#Able township

[mars1749]

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

[shorterstrides-fasterpace]

Good Morning!!!

[dont-call-me-kaylee]

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

[vitiateoriginator]

Birthday keroppi time B)

[flybykime]

Well this is always weird to see when someone brings this up, but I can add context here. It happened outside of school hours, and there’s a bombing range on the far side of the highway, just outside the township. If you live there, there’s just specific noises and environmental things you just get used to.

Examples include: a vrrrrp sound in the distance, the airforce occasionally setting the woods on fire, military planes mirroring the highway, finding target number signs if you walk too deep in said woods, etc.

[whatislovevavy]

Sliding Stops & Beating Hearts

Reiner! Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader (Honeybee)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But would it be enough to win?

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

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

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

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

A perfect score. 

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, ma’am.” 

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

—

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

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck, baby”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“I love you, Honeybee.”

“I love you too, Ty.”

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

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

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[schluttforschlatt]

Bartender Reader x Patron Schlatt

You’ve had your fair share of working in shitty dive bars, having been in both big cities and small towns

The patrons were always predictable, their life stories printed in the creases around their eyes and mouth

The bigger cities attracted a younger crowd, while the smaller townships collected middle aged farm hands and dock workers

You were currently working two part time jobs: waiting tables at a family owned diner in the morning, and bartending at a sleepy tavern in the evenings

You had your regulars at both establishments, but the bar goers definitely tipped better than the diner guests

Of course there were sleezeballs trying to feel you up at the bar, but you were desperate to make rent and didn’t mind an extra $30 for a light tap on the ass; men are simple creatures after all and you were able to brush it off by the time you were clocking out

However, every Friday night you noticed a solitary young man, gruff expression and wild facial hair with uncharacteristically soft eyes, tucked away in a booth occasionally sharing banter with other bar crawlers

You’d heard stories of him tipping measly dollars to your coworkers, the other bar tenders always disappointed after he would close out his tab and walk out the door

But when it was you cashing him out, he’d slide you a crisp $50 with a subtle wink, and you’d blush whispering a “thank you” every time

This would go on for a few months, him slipping you $100s closer to holidays. The first time, you pleaded with him to keep the money and use it for his own needs and care, but he smiled down at you and shook his head, muttering “you’re too sweet for this place, doll. Tips all yours.”

You came to eventually know him as Jay, who would slink in and order a top shelf whiskey or bourbon, then seat himself in a booth in the far corner of the bar. He would only speak when it came time to pay his tab, unless it was you

He would ask you about your life, what you were studying and why you were passionate about it. He’d ask about your hobbies and interests, offering input if it was something he was familiar with. And of course, he loved it when you’d sit in the booth across from him, scrolling through pictures of your cats at home.

On one occasion, you’d had an actually deep conversation about working two jobs and studying, struggling to find a balance between the three while maintaining a social life and personal interests

You’d become acquaintances with him, and just as you opened up to him, he would open up to you, sharing pictures of his own cats (“I don’t trust someone who doesn’t like cats, there’s just something untrustworthy about it.” He’d say to you one night) and his travels across the states and abroad

One night in particular, he asked about a tattoo you had on your left forearm. You said it was from your favorite video game, which launched the two of you into a passionate conversation about console vs PC, then building your own PCs and rigs

He pulled out his phone and opened the Steam app, eagerly asking to add you as a friend with the possibility of playing together, which you happily obliged

He tipped you $250 that night, his bill originally only $45. That was the largest tip you’d received. There was no physical contact made, nor did he try to feel you up at any point, unlike other reoccurring patrons

The next time he sauntered in, he gave you a shy wave before ordering a whiskey neat, then retiring to the same dim booth. You’d taken notice of his messy hair, the usual Yankees cap missing this evening, and the stressed look on his face

On your break you made your routine appearance at the booth, scooting in with a warm smile. His eyes seemed distant this time, almost anxious. You opened the conversation joking about his missing hat, to which he let out a soft chuckle and cracked a half smile. He indulged about his current woes, how his job was weighing on him and he felt like he was hitting a wall

This was the first time you’d asked about what he did for a living, and suddenly the larger than average tips made sense.

