#slender birch

[theshinazugawaslut]

CAN YOU DO SANEMI X READER THATS NO BETTER THEN MEN LIKE WHEN A PRETTY GIRL WALKS BY THEY ALL LIKE “Damn she fine asf” OR SUM LIKE THATT

Often you find yourself looking at Mitsuri's breasts, not perverted but... appreciative. Large, high, pale, and pretty; you're tempted to squish them.

You could always enjoy another woman's beauty, never finding yourself envious of such women. From Lady Amane's gorgeous white hair and birch-like beauty, to Shinobu's delicate face and slender thighs, and often - too often - Mitsuri's breasts and sweet, grass-green eyes.

You're doing the same thing at the Hashira meeting, discreetly looking at them but apparently not discreetly because you feel a hard smack of your husband's fingers across the back of your skull, so fast that nobody else even notices.

You wince, rubbing the back of your head, giving Sanemi a pout as he glares at you from the side of his vision. Smiling sheepishly, you start looking appreciately at his chest.

Sanemi, on the other hand, is well aware of your appreciation for other women but also your fervent appreciation of him to which he is often victim of.

He's often been woken up to you, curled up beside him on the futon except you're blatantly touching his abdomen, 'ooh'ing and 'ah'ing as if he hasn't had you writhing atop them before.

And even now, pervertedly staring at him at the Hashira Meeting as if he's meat.

It makes him red in the face.

/ "Don't just stare at people like that! It's perverted!" he snaps later on, pinching your ear as he walks alongside you. "And weird and fuckin' awful-"

"-Mitsuri doesn't mind," you whine, rubbing the sore spot. "She lets me touch them! She touches mine, too."

"Cheater!" yells Sanemi, loud and clear so everyone on the street hears. "Cheater! Cheater! Cheater!"

You're obviously panicking.

"I'm not cheating! I swear!" you say, holding your haori as a promise. "No, I swear to god, she's like a sister to me! You're the only pair of tits I'm attracted to. You seriously can't tell me you've never looked at her before-"

"-I haven't," says Sanemi, serious. "It's weird. You're weird." But he puts a heavy arm around your shoulders. "And my eyes have always been on ya."

[owlnsfwsstuff]

Judd birch NSFW head cannons

(Mostly if not all kink talk)

. Judd definitely is very kinky hes into alotta stuff for example knife play, bondage, somnaphilia and cnc

. Judd likes to stalk you and after he told you you fucked hard telling him you thaught it was sexy how he's so primal

.when it became halloween and you decided to watch horror movies judd had alot of movie memorabilia so when he put on the ghost mask from scream it did somthing to you that night you went 6 rounds seeing judd fuck you with the mask you let him choke you and threatening your life made your body so hot he loved watching you squirm

.when you told judd you where horny for his voice and hands he made dam sure to finger you hard while saying things like "dumb slut~" and "whos my filthy whore~" while he fingers you with his sexy slender vainy hands till you finish and he suck it off his fingers and smirk at you

. Judds favourite pass time activity is getting high with you and fucking one time his brother walked in and judd through his pocket knife that smacked the door near nicks head and he ran as judd chuckled "where were we~"

.Judd likes pet play he even got you a butt plug that looked like a raccoon tail calls you his "dirty fuck pet" and is heavy on training with very good pets get to suck his length or get spanked and orgasam denial

.hes into marking bites, Hickeys or even cuts anything that's why you have a small J carved into your hip

.surprisingly hes really good at aftercare showers washing you and gives you good blanket and pillows he gets you food or drink on request and you cuddle watching movies

[cappymightwrite]

My Maid of Stone – Ch. 3 Preview

Dreams came to her strangely, scored by the burgeoning clash and clammer of rolling thunderclaps. At the top of a mountain she stood, swaddled in cloud, the summit blanketed with snow. Looking out, searching, it was hard to make out at first where the land ended and the sky began, except where black rocks jagged through the pearled and lustrous whiteness, an immense stretch of hummocked snow, reaching out towards the horizon. Or was it a sea? The high hills gleamed just as saltwater washes rock. And there, far off, another peak rising, lifted from the smother like a small island. I have walked out of my body and into the mountain… She felt the whole of it on her skin in that moment; the tremulous winter sun, the wind running through the inside of her nightgown, and then the water, closing in and over as she slipped under—the catch in her breath like a wave held back, running to the very ends of her body as the spent wave ran out upon the pebbled shore. A plunge into the cold water of a mountain pool that seemed for a brief instant to disintegrate the very self: lost, stricken, conquered. Before the life pours back in. It was as she breached the surface that she saw him, emerging from between slender birches, that figure, that figure from before, standing dark on rising ground. And though his lips did not move, she knew it was his voice calling out her name, like a knock on the door, like a sudden sounding from within. As the red comet burned, as the ghost wolf howled. Sansa. Sansa. Sansa.

Song inspo – Stop Your Tears, Aldous Harding

[secretwhumplair]

Awakening

1,006 words | Mirai and the serpent king (sequel to Nightfall)

Content | Slavery, fear, nudity, non-con touch/kissing

Notes | Exciting developments! Mirai is introdused to his new living situation!

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator

»Good morning, Mirai.«

Mirai blinked his eyes open, and for a wonderful moment, he didn’t know where he was. He was comfortable and warm, and barely hurting or hungry. Someone had just softly called him by his actual name.

The first thing he saw, however, were smooth brown scales which started to shift as the serpent king leant over him and kissed his temple.

It took him several seconds after snapping back into his usual obedient, mercy-seeking mindset—with an aching sting through his chest from remembering something sweet and long-gone—before he remembered his new master wanted him to speak. »Good morning, Master.«

His voice was as wrecked as ever, and that fully grounded him back into reality.

»Have you slept well?« The serpent king’s fingers ran through his hair.

»Yes, Master. Thank you, Master.« It was true. He had been so exhausted that even surrounded by his terrifyingly overpowering and enigmatic master, he had slept deeply and dreamlessly.

And he was grateful for it.

»That’s good.« The serpent king cupped his cheek, kissed his forehead, and then got up out of the bed. »Get dressed. I will show you where you’ll live.«

Mirai was quick to obey, and while he closed the clasps of the excuse for clothing he had been given, the serpent king continued.

»There’s something important you need to know, Mirai. You will live with my other pretty things. You all are at liberty to interact with each other as each one involved pleases, but if someone hurts you in any way or makes you uncomfortable, you may tell me. If it cannot wait, you may tell the guards to tell me. I want all of you to be cared for and I will not tolerate bullying or petty games.«

Mirai looked up at him, a whole new world of worries suddenly opened up to him. »Th-thank you, Master.«

Once again, the serpent king must have sensed his fear. He smiled down at him. »Don’t worry, they’ll love you. But I want you to know you are not without recourse if anything happens.«

He led the way out of the room, and Mirai followed him, trying to shake his newfound anxieties.

»Further, if there is anything else you need or want, you may ask also. I may say no, but you will never be punished for inquiry.«

»Thank you, Master«, Mirai muttered, barely managing the words out loud. There was a lump in his throat. This all sounded so good.

There had to be a catch somewhere.

The serpent king brought him to a door flanked by two guards, who bowed their heads respectfully, but not without giving Mirai curious glances. One opened and let them in.

The room was large, the side opposite the door once more consisting of arched windows, framed with heavy curtains on either side. Multiple doors lined the other walls, some ajar, others closed. The room was furnished with several tables, couches both after the fashion of the legged folk Mirai was familiar with, and designed as oval-shaped platforms similar to the throne, as well as various seat cushions. Shelves held board games, books, and other knickknacks. Lamps hung on the walls between the doorframes, albeit currently extinguished.

More than the design of the room itself, though, what caught Mirai’s attention were its occupants.

