#Burdock Way

[hepdenerose]

Akroydon 2 (Akroyd Mill and Burial Ground)

Keen to complete our investigations of Akroydon, we took the bus to Halifax mid-May. We alighted on Crown Street where Phil indicated books piled in a window behind us. Previously unnoticed, it solved the mystery of Old Bank Shops, which I’d fruitlessly sought last year. A subsequent foray found nothing but fusty old books and postcards. From North Parade, signs led to Akroyd Mill. It was, of…

[guangchuans]

btw i bought marinated calabash and radish so the next kimbap i make is going to be even better

[hihomeghere]

Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader

Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy) Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River. Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3

The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.

Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.

And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.

Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.

Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.

Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.

“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.

“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.

“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.

“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.

“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.

“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.

Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.

“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.

“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.

“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders

“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.

“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.

“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.

“Very.” He chuckles.

“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.

“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.

“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.

“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.

You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.

He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.

“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.

“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.

You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.

His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.

“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.

“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.

“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Memento Amoris Aeterni

Source for Pic

Word Count: 7155

Tags: Fem!Reader, NSFW - Oral - you receiving, reader is VERY inexperienced (it's medieval times and you're a princess. You know nothing), Angst without happy ending (!), some fluff, Protective Ace, Caring Ace, some gore, blood, cutting of limbs, medieval times AU. MDNI!!! 🔞

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: You are a princess, the sole heir to the kingdom and a prized possession for your father, until he can sell you to the highest bidder. Because of your value, you have a personal guard, Sir Portgas, who seems bored to death with the task of watching over you. However, you realise that he's just hiding his feelings behind a mask. Yet perhaps now it is too late?

Notes: So I saw this post, and I just had to... I was going to do something very short, I swear, but it escalated! Hope you enjoy!

The meadow looks beautiful this time of year. The vibrant reds from the poppies, the purples from the lavenders, the whites from the daisies, and scattered here and there, some yellows from the sweet buttercups and blues from cornflowers. 

It feels like pure freedom. 

Your dainty fingers caress the grass as you run, hoisting your long dress over one arm, ignoring the way your white stockings are showing and laughing nervously at the way you almost lose a slipper. 

Freedom. 

Except not quite. The very ground shakes beneath the thunderous hooves of the galloping horse and you curse beneath your breath, running a little faster, with much more carelessness. Almost there, you almost made it across the meadow this time! 

Your hastened breaths leave your parted lips in short puffs while you overexert your tired lungs. You already know freedom is not ahead of you, but you'll be damned if you're going to give him the satisfaction of your surrender. 

Two more strides are all you get before an armoured arm circles your waist and effortlessly pulls you on top of the brown steed. You are now trapped between two arms while your legs dangle on the side of the horse. Still fighting to catch your breath, you grunt, curse and frown while clenching your hands into tight fists. 

“Curses upon you Sir Portgas!” Akin to a child in the midst of a fiery tantrum, you cross your arms over your chest and point your nose to the clear sky. “I was almost out!”

The horse steadies its pace into a trot while a deep chuckle graces your ears. “You were nowhere near ‘out’, Princess.” He tsks and you can almost feel his dark gaze upon your face. “Of all the jobs in the guard, I had to draw the short stick and land this one…”

Another grunt emerges from your gritted teeth. “Some knights would die for the honour of guarding the princess!”

“Those knights are idiots.”

“At least they're not insufferable!”

Another rumble of laughter is all you get and just as well because you are not willing to give anything more. 

You are the sole heir of the Kingdom and the most prized possession your father holds. As an heiress and a princess, he will get to pick and choose of any noble to be your husband. And he will pick either the wealthiest or the one who can bring him more advantages, be they military, political or financial. You are sure that whoever he picks, will either be hideous, decrepit or disgusting. 

With your luck, all three combined. 

As you are of utter importance, the King has assigned a permanent guard to you, Sir Portgas D. Ace. The best knight of the Guard, known to possess some mystical fire abilities, though you are sure that is just mere hearsay, and a known heartbreaker. Of that, you don't doubt. 

He is as handsome as he is unbearable. And that is saying a lot. 

“Your father the king will be utterly displeased at, yet another attempt to escape.” He says dryly. 

You grunt in response, busy plucking tiny burdocks from the hem of your dress and throwing them at Sir Portgas’s cape, unbeknownst to him. “Then don't tell him.”

“When I took this job, I thought I would be fighting brigands, thieves or assassins.” He scoffs. “Instead, I'm stuck as a milk nanny of a brat.”

“The job suits you. Takes a brat to recognize another one.” You mumble and hiss, a particularly nasty spike from the burdock protruding from your bleeding thumb. 

“Oh, heavens. The Princess is bleeding. Call the priest.” He guffaws and you scowl, your eyes turning into slits. 

“Amusing jest. Perhaps you should try your fortune as a court jester? Mayhaps you wouldn't be so bored?” Using your nails, you try to pick the spike, but it just breaks with the force and you curse, stifling a low whine. 

Sir Portgas removes his steel glove, settling it on his lap, and grabs your delicate hand with his. Your hiss this time has nothing to do with the pain, but with the electric feeling that courses through your body, leaving a tingling sensation on your extremities. 