He prattled on about running multiple successful YouTube channels on top of owning several smaller business ventures. He opened up about the podcasts he was apart of, and explained how Patreon patrons were the backbone of his multiple communities. It was endearing to see someone young, close in age to you, express the realities of burnout despite loving your craft

As your lunch conversation came to an end, you boldly asked for his number, if anything just to continue the discussion after your shift

However, he’d do you one better and invite you over to his place after your shift to talk shit about life and play old Nintendo games. He’d still given you his number, of course, but he’d also filled out his contact information with his street address, email, and had taken a silly selfie for the contact photo and poster

As you clocked out that night, he waited for you outside the entrance, scrolling through Reddit

You told him you couldn’t stay too late, as you worked your second (well, first, technically) job in the morning and needed at least a good nap before you’d have to get ready

He was more than happy to offer for you to stay the night at his place, and so you two made the walk to your apartment (you said you were fine to go by yourself, but he insisted on making sure you got to your destinations safe and sound). You opened up the door and invited him in, introducing him to your three cats and leaving them in the small living room while you packed an overnight bag. You could hear needy meows through the hall of your youngest cat, begging this new kind stranger for treats. Once she started, the other two kitties joined in, a chorus of

“I don’t know where your mama keeps them! But if I find them you’ll all get some!” You’d heard him whisper yell, smiling at the thought of this new found friend bonding with the most important things in your life

Once your bag was packed, you locked your bedroom door and waltzed into the cramped kitchen, pulling out a bag of cat treats and handing them to Jay

“I spoil them so give them each a small handful,” you smiled at him, handing the bag over. “But be careful of Mellie, she’ll bit a finger for a treat.” He chuckled and offered a smile back, eyes brighter now than they were at the start of the night

After getting the cats to settle down, you’d scuttle down the stairs of your apartment, and begin your trek to Jay’s

Coincidentally, he only lived a few blocks away, no more than a 15 minute walk. It was brisk outside, and you were hoping the pajama shorts you packed would keep you warm through the night

Once arriving at his condo, he unlocked the door and let you in. His own cats came skittering to the front door, immediately begging you, now the stranger to these cats, for treats of their own

“Guys, leave our guest alone, I know your feeders went off less than an hour ago,” he’d bent down to pet one of his cats, an orange one you recognized as Jambo, before throwing a mouse toy into the hallway, both cats running after it

“Did you want to change? The bathroom is down that hall to the left,” he informed, pointing you in the direction. “I’m gonna get the Wii set up in the living room, so take your time, Doll.” That was a pet name he’d use for you often, and you never thought anything of it, only that he was a nice guy who essentially paid for your groceries and gas in his tips

You smiled and nodded, taking off for the bathroom while he took off his jacket, draping it over the arm of the loveseat

It was a nice condo, you thought, colors fitting together charmingly. Blues and browns accented the walls, along with framed awards and trophies. It wasn’t braggadocious, you thought, but rather cute

You found the bathroom, which was also put together nicely, and began your nightly routine. Once you were changed out of your sticky uniform and with a washed face, you made your way to the living room, socked feet making gentle padding sounds to announce your presence. He turns and smiles at you, a gleam in his eye

“Here, lemme put your bag in my room,” he offers with an extended hand, and you gladly let him store it for later

You plop down on the couch, picking up a Wiimote and securing the wrist strap. You hear heavy steps from behind before a “You really use the wrist strap on these things? Pft-“ he joins you on the couch, you, player two, on the right side, and he, obviously player one, on the right

“Your place looks nice, and I don’t have the money to buy you a new TV if I go too hard in Wii Sports,” you quip back, earning a small laugh from the larger man

He continues to set up Mario Kart, turning back to see if you approve of his choice

“Ain’t worried ‘bout the TV, Doll,” you blush at the use of the pet name again. “Only worried about kicking your ass in Moo Moo Circut.”

It wouldn’t be long until both of you were shit talking each other, subconsciously scooting closer to each other, shrieks and laughs echoing through the room

Jambo and [Redacted] had found their places next to you and Jay, and something about this made you feel at ease, allowing you to loosen up a bit and sink into the comfort of his couch

A few hours had passed, and a handful of circuits had been played before you sheepishly asked for a blanket. He obliged, standing up to grab a giant plush blanket, draping it over your lap, then pulling the slack over his own after sitting back down. He’d throw a sheepish grin your direction after knocking your knees together

He’d subconsciously reach over and rub the spot under the blanket, causing you to gasp at the contact of his cold hand. He’d apologize and withdraw digits, refocusing on the TV screen, but you could see a faint blush begun to crawl up his ears

