, Wiles has gotten much closer to Rio. That’s a no brainer; he was fourteen— a kid. And Jefferson never got to see his son in that overpriced Visions uniform.

Wiles makes an effort to speak more Spanish. He lets his mamí braid his hair even if it hurts like hell. Those stupid telenovelas aren’t that bad on the second watch.

Once upon a time, Wiles used to be a choir boy (keyword: used). He’d love singing hymns and doing nativities before he could read; all for his mamí and dad to see.

However, the christmas after Jefferson’s passing felt… empty. Wiles quickly lost his passion for choir and now just attends mass with Rio at most.

After years of experience being a choir boy, Wiles has the voice of an angel. Not that you’d know, of course— he intends to take that to the grave. But there’s also a deeper, darker secret… he can’t rap to save his life.

An extremely personal and harrowing Musically comment told him so. Following that attack, twelve year old Wiles abandoned his account with only a black profile picture left behind.

Like any other middle schooler, Wiles had a hype beast phase (he denies it). When Aaron got a Hype shirt for Wiles’ 12th birthday, words couldn’t describe how he almost knocked Aaron down with a hug.

The shirt’s first stain had Wiles distraught and furiously searching ‘remove paint on shirt hacks’ on Youtube. His heart would probably stop if he misplaced a gift from you.

Wiles isn’t the best cook, but he can definitely make himself a good meal. With Rio working night shifts and Uncle Aaron doing… jobs, he has to be self-sufficient.

A secret lil’ side project: he’s trying and failing to replicate Jefferson’s mac ‘n cheese. It wasn’t the best, but it was his. Something’s always off when Wiles makes it and he’s not quite sure what.

Sure, cooking isn’t that hard, but baking is like wizardry to Wiles. AP Chemistry and it’s endless calculations felt way easier than making pan de agua with his mamí.

But, mamí didn’t raise no quitter! On a particularly busy birthday, Wiles pulled together a modest little cake for Rio. She burst into tears seeing the shaky ‘!Feliz Cumple!’ written in too-sweet icing.

Calling Earth-42 a wreck is a massive understatement. Shit’s like Gotham, only very real and very deadly. Just breathing in that damn city air makes Wiles’ skin crawl.

Luckily, he’s got an outlet: boxing. A fun hobby he picked up from Uncle Aaron became his release. Wiles might never be in the ring, but Brooklyn’s more than enough.

a/n #2: what the fuck. this was supposed to be short and silly and fun. exsqueeze me how did this… erm. disjointed mess.

[bonefall]

It is... fascinating, how a harrowing story of colonialism and abuse is during right at the surface of DOTC and the Erin's just refuse to see it. If they'd just leave into those being the themes, this might have been my favorite of the series.

Wind Runner keeps bouncing around in my head. It bugs me more and more with each passing day that the takeaway people have of her is entirely about Moth Flight, and not about the chapters upon chapters of The Settlers being bigoted against her for recognizing Clear Sky as the threat he is.

Jackdaw's Cry, Sharp Hail, Clear Sky, abuse towards kids is barely mentioned. The fact Clear throttled baby Alder isn't even on her wiki page, as of 3/31/2024. Even Gray Wing is remembered as the sweetest and nicest boy ever, even though he's nasty to Thunder in several chapters.

It's like... Wind Runner has this tragic story about how nothing she ever did was ever enough to appeal to The Settlers. She dragged a woman back to a domestic abuser to appeal to them, sold out her morals and acted like the rogue who abandoned her, changed her name and sat through a proselytizing session, and she's always just a filthy foreigner to them.

On her own land. The home where she had been born and raised.

"NOTHING BUT A ROGUE WITH A ROGUE'S NAME."

But SHE'S the one who gets widespread fandom flack for being a bad parent. A bad MOM specifically. It feels like there's this WHOLE story about abuse bubbling under the surface of DOTC, between family, between settlers and natives, between leaders and subordinates. But it only gets applied to the Bad Mom. I can only cry.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Songs about roadkill are often accompanied by other acts of commemoration that give forest creatures something akin to a peaceful afterlife after a harrowing and lonely death. The remains are wrapped in fronds, carried to nearby patches of forest, buried in the soil, and covered with offerings of leaves, sago flour, nuts and shoots. People regularly visit and pay their respects to roadkill as they travel a landscape dotted with makeshift burial grounds. They stop to sing new songs and leave small gifts. Often, they bring to the dead the silent companionship of yet another victim recently salvaged from the dusty road. A crushed black-crested bulbul, yellow-feathered and lighter than a betelnut, is laid beside the mangled casque of a cassowary, its feathers and claws stripped and sold by plantation workers. A mature wild boar joins them in the ground, its hair matted with clots of blood and froth. Then Marind sing for the animals’ children and grandchildren, both already-gone and never-to-come. In doing so, they grieve not only the deaths they witness in the present, but also the deaths they anticipate will occur in the near and distant future as oil palm plantations continue to expand relentlessly across their native lands and forests.

[starberry-cupcake]

We are done with book 1, folks!!!

previously, in gideon the ninth

this happened

also, I was proven right about dulcinea (kind of)

just pointing that out again

final update of this book, it's gonna be a bit of a long one, folks (gideon, from inside my mind, where she is now living rent-free: "that's what she said!"):

we left off in the fight against not!dulcinea

yandere simulator twin w/inner chad was being used as a battery pad

regina george twin is at an unknown location

la gideon and my qp wife are fighting

harrowcita passed out

so basically not!dulcinea unlocks the big magnus archives entity monster harrowbean had previously locked

harrow wakes up to make a bone dome

for scale, this is the dome and mickey is gideon, but she's inside the thing

magnus archives junji ito monster keeps beating the dome from outside to crack it open like an egg

harrowbean starts to disintegrate from the inside because it's hard to make a bone spaceship earth and keep it up

camilla is accepting fate at this point, my poor beloved qp wife

but la gideon is not gonna give up

she's never gonna give you up

never gonna let you down

never gonna...

so harrow starts making a goodbye speech

reminding gideon to take care of the ninth and the barbie in the freezer

for the barbie reference, please go to this recap

but gideon is determined to come up with a plan

*very niche reference but "bien warrior" by miss bolivia plays in the background*

we all know this is a terrible idea because gideon's plans are always "punch really hard" and, in this case, that's a wild thing to do

but she does that

a metal version of that

she decides to, if I understand correctly (because description is scarce for various acceptable reasons) impale herself on the iron spikes inside the dome, to force Harrow to slurp her soul

so this is the situation

absolutely heartbreaking stuff

she's sort of ghost-placing herself behind Harrow to guide her using the sword

like this

and being all silly and gideon-esque and harrow is heartbroken and sad and it's all very very heartbreaking and I'm suffering

I'm ANGRY, OK????

IT'S NOT FAIR

I didn't even like gideon at the start

I complained about her for like a good first chunk of this book

I got mad at her for being dense and not following through with things

I got angry at her way of approaching situations and trusting people I didn't trust

I didn't totally vibe with her vibe most times

and then she made me like her and grow attached and NOW I HAVE TO SUFFER???

what's the point????? you make me like you and then you SACRIFICE YOURSELF?????

WHY??????

footage of me

anyway, it's fine, we're fine, everything's FINE

harrow and force-ghost gideon defeat not!dulcinea by aiming at the "issue" palmolive started

( @lady-harrowhark "paramedics" is actually a much better nickname, why didn't I think of that)

not!dulcinea crosses the veil, hopefully forever, good riddance bitch, you really did fuck everything up for petty reasons

harrow passes out

afterwards, harrow wakes up in like a sort of hospital situation or something like that

the space version of that

there's a man reading stuff in a tablet and a paper

a "flimsy", which I didn't know was something before this book (again, not a native English speaker, doing my best here)

the man has very specific eyes which I imagined in a way that I'm not sure is what it's supposed to be, but I'm gonna keep my version for now

this is the man of the hour, the emperor, many other titles I can't remember, the reason we all got together in the first place

harrow is upset, I'm upset, we're all upset

emperor sama over here can't do shit about it

according to him

which, what are you, the wizard of oz?

he's also like "forgive not!dulcinea, it was my bad" I WILL FORGIVE NOTHING

he says he can't bring gideon back without risking harrowbean as well

very limited for a man who claims to be god

who seems to have beef with a barbie in an ice cube

idk about this guy

so he tells harrow that he's gonna protect the ninth if she becomes lyctor because the universe is going to shit and he can't handle everything on his own anymore

you know what could have helped, my man? COMMUNICATION

WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING AT ANY GIVEN POINT

anyway, harrow is, at this point, tired and sad and grieving for everything so she says ok

according to this guy, the only other survivor is yandere simulator twin w/inner chad who is missing an arm

very convenient for him, who needs lyctors

an didn't, at any point, explain anything

but they "haven't been able" to find the bodies of: la gideon, my wife and regina george twin

everyone else was, at least, partially recovered, as far as I remember he said

they're probably gathering pieces of palmolive from every carpet and piece of wallpaper