His dark gaze bores into yours as he presses your thumb into his mouth and sucks. The day is not even hot, yet you feel as if your skin has set ablaze. He uses his tongue on your digit, procuring the spike and, once he finds it, he nibbles and sucks again. 

If you thought his hand on yours had caused a tingling feeling, his tongue has somehow made that tingling seem insignificant. You are aching and burning in places you shouldn't be. 

Your teeth clamp hard against your lower lip to stifle some weird sound that means to get out, yet your breath comes out in heaves through your nose and your peculiar mind says you must look like a tired horse: nostrils flaring, sweat dampening your mane and hot, flushed skin. 

Sir Portgas removes your thumb from his mouth after what resembles an eternity, and he spits towards the ground, gracing you with a smug smile. “There. No more vile thorn can harm you, my lady. I took care of your foe, as I was hired to do.”

Yet, for once, you are speechless. 

There is no counter jest, there is no witty remark. You cradle your hand against your lap and remain silent the rest of the way to the castle, your eyes never leaving the safety of the horse’s head. 

If Sir Portgas finds it peculiar, he does not say so. 

-*-

“I do not understand this need to escape, child! Do you not have all you wish for here in the castle? I give you all the gowns you desire, the pretty jewels, the fancy shoes! If you get bored I send for jesters, for animals, for dancers or plays! If you wish to meet new people, I host tournaments and gatherings! What is it you wish for that I cannot grant you? Pray, tell!”

You face the floor, your hands clasped in the front of your ruined and tattered gown. Your shoes look as if they had been through war and your hair has never been in a more dishevelled state.

Sir Portgas stands at attention behind you, to your right. His gaze facing forward, his gloved hand on the hilt of his sword. He doesn’t even flinch. You know he didn’t tell your father anything, he was with you the whole time. It was the guards by the gate that relayed that information. 

Now you are being scolded for yet another botched escape attempt. You had already lost count of how many there were. You had nineteen springs to your name, now. And your time must be near.

“I do not hear your words! Speak up! What do you want that I have not given you?”

A single tear escapes your eye and runs freely down your cheek. 

“Freedom.”

You catch a slight movement from Sir Portgas from the corner of your eye. His gaze meets yours, even if only for a second, as his jawline tightens and clenches. An almost soundless clank from the armour as his hand grips the handle harder.

“Preposterous. You will never be free. You belong to me now, child, and soon you will belong to your husband. That is the way of things. Begone!”

You hold your head high and your shoulders square as you exit the throne room and pass through an entire contingent of guards. Yet, as soon as the door closes behind you, your hands lift your skirts once more and you flee to your room as fast as your tired feet can take you. It does not matter that you are half-blinded by tears as you know the way around the castle as if it were the back of your hand.

You do not hear Sir Portgas following you, yet, he will find you. He always does.

Curse him.

-*-

The rain hits the carriage roof with extreme intensity. There’s mud on the road and the horses are dragging the vehicle to the best of their abilities, but the rain is cold and harsh and you can see smoke emerging from their flared nostrils from where you’re standing. 

You’re returning from a visit to a cousin, in the next kingdom. You have been away for three weeks and nothing has changed. Your life is dull and you are still trapped in it like a hare in a string trap, just waiting for the hit on the head so you’re fed to the hunter. 

Sighing you let out a loud huff. Your handmaiden keeps staring out the window with dreamy eyes and she ahhs and ohhs as if she has an affliction. You have half a mind to ask her if she’s constipated or in pain when you realise she’s staring at Sir Portgas, who rides next to the carriage.

He has removed his helmet because of the rain and his dark locks cling to his face and forehead with the heavy rain. His eyes are steely and dart from one side to the other, ever alert to any danger. Handsome as ever.

You roll your eyes at yet another insufferable sigh from the woman across from you. “Enough!” You bite. “I cannot stand another moan from your mouth. What is so interesting?”

“He is, my lady.” She giggles like a little girl and you feel your chest clench and contract as  anger boils within you. What is this feeling?

“Are you jesting?”

“I would never! He is so gallant and valiant. And his freckles? His smile? The way he fights?” Another sigh. You have had enough.

You’re about to order the carriage to stop because you wish to feel the rain on your face at the back of a horse. Instead, you hear dry thuds followed by screams and then, the tip of a spear protruding the carriage door and opening your maid’s skull with a sickening sound.

Your scream gets trapped in your throat, but your lips tremble incessantly. There are tears running from your eyes and you start to pant fast as your eyes never leave the gory image in front of you.

She still has her eyes open, her mouth shaped like an ‘o’ as blood and grey matter are splattered around her. Did the blood get on you as well? You dare not look. She was just laughing and now she’s so still.

You’re trembling. The screams and shouts outside increase in volume and proximity and the carriage halts to a full stop as you hear a pained neigh of a horse. The thuds of your heart grow louder and louder, as if it's beating right in your ears and your pants come in shortened gasps as your head gets lighter. 

The plush of the seat you are on gives in as your fingernails dig and scratch to ground yourself. There is so much blood. 

So much screaming.

Suddenly the door to the carriage jolts open and you turn in terror, barely having time to scream, and even if you meant to scream, you wouldn’t be able to. A wet, clammy hand finds its way to your mouth to keep you quiet and you’re inundated with the nauseating smell of metal.