They were all very beautiful. It was about a dozen, half serpentkind, ranging in colour and size from a slender, brown-patched woman to an olive-green man spotted in yellow and black and larger than the biggest guard Mirai had seen yet, half humans, from a woman as blue-black as night with long, neat locs to a fire-headed man as pale as birch bark. There was one slender-legged, shiny-coated bay centauress, and one other elf, bronze-skinned and curly-haired. His bright eyes found Mirai immediately, and Mirai could feel nothing but shame worse than the others put into him, even knowing they were in the same position.

Well, they weren’t, truly. This stranger, most likely, could sing.

All were dressed in attire somewhat similar to his, terribly exposed, but each different from one another, clearly designed to suit the person it adorned.

And all turned towards the opening door, looking curiously at the serpent king or the new slave he had brought.

Mirai felt awfully exposed; for a moment he had the childish impulse to hide behind his master. But that was as ridiculous as it was stupid. These people were likely much less of a threat to him. He had lived in households with several slaves before; even if they couldn’t do anything to help one another—sometimes banned from even touching, all touch belonging to their masters—it had been a bittersweet comfort not to be alone in his misery.

Yet, that all meant he was even more worried about making a bad impression.

The serpent king did loop around Mirai once more. »This is Mirai, sweets. Rizi, will you show him around?«

A tawny-skinned human with soft black waves on their head nodded. »Of course, Master.« The fiery-coloured silk bands of their decor, Mirai noticed, framed a pair of fine scars crossing their chest; delicate enough to have been masterfully made without resistance, but not wholly removed by magic, the way the dog bites on Mirai’s skin had been. They smiled at Mirai, and Mirai felt a spark of comfort.

The serpent king moved away from around Mirai, then paused. »One more thing. You will have Hishissa lessons every day. This is your home now; I want you to learn the language. Do you know how to read and write?«

»Only… only Nirezali, Master.« He had not, when he was receiving what little education he got, expected to leave the country he had been born in. No one in his family had. How and why would they?

»Then you will have lessons in that also. Make yourself at home,« he added, smiling at him one last time. »Have a good day, sweets.«

And with that, he left him to the others.

[cainvstheworld]

The Phlebotomist by Cain Birch

This is a persona poem from the perspective of my phlebotomist (person who draws my blood). It's a bit different than what I normally post on here, but I wrote it for my creative writing class and liked how it turned out.

[Text ID: The Phlebotomist by Cain Birch. The youngest tremble more than the graying, the grayed. Some of the children beg, barter with their parents, howl at the sun as I borrow their blood with a slender needle, but I offer every flavor of lollipop, so their pain is not fruitless. My heart breaks most for the ones whose fathers extract crumpled doctor’s orders from their jangling pockets, whose mothers offer tight smiles as their child squeezes their eyes shut, stilling, accustomed to the burn of the needle. I call out girls’ names into the waiting room and choppy-haired boys follow me into the sterile room, let me slide silver into the tender crooks of their elbows, measuring the hormones in their budding bodies. I call out a man’s name, and a woman with a five o’clock shadow coating her cheeks holds her arm ramrod straight for me. I don’t know how to ask her  what she’d like to be called, whether the “Samuel” in her chart should spell “Samantha” instead, perhaps “Iris” or “Rose.” Instead, I make small talk about the prices of gas, of chicken. I don’t tell her that the fried chicken my husband brings home grows cold by the time I arrive, that I do not turn on the heat in my hatchback even though my car’s engine sputters into the frigid night as I turn the key. I don’t tell her that I chew the tough meat without the microwave’s aid, so my husband’s breath, his still body is molten by comparison when I slide into the sheets next to him, drawing warmth into my bones, pretending the fire between us is more than a fading flicker. He wakes me up before dawn, before leaving to fill in the northeast's endless potholes, fills me up for a few minutes, catches his breath as he slides on his belt, his dirt-caked boots, kisses me with a closed mouth. I lay in the nest of blankets, let my mind slither off to hopeful gardens. In a few weeks, I will call a child’s name for the last time, his ailments healing, his parents glowing with quiet optimism. In a few months, I’ll call a woman’s name, Heather, and she’ll stick out her arm, ramrod straight, beaming. I won’t know what to say, but I’ll smile back at her. /End ID]

[thetravelerwrites]

Yew (Part 1)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences  Relationship: Male Centaur/Male Centaur  Additional Tags: Exophilia, Centaurs, MLM Content Warnings: Amputee, Amputated Leg, Prosthetics Series: Part 12 of Monster Lovers: Shelter Forest  Words:  4,101

Yew finally gets his own fic! Yew makes his very first rescue: a surly centaur dumped on the side of the road. Please reblog and leave feedback!

Ethari was losing his vision rapidly. He hadn’t eaten in days, the fever was taking over his entire body, and the blood loss had rendered him extremely frail. The ranch hands had dropped him on the side of the road somewhere, but he wasn’t sure where. He kept trying to stand, but in his delirium, he forgot that his left foreleg up to the knee was now missing and unable to take any weight, so he continuously stumbled and fell into the mud of the roadside.

He fell for a final time, completely sapped of strength, and as he was losing consciousness, he heard a voice call out.

“I knew it! I saw someone! Mama, hurry!” 

In his dimming perception, he saw a dark face with green-blue eyes and a fluff of white hair haloed around their head. 

“You’re gonna be alright,” They said softly. “Everything’s going to be alright.” 

And Ethari passed out.

When he awoke again, he was inside a stall lying on rough burlap cushions instead of hay or straw and was covered with several blankets to guard against the winter cold. Panicking, he began kicking the walls with his back legs. He had been conditioned not to scream or yell, so kicking was the only means of rebellion or dissent he was capable of. So he kicked hard over and over, making a lot of noise in the process.

“Oi, oi!” A voice called. Ethari saw the face of a handsome man look into the open upper half of the stall door. He had blue eyes, tanned skin, and dark hair. “Could you keep it down? My wife is resting.” 

“Who are you?” Ethari asked aggressively, his voice raspy and harsh to his own ear. “What’s going on, where am I?” 

“Ugh, I hate dealing with pissy, angry males. Yew! Would you come and deal with this, please? I need to look after Hazel.” 

The handsome face disappeared momentarily, and the full door swung open, revealing that the handsome face was attached to a brown centaur body with black socks and a black tail, which flicked back and forth in agitation. He wore a bright red winter coat on his upper body and a matching riding blanket on his back. 

Seeing one of his own kind, Ethari relaxed slightly without realizing it.

“I thought she was feeling better,” Said another voice, almost chirpy sounding, and a beautiful, slender, black-and-white piebald centaur entered Ethari’s vision. Ethari recognized him as the person he’d seen when he was blacking out on the roadside. The skin of his upper torso was so dark that it was nearly black, contrasting starkly with his pale eyes, curly mop of white hair, and long, feathery lashes. He wore a black winter coat and riding blanket, both with intricate white stitching.

“She still needs rest,” The other centaur said, annoyed. There was a knock that came from somewhere in the building, and Birch’s head swiveled sharply to look in that direction. “Keep this guy quiet, would you? If she takes a bad turn, I’m taking it out on him, I don’t care how hurt he is.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Yew said, waving him away.

The brown centaur dashed off, disappearing from view, and the black and white centaur came into the stall, which was spacious enough to allow him inside with Ethari comfortably. 

“Sorry about him,” He said, and it was then that Ethari realized he was carrying a tray with fruit and vegetables on it on one arm and a simple brown wool coat in the other. “He’s really touchy when it comes to Hazel. You shouldn’t move around so much, you know, since you were a proper mess to clean up. You've lost a lot of blood; it took my mother ages to stop the bleeding. There were bone fragments in the stump that had to be removed, too, and you’ve got a nasty infection. You’re gonna feel like pounded garbage for quite a while, so try not to reopen the wound and make it worse.” 

“Where am I?” Ethari repeated. “Who are you?” 