I am reluctantly gonna miss that guy

so there is hope that I'm not a qp widow yet and that la gideon might come back in some capacity, which I MEAN, COME ON

also, I don't know if people would be making such a fuss about her arms if her body wasn't of consequence anymore

because I don't know much about these books but I did know that coming in, that and skull make up were my two clues

and we still don't know where she came from and if she's a demigod

and why her hair and eyes are that color

I don't know, I'm unsure about this

I hold hope

keeeeeeep hoooooolding ooooooon ♪

I am sure regina george twin will be back because people have been cryptic about her in replies to my updates

and I hope camilla comes back because right now I'm like a victorian wife, standing at a lighthouse, waiting for her sailor to come back from the depths of the sea, throwing messages in bottles

final extra notes:

THERE WAS A GLOSSARY ALL ALONG

I COULD HAVE BEEN LOOKING AT IT

maybe it was better this way, though, but WHY DIDN'T I LOOK PROPERLY

PALMOLIVE WOULD KILL ME FOR THIS OVERSIGHT

now I know what thanergy is, what thalergy is, what bone magic and flesh magic differ in, can you believe???

I can summon my own construct and everything

it's the only way to make friends as an adult, after all

there is a guide for the names and I have been pronouncing more things right than I thought because many of these are based in Latin and I'm a Spanish speaker so maybe if I had just pronounced them as they sounded to me I could have remembered more names

there is also a list of salseo/tea from judith

I kept making comments while reading them

she was acting like camilla was of no consequence from the start

ALSO PROTOZOA HAD KIDS?????? WHAT????

man, poor dude, rip this guy we never really knew

she did read chad for filth, which is correct

but they were off about absolutely everything else

important ending commentary of the book:

as an ending side note

I'm going to just point this out, with kindness and utmost respect

like, much love and respect and warm regards

don't kill me for this

as an editor

I am enraged with the tagline they have in the cover of this book, now that I've finished it

the quote that's in the cover about lesbian necromancers in a victorian mansion in space and whatnot

it sells the book incredibly short and also tells you things you shouldn't be told because a) they aren't as clear cut as they make them out to be and b) you should be told none of that entering this book

best experience is to know absolutely nothing

like gideon

and since I have an ebook, I see that quote more prominently than any blurb

it reads like the short summary of a fic and it doesn't do it justice one bit

now that I've finished the book, I think this post was about it and I didn't know at the time, because that's fair

this book is very difficult to categorize because it seems to be using a lot of different references and mixing them together in a very personal and unique way to the author

but, because of that, it's a very unique take on different things

I think it stands very aligned with both core classics and more contemporary foundations, at the same time

and the narrative point of view is a bit at-odds with the complexity of the lore, which makes it a very brave first part of a bigger thing for an author to throw out there

and it works, as it is

it actually works well like that

however, as difficult as it can be to explain it, that tagline really flattens it to something that I don't think favors how much more of that it is???

I don't know, that's just my personal & professional opinion, but anyway

I need to go find the next one

you haven't seen the last of me!!!!!

[violettduchess]

A/N: It's been a long haul but it's finally done! Thank you to @lorei-writes for all the encouragement and advice and for helping me take a step into an area of fanfic I never really considered exploring before!

OC Captain Leyla Quinn x Silvio Ricci

Their first meeting

WC: 4k

The sight of sunlight glistening off the waters of the bay never fails to bring Leyla a sense of calm. The brightness dancing along the wavering surface feels like it echoes through her bones, steadying and strengthening her, as real and solid as the wooden dock beneath her boots or the hand that suddenly clamps down on her shoulder.

What the….

With a sharp intake of air, she turns to find Kai, her trusted Quartermaster, has joined her on the pier. The sunlight winks off his bald head and the gold hoop in his ear. Leyla isn’t a short woman but next to Kai, anyone would feel small. He reminds her of the giant Oak trees found in the forests of his native Obsidian: tall, broad, imposing. He gestures with one muscular arm and the orange kraken tattooed from wrist to elbow undulates with the movement.

“Shipwright says repairs will be done by tomorrow.”

Siren’s Call, her ship, took some minor damage before reaching the Tourmaline port thanks to a particularly nasty storm that harrowed them on the last day of their journey. She knew the damage was minimal but keeping the ship in tip-top shape was one of Leyla’s biggest concerns. She had seen firsthand what could happen when a captain became lackadaisical with the care of their ship and when she had become Siren’s Call’s owner, she vowed to never be so complacent.

She shifts her sky-blue gaze over to where the ship is docked. Several figures can be seen scurrying around the deck. She recognizes several members of her crew and grins slowly when she notices Amani, her boatswain, is among them. 

“Amani's got a handle on things, I’m sure.” Fiery Amani from the mystical land of Tanzanite with her explosion of lilac curls and stormy gray eyes sometimes scares Leyla with how well she knows Siren’s Call, almost as if she and the ship share a mind and a soul. She wouldn’t let them get away with so much as an off-center nail.

Kai’s laughter greets her ears like a roll of jolly thunder. “She’s probably the reason they’re almost done, the little terror.”

“Captain Quinn!”

Leyla and Kai both turn at the same time to see a grizzled man with a thick white beard and skin like aged leather approaching, his arms held out wide in jubilant greeting.

“Rumford, you old pirate!” Leyla’s voice is warm with affection as she claps the old man on the back heartily. Kai’s large hand grips his arm in greeting, his smile also welcoming.

The older man’s green eyes twinkle like sea glass as he nods towards the docks. “Ship’s lookin’ good, Captain. I heard ‘bout your troubles with the storm but it seems Lady Luck still favors ya.”

Leyla throws the dark waves of her hair over her shoulder as she glances at her ship and then back to Rumford who is now leaning against one of the nearby wooden pillars.

“Ah, but that's less to do with luck and more to do with the skill of my crew.” Her voice swells with pride. Her crew is her family and it's obvious to anyone who speaks to her how fiercely she treasures them.

Rumford scratches at the edges of his worn blue bandana, shrugging one bony shoulder. “Fair enough, lass, fair enough. Lord knows ya got one of the best…” He pauses, eyes bright as he remembers something and he motions for her and Kai to come closer. “I do have a bit of interestin’ news for ya both.”

Kai can never resist gossip and immediately moves a step closer. Leyla, a bit more skeptical, crosses her arms slowly and grins. 

“Go on then, old timer.”

Rumford clears his throat. “The storm wasn’t the only thing makin’ waves around here." He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "The Red Queen herself was around these parts not several days ago.”

Leyla’s dark brows rise. “You don’t say.”

He nods sagely. “Aye. Ya see, a slave ship carryin’ cargo from the Peridot Islands was sunk not that far from here. One lone crew member survived and he was scared shitless. Claimed the ship moved silent as a ghost and the attack was so brutal it was over in a matter of seconds. All the captives disappeared. No other crew members survived.” Rumford’s voice is a loud, stage whisper. “Folks say that ship and her Captain are cursed but I say, they’re doin’ the angels work, takin’ out scum like that.” He punctuates his words by spitting on the dock. 

He rambles on for a few more minutes before excusing himself with a hiccup and a wave. Leyla watches him amble back towards the ramshackle wooden buildings that make up the portside town.

“I told you one had gotten away.” Her voice is low as she watches Rumford’s frame grow smaller with distance.

Kai crosses his burly arms. “It was dark. He wouldn’t have seen much. Besides.” He turns, mouth tilting in a grin. “That’s what we wear the fancy red scarves for.”

She snorts, biting back a laugh. Kai hated the red silk scarves they all wore on the bottom halves of their faces when they were on The Crimson Scorn. He knew they had to protect their identities. Some of the ships they had taken down belonged to powerful people, black market merchants or corrupt government officials who would love to find the Red Queen and her crew and send them to a watery grave.

“We should be hearing from Morganite in a few days then.” The small country of Morganite was where they had sent those they freed. A contact was waiting for them there and would help relocate all those who had originally been heading for the torment of slavery. 

Kai nods. “I’ll let you know the minute I do.” A seagull cuts a dark figure across the clear sky, its loud call directing their attention towards a ship in the distance, heading towards the port. Even from far away, every part of it screams wealth, from its many billowing white sails to the rich color of its wood.

Leyla squints and then shakes her head. Her disdain for the fancy ship radiates off her like heat waves and Kai laughs, patting his captain on the shoulder.

“C’mon. There’s a pint in The Loaded Cannon with your name on it.”