Blood.

Another hand grabs you by the arm and yanks hard to pull you out of the carriage. You’re sure it will bruise. Yet, you couldn’t care less. As soon as you’re out of the carriage and you clumsily find your footing, before the man - whose appearance you are yet to perceive - manages to take you away, you bite his fingers with all the strength you possess.

Blood. Again. 

This time it fills your mouth and you spit it on the floor as soon as the man drops you, with surprise. Your knees scrape against the rocks and mud below you and you claw your way forward until you find the strength to be on your feet, preparing to run.

All around you men clash swords. There’s agonised screams and blood everywhere. You need to go!

Yet you barely get one step in before a bloody hand clasps around your neck and squeezes. “Going somewhere, you little princess whore.” The man lifts you easily off the ground and your throat aches and your lungs burn. You try to gasp for air but nothing but wheezes leave your parted lips.

Your fingernails scratch relentlessly against his hand but he does not relent. Around you the sounds of battle seem to fade into the distance. Legs dangling, your feet try to kick the man holding you, but strength fails you and you are sure this is the way you die. “Just pass out, little whore.” He whispers in your ear as his wet tongue swipes your neck and ear.

You can’t squirm away. You can’t fight back. You’re useless. 

You feel your eyelids drooping as your chest trembles and your arms fall limply beside you. But just as you’re about to dive into sweet oblivion, a sword swings and cuts right through the man’s arm, making you fall and stumble forward, right into the arms of your knight. Your guard, your protector.

Sir Portgas.

He holds you against him effortlessly as you gasp for air and cough. A pressure on your throat that burns and hurts. But you’re safe.

“Breathe, Princess. I won’t let anything happen to you.” The man that was holding you mutters incoherently. Begging for his life, pleading for mercy, asking for aid from the gods. Yet you know that all is in vain. Your knight was made to protect you. He will kill anyone or anything that attempts to take your life.

Still holding you he moves his blade effortlessly and you hear a blood-curdling scream. Trying to normalise your breath, you turn your face to look back, but Ace holds your head against him with a gloved hand. “It’s best if you don’t look.” You nod against him, feeling your legs faint from fear.

“We are going to run. Close your eyes and hold my hand. I will guide you. Do you trust me?” You lift your head to look into his eyes and there is tenderness, determination, courage and something else you can’t quite place, as he looks down at you.

“With my life.” Your whisper comes in shaky gasps and he nods, holding your hand in his.

“Run.” He orders and you do. Your eyes clenched shut as you still hear screams and the sound of colliding blades. 

Something whooshes past you and you hear a roar of sorts, at the same time as Sir Portgas mutters something under his breath. There is another scream - close, too close! - and the stench of burning flesh. 

“I’m going to pick you up. Keep your eyes closed, Princess.” He doesn’t need to tell you twice. And as he hoists you over his shoulder by the waist, you clamp your hands against your ears to keep the sounds away.

But the screaming doesn’t stop.

It never stops.

-*-

You feel yourself being set down on the ground but it’s as if the shock has left you in a rigid state. Your hands remain on your ears and your eyes shut tightly. There’s someone calling your name and shaking you but you have retreated so far into your mind that you can’t come back easily.

“..ss… Princess!”

Your eyes snap open as you gasp and a loud sob leaves your parted lips. Tears flood down and you try to release yourself from the firm hands that are holding you down. 

“It’s me, it’s me! Ace! Everything is fine! Princess, calm down!” He whispers your name. “Please calm down. Look at me.”

Still panting and gasping for air, your nails digging into his bloodied armour, you lock eyes with his dark gaze. He looks worried and pained, and you focus on his freckles instead, counting them to ground yourself.

One, two…

“It’s over, we escaped, we are fine.”

Three, four…

“I’m not sure anyone else survived. We have no horses, no food, no clothes or shelter.”

Five, six…

“The rain has given us some truce for the time being, but it won’t let up the whole night. We will rest for a bit, and then we have to go.”

Seven, eight…

“Princess, are you with me?” You don’t know when he took the gloves off, but his warm hand makes contact with your cheek and you gasp, your eyes focusing back on his. “There is nothing to fear. I won’t let anyone or anything harm you. You have my promise.”

You nod and gulp. Another tear escapes your eyes and he wipes it with his thumb.

“It could have been me.” You whisper and your voice is rasp. Your throat is sore and raw and you realise you are quite thirsty. “The spear… it just… her head… she was… she…”

He nods and mumbles some soothing words. “You’re alive. You’re fine. Try not to think of what you saw. I’ll take you home.”

You nod as your hand scratches your throat. Sir Portgas reaches and hands you a leather pouch. “Drink. It’s water.”

He sits on the floor for a moment as he sheds his steel armour. 

“Should you be taking that off? What if there are more enemies?” You ask, concerned. 

“I am faster without it, anyway. And all the noise will just give our location away to those listening.”

Makes sense. 

He gives you another moment to rest and then extends his hand to help you up. Your eyes fall on your dress and you frown. It is splattered with blood, mud and all kinds of stains. Not to mention that it is soaked through. 

“Come, we need to find shelter. It’s almost nightfall.”