Another hour or so had passed before you were ready to head to bed, your need for sleep making its presence by intense yawns dragging themselves out in quick succession to one another, then contagiously spreading to Jay

Standing up from the couch and stretching, you’d follow behind the large man, with the cats following behind you, to a decently sized bedroom with a neatly made bed

“Beds all yours, I’ll take the futon,” he’d declare, causing you to blush, and insist he take the bed, and you the futon, but he’d stand firm on his decision. “‘S probably gonna be the only time you’ll sleep on a bed this nice, when you come over, y’know?” The smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know, so you’d nod and climb into the California King, feeling like the distance to himself on the futon was several zip codes away

The bed was indeed comfortable, but you tossed and turned because of how unbelievably cold the room was, the sheets feeling like blankets of ice and snow

Desperate to feel warmth you decided to slink over to the man on the futon, placing a freezing hand on the back of his neck. He jumped at the contact, a string of expletives leaving his mouth, before looking at you with concerned eyes. You bluntly said you were cold, and wanted him to either turn the AC off and give you a few more blankets, or join you. In the bed. The one bed. He gave a dopey grin

“All you had to do was ask, Toots.” And he came, pulling him onto the bed with him. And God, that was the best sleep you’ve ever had

~ lmk if anyone wants like an actual fic of this bc I fear I have motivation ~

[cuppajj]

Neo Beast Head cannons?

WOOWOO

✨Saint Vanilla Cookie

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

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

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

He has tea every morning

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

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

❤️‍🔥Dragonberry Cookie

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

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

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

Snores

❄️Frigid Cacao Cookie

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

His incense always remains lit

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

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

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

☀️Celestial Cheese Cookie

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

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

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

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

🥀Midnight Lily Cookie

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

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

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

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

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

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

[daryldicksuckon69]

Ride His Motorcyle (18+)

Pair: Daryl Dixon x Reader

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

Tags: Smut, Cowgirl Position, Rough Sex

Word Count: 4.22k

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

Ride His Motorcycle By @daryldisuckon69

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which is?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey Rosita, is Y/N home?”

“Hey Daryl”

“Oh.” Oh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Few Hours Earlier

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

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

Daryl looked at you incredulously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Trust me girl, I know,”

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

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

Daryl grunts, “Thought so,”

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

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

“What happened this morning—”

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

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

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

“Would’ve realised what, Daryl?”

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

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

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

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

“Ya got anything to say about that?” 

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

“I can’t,”

“Ya can,”

“Daryl, I really can’t,”

“Say it again,”

“Sorry?”

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

“Say it again, Y/N, please,”

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

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

“Now say it.”

“You know I can’t Daryl.”

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

“You know that’ll never happen, Y/N.”

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

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

“I—I,”

“It’s okay, darlin’.”

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

“I love you, Daryl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“God no.” you gasp, 

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

“You let me know, if ya wanna stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You held your end of the bargain,”

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

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

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

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

My AO3

[mars1749]

Week 1 workout 1 complete!! ✅

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

Runner five, signing out! 👋

[alex51324]

That tiny little town in New Hampshire where they vote at midnight has reported their results: 3 votes each for Trump and Harris. The voters were 4 registered Republicans and 2 independents.

So, we're off to a promising start as far as Harris being able to pick up a votes from people who aren't registered Democrats, at least.

[scotianostra]

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

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

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

On March 3rd 1883 the Shetland Times published this;

The Weather and Mails – Foula

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[mary-bell-radiation-authority]

Management: Update on the MBU burning

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

[strwberri-milk]

Songs of Sorrow - Ch. 14

Rancher!AU || Boothill x Fem!Reader || Slowburn, Drama

The cracking of thunder overhead is nothing in comparison to the sound of blood rushing through your ears as you somehow managed to sprint out of the house undetected. You should have known that a storm was coming from the way the air smelled, dark clouds obscuring the sun’s light more intensely with every minute that passed. 

You managed to stay hidden within the plants and trees, following the main road away from the town. Hopefully you’d be able to reach a different township before running out of supplies - a place that had no idea who you were. You know it’d be several days out but you knew that being negative wouldn’t help matters. 

The crinkling of paper in your hands draws your attention back to the note you initially planned to give to Boothill. You didn’t have the strength to give it to him, taking the coward’s way out by disappearing without a word. You’re sure he won’t actually miss you. It’d take him no time to adjust back to his life, keeping busy with his work and friends. You were just a temporary distraction to him. 