She watches the gaudy merchant ship for another moment, something uneasy fluttering in the pit of her stomach. A feeling that she can’t quite pinpoint. Like that ship is a harbinger of some kind. But of what....she doesn't know.

“Captain?” Kai is looking down at her with concern in his hazel eyes.

Leyla clears her throat, turning on the heel of her black boot.

“Let’s go. We got some celebrating to do.”

The Loaded Cannon isn’t much, but it has warm food, strong ale and good service which is more than one can say for many seaside taverns. As the sun sinks, painting the sky in dramatic pink and orange, Captain Leyla Quinn is squinting, one blue eye focused with blazing intensity on the crude chalk outline of a person against the far wall of the tavern. Those who are seated nearby or leaning against tables watch, slanted forward in anticipation but not daring to make a sound.

Right……there……

The small dagger leaves her hand, flying with a precision that belies the amount of drink she has consumed already. It strikes the wall right where the painted man’s heart would be with a loud thunk. The grizzled seafarers cheer, sloshing their ale as they raise their mugs in a toast. Leyla whoops with joy, throwing her arm up in celebration before reaching for her own tankard and taking a long, deep pull.

“And that’s how you do it, folks!” Her eyes shine as she sets down her mug, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and laughing at a joke one of the craggy patrons makes about never messing with Captain Quinn.

“You’re good."

A voice cuts through the crowd and she turns, her radiant exuberance slowly shifting from smile to frown as a stranger approaches. In the hush that falls over the tavern, she can hear the sound of his ornate clothing jangling before he even steps into the hazy orange light of the overhead lantern.

Even in the dim room his blue eyes gleam like molten sapphire.

“But I’m better.”

Heat swarms inside her veins, an immediate buzzing that has her straightening her shoulders, lifting her chin as he comes fully into view. He is staggeringly handsome with pale hair the color of moonlight and a face made to be sculpted in marble. His body is long and lean, lines that beg the eye to follow them. His lips are quirked in a smile painted in equal shades arrogance and confidence. A smile that has her suck in a breath and there it sticks, right in her chest, as she finds herself locked into that brilliant gaze.

She could drown in all that blue, sink into it like a wrecked ship into the hungry ocean, all without putting up a fight.

Attraction has unexpectedly roared like a beast unearthed, sinking its claws into her heart and stomach, driving heat across her skin.

But she is also very aware of her surroundings, of the many gazes jumping with bright interest between her and this tall stranger with golden jewelry that drinks in the ochre light.

Fighting the shocking tidal wave of sudden desire he has unleashed, she slips into a pose of casual interest, her head tilted as she regards him, hoping in the back of her mind that she has managed to look mildly intrigued.

“Aren’t we sure of ourselves,” she says loudly, lifting her mug of ale and taking a sip, grateful for the cool rush of liquid. Her eyes never leave the stranger and he seems amused, head cocked to one side, waiting to see what she’ll do.

She sets down her tankard, turning to face him fully. “You have a very loud bark, sea dog. And it’s my experience that dogs that yap the loudest are the least dangerous.”

A collective chuckle rolls through the patrons as they continue watching the exchange. It gives Leyla a boost of confidence as she winks at the sailor seated just to her right, a gesture of comradery and conspiracy. 

The stranger grins slowly, placing a hand on his hip.

“Brave enough to make a bet of it, lady?”

Leyla scoffs. “I don’t make bets with strangers.”

He takes a step closer, looking at her as if she is the only person in the whole tavern.

“We ain't strangers. We’ve been talkin’ for at least a minute.”

“You can take him!”, one of the men calls from the back and the patrons all nod, yelling their support, some banging their mugs on the scarred wooden tables.

Leyla glances around, bolstered by the sight of so many supportive grins, then turns back to the pale-haired man. Alright then. This may be a way to temper some of the heat tornadoing through her. Focus that energy on competition.

“What’s your bet?”

He reaches up, rubbing his chin as if in thought. She can’t help but notice his hands. What a paradox they seem to be. He has the calloused palms of a sailor but with long, elegant fingers bedecked in a variety of expensive rings.

“One throw. Whoever gets closest to the center of the heart, wins. When I win….” There’s a pause as he allows himself the liberty of drinking in the sight of her, from her knee-high black boots to the ends of her wavy ebon hair. “.....you kiss me.”

The patrons in the tavern roar, some with protective annoyance, others with astounded delight. There are an equal number of “Now wait a minutes” mixed in with “He’s got guts, I tell ya.”

That tornado she was hoping to temper rips through her at the thought.

Goddamn it.

Leyla holds up her hand to quiet the room, ignoring the wild hammering of her heart and keeping her breathing as even as possible. However confident this man is, she knows her own skill with a dagger.

“And when I win….” She pauses, imitating the way he looked at her a moment before, then smiles slowly. “I get that fancy sword of yours.”

His hand automatically comes up the sword at his hip, to touch the beautiful gold hilt inlaid with elegant azure gemstones. She’s struck a nerve, picking something that obviously holds value to him. Their gazes meet and lock, like the antlers of stags locked in combat.

“It’s a bet.” His voice is light, easygoing but she notices the way his hand is still possessively wrapped around the hilt of his sword. “Ladies first.”

She reaches down, slipping her fingers into the inside of her boot and removes the dagger she has carried with her ever since her first journey across the sea. She has wielded it a thousand times, knows its heft, its dynamics, its length. She could throw it with her eyes bound and it would hit its mark.

The patrons hold their breath. Never has she experienced the tavern as quiet as it is now. She turns, facing the chalky outline of the man on the wooden wall.

The only sign of nervousness is the slight press of her lips, the thin line they form as she breathes in deeply.

Once.

Twice.

And then she throws. The dagger sails from her hand as sure and steady an arrow from Diana’s bow where it lands with a satisfying thunk right where the man’s heart would be. The tavern erupts into cheers and she feels a wave of pure relief wash over her as she steps aside, unable to keep from grinning. 

There’s no way–

He moves with the litheness of a predator, elegance and unbelievable speed blending together in the extension of his arm as his jeweled dagger flies towards the outline. There is another thunk, followed by the hollow thud of Leyla’s dagger as it is dislodged from the wall and falls in a dramatic swoon to the dusty floorboards. In its place, the silver and sapphire dagger gleams victorious.

The tavern erupts again, this time louder than before. It sounds like one loud roar as patrons jump up, some cheering, some in shock, some even clapping this stranger in his elegant clothing on the shoulder.

Well, fuck. 

He passes her, going to retrieve the daggers and she’s hit with the smell of sea salt and something else, something tangy and expensive. Her heart thunders in her chest as the crowd around her calls out teasing words and praise for them both.

The stranger flashes her a smile, all white teeth and triumph, as he holds out her dagger to her, hilt first.

“Told ya,” he says in a low, infuriatingly attractive whisper.

She takes the dagger from him with a loud exhale. She can’t help but notice the eager look on many of the patron’s faces. After all, she did agree to kiss him if she lost….

“Not here,” she snaps, turning on her boot heel and marching straight out of the tavern and into the cool night air. Losing has temporarily doused some of the heat his presence had ignited in her.

Maybe he won’t follow her. 

He follows her.

And she has to admit to herself….she’s not sorry.

When she reaches her destination, he barks out a laugh. She’s literally marched across the street, stopping on the wooden portico of the boarding house directly across from the tavern. The raucous sounds of the patrons within The Loaded Cannon are still audible as they float along on the cool sea breeze.

“Too good for a room in the tavern?” 

Now they are ostensibly alone, standing in the dim light of the single lantern hanging next to the wooden sign of the boarding house. She thought he was handsome before but now, up close and away from other people, his presence swallows everything else around her, as strong as the unyielding pull of the bright moon on the tide. Has she ever, ever been so immediately drawn to a person like this? 

“I like my privacy.” The word hangs in the air between them, sparkling like a gemstone, smooth as silk. 

He takes a step towards her and for the first time, she can see the effect she is having on him. His eyes are dark as the sea at midnight, his body radiating an electric tension as he draws closer to her.

So it's not just her. He feels it too.

“Ya lost, sea witch. Time to pay up.”

Something inside Leyla bursts. 

Like a sea anemone opening its explosively bright body to the current. 

Like cannon fire. 

Like lust.

She reaches out, grabbing him by the wrist, feeling the softness of his white silk tunic under her palm and pulls him to her, stretching up to press her mouth to his.

Oh……

……..oh…….

………………fuck.

He tastes sweet as rose liquor and twice as potent. She wraps her arms around him, immediately wanting to get closer, drinking him in like he might disappear at any second as something ferocious is let loose. Something wild that winds itself around them. Something blistering. Something that feels like vague danger and crystal-clear want. Those long fingers are curling themselves into her black hair, wearing it like his golden rings. He pulls slightly to shift her head, giving him a better position to plunder the heat of her mouth, to swallow every gasp she makes. And when she groans, he yanks her even closer, like he can’t take it, and she swears she can feel his heart banging like drumfire in his chest.