You are surrounded by forest, you have no idea what kind of shelter he means to find, but you trust him completely. He was assigned to you two years ago, when you were presented to society and your father started entertaining nobles who wanted a claim on your hand. 

Luckily, none suited his fancy enough to tempt him. 

Sir Portgas has never left your side once. He sleeps when you sleep, eats when you eat, gets up when you get up. His duty to you is never-ending. He knows all there is to know about you. And you only know what he wanted to share with you. Next to nothing, because he always found the job boring.

As both of you walk through the woods, feeling the gentle pitter-patter of the slow rain, you feel as if you have calmed down enough. There is still adrenaline rushing through your veins, and you release it by holding a long, thick stick and swiping leaves with it, as if it were a sword.

“Who attacked us?”

He keeps his eyes ahead, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tight, his knuckles are white. 

“I’m not sure. There were no banners.”

“Brigands, you think? They saw the coach and decided we might have treasures to steal?”

“Most likely.” He grunts.

“But you don’t think that was the case?”

He stops and you bump into his hard back, as you were staring at your stick. You mumble an apology and feel your cheeks warm up. Never had you noticed how taut and defined he was, beneath the steel armour.

Looking at you, his eyes now permanently creased with concern, he sighs. “They were too organised to be simple brigands or thieves. They had military precision so they had to belong to an army. An enemy army, perhaps. I need to take you back home.”

He tugs at your arms and starts walking again. 

“No.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to go back home.” You whisper, but you keep walking alongside him. He divides his attention with your surroundings and your face.

“I can understand that, but it is far too dangerous. We need to know if the King received some sort of ransom note or-...”

“I don’t care! You can leave me wherever and go back to my father saying they killed me! I cannot return home to be sold like cattle to the highest bidder!”

You refuse to let tears leave your eyes this time. He stops again and stares at you. You can’t read him. 

At all.

“There.” He points behind you and you turn. It’s a small cave. “It will have to do. Come.” And just like that he decides the argument is over and drags you to the entrance, collecting some random sticks along the way. It is actually a rather large cave and Sir Portgas takes the wood from your hand, rips a piece of his tunic and ties it to the end of the wood. 

Muttering a few words, a flame shoots out of his fingers and he lights the cloth easily. You look at him, flabbergasted and awestruck. So it is true. He has fire powers.

“Fascinating.” You can’t help but exclaim under your breath.

“Thank you, Princess.” He replies with a smirk and tells you to follow him as he delves into the bowels of the cave. 

Deeming you far enough not to be spotted, he drops the sticks he collected in a neat pile, adds some more wood that’s scattered inside the cave, and lights it with the flame he’s already holding.

“Undress, Princess, you don’t want to catch a cold.”

“Pardon?” You should really stop blushing. It is embarrassing.

He is already removing his tunic and breeches, leaving only his undergarments on for some modesty and you look away. 

“If you worry about modesty today, you will be dead of pneumonia tomorrow. Undress your gown and set it to dry.” He says as he drapes his clothes on a large rock near the place he built the fire. “I promise I won’t bite.”

You take a moment to consider, but you know he’s right. You’re already feeling tremors for staying out in the rain for so long. So you do know you will get sick if you don’t get out of the wet clothes.

With a heavy sigh you try to remove the ribbons that hold your dress together, but you can’t reach them. 

“Sir Portgas…” You start, your voice a mere whisper.

“It’s Ace.”

“Ace.” The name rolls off your tongue like something sinful and you lower your gaze. “I require your assistance, please.” 

As he raises his head towards you, he immediately understands your predicament. He gets up and approaches your back with slow steps. Catching your breath, you lower your neck a bit.

His fingers are soft against the bare skin of your neck as he moves your hair from your nape to the side, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. The shiver that crawls up your spine has nothing to do with the cold.

His face draws near as he untangles the ribbons and you can feel his breath against your neck and upper back. The tingling sensations return to your body, leaving you breathless and panting. There is a need deep within you that you don’t quite understand or know how to fulfil. 

Yet, you have an inkling that Ace could very well fulfil it. And he would certainly know how.

He removes the last ribbon and steps back a pace. “There.” Ace's voice sounds deeper than before and, when you turn, his eyes are all pupil as he stares at you. Your heartbeat accelerates as you lock eyes with him, silently begging him not to look away as your fingers gently tug at the gown, undressing. 

Your chest heaves and you see his eyes fall to your chemise-covered bosom as the muscle in his jaw twitches.

The need for something intensifies and you reach forward, touching him through the fabric of his linen shirt, feeling the firmness of his chest. 

“Princess…” He whispers. 

“Ace…”

You take a step forward and hold his hand. It's big and calloused from the swords but it's so warm. 

“Touch me.” You plead. You could order him, though you're not sure he would follow that order. 

“I…” He seems torn. You know he's a loyal knight. He serves valiantly and believes in the kingdom he protects. Touching you would be treasonous and could lead to execution.

You decide to be honest. “I feel… I don't quite know how to explain it, but when you touch me, like when you did with the thorn I had on my finger, or when you lift me up to place me in your horse there's…” You exhale deeply. “A warmth, a fire within me that I don't know how to handle.” Lowering your gaze and swallowing a lump in your throat, you make a final plea. “Teach me how to handle it, Ace.”