“I’m Yew,” The centaur said, setting the tray on a low table nearby. It was one of several items of furniture that seemed designed with four-legged folks in mind. “You’re in a guest stall at my parents’ farm, the barn specifically. You’ve been out for a couple of days. Mama was worried you’d starve. Here, put this on. It’s cold.” 

He held out the coat for Ethari to take, which he did, snatching it out of his hands roughly. Once he had shrugged it on, Yew reached out to touch Ethari, and Ethari flinched, slapping his hand away. 

“Relax, I’m just checking your temperature,” Yew said, knocking Ethari’s hand aside and placing his palm on his forehead. “You’re still feverish, but you’re not boiling like you were two days ago.” 

Ethari swiped at him, his anxiety spiking. “Get off me! What are you people going to do to me?” He asked indignantly, trying to back away from Yew but not getting far. 

“Nothing?” Yew replied, tilting his head. “Other than overfeed you, maybe. My papa is always encouraging people to eat more. Speaking of which, you must be hungry, right? Eat.” Yew motioned at the tray. “Don’t try to stand up yet. We’ve contacted my brother, Cetzu; he’s really good at carving. He may be able to fix you up.” 

“What are you talking about?” Ethari said distrustfully. “What do you mean? What do you people want from me?” 

“Like I said, nothing,” Yew said, moving toward the door. “Eat your food before you pass out again. Keep the noise down, though. Birch’s threats aren’t empty. If you disturb Hazel at all, he’ll knock you on your tail.” 

“I’m already on my tail,” Ethari said sarcastically. 

Yew laughed good naturedly. 

“I suppose that’s true. Eat.” And with that, Yew closed his door.

As soon as there was no one in sight, Ethari began wolfing down the food that was offered. He knew he would make himself sick doing that, but he couldn’t control himself; he was literally starving. Thankfully there wasn’t too much on the tray, perhaps because they knew he would have gorged himself if there was, so he wasn’t grossly over-full. There was a jug of water on the table and he drank deeply from it, not even bothering to use a cup.

After he finished, he made an attempt to stand, only to stumble and fall immediately. Groaning in frustration, he thumped his hands against the floor. Unable to move and suddenly exhausted, despite his anxiety and fear, Ethari passed out once more.

When he woke up again, it was dark. His stall door was open and there was a candle burning on the frame of the door. Yew was kneeling on his belly just outside of his stall door, knotting cord by candlelight. 

“What do you want?” Ethari snapped. 

Yew looked up. “Ah, you’re awake.” He set the cord aside and got to his feet, bringing in another tray of food and taking the empty one. 

“Why didn’t you just let me die?” Ethari asked. “What do you get out of helping me?” 

“Why would we need to get something out of it?” Yew asked, tilting his head again as if he didn’t understand. He reminded Ethari of a puppy he once knew, ages and ages ago. “That’s not something we care about around here.” 

Ethari grunted distrustfully. Yew knelt down next to him and regarded him thoughtfully. Ethari leaned back, glaring at Yew.

“Am I allowed to leave?” Ethari asked. 

“Well, sure,” Yew said. “If you really want to leave, we won’t stop you, but I… can’t imagine you’d get far at the moment. You can’t even stand up yet.” 

Ethari couldn’t argue with that, but he wasn’t about to say it out loud.

“You’re from a ranch, too, aren’t you?” Yew said suddenly. 

Ethari blinked. “Too?” He echoed, surprised out of his wary demeanor. He didn’t need to ask what kind of ranch Yew meant.

“Yeah,” Yew pulled his curly hair aside and showed Ethari the ear with the puncture hole in it from where the cattle tag had been. “My brother, Birch, and I escaped from one years ago when I was seven, from the big continent north of here. Did you escape too?” 

“I don’t know you. I don’t have to tell you anything,” Ethari said hotly.

“No, I know that,” Yew said, but he waited expectantly, his expression open and curious.

“I didn’t escape,” Ethari said eventually, if reluctantly. “There was… an accident.” He shifted his missing leg, and then stopped and winced when the pain got worse. “I couldn’t work anymore, so they were sending me somewhere, but I don’t know where. When they realized I was dying, they dumped me on the road.” He peered at Yew. “How did you know?” 

“You don’t have a tag like Birch and I did, but I can tell. You’ve got whip marks on your flanks and I saw what seemed like shackle marks on your back legs. I’ve seen enough of those in my youth to know exactly what it means.” Yew sighed despondently. “I didn’t realize there were slave ranches here.” 

For the first time, he looked sad and disheartened. It didn’t suit him, Ethari thought. He looked better when he had that big, dopey smile on his face.

“Officially, there aren’t,” Ethari told him. “It’s operating illegally, I gather. That’s why they were sending me away. I heard that legal ranches have to report accidents to the local lord, for compensation. I can’t collect compensation as a slave, and the owners can’t report and out themselves for owning slaves illegally. So they had to get rid of me. I don’t know what their original plan was. I shudder to imagine, though.” 

“Are there others? I mean centaurs, like us?” 

Ethari shook his head. “Only me and two others. They’re still there. They were sold to the ranch from the colosseum in the big city, what’s it called? Dunmountain? Around there. They have debts to pay, so they’re indentured. My mother was also enslaved there, but she died four winters back. I think she was indentured, too, but we never talked about it. She didn’t like to bring it up. But when she died, I inherited her debts, so…”

“Are there others besides centaurs? How many?” 

“A dozen, I think? There could be more I don’t know about, I was confined to the fields and the barn, so there were places on the ranch I’d never seen or entered.”  

“Where is it? The ranch, I mean,” Yew asked, a strange glint in his eye. A hint of anger, perhaps? Another emotion that didn’t suit his face.

“I don’t know,” Ethari admitted. “I was born and raised there. This is the first time I’ve ever been off the ranch in my life.”

“It feels weird, huh?” Yew said with a sad smile. “Like you should be doing something. You’re not used to sitting still in one place, right?” 

Ethari paused and nodded, grimacing. “I feel… off. Out of place. The ranch was terrible, but… it’s familiar. I know what to expect there. All this…” He waved at the stall and gestured at Yew. “I don’t know what any of this is.” 

Yew nodded. “It’ll feel strange for a while. Don’t worry. Everything will be alright.” 

Ethari couldn’t help but allow the corner of his mouth to go up slightly.

“You sound so certain of that.” 

Yew grinned. “I am.” Yew got to his feet and made to leave. “Eat and rest. Don’t worry about a thing. Mama will be in in the morning to check on you, but don’t be rude to her; she saved your life.” He pointed a finger at Ethari in warning, but Yew looked so unserious that Ethari nearly laughed. “One thing you gotta know about me: I’m a mama’s boy through and through, so don’t you go disrespecting my mama.”

Ethari snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

The next morning, Ethari was awoken by the door of his stall opening and an older human woman with greying hair entered, wearing a blouse and sensible trousers and carrying a bag.

“You’re not a centaur,” Ethari said. 

“Well-spotted,” She said with a lilt in her voice. “You’ll be hard pressed to find many of your kind on this continent. There are only a handful or so that I know of, besides my boys, and that includes you.” 

“You’re Yew’s mother?” 

“The very same,” She said, reaching out her hand for a handshake. “I’m Ryel.” 

Ethari didn’t take her hand, simply glared at it distrustfully, and she eventually dropped it. 

“I’m here to change your bandages,” Ryel said. “Are you gonna let me do that?” 

“Just don’t do anything funny,” Ethari said, leaning a bit so she could get to the stump. 

“I don’t have a funny bone in my body, child,” She said with a chuckle. Ethari suddenly saw where Yew got his sense of humor. 

“So, Yew’s adopted, then?” 

“Of course,” Ryel said, pulling off the dirty bandages. “All of my children are adopted. My husband and I can’t have children, so we opened our home to the ones who need one.” 

“How many kids do you have?”

“Certainly more than most, but we like it that way. There are always more kids that need homes, and we like being that home. We’ll likely be taking them in until we die, and our kids will continue the tradition. That’s why we started this place.” 