A loud whistling breaks through the feverish haze and she sees several sailors grinning as they exit the tavern, having spotted them wrapped in each other’s arms.

“Fuck,” she murmurs as the rowdy, ale-drunk group continues with playful catcalls and whistles. Drawing a deep breath, she tilts her head to meet his gaze straight on. “Let’s go to my room.” She starts to reach for his hand but then stops. “I mean….if you want to.” Maybe he doesn’t want to go any further. She shouldn’t assume–

He grins and the sight of it has her heart resume beating at breakneck speed.

“If ya think my answer is gonna be anything except ‘yes, immediately’--” He’s cut off by her yanking him through the doors of the boarding house, hand now held confidently and very firmly in hers.

She kisses not with lips and tongue, but with fire. 

Silvio didn’t see her when he walked into The Loaded Cannon. He heard her. A laugh that broke through the smoky din like a burst of sunlight through faded gray clouds. It immediately turned his head, diverting him from his mission to see what he could find out about the captain he would be meeting with tomorrow concerning his trip to Pyrite.

That laughter wound its way through the air, danced over the rumble of low voices, the drunken cheers, the mumbles until he found its source. She was standing, shoulders back, stance wide, wavy hair the color of a moonless midnight sky falling in waves past her shoulders, and a grin so cocky he felt his own lips curving upwards in response. She was jerking her thumb towards the wall where a dagger was embedded within the outline of a person, defying anyone to deny what skill a throw like that would take.

She wasn’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. There wasn’t any physical feature that stood out as extraordinary. And yet here he was, unable to tear his gaze away from her. He watched as she lifted her tankard, turning in a way that he got a good look at the pale blue of her eyes, the cloudless sky at midday, and he noticed the small black beauty mark at the corner of her left eye. His fingers curled with the sudden, inexplicable urge to touch it.

“And that’s how you do it, folks!” Her voice surprised him. Deeper than he expected, huskier than he would have imagined. He wanted to hear more.

And then he was on his feet, walking towards her.

“You’re good……but I’m better.”

And those five words lead him to this moment, right now. To this woman who has invaded every one of his senses with lightning speed, her fingers brazenly roaming through his hair as she leaves a trail of kisses across his bare shoulder like droplets of lava. A tornado of hunger tears its way through his body, tangling his veins and burning up any thoughts other than how much he wants her, this blue-eyed siren who smells like orange blossoms and feels like heaven under his palms.

Her name…..it doesn’t matter. Who needs something so unimportant? His mouth has other things to do. Like an unspoken agreement, neither one of them has said a word since stumbling into her room. The seconds are for tasting as much of the other as they can, as quickly as they can. They fall in tandem onto the bed, never letting go. Two people drowning and grasping each other as they sink down into the storm of need. 

Has he ever been so lost, so completely immersed in another person like this? Has he ever felt so frantic from just a touch, a sigh?

And then she wraps her arms around his shoulders, her legs around his waist and there is room for nothing else in his mind. Just her. And he plans to enjoy every second he has, swimming in this tempestuous sea of lust and longing, until the dawn kisses the night and the sky turns pale with morning’s glow.

Leyla’s eyes open just as the last blush of peach is fading from the clouds and the sun continues its climb through the morning sky. Her body feels languid with the memory of the night, heavy with satisfaction. She stretches with a slow yawn, running a hand over the side of her neck and down the tender slope to her shoulder, an expanse of skin peppered with the rosy echoes of a stranger's passionate kisses. Her hips are marked by the strong grip of his nimble fingers. Ah, but it can't be just her. Oh, no. His body must carry the same evidence of their night together. She remembers well the feel of his muscular back under her fingernails, the softness of his earlobe between her teeth.

A shiver runs through her at the thought. One of the most memorable nights of her life and she doesn’t even know his name.

She turns towards the nightstand with the intention of checking the time on her pocket watch and freezes.

There, leaning against the wooden night table, is his sword. A parting gift. A thank you.

Her grin rivals the brightening sky.

“Had a good night, did you?” Kai glances at his captain as they head down the street towards the Merchant’s Guild, one of the better constructed and larger buildings in the entire town.

Leyla adjusts her fitted long coat. It is a deep royal blue and decorated with gold filigree, the one she always wears when she needs to make a strong impression. Her blouse is white and crisp and a black leather sword baldric is strapped across her body. And hanging at her side is the sword, its golden handle and sapphire stones winking cheerily in the sunlight.

“That is for me to know. And you to never ask about again.” But she knows he can read her like a seafarer can the stars. He notices the extra bounce in her step, the white silk scarf tied strategically around her neck, the small, secretive smile that hasn’t left her lips since he picked her up.

He laughs as they approach the building, the sound buoyant and warm.

“Alright, alright. Let’s focus on the task at hand then. Remind me who exactly set up this meeting?”

She pauses at the foot of the stairs that lead up to the wide, ornately carved double doors. 

“An emissary from Benitoite has been sniffing around different port towns. Some prince is looking for a crew who knows these waters. Apparently he’s been searching for a captain willing to take him through Blackwater Strait. He’s got cargo that needs to be delivered to Pyrite.”

Kai nods in recollection, now remembering the first time she told him this story. “I only know one captain who is crazy enough to do that.” 

They share a grin and Leyla adjusts the blue velvet tricorn hat on her head, fingers brushing against the elegant white feather it boasts. “Should be easy money.”

They walk in step with each other through the heavy double doors and are immediately met by a slender man with dark curls and glasses. He's dressed in the elegant clothing of a royal adjutant.

“Ahh Captain Quinn, right this way.” He glances at her and then up up up at Kai nervously before leading them down the hallway and through another set of doors that open into a large, airy meeting room.

Kai steps in confidently but for the second time that morning, Leyla freezes.

The man waiting by the window, the one dressed in ornate finery, absurdly trimmed with white and black fur. The one whose golden jewelry jangles as he turns to face them. The one with pale hair the color of moonlight and a face made to be sculpted in marble.

“Prince Silvio of Benitoite,” the aide says formally.

It can’t be……

He’s the prince?

“Captain Leyla Quinn, of the Siren’s Call.”

Silvio’s shocked expression is a mirror of her own.

She’s the captain?

The same word leaves both their lips, at the same time.

“Fuck.”

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Note: If you do not want to be tagged in OC fics, please DM me and let me know!

[the-book-ferret]

Summer and her family always spend relaxed summers in Alberta, Canada, on the reservation where her mom’s family lives. But this year is turning out to be an eye-opening one. First, Summer has begun to have vivid dreams in which she’s running away from one of the many real-life residential schools that tore Native children from their families and tried to erase their Native identities. Not long after that, she learns that unmarked children’s graves have been discovered at the school her grandpa attended as a child. Now more folks are speaking up about their harrowing experiences at these places, including her grandfather. Summer cherishes her heritage and is heartbroken about all her grandfather was forced to give up and miss out on. When the town holds a rally, she’s proud to take part to acknowledge the painful past and speak of her hopes for the future, and anxious to find someone who can fill her in on the source of her unsettling dreams.

[derseprinceoftbd]

"Princess, none of us here speaks crazy lady."

That is *objectively* Harrow's native tongue.

[the-whatcherof-89]

Tangotek aka Mr Decked out the tangler.

CR 20 N Humanoid Native Outsider

XP 307,200 (if used as npc for encounter)Ifrit (Sun Soul) Sorcerer 20 (Cross-blooded: Harrow-Mechanical)

Neutral Medium humanoid Init +4; Senses Perception +23

AC 32, touch26, flat-footed28 (+4Dex, +6Armor, +6Natural, +5Deflect) HP 175 (20d6+100)

Fort +15, Ref +15, Will +26

Speed 30 ft. Melee Flaming scimitar+13 +1d6 fire Ranged Light Crossbow+16 1d8+2

Racial Native outsider, Darkvision 60ft, Fire in the blood, Fire resistance 5, Sun metal 1/day.

Traits Fiery gaze, overprotective.

Class features Eschew materials, Bloodline powers(Launch gears, See it coming, Invoke the harrow, Harrowed home, Clockwork masterpiece), Bloodline arcana, Bonus feats: Toughness, Iron guts, Harrower, Skill focus Engineering, Craft wondrous times, Extend spells), Bonus spells: Analyze device, Shocking grasp, Harrowing, Shadow conjuration, Rapid repair, Repulsion, Greater Harrowing, Moment of prescience, Weird).

Spellcasting CL20 DC21 spells per day 9/9/9/8/8/8/8/7/7 

Spells known:

9-Wish, Time stop, Meteor swarm.

8-Discern location, Polymorph any object, Sun burst.