He groans but doesn't take his hand away from yours. So you brazenly place it above your chest. Watching him closely, you see his eyes darken as his hand twitches and he grits his teeth. 

“Princess, I…” 

“I have been told that men lie with women to procreate. I wasn’t informed of all the details, but I've heard the maids whisper about things that can be done that do not get a woman with child.” Could you be burning up more? Are you seriously asking this of Ace? 

He remains frozen in place, his hand still on your chest and you feel like a fool. 

Sighing you swat his hand away and turn. “Forget I said anything.” Yet his strong arm envelops your waist and he pulls your body against his, burying his face in the crook of your neck and inhaling. 

“Gods above and below…” He mutters against your skin and you tremble. “Is this really happening?” You feel something hard against your lower back and flush. You know what it is. But you've never seen one. You don't know what to expect. “Princess… You are correct, there are things we can do that do not get you with child and assure you remain intact until your wedding night.” His voice seems pained. “Are you certain that-...”

“Yes!” You moan, No longer able to contain the need inside you. Not when his hot breath is fanning against your neck, not when his hand is squeezing your waist nor when his hardness presses against your back. Your need is him! You're sure of it. 

“I have dreamed of this for so long…” He whispers. You want to ask what he means by that, but then his tongue draws circles on your neck and around your earlobe and you gasp, all thoughts dissolving into nothingness. His hands fall on your shoulders and he hooks his fingers on the sleeves of your chemise. “Princess…”

“Take it off.” You command. 

He tugs at the fabric and the garment crumples on the floor, leaving you with nothing but your white stockings. You blink as you focus your eyes on your body. You're not cold, yet your nipples are erect and there are goosebumps all over your skin. It's a reaction to his touch. 

You turn slowly, cheeks ablaze as you seek his eyes. Ace gulps as he takes you in. “Can I kiss you?” He starts but then shakes his head and groans. “No, forget it, that should be reserved for your husband.”

Yet you don't care about a possible husband in a future you can’t yet forsee. You want Ace's lips. And you want them now. 

So you grab his face and pull him down, clumsily pressing your lips to his and bumping your teeth together. After a moment he chuckles into your mouth and you flush and pull back, embarrassed. 

“Don't get mad at me, Princess.” He says, a glimmer in his eyes and a softness you’ve never seen before. His hand grips your hip as he pulls you towards him. A thumb gently stroking the bone of your hip, sending a warm wave of heat towards your centre. Lowering his head, he gently pulls your face to him by putting a hand on your nape. This time, when your lips collide, it's with softness. He moves them and you moan involuntarily. His sinful tongue licks and teases and you open your mouth, gasping as he takes your tongue in his and swirls. 

The sensation is divine. 

You had no idea a kiss could be like this. None of the books mentioned it! It’s making your heart flutter against your chest and causing an ache and a burn between your legs. You still don’t know how to handle it.

But Ace does. 

His hand finds its way to your breast and he slowly teases the nipple, flicking it softly with his thumb. You pull away from the kiss and gasp again. “Oh, my!”

“Did that feel good?” You nod vigorously. “That's good, Princess. I'm going to make you feel even better.”

He lowers you down so you sit on top of your dress. “If you don't like something, tell me.” You nod. 

“Can you take this off?” You grab his shirt and he smirks, pulling the linen garment over his head. His muscles are very defined and you take your time pressing your fingers against his chest and abs. There is a dark trail of hair that leads to the inside of his underwear but as your fingers trace it, he grasps your hand in his and kisses your fingers. 

“Let us take care of that warmth you feel first, shall we?” You nod and lie back, nervous. 

He starts slowly, his gentle fingers tracing patterns on your skin, lingering on the nipples, watching the rise and fall of your breasts as he finds what feels particularly good. And then he devours you. 

His eager mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking and teasing with his tongue. 

“What?” You arch your back against his touch and the fire keeps spreading. Fiery tendrils climbing all over you. He's just building the fire higher and higher. When does it stop? 

And do you want it to stop? Because this feeling burns marvellously. 

His tongue licks towards your belly button and then your mound. “Wait!” You gasp and he raises his head. 

“I can stop if you want, but I promise you it will feel good.” 

You don't know if he's telling the truth, but you trust him completely. So you nod. “Don't stop.”

He uses his hands to raise your legs and place them over his shoulders and when he stares, you feel yourself shrinking with embarrassment. 

“So beautiful…” You hear him murmur before he leans in and you feel his tongue swiping a hot streak across your folds.

“Oh!” Throwing your head back, you immediately arch your back against his touch. “Oh, my!”

He stops for a moment and meets your gaze. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No!” You almost plead. 

“Make all the sounds you want, Princess. Please.”

You're not quite sure what he means by that but you still agree. And then his tongue repeats the same movement and you smile. Dear Gods, this can't be true. His hand disappears beneath you and you feel his finger inside you touching a spot that makes you want to scream with pleasure. So you do. 

He mumbles against you and the vibration of his lips on your sensitive nub makes you roll your eyes. 

“Oh, Gods! Ace!”

Your hips buckle against his face involuntarily and you want to feel ashamed but you can't because it feels too good! His tongue is hot and slippery and he laps at you with such vigour that it makes you writhe beneath him. His fingers - yes, more than one - move inside and out with ease continually touching a spot that feels so, so good. 