Lightning cracks across the sky, illuminating everything in white. Thunder quickly follows behind as you curse to yourself. The storm was moving quickly and at this rate if you weren’t drowned by the torrential downpour that was beginning you knew you ran the risk of getting struck by lightning - even if those chances were slim. You needed to seek shelter, and soon. 

You move through the underbrush quickly, sticking close to the road to prevent yourself from getting lost as your eyes scope out any potential shelters. You wish you could remember what Boothill had said about storms before, cursing to yourself when another peal of thunder shakes the ground. 

Left with no choice you find yourself crouching underneath a particularly feral looking bunch of bushes and shrubs. They create a sort of canopy over your head as you crawl into the plant, finding some sort of way to sit down almost comfortably as you sigh to yourself. The leaves protect you from the rain somewhat, hopefully lessening the chances of you getting sick from the horrid weather conditions. 

You’re tempted to fall asleep, wondering if you could pass the time quicker in slumber but you know that might end up being far more dangerous for you than just trying to weather out the storm. You poke your head out of the leaves, trying to see if you could at least find some sort of uninhabited cave to dry off even the tiniest bit, misery compounded as you realise there’s nothing here for you. 

You don’t know if the stinging in your eyes is from the rain pelting against your face or the tears streaming down your cheeks, heel of your palm coming to try and wipe them off. Before you know it you find yourself sobbing, knees tucked into your chest as you lament how things ended up like this. You can’t help but curse the faint memory of your parents that you have, knowing that if it weren’t for the debt they so carelessly incurred you could have been happy. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧───  ｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .*☆｡ﾟ ───✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Boothill?!”

The anger that flashes through his chest is one he’s never felt before at the sound of Geryll’s voice in his living room. He knows that if it weren’t for her you would still be here, or at the very least he would have been able to convince you to stay if you were trying to leave. 

He makes his way to her, scowl deep on his face as he starts to grab his things to go out. She notices immediately, putting a hand on his bicep in a weak attempt to stop him. 

“What are you doing?! Look at the clouds! We’re in for a bad storm - I was coming here to ask if you wanted to come shelter with us so you wouldn’t be alone,” she says desperately, tugging on his arm. 

“I’m goin’ out,” he says gruffly, tearing his arm out of her grip. 

“Out? In this weather?! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!”

He can hear the panic slipping into her voice, shaking his head as he scoffs. 

“What’s it to you?”

“Boothill, that’s suicide. All your animals are already inside, aren’t they? There’s no reason to go out!” 

He turns around roughly, hands coming up to her shoulders as he restrains himself from grabbing her. 

“I have to go get her. She’s out there somewhere, probably two steps away from hypothermia, or worse,” he says lowly, dropping his hands to focus on leaving. 

“What? Don’t bother with her - you know she’s a lost cause, don’t you?” she huffs, narrowing her eyes at him. 

His eyes widened at her audacity, stunned speechless. 

“It’s good that she’s gone. You don’t need to worry about her anymore. I - honestly, now that she’s no longer here I can finally tell you the truth,” she murmurs, leaning in closer to him.

He can’t hear her confession to him over the anger that threatens to spill over. He wasn’t dumb enough to think that her feelings for him were just platonic, and he knew that this would happen in due time. He just had no idea that she would be cruel enough to use your imminent demise as her jumping off point, only just now realising that her hands were on his chest as she batted her lashes at him. 

He shoves her off of him, growling in disgust. 

“I don’t love you. I never would, especially not after this.” 

“What - you don’t even know her!”

“Then I’ll spend the rest of my life learnin’. You really think I’m weak enough for the idea of that to be dauntin’?” 

Geryll crosses her arms, huffing angrily as she stares him down. 

“You leave me no choice then. If you come back with her without coming to me I’ll have to report her to Sampo. I’ll even forfeit the reward money if that means he’ll get here sooner,” she threatens. 

“Then I’ll kill him,” he bites back.  

The words leave his lips determinedly. He knows he’d do it. He’d do anything for you. 

Geryll doesn’t seem to understand, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms. 

“Please. I know you talk big but you really can’t mean that. The rumors about you being a bounty hunter are just that - rumors. I know you aren’t that cruel,” she says with a lilt in her voice, clearly very confident in her own appraisal of his being.  