7-Limited wish, Symbol of stunning, Spell turning.

6-Dispel magic (Greater), Geas/quest, Anti-magic field.

5-Secret chest, Telekinesis, Cloudkill, Teleport, Fabricate.

4-Wall of fire, Superior invisibility, Stoneskin, Dimension door.

3-Fly, Dispel magic, Haste, Fireball, Phantom mount .

2-Glitterdust, See invisibility, Fog cloud, Resist energy, Molten orb.

1-Shield, Mage armor, Magic missile, Burning hands, Grease.

0-Read magic, Detect magic, Mage hand, Mending, Acid splash, Resistance, Flare, Prestidigitation.

Str 14Dex 18 Con 18 Int 14 Wis 10 Cha 32

Base Atk +10/5; CMB +12; CMD +16

Feats Quicken spells, Strong personality, Eldritch heritage(Mechanical emphaty), Improved Eldritch heritage(The rebuild), Greater eldritch heritage(Warmachine).

Skills Appraise+7, Bluff+16, Craft(Metal and stone)+15, Disable device+9, Fly+9, Intimidate+16, Knowledge (Arcana)+15, (History)+7, (Engineering)+15, Profession(Architect)+13, Perception+13, Spellcraft+15, Use magic device +24. 

Languages Common, Ignan, Draconic.

Combat gear Ampoule of flash blood, Staff of metals[allows the use of the following spells: Major creation(1 charge only metal objects), Wall of iron(1Charge), Wand of cure critical wounds, Rod of absorption, Rod of empower metamagic, Ghost touch light crossbow+1, 50+1 seeking Bolts, Flaming scimitar+1, Shoes of the firewalker, Bracers of armor+6, Trapspringer’s gloves, Crimson robes  of Tek(Glamered robe of the Arcane heritage-Harrowed combined with Sorcerer’s robes), Headband of alluring charisma+6, Eyes of the eagle, Ring of protection+5, Belt of physical might+4 (Con Dex), Ioun stones (Scarlet blue and blue sphere, Incandescent blue sphere), Ring of spell knowledge IV(Sculpt stone), Pearl of power III, Tome of leadership and influence+4 (used), Bag of holding (type I), Potions: (2)Cure critical wounds, (2)Gaseous form, (2)Haste, (2)Displacement, Fly(2), Alchemist kit, Sorcerer’s kit, Spell components worth 2000gp, Harrow deck, 442gp. 

Background Cordial, polite, vibrant and cheerful the red eyed Tangotek is one of the many inhabitants of the land of hermits where many buildings are made, defying the very laws of physics reaching an unseen level of wonder. Tango is famous especially for the creations of various games made to entertain the various hermits(sometimes in hilarious ways) and various iron farms that support the local economy. Appreciated and used by all, once you enter the circle of friends of Tango it is certain that he will protect you fiercely like a male alpha lion defends his pride. It was one day like the others and Tango was supervising his creation called Decked out to see if all the mechanical parts were in working order. He was about to finish when he noticed an area that wasn’t there before. “When- when did i make this? Did i make this? He peeked inside to find a strange hallway with many dioramas displaying different miniature buildings that he made in the past and a very large iron door at the end. “I didn't make this. Grian? Is this yours? Are you trolling me?” As he was looking around someone spoke to him: “I tried your game, very inspiring. Do you want to try mine?” Tango looked around but saw no one, he was alone. “Where are you? Did you build this? You are not Grian, aren’t you?” The voice smirked “No, but he accepted my challenge, as well as the others… ALL OF THEM.” Tango suddenly became worried: “What did you do?!” His yelling was filled with frustration. “Why don’t you find out? Come in.” The large iron door opened, slightly. Tango approached cautiously but when he placed his hand on the handle the world around him shifted and found himself in another room full of traps with new equipments on him: spikes from the ceiling, buzzsaws, wall flamethrowers and so on. “The rules are simple: to whoever finds me first i will realize that person most deep wish. Ready? Set… GO!” Tango, still bamboozled took a deep breath: “It’s READY… SET… NINER! You…!” Realizing that the voice wasn’t there anymore, he just clenched his teeth and pushed forward.

[lullabyes22-blog]

So, unexpected magic happened and Silko found himself in his young body for exactly a month (the same time when he and Vander were young and hot men). At the same time, only the body changed - everything else remained the same.

How will Jinx, Sevika, Mel and the entire Silko gang react to the fact that some strange young guy, very similar to him, is now sitting in the place of their boss? (well, Sevika is more like “why the hell are you young again”)

(sorry for my English, it's not my native language)

On Silco's part, he'd be confounded at first. After all, he's learnt to live with his scars, and has taken the sloughing off of his 'softer' self as a necessary metamorphosis into becoming what he was truly meant to be.

And yet there's no denying certain perks. The restoration of a youthful elasticity to his mind and body. No Shimmer shots to his left eye. A countenance that doesn't make strangers freeze in shock or do disgusted double takes.

To say nothing of how much energy he's suddenly brimming with.

Who needs Shimmer, he thinks wryly, when you've got youth?

***

As for the rest of the party:

Confusion. Disbelief. Alarm.

Sevika would be torn between irritation and nostalgia. Nostalgia, because she forgot what a lovely effect his two ordinary eyes had, and how well they suited the rest of his unscarred face. Irritation, because he's taken to roof-hopping as a mode of travel, the way he used to do as a young man, and she's forgotten that he was basically a rubberized hellfiend in terms of stamina and flexibility.

To say nothing of the absolute harrowing circus of exhaustion this bodes for the bedroom.

The crew are taken off-guard by how much more hands-on the Boss is in his younger body. He seems to have excess energy in need of burning every hour, and wants to patrol every inch of the terrain on foot. Downside is that he's also x100 times more demanding and short-tempered, because being in the trenches means noticing a thousand little details that are not to his exact specifications.

Older Silco is more mellow and focused on the long game. A necessity as he, a) lacks the energy to sweat the small stuff - and b) has the wisdom to let it slide and let his enemies dig their own graves.

Mel is... intrigued. She'll try to deny it, but his younger self is rather fetching in a sharply delicate way. Also now they're physically the same age, so yay c:

A million Sumpside Waltzes are on the agenda.

The only one not thrilled by this change - this downgrade - is Jinx.

Where did her textured and crinkly Silly go? :c

Why does his voice sound different? :'c

Why is he wearing skanky leather pants? :''c

Why is he hanging in the rafters with her? :'''c

"YOU'RE NOT SILLY GO AWAY GO AWAY GOAWAY!"

She will steer clear until his Old Man-ness resurfaces - at which point he will be pounced upon and bestowed with a hundred kisses and cuddles.

"Silly - you used to make such awful faces! And you were an eyeroller! I like your face much better now!"

XOXO

[sleepie-birdie]

Monsieur Knight

Rating: Gen Summary: A dashing knight dares to save the trapped princess from the clutches of a vile dragon.

As I, the illustrious and indomitable Monsieur Filibert the Magnificent rode forth upon my noble steed, Dame Blanc, the very earth trembled beneath the weight of my valor as sand marked my travels in its golden glow.  Its bright hue was almost as valiant as my task. What is my mission, you ask? To liberate the fair Princess Furina from the clutches of a fearsome dragon that had plagued the land for centuries, of course! Who else but I, the epitome of chivalry and gallantry, the most dashing in the land could undertake such a perilous quest and win the heart of the fair maiden? A maiden I have seen from afar months ago. With her delicate hand pressed against her delicate brow, she heaved a dainty sigh at her plight. I knew then what I must do. A woman so beautiful, so kind, that was worthy to stand next to someone such as me. 

With my sword in hand and the sun beating upon my broad manly back, I the esteemed and unrivaled Monsieur Filibert the Unyielding, ventured forth into the quaint little town on the outskirts of the kingdom for Fontaine I could feel the weight of their gazes upon me as I strut to town. Oh yes, the good people of this hamlet had no doubt heard of my valiant quest to vanquish the dragon and rescue the fair Princess Furina. Yet, instead of the admiration and awe I had grown accustomed to, I was met with... incredulity. Nay, it could not be! Perhaps these natives know not the language on my tongue? For why else would they shake their head when I divulge to them my noble calling? Or perhaps this is their earnest attempt to save me from what they assume is my untimely demise.

These sweet citizens need not fear, for I am the best there is. The top of my rotation, the titled knight crowned by the gods themselves! A mere dragon will not kill me. No. It is his fate to die! Undeterred by the skeptical glances and murmurs that followed in my wake, I strode through the cobblestone streets with all the confidence befitting a knight of my caliber. "Fear not, good people!" I proclaimed, my voice ringing out like a lion’s roar. "For I, Knight Filibert the Fearless shall rid your lands of the dreaded dragon that plagues you and your beautiful princess!" But instead of cheers and applause, all I received were raised eyebrows and exchanged glances. Puzzled, I forged ahead, convinced that my noble cause would surely win over the hearts of these simple folk. Their poor hearts must have been clouded by their worry.