“Oh, my! Oh, my!” You can't stop a string of curses from escaping your lips. The warmth builds up, spreading to your legs and toes, and to your belly, until suddenly it snaps! 

You see bright lights as your head falls back, moaning loudly and incessantly while you pant and scream his name. It feels good, it feels so good! 

Ace continues lapping at your core and it feels like it's very sensitive now, so you whine and he stops. “You did so well, Princess. You taste so good.” His lips are glistening and he looks dazed. You are smiling as you pant but you pull him to you, eager to taste what you’ve left on his lips. He gives you exactly what you want - lips, tongue, taste - and you mewl against him, lost in pleasure and dizziness from your previous orgasm. 

As you break apart you lock eyes with Ace, an exhilarating feeling coursing through you. “That was…” You laugh. 

“I know.” He says cheekily as he caresses your cheek. “You're so beautiful.”

You feel yourself flush again, he’s never spoken to you like this. He was always arrogant and insufferable. Acting as if watching over you was the most boring task he’d ever had to do. Yet, now it seems he’s ready to write you love poems. 

“What else can we do?” You touch him again, where his hair starts to disappear below his underwear. He clenches his jaw as your hand traces the shape of his cock. “Does that go… inside me?” You ask, biting your lip. It seems big. Will it fit? 

“It does. But that's for the wedding night, Princess.” He says, his tone sad. 

“What if I don't want to get married?” You frown. “I told you I don't want to go back. I shouldn’t have to marry some old lord I don't care about.” You hold his hand, entwining your fingers with his. “Maybe we can be together.”

He looks downcast as his forehead meets yours and lets out a deep sigh. “Don't tempt me, Princess.” He says, placing a chaste kiss on your forehead. “I've been in love with you since we met. The constant fear of losing you to another man keeps me awake most nights. I cannot bear the thought of never being able to have you. So don't tempt me, please.” His fervour leaves you breathless. 

Love? 

You thought he abhorred you! You believed he only put up with you because it was his job. Nothing more. Love? 

Cupping his face in your hands, you stare deeply into his eyes. “Let's run away. You and me. Away from my father's kingdom, from duties, from everything. He will think we're dead, anyway!”

“No, Princess. I have a duty to my king and my kingdom. I cannot do it.” He says as your eyes fill with tears. “And you have a duty to your father as well. Don’t forget that.”

“Ace… Please…”

“No. I can't.” His eyes squeeze shut as he presses his forehead against yours once more. “Don't ask me this. Please.”

Torn between love and duty. And you wish he would simply choose love. You pull away from him, covering  your face as you shed more tears. 

Ace sighs and picks up your chemise, gently helping you dress even though you don’t look at him. Then he pulls you against his chest as he settles against a rock. “Sleep, Princess. I will keep watch.”

And you do. 

By morning, even the air feels bleaker. There is no more rain, but dark clouds hover above the sky. You can’t change his mind. He’s set to bring you back to the castle.

Back to your prison.

“My father will marry me off…” You whisper, feeling your face crackle with dried tears. Your clothes are stiff from caked mud and blood and you’re pretty sure your heart stayed behind in that dark cave. 

Ace’s eyes remain fixed on the road ahead, but you notice him swallowing a lump before he speaks. 

“It is your duty, Princess. You have yours, I have mine.” He sighs. “I never meant to burden you with my feelings. A knight is not worthy of a princess’s love.”

“Clearly you have not read the same novels as I have.” You scoff and your response elicits a small chuckle from him, your easy banter slowly returning to normal. 

Ace continues his slow walk and you follow, feeling as if you’re walking towards the gallows and every step brings your demise a bit closer. “Ace, please…” You beg once more. “Please…!”

Yet he does not stop.

You see him struggle as his face hardens and his eyes grow blurry, but he does not stop. And the noose tightens around your neck. 

-*-

You’re received with cheers and ovations. A joyous celebration for you and for your valiant knight. Ace is offered a promotion. Finally a way for him to leave your side, to stop nannying you as he always complained.

He does not accept it.

Your heart warms for a moment, though you find it very hard to fall back into a routine of entrapment when you were free, albeit for a few hours. 

Yet doom envelops you and the noose tightens and elevates you once your father makes the announcement. He has found you a husband. You’re to be married in a fortnight. 

Breath catches in your throat and it’s hard to seek air. But your eyes search and find his. A reflection of your own, you’re sure, for they seem pained and drained of life. Yet the moment passes and your father keeps telling you all about how delightfully rich and important your future husband is. 

And how you have a duty to him and to your kingdom, as their princess. It all comes down to duty. 

That awful word.

-*-

The guests are arriving and the groom has been presented to you just in the morning. He is not old or decrepit. In fact, he seems quite polite and is rather handsome. 

But he is not Ace.

And you realised that the warmth he made you feel, and the anger you felt when your late maid spoke of him with desire, were all because of one thing alone: love. You love him back. And he needs to know it before you leave.

Because you will not bring him with you. You cannot forget him, nor allow him to forget you if he is to remain forever by your side.