“Hmm,” Ethari hummed, and then winced when she began cleaning the wound. “Is that big brown asshole yours, too?” 

Ryel laughed. “Oh, yes, he’s mine. Don’t take his current attitude to heart, child. He and Hazel got married recently, and Hazel’s been in delicate health lately, and he’s a little frazzled. He’s normally more level-headed.” 

“I don’t care,” Ethari said. “I’m not going to be here long enough to find out.” 

“If you say so,” Ryel said. She began rewrapping the wound. “Although, I’d wager you’ll be here for quite a while. Cetzu, another of my sons, will be here in a few days. He runs an orphanage in Coleville and he hates leaving it for too long, but he’s agreed to help fit you with a prosthetic. You’ll have to wait a few months for your stump to heal before you can even start to get used to using it, but there’s no reason not to start making it now. It can be adjusted once you’re able to wear it.” 

“And how much is that going to cost me?” Ethari asked bitterly. “What am I going to have to do to pay you back?” 

“Well, that’s not necessary, but hands are always helpful,” Ryel said. “Besides, it’s the chilly season, so there’s really nothing to do at the moment. All the canning and jarring is done, and there are only a few winter crops out in the fields right now which they don’t need much tending to and pretty much grow on their own, so there’s not really any need for you to do anything besides recover.” 

He grunted, not sure if he believed her. 

“And more to the point,” She continued as she packed up the medical bag. “You’re not in any condition to be doing any paying back, as it is.” 

“I’ll accept that,” He said begrudgingly. “I guess I don’t need to worry about it for a while, then.” 

“No reason to worry about it at all,” Ryel said with a laugh. “Listen, son, I get why you’ve got misgivings, but really, we don’t expect anything from you beyond getting better. Whatever you want to do once you’re up and about is your prerogative.”

“If you say so,” He replied. 

“You don’t have to believe me, child,” Ryel said, standing. “Rest. Yew will be in soon with your breakfast.” 

“Why him?” Ethari asked peevishly. 

“I suppose he feels responsible for you, having been the one to find you. You’re his first rescue, after all.” Ryel sighed. “You don’t have to like him, you know, but he’s just trying to help.” And she left. 

It wasn’t so much that Ethari didn’t like Yew, it’s just that Yew… was too perceptive. He saw more than Ethari wanted him to see. It made him uncomfortable. And he was too… happy. Ethari was used to being surrounded by those who were beaten down by their lives and circumstances, so he assumed most people were like that. He’d never met anyone who could brighten a room just by walking in it, the way Yew could. It almost hurt to look at Yew. He was like sunlight, but the kind that suddenly flooded a darkened room that light hadn’t touched in years, blinding and painful.

Soon enough, Yew arrived with another tray, just as Ryel said, but Ethari was squirming by the time he showed up.

“What’s up with you?” Yew asked, noticing Ethari fidget. “Did you eat something bad?” 

Ethari growled. “I… have to…” 

“Hmm? Speak up, I can’t hear you.” 

“I need the privy!” Ethari said loudly, embarrassed. 

“Oh!” Yew said, seemingly unfazed. “No problem, I’ll help. Here.” Yew held out his hands. “Stand up. You can lean on me.” 

Still distrustful but slightly desperate, Ethari took Yew’s hands and, after some struggle, managed to haul himself unsteadily to his feet. Yew swung around and used his own body to support the length of Ethari’s body. Slowly, with a lot of help from Yew, Ethari was able to limp out of the barn. Some of the other stalls also seemed to be occupied, but the doors were closed so Ethari couldn’t see inside. 

“Are there other four-legged folk here?” Ethari asked. 

“There’s Reed. He’s a deertaur, really rare. He’s smaller than centaurs, but he’s got antlers, so he needs as much room as we do. I’ve never even seen another person like him.” 

“Neither have I,” Ethari said, surprised. “I wasn’t even aware there was such a thing.” 

“There’s one more, I fibbed. Reed’s daughter is half-deertaur, but she takes after him and has four legs. She got her own stall recently, just turned thirteen. She’s at that age where she doesn’t want to share a room with her parents anymore, you know.” 

“I don’t know, actually.”

Yew laughed. “His son, River, has two legs, like his mother, but he’s got hooves, too. He’s really unique. Lymera has hooves too, but she’s a fawn, so that’s not unusual. She used to stay in the barn, as well. She liked it better than the house.”  

Ethari made a face. “Why are you telling me all this?” 

Yew laughed again. “Because you asked?” 

“I didn’t ask for the roster of your family, I just asked if there were four-legged folks besides you and your surly brother.” 

“True, but it doesn’t hurt to know. Besides, talking takes your mind off the pain. Hurts more when you’re quiet, doesn’t it? Talking distracts you.” 

It was excruciatingly slow progress, but finally they reached the latrine at the edge of the treeline. It was far enough away that the smell didn’t reach the house of the barn, but that meant getting there was an undertaking for Ethari. He was exhausted by the time he got there. He was able to enter by leaning his body against the walls of the latrine and limping inside, but once he had finished his business in there, it took all his strength not to collapse. 

“I need to rest for a moment,” Ethari said, breathing heavily. 

“Here, let’s get away from the latrine first,” Yew said, swinging around to support him again. Yew managed to get him to a patch of moss before Ethari practically fell. 

“I feel like I’m gonna hurl,” Ethari said, his upper torso bent and resting against a nearby tree. 

“Try not to, it’s not good for our kind to vomit,” Yew said, holding Ethari’s hair. “We’re too similar to horses like that.” 

“I’m fully aware of that,” Ethari snipped. “But that knowledge doesn’t help me in this situation.” 

“You want a beer?” Yew asked. “Birch always drinks when he feels sick. Counter-intuitive, I know, but it seems to help him.” 

“A beer would be amazing right now,” Ethari admitted. 

“Be right back,” Yew said, and dashed off. 

Ethari tried to breathe through the nausea, willing himself to keep his breakfast in his stomach, and heard four legs trotting up. 

“I had to fight Birch to get it,” Yew said, handing Ethari a wooden cup. “He really doesn’t like you.” 

“I don’t like him either,” You said peevishly, taking the cup and gulping swallows of the beer slowly. “Don’t you drink? I’ve never met a centaur who doesn’t drink. We were allowed beer even on the ranch.” 

Yew shrugged. “It’s just not for me. I can supplement what I need from alcohol with other things. Besides, I prefer wine, but it’s hard to store wine here. I get it every once in a while as a treat, but I don’t need it all the time.” 

“And you call yourself a centaur,” Ethari said, snickering.

“Hey, don’t tease, I already get enough of that from Birch.” 

You drained the cup and handed it back. “Is Birch the only one who drinks around here?” 

Yew nodded. “Afraid so. If you need more, you’ll have to go through him.” 

“Can’t I just go through you? Wouldn’t he give you some if you asked?” 

“Well, sure, but he knows I don’t drink. You might want to work on getting in his good graces.” 

“Ugh,” Ethari grunted. “I just can’t wait to kiss that guy’s ass.” 

Yew laughed. “All you gotta do is be nice to Hazel. That’s his softest spot. He really loves her.” 

“Hmm,” Ethari hummed, pensive. “I wonder what that feels like.” 

“Me too,” Yew said wistfully. “I’m kind of jealous of them, to be honest.” 

“You’re too young to think that way.” 

“Am I?” He said, tilting his head again. “I don’t think so. I think it’s normal to think about things like this. Being in love with someone is nearly impossible in a place like a ranch, where people are just trying to survive, so I think it’s normal to wonder about what loving someone feels like. Didn’t you just say that?” 

Ethari snorted. “I guess I did. You’re still too young. You’re not even twenty yet, right?” 

“So what?” Yew said, shrugging. “I’m old enough to get married, so I’m more than old enough to wonder.” Yew looked up toward the house. “Ah! Cetzu is here. I expected him to take longer, but he probably just wants to get back quicker. He’s another one who’s a fool for his family.” 