As if on cue, Boothill’s gun clicks into place on his holster as he tucks it into his waist as a precaution. He looks over at the woman incredulously, eyes wide in a mocking confusion at her denial of his cruelty. 

“They ain’t rumors princess,” he says sarcastically, mimicking a gun with his fingers as he points it to her forehead. 

“Now, if you’re gonna keep runnin’ your mouth I’ll make sure you go home to your brother as a pile of flesh. Don’t tell me you’re really gonna test me like that, are you?” 

She pales at the words, unused to Boothill’s threat as she steps back from him slightly. A mean smirk graces his features as he watches the colour drain out of her face. There’s no negotiating with him anymore and he knows that every nasty thing she’s ever heard about him is slowly becoming truer and truer in her mind. 

“If you’ll excuse me I have to go rescue the only damn thing in this word that matters to me right now. If you’re here when I get back I won’t hesitate to knock you out.” 

He leaves her stunned, knowing that whatever consequences he brought onto himself he’ll happily accept. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧───  ｡ﾟ☆ *.☽ .*☆｡ﾟ ───✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Despite your incredibly perilous situation, you find comfort in the way the rain sounds hitting the ground next to you. The air smells clean and you manage to lay your head down on some haphazard pillow you’ve made out of fallen leaves and your arms. 

Your breathing evens out, knowing that at this point there’s really nothing much you can do. The rain was easing up only marginally, and thankfully the gaps between thunder and lightning were growing. You’re glad that you’ll be able to get out of this soon, wondering if you’d be able to even muster up the strength to move after the rain stopped. 

You close your eyes, hoping that the next time you open them you’d be nice and dry. Your rations are definitely soaked through at this point but maybe you could find some berries to eat. Worst case scenario you’d brave the soaked food, knowing that fed is best after all. Boothill was a strong advocate for the phrase, telling you that if you didn’t want to eat all of something just having a bit of something would be better than nothing. 

A yawn slips past your lips as you let yourself doze off, the tug of sleep so alluring that you barely hear the sound of your name being called out. You think it sounds like him, his voice a welcome sound as you felt yourself falling asleep. 

Boots hit the ground near you, frantic footsteps following the trail you’ve left behind to the pathetic excuse of a shelter you’ve made for yourself. You look up, barely able to make out the murky shape of Boothill standing over you, poncho being pulled over your body as he lifts you into his arms. Your head lolls against his chest, resting against his body as he feels you soak through his clothes. 

“Fuck darlin’. You sure know how to scare the shit out of someone, huh?” he says softly, mounting his horse with you in his arms. 

His heart races, eyes wide as he feels just how limp you are. He jostles your body weakly, trying to see if you’ll respond. You barely resist his movements, body bouncing in time with the gait of his horse as he tries to steady you as much as possible. You barely respond, muttering something under your breath as you weakly try to push against him. He doesn’t shift in the slightest, holding you steady despite the speed of his horse. 

“Don’t speak,” he practically begs, voice brushing against your ears. 

“Just stay awake for me, please? Just a little longer sweetheart. I don’t want you fallin’ asleep on me.” 

You don’t know why he’s pushing so hard, meeting his gaze haphazardly as you let out a soft laugh. 

You don’t know if you’re happy or not that he found you. A part of you would never deny him, knowing that you crave his presence when he’s not around. You laugh to yourself bitterly as you realise your dying thoughts were still about him, what he’d tell you to do, the fact that if it weren’t because of him you wouldn’t be here, like this. 

“You…shouldn’t have bothered,” you say finally. 

“I…you’re in danger.” 

“You think I care?”

Your brain isn’t working nearly enough to understand what he’s saying to you. 

“None of that matters. Don’t act like you’re innocent in all this.” 

You would have recoiled at the touch of anger in his voice if you could actually hear it, chasing the slightest bit of heat you think you can feel bleeding from his body into yours. He watches brokenly, praying that his house will crawl into view sooner rather than later. 

“You should have seen the storm. Seen how bad the clouds are. Did you really think you’d make it out unscathed?” 

“I just…I wanted to keep you safe,” you admit brokenly, tears sliding down your face in time with the rain. 

“Geryll said if I didn’t go you’d be hurt. She’s right. I’d hurt you.” 

“Damn whatever the hell she said,” he says quickly, holding you tightly in his arms. 

“She doesn’t decide what’s good for me. Only I can. If being with you would kill me I’d meet my death with a smile.”