-*-

The day of the wedding dawns cold and grey, a reflection of your own thoughts. An array of maids dresses you in the best finery you possess and you are a beacon of elegance and beauty. Though the veil you wear over your face might as well be a shroud.

Ace stands in the shadows, his face masked and sombre. You have not spoken more than two words to each other since you returned. But you have to let him know how you feel before it’s too late.

“Everyone out, now.” Your voice is cold and commanding and the servants scurry and hurry out of your chambers. Ace is last, but you stop him. “Not you.”

He closes the door with a soft thud and turns towards you. Hands folded behind his back and eyes fixed somewhere behind you. As you approach, however, you notice him blinking and clenching his jaw and it takes nothing more than one touch of your soft fingers on his cheek for him to let his knightly countenance crumble into pieces. 

Holding your fingers to his lips, he kisses them with fervour. “Princess…”

“Ace…” Your whisper brings sorrow and despair, and he feels it. “I need to tell you something before the wedding, though it changes nothing. You were right. This is my duty, and you have yours, escaping it was nothing but a fleeting dream.”

A sigh parts your lips and he uses his knuckles to caress your cheek. 

“I love you.” Your eyes bore into his and your lips curl into a tight smile when a flicker of surprise crosses his eyes. “I didn’t know it was love and it took me a while to realise. But it’s true.” You take both his hands in yours and tears start to stream down your face because you can’t contain them any longer. 

“This is breaking me apart, but it is for the best. You will stay in the castle and accept the promotion you were offered upon our return.” Ignoring his protests you continue. “I will leave to fulfil my duty and live my new life.”

His head falls forward, shoulders slumping and a string of curses leaves his pursed lips. Though it pains you more than he can ever imagine, you force a smile, using your hand to lift his face so he can look at you. “You’ll always be in my heart. That will never change.”

Ace’s voice is barely a whisper, strained with emotion and effort to keep his tears at bay. “You’re asking me to stand and watch as you walk away? To stay here and live a life without your presence?”

“Yes.” You sob back.

“How can I do that?!” A heave rocks his shoulders as he leans his forehead against yours. “It’s like asking me to live without a beating heart.”

“I pray you forget me soon, Ace, because if you were to come with me, we would never be able to move on. And we would be miserable.”

“I am already miserable.”

Tears stream down both your faces, and you stand on your toes to kiss his tears away. Cupping your face with tenderness, Ace’s thumb crosses your lower lip and you nod, giving him all the permission he needs to lower his head to yours and take your warm lips with his.

This time, the kiss you share is desperate. He claims your mouth with his tongue, his arms embracing you and pulling you against him. You return the gesture with equal devotion, your tongue begging for more as you embrace and melt into each other, knowing you’ll have no other chance to do so. 

A rapid knock on the door breaks you apart. “Princess! It is time!”

Panting and wiping away tears, you answer with a shaky voice. “I’m almost ready.” Ace helps you fix your dress and veil, his eyes cast downward, sorrow filling them with shadows. 

With trembling hands you remove a ring from your finger. A ring your mother gave you on her deathbed. Setting it in his palm, you close his fingers around it and kiss them tenderly. “A memento to remember me by, my love.”

He doesn’t want to let you go and you don’t want to leave him. It would have been so much simpler if you had run away in that forest. No one would know. And you would have been happy.

Perhaps…

You drop his hands, take a deep breath and square your shoulders, opening the door and leaving your childhood home and your one true love. 

Ready to face a new life, an old duty, and an eternity of sorrow.

[tokidokitokyo]

新潟県

Japanese Prefectures: Chūbu - Niigata

都道府県 (とどうふけん) - Prefectures of Japan

Learning the kanji and a little bit about each of Japan’s 47 prefectures!

Kanji・漢字

新　あたらしい、あらた、にい～、シン　new

潟　かた、がら　lagoon

県　ケン　prefecture

中部　ちゅうぶ　Chūbu, Central Japan, the central region of Japan

Prefectural Capital (県庁所在地) : Niigata (新潟市)

Niigata Prefecture is famous for its high-quality rice, sake, spectacular fireworks displays in winter, skiing in winter, and hot springs year-round. Niigata lies along the Sea of Japan and includes the offshore islands of Sado and Awa. Silt deposited by the Shinano and Agano rivers has created the lowlying Echigo Plain in the central part of the coastline, where the majority of the prefecture's population live. Most of the cities are along the coast as the rest of the prefecture is mountainous.

Recommended Tourist Spot・おすすめ観光スポット The Katakai Fireworks Festival - 片貝まつり

Katakai Fireworks Festival (source)

The Katakai Fireworks Festival is an annual autumn celebration at Asahara Shrine. Fireworks serve as dedications to the shrine, with individuals and companies expressing their sentiments by contributions to the display. The display contains the "yonshakudama" firework, the world's largest firework with an 800-meter diameter, and is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records.

In the morning, the town of Katakai is full of traditional events like the dedication of firework balls to Asahara Shrine, and rituals praying for the success and safety of the upcoming display.

Other fireworks festivities include the Gion Kashiwazaki Festival Sea Fireworks (July 26th) which illuminates the night sky over the sea; the Nagaoka Festival Grand Fireworks Show (August 2nd & 3rd) which unfolds along the banks of the Shinano River; and the winter display of Echigotsumari Fireworks in the snow (Late February) where fireworks color ethereal flower fields of light on snowy plains.