“The orphanage director?” Ethari asked. “And wood carver?” 

“He’s really a jack-of-all-trades type. He’ll fix you up. Do you think you can make it back to the barn?” 

Ethari sighed heavily. “I’ll try.” 

“Let me know if you can’t. I’ll get the boys to lift you like we did the day we found you.” 

Ethari grimaced at the thought. “No, on second thought, I’ll make it. If it kills me, I’ll make it on my own.” He peered up at Yew in an unfriendly way. “Well… help me up, would you?” 

Yew laughed again. “Yes, yes, come on.” 

With Yew’s help, Ethari managed to return to his stall in the barn, though he was so exhausted that he hit the ground as soon as he entered it. He was breathing hard, his heart beating out of his chest. He was in immense pain from that small amount of physical activity.

“I think I’m dying,” He wheezed. 

“No, you’re not dying,” Yew said, helping him out of his coat and covering him with blankets again. “But maybe we should see about fashioning you some sort of bedpan, so you don’t have to move again.”

“That sounds like a nightmare, but let’s do that,” Ethari said. “I don’t think I can move again for a while.” 

Yew laid his body down next to Ethari, covering him with blankets and using his own body to warm him. 

“You’ll be alright, Ethari,” Yes said softly, patting his back. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you die. You’ve got your whole life left to live, now that you’re out of that place.” He pulled Ethari’s sweat drenched hair away from his face. “Don’t worry,” He repeated. “I’ll take care of you.” 

Ethari lost consciousness, the last sensation he felt were Yew’s fingertips against his forehead.

Since my work is no longer searchable, please do me a favor and reblog this story if you enjoyed it. Help me reach a wider audience! To help me continue creating, please consider buying me a Kofi, becoming a Patron, or donating directly to my PayPal!

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My Masterlist

The Exophilia Creator’s Masterlist

[a-d-nox]

celtic astrology: birch

date range: december 24th to january 20th

advice

these trees are known to have shallow root systems and thusly are sensitive to drought. make sure you are staying hydrated and moisturizing your skin.

animal

the white stag; guardian of the gateway, symbol of death and healing - known for its aspirations, independence, nobility, and achievements.

birch attributes

slender and beautiful. smaller than average. grows fast - likely to level up quickly. short-lived; very little keeps their interest. pioneer. tough. experiences many new beginnings. ambitious/determined - resilient. loyal. patient. ability to overcome all things. determined leader. strategic. excellent organizer. passionate. caring. a sense of loneliness - loner. tight schedule. serious. pessimistic - prone to depression.

birch attributes distinguished with western astrology signs

birch people will only ever be capricorns. more career oriented. workaholic. hungers for power. goal-oriented. wants to help others. not a quitter. wants nothing more than to be loved. loyal/faithful. brave.

deity

lugh (asteroid 217628); the sun god, fostered by the dark king of the fae, renowned for his skills of the arts, crafts, and sciences.

relationship with other celtic tree people

birch people find themselves easily over shadowed around oak people; stay away from working with an oak person, so you can receive attention and nurturing from others.

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click here for the masterlist

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[elfinbloodbag]

Just a Token

Pairing: Astarion x Áradíhena (f!Tav)

Summary: Light fluff, light longing, just a glimpse into a moment of their journey.

Word Count: 2,309

Warnings: I think this should be very safe, but mentions of blood, mentions of battle consistent with BG3.

A/N: I totally understand there is very little desire to read about original characters, this is mainly just my obligatory once every 3 years one-shot fic with whoever is my current OC. But, if you do read it thank you, and any (gentle) constructive feedback is really welcome as I am hoping to do something with an actual plot at some point!

Gravel crunches rhythmically under Áradíhena’s feet. Under all eight pairs of the rag-tag group’s feet. Leather creaks, metal clinks, and the gravel keeps on crunching. It was pleasant at first; a familiar pentameter for the elf to set her stride by. But after a few days of walking with blood and sweat and grime from their battle with Ketheric still rubbing sores under her clothes, it has become more like the sound of a mill, grinding her ability to think into the very finest of flours.  

As a group they had agreed the best course was to keep moving, to keep pushing forward to Baldur’s Gate. Individually, she thinks they really all would rather take a moment to rest. To really rest. To bathe and feel at least partly fresh and new again. Certainly Lae’zel would never say so, but perhaps if someone else were to speak up, and she could be the last to acquiesce... The terracotta haze across the sky starts dull and become grey around the edges of Áradíhena’s vision as the sun begins its descent into evening.  

After the lifetime spent in the Shadowfell every moment of sunlight, of life and of warmth, feels like a gift, and despite her weariness she can feel warmth seeping back into her bones. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Astarion has his face turned to the sun with his own eyes half closed - the hint of a smile playing about his lips. For a rare moment nothing about his behaviour is performative. He is simply basking in the light that he spent so long without. The warmth of that sight fills her as well. Truly it was a gift. 

Her toe catches on a rock and she stumbles slightly, kicking up more pebbles as she half-jogs forward, trying to use the momentum to catch herself. Lae’zel scoffs, Karlach guffaws, and Astarion chuckles through his words. 

“Careful there My Sweet, no need to fall for me twice.” The vampire’s hand catches her elbow, steadying her more effectively than she was able to do herself. It’s a tender gesture that she is still getting used to. His words carry their usual flirtation and teasing, his eyes are heavy-lidded - but his slender fingertips cupped around her arm, and the quickness with which he stepped forward to catch her can’t be entirely disguised.   

Áradíhena takes a moment to straighten herself up, brushing her hand over his with a light squeeze of thanks and trying to catch his eye. But he is in another world, watching that same hand he lowers his side as if it were the setting sun he had basked in moments before. 

“Time to get some rest I think, before our gracious leader here does herself a mischief.” Gale pipes up after a moment, and Ára hardly contains her sigh of relief. 

“Thank the gods you said it first!” She smiles warmly at him, “I’ve been thinking that for the past, oh, three days, give or take.” 

*** 

The group sits peacefully around the blazing fire, and Áradíhena shuffles her feet, bumping her knee against Astarion’s. On the other side of the fire Karlach elbows Wyll, perhaps a little too hard, in the ribs, saying something about how light on his feet he was as he practically danced to the fire after raising his tent. Halsin whittles a piece of birch he has been carrying for days, and Lae’zel bickers with Shadowheart about preferred weaponry, each firmly planting on opposite sides despite both being skilled with the other’s choice. Gale fusses over the fire, stirring the rich stew and occasionally flitting to his pack to add volcanic salt, or a small amount of dried plum, or some other herb he assures will transform the flavour. She has no doubt it will be delicious, and her stomach grumbles along with the stew. The smell of woodsmoke seeps into her still-damp hair - almost auburn in the orange light of the fire – but it’s better than the acrid smell of sweat that was there a few hours ago. 

She folds forward, laying her chin on her knees and dropping her hands to the floor, causing a series of clicks and snaps along her back. Cold fingertips graze the sliver of exposed skin on her spine, brushing lightly over where the tension has just released. A shiver runs through her and immediately the contact is gone. She begins to reach for Astarion, going to squeeze his knee, to find a way to tell him without words that the shiver was nothing to do with the cold, but drops her hands back to the ground. Instead of saying anything, she rakes her fingers through the fire-warmed earth, searching for something to distract her from the feeling. From the way the firelight seems to put life back into Astarion’s veins where they cord under the rolled sleeve of his shirt.

A small pebble catches on her nail and she rolls it between her fingers for a moment, feeling the sharp edges, the small crags in its shape, and lifts it into the light. It glows a soft, rosy-pink, casting a dull rainbow in a million directions as the light refracts on its unpolished surface. As she sits back up, she holds onto the little piece of beauty from the earth, digging it into her calloused palm and smiling through the instinctive wince. She is still soft compared to the rock. 