“You can’t mean that, really,” you try to insist, desperately trying to stay awake now that he’s saying things like that. 

“No…I’ll get you killed. Sampo wouldn’t mind taking you out if it meant getting me back.”

He laughs a little, the sound welcome amidst your turmoil. 

“You really think so? You know, I think the reason why you’re still kickin’ is because of me darlin’. Besides your initial kidnappin’.”

His tone sobers up, eyes focused somewhere far past you. 

“He must know by now where you are. He hasn’t approached me about you - nobody has. I’m sure it’s because he knows who I am.” 

Your muddled mind knows that this is something that he’s been hiding from you for a while. You never wanted to directly ask him about it but you also couldn’t help but be curious. 

“What do you mean?” 

He finally looks at you, shaking his head as his home finally comes into view. 

“Don’t matter. All it means is that I ain’t good enough for ya.”

[kedreeva]

Wait, you were raising bobwhites for release? I'd be interested to hear more about that, is it common to do? I work in the environmental field in Canada and we're stricter about wildlife here, DIY-reintroduction without expert oversight is a foreign and frankly very scary idea to me haha. They ARE released for hunting in areas far from our remnant native populations here too, but such activities require licensing. Apologies if I misunderstood your mention of survival rates after release entirely lol.

I don't know how many folks raise them specifically for release, and I can't speak for outside of Michigan, but they're fairly commonly kept in MI. Anyone can keep less than 12 with no permit, but more than 12 or if you want to breed them you do need to get a permit through the state. The permit allows you to keep, breed, sell, butcher, and release up to certain amounts (how many depends what type of permit). Depending where you live you might also have to get permission locally (for example I had to be approved for it through my township). The permits have to be renewed through the DNR yearly and involve keeping records of your captive population and accounting for every bird (and bird part) in your care or that left your care and how, as well as inspections of your care facility to make sure they're suitable for the birds and maintained properly, all of which I did for the two years I was keeping them. I wasn't just randomly raising birds with no oversight or permit, I very much did a lot of work to be able to do it legally and locally- work that ultimately didn't pan out, as by the time I had them figured out and the permits to breed and had them going, HPAI hit and I gave them up in order to utilize my indoor spaces for my peafowl.

HOWEVER, there's also a weird grey area where, for instance, if a permitted person sells eggs to someone, those eggs would come with a temporary permit to hold wild game (issued by the seller) and that permit covers a short period (iirc it was 4-6 months or so) and the birds then had to be butchered, released, or transferred to the person's own permit. So technically, anyone who could (by local regulations) have game birds could buy eggs, hatch, raise, and release birds legally. But again I don't know how many people actually do that ever, since that would be expensive, though I would guess at least some people do it for canned hunt type deals.

Of course, there's also people just... Raising quail with no permits, at decent scale. The enforcement of the law with them is... Not great. There are plenty of people selling them at bird swaps or farm events and I have never once in like 25 years, seen anyone there with a permit or giving temp permits- presumably because you CAN own up to 12 without a permit, and most people are only buying a pair or a few anyway at swaps, so they could be considered "pets" like my first few were, before I wanted to breed. I see people listing them in quail FB groups and I'm almost certain they either don't have permits or won't be issuing the extended permit to the buyers. So there are definitely some cracks to fall through, but you're not SUPPOSED to be doing it that way. You're SUPPOSED to be getting a permit and being inspected and doing it according to the rules the DNR has.

But I was more mentioning release because large breeding facilities have participated in several scientific studies with large, tracked releases to test viability of the government paying for a large scale captive breeding and release repopulation effort in areas the native populations have dwindled, for conservation purposes. Facilities had been doing so (largely for hunting populations), but up until they started tracking they hadn't been sure how much good it did, if it even worked at all. Ultimately, they didn't work out either- the end finding was that pretty much all the captive born birds died quickly and without breeding.

Finding those studies was a huge factor in me axing my own breeders, since what I had wanted to do wouldn't work even if I'd wanted to fuss with keeping them through Bird Pandemic. Fostering viable habitat is a better option, as is getting rid of outdoor cats which have been a major factor in their decline here. So, that's what we do now.

[blues824]

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

Riddle Rosehearts

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ruggie Bucchi

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

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

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

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

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

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

Azul Ashengrotto

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jade Leech

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

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

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

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

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

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

Floyd Leech

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kalim Al-Asim

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jamil Viper

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silver

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

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

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

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

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

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