As I approached the local stall, I was met with a sight that nearly gave me pause. The innkeeper, a burly fellow with a bushy beard, regarded me with a mixture of amusement and concern. "Sir Knight," he said, his tone laced with a hint of skepticism, "are you quite sure about this... mission of yours?"

"Of course, good sir! Fret not for my safety." I replied, clapping him on the back with a hearty thud. "Why, it is my sworn duty to protect the kingdom and its fair maidens from all manner of perilous beasts!"

The storekeeper exchanged a knowing glance with his wife, who shook her head in disbelief. "Very well, Sir Knight," he said with a shrug, "but I must warn you, no one has ever returned from the dragon's tower without a harrowing tale to share." 

These sweet souls! “No creature, no matter how fearsome, shall stand in the way of my quest!”

“It’s not the dragon you need to fear.” The man’s wife muttered. My brow rose.

“Ah, are there perhaps traps?” I was trained to best them!

“Ye can say something like that.”

“Then no trap shall best me. For I have labored intensively beneath the tutelage of Archduke Barthmeow the Excellent, my skill and agility know no bounds. For I am the great wind.”

With a hearty chuckle, I bid adieu to the skeptical couple, their doubts no match for the radiance of my noble spirit. With every stride of my steed and every glint of my armor, I forged ahead, my heart brimming with determination and my head held so high I feared it might scrape the sky! For I, the one and only Sir Filibert, the Unwavering had a dragon to tickle and a princess to rescue, and not even the wildest doubts of a few misguided peasants could dampen my fiery resolve!

And so, before long, my trusty mount had whisked me away to the dark and eerie forest of Erryines. Why, you might ask? Because nestled within its twisted embrace lay the very tower where our fair maiden was imprisoned! The dastardly dragon had sequestered the princess by a lake, no doubt hoping to keep her from the world's gaze. But fear not, for where others saw darkness, I saw the opportunity for valor! As I ventured deeper into the forest, the dappled sunlight filtering through the emerald canopy above, I couldn't help but marvel at the tranquility that surrounded me. The gentle rustle of leaves, the melodic chirping of birds - surely, these woodland creatures recognized the presence of a true hero in their midst and bowed to my unmatched prowess.

At long last, I reached the edge of the lake, the calm waters mirroring the azure sky above. There, standing tall and foreboding against the horizon, was the dragon's tower. Its ancient stones seemed to groan with malice, warning any foolish enough to approach. But I, Sir Filibert the Unflinching, was not one to heed warnings - for my courage was a blazing fire that consumed all doubt in its path! With a steely glint in my eye and Dame Blanc snorting with determination beneath me, I urged her forward toward the tower.

As we drew nearer, a sudden movement caught my eye - a glimmer of white scales and a glow of blue mane. It was the dragon! It emerged from the shadows of the tower, its massive form casting a daunting shadow over the landscape. But I did not falter. With a swift flourish of my sword, I called out to the beast in a voice that rang out like thunder.

"FOUL MONSTER! I demand you release your maiden captive and face me like a man!”

The beast eyed me, its amethyst eyes glowed with malice.

“Begone human, there is no maiden that needs saving here.” It huffed at me a watery plume which I dodged with utmost grace.

“Wretched creature. I believe not your utter lies.” The beast dared snort at me.

Undeterred by the dragon's dismissive attitude, I squared my shoulders and raised my sword high, the light glinting off its finely honed blade.

"I care not for your trickery, foul, ugly, beast! For I have seen the tears of the fair Princess Furina and heard her cries for freedom. It is I, Sir Filibert the Valiant, who shall vanquish you and set her free and win her hand!"

The dragon let out a low rumble, its eyes narrowing in an icy glare that sent shivers down my spine. But I stood my ground, unwavering in my resolve to rescue the princess and bring justice to this cursed land.

Just as the tension between us reached its peak, a melodious voice rang out from the top of the tower. All eyes turned to behold the sight of Princess Furina herself, her pale hair cascading like a waterfall down her svelte form.

"Cease this senseless quarrel at once!" she commanded, her voice laced with authority. She disappeared from my sight for a mere moment but as she reemerged from the tower of stone, she rushed to my arms in eagerness! Yet propriety won as she skidded to a stop, her gaze burned me with its intensity.

“How dare you call my dragon a foul, ugly, beast! His name is Neuvillette and you will leave us alone.” I was aghast! The princess had been bewitched by this sinful creature.

“But princess! He is a beast!”

“He is my friend !” What kind of sorcery is this?! I raised my sword as the dragon huffed.

"Put your sword away, Sir Knight," Princess Furina commanded, her eyes flashing with fierce determination. But I did not allow myself to be swayed by her false and honeyed words. I had to find a way to sway the creature’s hold on her.

“But how can he be a friend! This senseless creature with no thoughts. Think my lady, would a friend kidnap you and —”

I could only gasp as the princess raised her dainty feet and pressed them to the ground. Her sacred ankles!

“I insist that you stop your insolent mouth right this instant. I do not stand for any slander against Neuvillette and he did not kidnap me. I walked here.” How strong was this hold on her mind? My heart ached for her as I raised my sword.

“Fret not dear maiden, this curse on your mind will cease once he is slain. It is my honor-bound duty to slay this wretched creature.” My words seemed to have an effect as a shadow crossed the pale-haired princess's visage.

“Then you must go through me if you want to hurt Neuvillette.”

The dragon in its arrogance did not deign to look at me! Instead, it turned towards the princess and opened its giant maw. To my horror she reached inside and pulled out…a blade, fashioned from the very fang of the dragon! I feel sweat bead on the back of my neck as she stabs her blade towards me. I take the blow with my chest held up high. Unwavering is her hit but I must bear it.

“If you do not cease this foolishness, I will be forced to hit—”

()xxxxx[[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

“I swear, is it because it is summer, there are quite a lot more knights coming our way.” Furina huffed as she brushed away the dirt on her favorite dress. When she woke up early this morning, fighting dotty boys sent her way was not on her list of to-dos. Alas, that had been her task ever since she moved into the tower with her dearest Neuvillette.

Speaking of her dragon…

The petite princess rounded on her heels as she watched him uncover the stone slab they had engraved just a week ago. The smile on her face grew as she watched him pick up the knocked-out knight like he was a moldy dish and toss him through the newly activated portal. The dragon was silent, tail dragging across the loamy soil of the lakeside as he moved to cover the stone once more.

“Neuvillette?” There was a huff and a low hum as the hulking creature slunk closer to the water's edge.

“Neuvillette, what’s wrong? Did what the knight say affect you?” Even as she spoke, she knew it was not true. Neuvillette cared not for what the humans thought about him. He never had and he never would. It was simply how he was. Her feet tapped along the ground as she scuttled after him. Her short legs had to work double just to keep up with his longer stride. Just what had gotten him into such a huff. If she recalled, the last few times they had dealt with an interloper he had been quite…enthusiastic after. She watched as he slipped into the lake with a wet plop. Her mind coursed through their recent scuffle.

Just what had upset him? Normally, they would have been bantering by now. Normally he would have lauded her skills just a tad but today…today was different.

The knight had been just like any other. She had defended her dragon once more…like always.

He had let her handle it herself too! It was just like always.

So what? What had upset her dragon so? Her love. Her frien–

Furina’s cheeks warmed. Her silly, silly, sweet, dragon. Giggling, the princess stepped off the shore and waded deeper into their lake.

“Neuvillette…are you upset that I called you a friend? ” Was that all? He was after all her friend first and foremost but…

A scaled tail wrapped around her waist. “But you are my friend.” There was another chuckle as she felt his hold loosen enough for her to wade waist-deep into their lake. “My best friend~”  She watched as the lake rippled. “My f r i e n d–”

As Furina recovered from the unexpected plunge into the cool waters of the lake, she couldn't help but emit a dramatic gasp, followed by a less-than-dignified whine as she elbowed the dragon responsible for her aquatic surprise. The dragon, Neuvillette, emitted a gruff chuckle as he wrapped his sturdy claws around her, holding her close with a strength that could crush boulders... but gently, of course.

"I am not just your friend," Neuvillette growled, his voice a curious mix of stubbornness and affection that only Furina could decipher after years of companionship. And without missing a beat, Furina relaxed into his embrace, a smile spreading across her face, bright like the sunrise.

"No... no you are not," Furina replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. "You are my dearest love, my heart. My husband. My mate."