*** 

Each member of the party has lips stained red, and Ára adds another layer of colour as she takes a long swig of wine before passing the bottle left to Halsin. With a bust of laughter she almost spits it all back out when Karlach dips Wyll so low to the floor in their dance that his horns graze the floor and he squirms, unused to the sensation. She lifts him back to standing and then falls forward in a fit of laughter herself, slapping her knees so hard that Áradíhena is sure own would buckle with the force. There is an underlying understanding that they may not have long to enjoy these moments of levity and relative freedom, so they share in every piece of joy to be had. 

Áradíhena nudges Astarion with her elbow lightly, and with a rumbling ‘hmm?’ he tilts his head towards her, still watching the dancers with an almost fond expression. His white curls tickle the tip of Ára’s ear.  

“No Astarion, you have to look!” She unfurls her hand in her lap, rolling the rose quartz around her palm so it can catch the light for him to see.  

“What am I looking at?” 

“I found this in the dust. It feels like so long since we’ve had anything beautiful.” She lifts it higher, willing him to see what she sees, to share in this piece of joy with her. 

He leans in a little, and as he catches sight of it a sneer twists his lips, although he very quickly wipes it away and meets her bright gaze through lowered lashes. “Oh look,” he straightens back up and his breath flutters against the hot skin in the crook of her neck as he drops his voice to a whisper, “it matches you perfectly, Pet.” 

Heat spreads across her face and a vibration somewhere between a laugh and a purr runs through Astarion, adding fuel to her flush. One steadying breath later she takes his hand, unfurls his fingers, and drops the small stone into his palm. “Then I suppose it must be yours.” 

His head jerks back and he stares down at the stone, eyebrow cocked and lip curled, “Ára, you found this on the ground!” His voice is comically aghast, “Who knows where it’s been, what in the hells makes you think I want it? It’s not even precious!” 

Fine then. He would not be sharing in this with her. Trying to combat the overwhelming feeling of smallness that overcomes her, Áradíhena rolls her eyes and stands to walk away before she can watch him toss it to the ground as she is sure he will. Companionable and compassionate as ever, Halsin grumbles along and follows her to the stream where they wash up their wooden bowls in a comfortable if slightly solomn silence. 

*** 

The first light of the sun seeps languidly through the window, past the curtain, and casts a syrupy glow over Ára’s face. She’s in a bed. A REAL bed for the first time in gods knows how long, and yet the new day has found a way to rouse her from this small comfort rather earlier than necessary. She stretches out, kicking the sheet off her legs and touching her toes to the wooden bed posts. It was a blessing to find Elfsong Tavern when they arrived yesterday, and entirely worth the minor scuffle over who had first access to the bath. 

All around the room are sounds of sleep. The light snuffling from Scratch and the Owlbear cub could almost lull her back into her trance, if it weren’t for Gale’s muttering and what she assumes to be Halsin’s snores. She sits up, eyes drawn immediately to the opposite side of the room where Astarion normally rests. But instead of seeing the pale elf laying motionless, death-like, on his back when she glances around there are neatly laid sheets free of any sign of rest, and his shirt sits perfectly folded atop his pillow.  

For all his complaints about camping, Astarion hasn’t made best use of their temporary homestead. But, Áradíhena thinks suddenly feeling a weight on her chest, he has the hardest time with rest, with stillness and certainly with finding peace. She hopes that soon they will reclaim that for him. For now, his fearful habits remain. They had spoken alone very little since the quartz incident two days ago, and when they had his growing tension about returning to the city had been evident.  

Although not long ago Astarion had confessed the depth and reality of his feelings to her, she felt more distant than ever. On the verge of losing him to the Rite of Ascension, to an attempt to kill Cazador, to the Elder Brain, or to any one of the myriad of barriers in their path.  

She quickly shrugs on her own loose shirt and begins to stoke the fire, busying herself to distract from the fear, and then from the guilt at her selfishness. Gale and Shadowheart would be glad of coffee when they wake, and she can lay still no longer. 

*** 

“I’m really not sure where to go from here, it feels as though there are one hundred and one things we need to do in the city, all equally important. I’m lost.” Áradíhena hands Gale the steaming coffee, perhaps unceremoniously. She had hardly given him time to dress before seeking counsel, or comfort, or something like either. 

“You know we will all – correction, most of us will – follow your lead here. You haven’t taken us astray this far Áradíhena, I trust you’ll make the right choice on what lead to follow first.” 

“You’re not helping Gale! Everyone wants something different, everyone will be frustrated no matter what I chose–“ 

“You know that I wo-“ he interrupts, trying to reassure her. 

“And don’t think I’m not including you in this!” 

“Then you’ll need to put up with some frustrations. You can’t make everyone happy at all times you know…” Gale smiles a little sadly at her, but his tone is soft.  

Áradíhena heaves her shoulders and rolls her head back with a dramatic sigh, but before she can bounce back with a laugh, Gale claps his hand onto her shoulder, and she knows he isn’t fooled.  

There’s a slight nudge at her wrist, bringing her back to the present. Scratch must have noticed the two of them as the first to be up and about and doubtless wanted to be free of the coup. Odd that she didn’t hear him padding over to them, but she has so much on her mind... “Just a minute, Scratch.” She feels another tug and wafts her hand slightly to temporarily shoo him away. 

She looks back to Gale, saying brightly “How about a morning wa-” but stops short as she sees him smirking, brows raised a little in incredulity. “What?” 

Gale just chuckles and nods towards her hand. 

There, pinned to her cuff with the most delicate golden clasp, is a gleaming red teardrop. A highly polished, beautifully cut ruby in the richest shade of blood.  

“I... how..?” She casts her eyes about the room, slightly slack jawed and looking, she is quite sure, like a fool. In the opposite corner Astarion lounges back on his bed, a carefully curated air of nonchalance all about him as he runs one long finger delicately down the pages of his book and with the slightest flick turns the page.  

The corner of his lip curls into the hint of a smile as he feels her eyes scanning him with less subtlety than she should, and the glint in his eye perfectly matches the ruby. “Now that we’re back in the civilisation, Darling, I thought you really ought to know what a stone of value looks like.” 

“It’s beautiful Astarion, thank you.” She beams and her chest swells, even as she worries about him sneaking out to steal from merchants without her to act as a distraction. 

“Pffft, it’s nothing, just a token. Don’t mention it.” He is blasé, looking back to his book with an air of finality.  He raises his hand to wave her off and brush away the sentiment, and she barely catches the flash of pink inside his sleeve, where he has carefully sewn her rose quartz into the lining.  

[tvickiesims]

Seasonal Trees Set - Part 2

New set of seasonal trees is here! This time there are 6 trees in total, converted from The Sims 4, tweaked and retextured by yours truly.

Norwegian Spruce Pine might have weird lighting in seasons other than summer. Both pines won’t have falling leaves in autumn.

Part 1 is here

Polycount:

Big oak: 1851

Big pine: 5920

Birch: 1549

European beech: 947

Norwegian spruce pine: 542

Slender birch: 1572

Compressed, clearly labelled, picture included

Download at SFS

[futurequibblerjournalist]

Do you think all of the S28 have crests/animals like how the Malfoys have their peacocks and the Averys have barn owls?

Yes, I do! Most of the Sacred Twenty Eight seem too stuck on their high horse to not have something like a crest/animals to represent them. I went with animals for this since I've got significantly more thoughts for that than on the crests, but I would imagine these also show up on some variant of a family crest as well. I got a bit of help from a friend with this one but,,, here are our thoughts lol

Abbot - Doves

The Old English derivative "abbod" is a reference to the head of monasteries and the Old French "abet" means "priest".

Avery - Barn Owls

Black - Black Ravens

This is canon, as seen on the Black family tree, but ravens are the specific corvus due to their symbolism.

Bulstrode - Marsh Frog

The Old English "bula" means "bull" and "strōd" means "overgrown marsh", yet bullfrogs are not native to the area.

Burke - Porcupines

Derives from the Norwegian name "Børke", which originated from the Old Norse "birki", meaning "birch forest", a location commonly populated by porcupines.

Carrow - Stoat

The Welsh surname "Caeriw" means "dweller at the fort on the hill", an area that stoats can be found. They are also a breed of mustelid that highly resemble a weasel, which highlights their Slytherin traits in reference to the phrase "weasel out of something", meaning to be cowardly.

Crouch - Lamb

The Old English term "crūc" means "cross", an item from a religion associated with lambs in direct correlation to their saviour. I especially love this for the religious context and it symbolically means innocence, purity and sacrifice. Especially the latter works great with how Crouch Senior sacrifices his son for the sake of his career but also how Artemisia Crouch (Barty's mother) sacrifices herself for her son (who she believes to be innocent as far as we're aware), something that she would have never done if she had not married into the Crouch family.

Fawley - Hare

The names originate from the Old English terms "fealu", meaning "fallow", or "colour", "fealh", meaning "ploughed land", and "lēah", which means "woodland clearing". The hare is a woodland creature with earthy tones, suiting each origin.

Flint - Otter

The Old English name means "stream", an otter's habitat.

Gaunt - Serpent

The Middle English term meant "slender", an apt description of a snake and a reference for their status as Slytherin's heirs.

Greengrass - Red Deer

An animal that takes residence in grassy areas.

Lestrange - Fox

The name derived from "foreigner" in French, which leads one to believe that they were perceived as outcasts, presumably to the Muggle world, as would likely be subsequently associated with the occult, of which foxes are part. Traits symbolised by the animal also follow Slytherin's creed.

Longbottom - Hedgehog

The Old English words "lang" and "botm" mean "valley bottom", where hedgehogs may be found.

Macmillan - Lion

Often depicted on the Macmillan family crests.

Malfoy - Albino Peacocks

This is once again another canon one. Lucius Malfoy even owns an albino peacock and it scares Yaxley when he arrives along with I believe Severus for a meeting in June or July 1997? Something along those lines.

Nott - Salamander

The surname may be a variant of "Cnut", which is an English variant of the name Knud, the king who brought England and Denmark together, and salamanders are animals found in Denmark whose features pair with Slytherin traits.

Ollivander - Cow

The name originates from the Greek "olive wand", and as the known Ollivander pairs wands and wizards, the animal was chosen from Hera's sacred cow, combining professions and origins.

Parkinson - Bat

The name "Parkin" meant "little stone" in Middle English, and whilst it is a wider stretch than others, caves are typically comprised of rock, where bats can be located.

Prewett - Lion

The name is a variant of "Prewitt", which meant "valiant", suiting both the animal and the House of Gryffindor.

Rosier - Bee/Swan

My friend suggested bees, as they are pollinators of roses, I personally like the swan. The swan is most commonly a symbol of love, similar to how the red rose is, but it is also a symbol of beauty, something I think the Rosiers value a lot. This also fits with my headcanon that the Rosier family has a lot of Veela blood in it, as the Veelas transform into a bird-like creature when angry. They're described as cruel-beaked bird-like harpy-esque creatures and as someone who's witnessed an angry swan, I think it all adds up lol.

Rowle - Eastern Osprey

I headcanon the Rowle family to have roots in Denmark (hence names like Thorfinn) and the Eastern Osprey is a bird fairly commonly seen in Denmark.

Selwyn - Goat

The name originates from the Latin "Silvanus", Roman god of the forest, where goats could be seen.

Shacklebolt - Horse

The name obviously refers to breaking shackles, thus freedom, which is often represented by horses.

Shafiq - Persian Leopard

Derives from "shafaqa", meaning "compassion". Felines are widely loved in the culture and leopards symbolise power, beauty, and wisdom.

Slughorn - Slug

Ignoring the obvious reasons the Slughorns would be represented by slugs, slugs are also known to symbolise adaptability which we see with the one Slughorn we know of. Snails in general often symbolise tests of personal strength and we've also seen Horace Slughorn deal with many tests of personal strength, first when he tells Tom Riddle about the horcruxes and later when he tells Hari about the memory of it.

Travers - Heron

The name meant "to cross" in Old French, typically crossing a body of water, an exodus that herons are known to populate.

Weasley - Weasels

Yaxley - Bison

The name comes from "gēac" and "leah" in Old English, respectively meaning "cuckoo" and "woodland clearing". As yaks are not as popular in Europe, bison bear a close resemblance.

There was a lot of overlap with what we thought for a handful of families, though most of the explanations are by @literallysleepy! Hopefully, you guys enjoyed them as much as I did,,,,

[wandering-words-14]

A slender white birch

With tips like upturned fingers

The clouds beating woes upon the earth

The light, the trees, the fragrance of the wind.

The knowledge that I am listening to my future.

The moon white and clean in its girth.

[cryptidclaw]

Birchfall! he streeeeeeetching!!

I made him basically a light brown version of his mama Ferncloud!

in RoC Birch is Ferncloud's only surviving bio kit, as she only had one litter (Birch, Holly and Larch) with Birch being the soul survivor. Fern had no mate when she had her litter, and she had chosen to use an outsider as a doner.

I think that Ferncloud was left very traumatized by what happened to her first litter, loosing two of the 3 before they even reached apprentice hood. Which is why she never chose to birth another litter of kits, despite loving being a mother and wishing for more.

However Fern eventually became mates with Daisy and became like a second mother to Daisy's first litter! and in the same way, Daisy became like a mother to Birchfall, despite him being a full adult. Birch would act a bit annoyed by Daisy's mothering, but he secretly loves it and loves that his mom found such a kind mate.

When Fern and Daisy decided to have a litter together with a donor, Daisy was the carrier and Fern was very protective and scared for her kits and mate for a while because of what had happened to Fern's first litter. But Birch was there for his mama and helped calm her especially when greencough came to the Order and threatened her kits.

Birch also still becomes mates with Whitewing but they are not the parents of Dove and Ivy! instead they are the parents of Ambermoon, Snowbush and Dewnose!

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Birchfall from warrior cats. His left side is showing and he is stretching with his front legs close to the ground and his back legs stretched high, he has a happy expression with a smile. He is a slender long furred light brown spotted tabby tom with teal-blue eyes. He is mostly a light brown color with darker brown spots and stripe down his back. He has white on his underbelly, and the bottom half of his legs, it also lines his eyes and he has a small heart shaped white spot between his eyes. His nose, paw pads, and inner ears are all light pink./End ID]

[e-louise-bates]

LMM fans, what do we think Jane would have named the house at Lakeside Gardens once it was theirs?

Some description of it:

"It was a small house for Lakeside Gardens but a good deal bigger than Lantern Hill. It was built of gray stone and had casement windows ... some of them beautifully unexpected ... and a roof of shingles stained a very dark brown. It was built right on the edge of the ravine overlooking the tree tops, with five great pines just behind it."

"Jane went all around it and peered through every diamond-paned window. There was a living room that would really live once it was furnished, a dining room with a door that opened into a sun room, and the most delightful breakfast nook in pale yellow, with built-in china closets."

"At the back the ground was terraced right down to the floor of the ravine. There was a rock garden and a group of forsythia bushes that must have been fountains of pale gold in early spring. Three flights of stone steps went down the terraces, with the delicacy of birch shadows about them, and off to one side was a wild garden of slender young Lombardies."

...Then there's lots of description about the view and the lake and all that, but I'm not typing all that up.

I am rubbish at house/place names--my imagination is of a different sort, and even when as a kid I attempted to name places the way Anne did they were more along the lines of the kind of names Diana and Jane Andrews came up rather than Anne's, so I've got nothing, but my curiosity is piqued. What do you suppose LMM would have had Jane (& parents) name the house?