She laughed as he purred. This silly, silly, heart of hers. Furina's eyes, mismatched in color but perfectly matched in adoration, softened as she ran her palms against his scales, feeling the beat of his pulse beneath her touch. She truly loved this dragon of hers so much. He was the one who understood her the most, the one who held her hand and let her escape the stifling world that was her royal position. Here in their watery home, she had never been happier. The world around her disappeared, replaced by a curtain of silky grey. Blue tinged and much more human hands slid between hers.

Blue eyes met amethyst ones. She felt the pressure of his lips on her forehead. “You’re are my heart.” His voice rang clear. Furina’s heart squeezed. His lips ghosted over the bridge of her nose, “my dearest,” her eyes closed as he pressed his mouth across her brows, “my princess,” across her cheek, “my all.” She felt herself melt as she continued to pepper adoration across every inch of her face before settling over her lips. “My life, my mate.” Her cheeks hurt from the force of her smile. The world once more spun for her. He lifted her as if she weighed nothing.

“Eek! W-wait put me down!”

“I will when we reach our nest.”

In the heart of the lake, laughter rang clear. In the glimmer of the summer sun, their rings shone.

()xxxxx[[{:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::>

“Ah…you should have stayed away. Everyone here knows Monsieur Neuvillette and Princess Furina are very much in love!” The barkeeper slid the pint of whiskey over to the hunched form of a once brave knight.

“B-but he’s a dragon!” There was an empathetic nod and a round of snickers.

“He is, that is probably why the princess fancys him. What was the popular saying last year? A beast in the sheets or sum’n like that?” A drunken man slurred somewhere to the bruised knight's left.

Sir Filibert heaved a sigh as he inhaled his liquor. Nothing in his long arduous practices had prepared him for that. The utter humiliation dealt.

“Lemme guess, ya got your face pummeled and coat sliced by the princey herself?”

He did not answer but that was all the crowd of the bar needed.

“Ay, add another tally to the chart! The princess is on a streak.” Confusion filled his gaze as he watched them slide coins across the table.

A warm hand smacked against his back. The armor echoed, low and hollow like his soul.

“Cheer up, yous neva coulda beat ‘em anyways.” The comfort was not felt by the knight. The bartender snorted before handing him another pint.

“She’s right, chin-up, look eh, if it's any consolation, another poor soul is bout to take yer place.” He turned towards the door, where a hooded figure barely hid the gleam of armor.

A chipper voice echoed through the tavern.

“Excuse me! I, Dame Birdie would like to attempt my luck at wresting Princess Furina away from the evil dragon. Please direct me to the lake.”

This poor, poor…soul.

He turned back to the bartender as he slid him a worn-out sheet.

“Wanna bet, who she’ll get beat up by? Dragon or Princess.” He turned his head to listen to the absolute ardor in the woman’s voice as she twirled her hair. His mind drifted back to the flicker of ice in draconic eyes.

“Dragon. Place my mora on the dragon.”

[thenamesblurrito]

assorted Transformers fics to rec (part two!)

first list here! have more fics i missed the first time or discovered since then or were recommended to me by others! if you decide to read these, i recommend leaving a comment if you can to encourage the writers and show some love! 🥰 note: the ones marked with * were ones i read a long time ago and did not reread before adding them to this list, so i am going off the good vibes in my memory

An Act of Revenge for Crimes Uncommitted

canon soup, incomplete, AO3. young Orion Pax wakes up mutilated, empurata'd, and his assailants punished him for the crimes of one Optimus Prime. ooooo this is kind of heartwrenching, truly intriguing and unjust and mmmmm drama. time travel, gore, mind the tags here, a fascinating look at a bad timeline! some of the functionism stuff in here actually helped inspire my own functionist setup in SNAP

Blackout and Reboot

canon soup, complete multichap, AO3. amnesia was not on the table when Thundercracker agreed to go undercover as a human. giant robot aliens weren't on the table when Marissa took it upon herself to help the weirdest guy she'd ever met. it's a match made in heaven. i love this fic okay it's got some fantastic wth moments and TC being TC and Marissa being awesome and just. i like it. the writing could use some technical polish but the action and plot concept are good, and the fun alien/human interactions are my jam. has a sequel i haven't read

Canonfodder*

TFP, incomplete, Spacebattles. a series of harrowing updates from a poor hapless nobody isekai'd into the body of a Vehicon on dead Cybertron, and all the nonsense that spirals from there. i like this one, the pacing can get a lil jagged and the technical skill of the writing is a bit off but that's often the nature of these forum fics, i didn't mind it. definitely love the inclusion of Kup, and space video games, and the limited but interesting choices the protag can make when presented with such a dismal situation makes for a very compelling, journal-style story. if you don't know how to navigate forum fics like this, just use the links in the first post to skip to each snippet

Catching Feelings

TFA, oneshot with sequel, AO3. Bumblebee and Charlie are clearly a Thing, so what's Optimus doing thinking about her so much? honestly i just like this ship concept especially in a TFA context, it's very cute and awwwww poor Op, sorry you're experiencing emotions!

Commonality and Misunderstandings

canon soup, incomplete, AO3. a collection of scenes showing just how humans and mecha can figure each other out, no matter how wide the cross-cultural divide. this is cute! i like the human OCs and the shenanigans. talks about gender perceptions, has some mech-preg mentions, and hits some good emotional moments

the consequences of being a vehicle on Earth - even if only as a part-timer

TFA, oneshot, AO3. out of everyone who has to deal with the legality of autonomous sentient vehicles, it's Fanzone. dear god, save him. a very funny little read that honestly addresses some things i constantly wonder about re: driving laws and the bots. nothing more tortuous than the DMV!

Curious Thing, Isn't It?

vaguely G1, oneshot, AO3. the Ark crew, freshly crashed on Earth and uncomprehending of English, discover one of the tiny squishy native inhabitants. a very cute little scene, i love the variety of reactions and how they treat the kid they found

A Fourth to Remember

G1, oneshot, AO3. it's the 4th of July, and Wheeljack has taken it upon himself to make a fireworks show. lovely little story of his typical nonsense taken large-scale, and some interesting culture collision too!

The Great Space Opera

IDW/TFP crossover, incomplete, AO3. Brainstorm does a whoopsie and uh oh, is that Team Prime in the Lost Light? only a little bit written but VERY fun and i love the mindbending reactions of Ratchet meeting Ratchet. the whole premise is just. mwah

Introduction to Cybertronian Biomechanics

canon soup, incomplete, AO3. a small collection of medical essays and articles detailing a breakdown of anatomy. really fascinating, very coherent explanation that manages to condense canon and fanon into something understandable, perhaps even plausible!

Liberty Island's Decisive Battle: Godzilla vs Trypticon!

Aligned/Godzilla crossover, oneshot, AO3. when Trypticon is resurrected by dark energon and heads towards New York, Fowler remembers a certain other giant lizard monster that might be able to help. Rescue Bots cameo, Miko gets to speak Japanese, Godzilla is awesome, this is just the fic ever

Malto Family Search & Rescue

ES, oneshot, AO3. a Decepticon named Thundercracker shows up at the Malto home in the middle of the night to beg a vital favor: help find his lost dog! SUCH a cute and good and wonderful little fic that fits right in to canon!! i love TC and i love the Malto family interactions and just. oogh lovely little fic. has sequels that i am saving for a rainy day pick me up

marriages of convenience (and the inconvenience of explaining them)

IDW, oneshot, AO3. Minimus is a widower. this fun fact is dropped rather unceremoniously. the painful awkwardness is marvelously in character, there are feelings and funnies and an uncomfortably heartfelt discussion about this matter-of-fact revelation that manages to characterize each of them so well, especially Minimus

Murder Mystery Night

IDW, oneshot, AO3. it's NIGHTBEAT'S NIGHT, BABY! lovely little mystery following around the Lost Light's greatest detective when a fun game night is abruptly shut down by a real actual murder! can Nightbeat find the killer in time?

nothing is more sacred than any other thing

vaguely G1, oneshot, AO3. Skyfire is a nerdy scientist with nerdy friends, which means most shenanigans surrounding him are nerdy. very cute and fun little fic about friends and mushrooms and Starscream being duped! first in a series of oneshots that i haven't gotten around to reading yet but look equally lovely

Objectification

G1, oneshot, AO3. a human and a Cybertronian have very different opinions on who exactly the victim is in an oversexualized music video. stupid funny and good, just the way i like it! last line kills me

Optimus Prime is Destined to Die!!

canon soup AU, incomplete, AO3. poor little Orion is isekai'd into a Cybertronian fantasy light novel as one of the soon-to-die forgettable side characters: the cold prince Optimus Prime. supposed to be MegOp but that hasn't really shown up yet. fantastic premise i leapt at immediately, with interesting royal politics and classic isekai tropey vibes. it's a little slow in places from a lot of (warranted!) purple prose introspection, but i find it cool enough to read through and follow poor Orion adjusting to his new existence!