[princelylove]

Good morning/afternoon/evening Dear Prince. I hope you're doing and feeling well and I apologize for my stupidity, here are pretty pink flowers for you 🌸🌷🌺🪷🌺🌷🌸 I'm sorry for being stupid and overbearing and breaking your rules, just delete my previous two letters so I ask for a simple sadistic Kakyoin and masochist Darling.

Please, thank you and have a wonderful day.

I honestly can't recall what this is in reference to, so, sure, forgiven.

'It's punishment time, baby.' always rings in my ears whenever I think about Noriaki's character. You'd think he wouldn't be the type to drop cool one-liners, that's kind of Jotaro's whole deal, but he is. It's embarrassing, too, especially when he chooses to drop them.

There isn't a worse time to be called 'baby' than when you're tied up in the air like meat in a slaughterhouse.

Noriaki is a very traditional sadist, he's very physical, but there's not much he can do to physically overwhelm you, Noriaki has a small-ish frame and a lean silhouette. His canonical height is 178 cm / 5 ft 10 inches, which is tall if you yourself are short, but not in comparison to the giants he calls his friends. It's just not fair, is it? It's difficult to be intimidated by someone slender, usually. He considered himself on the taller side before, but it's just not the same when he isn't broad nor intimidating. Noriaki is pretty, really, and he has no interest in changing his appearance to conform to what you think someone scary looks like. Noriaki understands his weaknesses, but to him, they add to the play. Haven't you heard of the halo effect?

You wouldn't assume he's the type to strap you down and have his way with you. It's kind of exciting, isn't it? To be controlled by someone who cannot physically overpower you? He's quite the opportunist, he takes advantage of people assuming he's not dangerous just because of his body.

Noriaki favors tools, he uses his stand, obviously, but whips, his belt, rods, and anything he think could be amusing to use on you are entirely fair game, really. He's quite experimental- as long as he thinks he can use it for more than an hour, he'll try it. Slow torment calls his name, can you really call it an indulgent session if you're not there until the sun rises?

He's the typical rope bunny's ideal partner, Hierophant Green makes for wonderful rigging on top of the arsenal Noriaki calls 'toys.' He doesn't really like to use his hands to hurt you- it just doesn't do anything for him. He'd rather choke you with Hierophant Green than his own hands, you look lovely with ribbon tied too tightly.

He's more fond of just restricting his darling over something like birching, but honestly, it's all so tempting. If running knives down your pretty skin gets tiring, he'll have fun making your body swing back and forth in the air.

Honestly, Noriaki loves to make his darling uncomfortable first and foremost. He wants his darling to squirm before they'll truly think how badly it hurts, it isn't fun if you don't warm up a little. Don't you know anything about foreplay?

[werezmastarbucks]

forestling

pic credit

masterlist

Damon Salvatore's conscience acts up after he kills a pregnant woman in '94

author's note: yup, now I feel I'm getting old. When Damon, of all people, stops being your vampire crush, and becomes an older brother figure, it's time to call it quits. jk

word count: 994

warnings: parent figure!Damon, Y/N is an orphan

The forest was glowing golden in the morning hour, and the birds were spooked by the sharp cracking sounds of the trees being broken and snapped in half. A vampire row is no joke. When Damon gets pissed, that's one thing: he might throw stuff around and push people under the trains. But when he feels like this, half-empty, disillusioned, and dirty, regretful, he becomes really dangerous. Love was a thing of pain, but a feeling so filthy, so intrusive, did not occur in him too often. It was guilt, and Damon hated it. Not the 'what's people gonna think now' type of guilt, and not the 'Stefan's going to pout'. It was sincere, and it was pulling on his ribcage, and now the rage that he felt was urgent, and hypocritical as he swung his hand again to strike Aidan. Aidan was his buddy. A guy he met in Penzance about twelve years ago or so. A kind of a wild card. It was enjoyable drinking with him, they didn't have to confess anything, or speak eye to eye. Aidan was fun at the times when it was easier to let go. But Damon had a fatal drawback: from time to time he swam up. And looked at his life and the scale of destruction. While he still posessed a superego, Aidann lacked it completely. It was fun until it wasn't.

The slender birch trees, growing in a perfect circle, and the light golden pollen of August were reminiscent of magic that used to reside here. Aidan now sacrificed two mortals to gods of his hunger. When it came to the point of taking the baby in the blanket, Damon's eye started twitching weirdly. Unwelcome flashbacks. The conscience, the ultimate bitch. She was now drilling her crooked nail into the back of his neck. And, almost without any consideration, he stroke Aidan again.

"Not the baby", he hissed, warning.

Aidan regrouped and looked at him from the ground with his animalistic, lunatic eyes.

"Why? What does it matter to you?"

He looked in the direction of the bloodless bodies lying on the edge of the clearing. This all looked like an illustration from a children's book. The sun was above the forest, and the white of young trees, the trees that were younger than them, made this place shine with eternal light.

Damon could hear the child whimper, but she did not scream. Two big, thoughtful eyes were looking at them curiously from the blanket nest she was now abandoned in. The eyes were old. Because, he thought, those were the eyes of the unborn child he murdered three months ago. He already forgot the woman's name, but the child's consciousness manifested in his mind. Like a parasite. Such useless, human instinct.

"That's where you draw the line? Babies?" Aidan continued, laughing. His laugh didn't suit this angelic place.

He didn't have it in him to talk things out, come up with witty responses. He attacked again, and, after some commotion that included a broken and recovered arm, and even a bite, managed to impale him with a branch. Aidan's face went white with pain, but the tip of the stick only scratched his heart slightly. The unwellness that washed over Damon was so great that he was determined to avoid any death at all. Just today. So many things in his life he sincerely wanted to fix, and now was hurriedly scooping the baby and the blanket with his bowed head.

He looked into this stupid haunting baby face, thinking, now what? Idiot. You're in the middle of the forest, and now you can't even use the vampire speed to carry it out. It will get a whiplash and die.

So he walked, and walked, through the young slender trees, and the afternoon golden glow, as the light of the sun changed against the greenery. The baby cried a little and then fell asleep. He stood on the top of the hill, allowing his mind to wander for a while. It was good to be old. You had friends in almost every country.

He changed hands and looked at the sleeping child again. She is very peaceful, he thought. A uniquely unbothered new born. Being a vampire does not automatically make you a human conoisseur, so, he gathered, she was about six, seven, eight months old? Who knew. He would find out about her parents and will know soon enough. Maybe, maybe keeping this one baby safe will make up for all these horrible things he's done.

He walked down the hill into the beach as the heat soared. The house with shelves on the eaves was closed off against the summer swelter. He blew on the baby's face gently, trying to keep it warm. No idea how long a mortal baby can whithstand high temperatures. A good witch lived here. She wore boho dresses and had long silver hair - it used to be black. She was the kind of person to accept whatever fate throws at her; that's why she never shut Damon out of her life. She went to the sea every day and did her marine magic. This little old island is protected by her and her ethereal kindness.

He knocked on the door. As she opened, Damon gave her his typical cat smile.

"Ever wanted to be a mother?" he asked, standing in the door like an ink spot against the bright golden of the day.

"Hello to you, too", she replied, standing on her toes. He face changed into the expression of worry.

"If you wanted to visit, you could've just come..."

Damon shrugged.

"What do you think?"

"You look disheveled".

"Do I?"

"Had to fight?"

"A friend of mine has a thing for killing off the families whole".

Her clear bright eyes squinted at the sun and focused on Damon.

She was a little suspicious but agreed that the weird orphaned baby was uncharacteristically quiet.

[jillraggett]

Plant of the Day

Tuesday 28 March 2023

In Edinburgh Botanic Garden this Champion Tree Betula pendula subsp. pendula 'Tristis' (silver birch, weeping birch) greets visitors. This is an elegant, deciduous tree with white bark, and long slender drooping branches.

Jill Raggett