Return Me to the Stars

TFA AU, incomplete, AO3. when a near-dead little Prime is picked up by the Nemesis, it sparks a lot of shenanigans, mysteries, and interesting political developments, all thanks to Optimus being Optimus. i really love the way this fic is developing, with a terrified Autobot in enemy territory doing the best he can, an expanded cast of Decepticons, a lot of fun worldbuilding, and very engaging and dynamic interactions. features a good bit of whump for our tough lil Prime. tagged as MegOP which is still slowly developing, pretty realistically taking their time to find some kind of even footing without breaking their characterization which i greatly appreciate! the writing itself could use some spellchecking but the plot and pacing are very engaging nonetheless

Scaredy-Car

G1, oneshot, AO3. i love a good comedic misunderstanding and boy the assumptions people are making about Breakdown are WHOOF. kinda cracky, a smidgeon dirty, and just the right amount of loserness that is the entirety of the Decepticon army

The Season of the Smallest Stars

sorta IDW/Stardew Valley crossover?, incomplete, AO3. you weren't expecting a small troop of adorable little robots to help you with your farmwork. a very soft cute little fic, i love it!!! never played SV but it's easy enough to follow along anyway, and i love the cute beeping Lost Light bots helping out our farmer

Second Star From Morning

technically IDW, incomplete, AO3. only a little bit written but SELF INSERT BABYYYYYYYYY gotta love it when your protagonists are aware that this is in fact a fictional character! the panic, the questions, the wahuh?? captivating premise, i hope the author comes back to it someday

Skywarp And The Wonders Of The Unnatural World

G1, oneshot, AO3. their summary sums it up best: "The Elite Trine have a very serious and mature debate on the existence of mythical creatures." extremely funny to me, i LOVE when they're stupid and petty and catty and silly!! Skywarp is so dumb i love him so much

Small Problems*

G1, ongoing series, AO3. average human Crystal finds some shrunken Autobots lost in the big city, and her life only gets weirder from there. an OC-centric series that--spoilers for later in the series--may have been one of the original "human turned into Transformer" fics! the whole series goes from sweet and funny to heartwrenching and angsty, with a lot of in between. i love the OC and sympathize with the horrible things she ends up going through, and also the heights to which she rises! slowburn Prowl/OC, with a bit of love triangle with Jazz in there too (funfact this was the second ever piece of media in which i encountered Blurr)

Sparkless

TFP, incomplete, AO3. a Vehicon left behind finds itself fixed up by a human, and might just gain some personhood along the way. a VERY sweet little story oogh i love this Vehicon!! poor thing i want to give them hot chocolate and a blankie. it's a lovely story with an intriguing premise

Stop Me*

TFP, incomplete (but with over 200 chapters), FFN. Starscream nearly dies at the claws of the Predacons... and then he's alive again, in the past, as if none of that ever happened. a rather (in?)famous fic in the fandom, i've found, although when i first read it i didn't know that. a very interesting take on a Starscream redemption AU, paired with some fascinating outlier power moments! a little bit wooby about Screamer (maybe a lot wooby?), a lot of whump, a lot of emotion, maybe some hints of StarOP idk if that's become an actual ship since i last checked. ymmv on this one depending on your Starscream opinions but i was hooked for the whole time for sure! i need to catch up, it's technically still updating. also the author has another, shorter, complete Starscream redemption fic which i also enjoyed, check that out too

A Streetcar Named Traitor

G1, oneshot, AO3. Megatron doesn't take Starscream's defection well and Optimus has had enough. very stupid, very funny, makes me cackle as Megsy gets dunked on

Sudden Active Development... I certainly feel SAD at the moment*

TFP, incomplete, Spacebattles. another isekai forum fic, this time somebody gets dropped into the body of Nemesis Prime and has to deal with running around as an Optimus lookalike! i like the misunderstandings and the process of adapting to a strange new body. some stilted dialogue, and it gets a little weird about gender perception but i can gloss over that. ramps up with more canon characters, a sprinkling of OCs, and completely taking canon off the rails within the last few posts! this one has threadmarks for easy navigation

Turning Points*

vaguely G1 AU, incomplete, FFN. Prowl was one of the most brilliant tacticians among the Decepticons, and then they destroyed his home. it's gonna be a long climb into the good graces of the Autobots for this defector. an absolutely fantastic character driven piece with a brilliant premise, i love how Prowl is written. and the politics of defecting and dealing with a security hazard, mmmmm good!

An Uneasy Partnership*

sorta G1/Armada/canon soup?, ongoing series, FFN. Alexis keeps an unruly Starscream in her barn. this can only go well. this series is WILD, it escalates and gets worse and then better and then worse again, you root for Screamer and then you hate him, poor Alexis is on a constant horrid rollercoaster but hey, (spoilers), she gets a cool robot body and also a tyrant king boyfriend out of it??? but man is it a long, manipulative, whumpy road to get there. the powerplays and emotional turmoil in their dynamic just keep going and it's fascinating, although probably not for you if you don't like bad power imbalances. it's the end of the world as we know it and whatever comes on the other end is going to be only as good as you make of it. i think this series may also be sort of (in)famous in the fandom? idk i don't pay attention that well

Untitled

IDW, drabble, tumblr. in an unexpected meetcute, Minimus finds himself rescuing Rung. honestly it's just a quick little concept of a conversation but it has captivated me and i'm obsessed with it

[stationary-cycle-in-motion]

@augusnippets day 26: nightmare

tw: implied murder

Thick fog, a near inky black, swarms and presses, shifting like shadows in the gloom of the waning moon. In the distance, there is a small figure. The being is difficult to make out, but it shouts something, something shrill and lost to the wind. A child’s voice, Obi-Wan thinks. The kid must be stranded. Fear prickles at the hair on the back of his neck, and it feels strikingly similar to the Force’s warning of danger. They shouldn’t be out in this… storm? It must be a storm, what with the wind howling and the dust rising. Obi-Wan should help, should get the child somewhere safe. He did promise, after all. But Obi-Wan’s feet feel impossibly heavy, and he struggles to lift one, to take a step forward. When he finally does, his boot sinks, the sand swallowing it whole. Like most things surrendered to the desert, he’s not likely to ever see it again. Now barefoot, the grit worms its way between his toes, attacking every inch of exposed skin until he is all but caked in it, consumed by it. A shudder wracks Obi-Wan’s body as the grimy texture grates. “I don’t like sand either.” Sharply, Obi-Wan looks up, locks eyes with a boy. The child can’t be older than nine, maybe, with sandy brown hair and kind eyes. He looks strangely calm given the chaos raging around them, and that should make Obi-Wan wary, but it doesn’t. “How did you do that?” Obi-Wan asks. Because this is the child he saw in the distance, and given how leadened his own legs feel, he can’t imagine the boy walked so far in such a short time. The boy doesn’t answer, just smiles and shrugs, and Obi-Wan’s attention catches on the warm golden light illuminating his shoulder in dancing flickers. Looking up, he notices the fires burning in the background. Too many to count, all arranged in neat rows. Like funeral pyres. “Admiring my handiwork?” When Obi-Wan looks back, the boy is no longer a boy, but a young man, his hair longer and darker, a jagged scar slicing through one eye. His expression puckers in disgust as he watches the flames curl toward the moon. “They don’t deserve pyres. They don’t deserve to be treated with that much respect.” “Every being should be respected, in life and in death,” Obi-Wan argues. Anakin shakes his head. “Not them.” The conviction in his voice is harrowing. “They’re like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals.” Faintly, there’s a cry, like the call of a native Tatooine Tusken. And it may just be a trick of the firelight, but Anakin’s eyes look deceptively yellow–

Obi-Wan jolts awake, heart pounding, sweat dripping, yellow eyes burning in his mind's eye. He thrashes wildly, attempting to untangle his legs from the bed sheets because he has to do something, he has to warn them, save them–

“Easy, General.” The voice is soothing, grounding. “It’s alright. You’re safe.”

It was only a dream, he realizes that now, but the weight of it feels more significant than it should. It feels almost like a vision usually does.

Rex’s face, pinched in concern, comes into view, and Obi-Wan surges forward, grasping wildly at the fabric of his body glove. But his hands are heavily bandaged and– how could he forget?– completely devoid of fingers. The stubs slip, fall.

Rex grabs them, pulls Obi-Wan’s hands to his chest and holds on. He circles his thumbs gently over Obi-Wan’s exposed wrists, whispering more reassurances as he sinks down onto the cot next to him. The urgency is still there, the need to do something, to fix what’s been broken before it’s too late, but the warmth of Rex’s skin against his own seems to remind his body of the exhaustion aching in every muscle. Against his will, he’s lulled back to sleep, slumped into the safety of Rex’s embrace.