Regional Cuisine - 郷土料理 Hegi-soba (Buckwheat noodles) - へぎそば

Hegi-soba (source)

Soba is usually made with soba flour and wheat; however, this Niigata style soba is made by mixing a type of seaweed called funori with the seaweed. Soba originated in the Edo period, and in Niigata soba was made in an area called Uonuma. Uonuma didn't grow wheat, and so often local vegetables like ground burdock root were added to the soba flour to make noodles instead. In addition to soba, Uonuma was famous for its beautiful textiles, and when weaving the cloth, funori would be ground up and applied to the weft to stiffen the fibers and make the process easier. Someone must have come up with the idea to add funori to soba flour one day, and hegi-soba was invented.

Like zaru-soba, hegi-soba gets its name from the rectangular serving tray in which it is served. The verb hagu means to strip or peel, and in many dialects of the Kanto region it is pronounced hegu. The trays made from planed wood were called hegi. Thus the soba, wound by hand into bite-sized portions and layered on the tray, is called hegi-soba.

The funori makes the noodles a little more slippery than regular soba noodles but the taste doesn't differ much. The best way to enjoy hegi-soba is to dip the noodles into the dipping sauce, or mentsuyu, to get a base flavor. Then, try it with some hot Chinese mustard: Spread a little mustard on the soba, then dip the soba into the mentsuyu without letting the mustard and mentsuyu mix. Next, add sliced green onions to the mentsuyu and dip in your noodles. Finally, add some ground sesame seeds to the mentsuyu and try out that taste.

Hegi-soba is the pride of Niigata, such that you can get a special Soba Ticket in the city of Tokamachi, which gives you two 500-yen vouchers for soba, usable at 14 different restaurants in the city.

Niigata Dialect・Niigata-ben・新潟弁

Niigata-ben has three different classifications - two on the mainland (Tōkai-Tōsan dialect and Tōhoku dialect) and one on Sado Island (Sado dialect).

あちこたねぇ　achi kota nee

Standard Japanese: たいしたことない、大丈夫、心配ない　(taishita koto nai, daijyoubu, shinpai nai) English: trivial, not amounting to much, it's okay, don't worry about it

あちこたねぇよ、きっと大丈夫だから achi kota nee yo, kitto daijyoubu dakara

心配ないよ、きっと大丈夫だから shinpai nai yo, kitto daijyoubu dakara

Don't worry, it's going to be okay

2. かんべんね　kanben ne

Standard Japanese: ごめんね　(gomen ne) English: I'm sorry

あー！かんべんね。忘れちゃった。 aa! kanben ne. wasurechatta.

あー！ごめんね。忘れちゃった。 aa! gomen ne. wasurechatta.

Ah! I'm sorry. I forgot.

3. ごおぎ　(gougi)

Standard Japanese: 大変、ものすごく　(taihen, monosugoku) English: immense, greatly

これはごおぎ難しいね kore wa gougi muzukashii ne

これはものすごく難しいね kore wa monosugoku muzukashii ne

This is very difficult, isn't it

4. なじらね　(najirane)

Standard Japanese: いかがですか、調子はどうですか (ikaga desu ka, choushi wa dou desuka) English: how are you, how are things

A: 今日はなじらね？ kyou wa najirane? B: ばっかいいて～ bakka ii te～

A: 今日は調子どう？ kyou wa choushi dou? B: すごくいいよ～ sugoku ii yo～

A: How are you doing today? B: Really good～

5. そいがー　(soi gaa)

Standard Japanese: そうなんだ　(sou nan da) English: oh really, oh I see

A: この前ぽんしゅ館に行ってきたて～ Kono mae Ponshukan ni itte kita te～ B: そいが？ Soiga?

A: この前ぽんしゅ館に行ってきたんだよ Kono mae Ponshukan ni itte kitanda yo B: そうなの？ Sou na no?

A: The other day I went to Ponshukan* B: Oh really?

*Note: Ponshukan shops are located inside three major JR stations in Niigata, this sake "theme park" where you can sample leading local sake brands, purchase sake-related goods, and even soak in a sake hot spring bath.

More Niigata dialect here (JP).

[capydabibara]

🌱

As a child, when I came to visit my grandmother, I would pick up a bunch of burdocks and then throw them at a group of boys on the playground. Did you make friends in any other way?:)

[brightoakgame]

Burdock Available Now!

Stick closely to the path, my dear, don’t wander and don’t stray! The mists are full of secrets, the woods are full of fae; And many careless mortals they’ve spirited away— So do not go a-wandering, but on the path please stay!

Game Now Live!

When you've lost your way and nearly lost your life, will your name be enough to buy it all back?

Burdock is a dark and atmospheric fairytale with fae creatures, riddles, and danger abounding. Will you be able to navigate the perils you face and reclaim your life? Or will the mists swallow you up for good...?

Features:

Nameable Protagonist (gender left undefined)

24,000 words (roughly 2-3 hours playtime)

Four Full Endings—and multiple Bad Ones

Original Soundtrack

It's free!

Content Warnings: violence, blood, and potentially disturbing imagery and sound effects. There are no intended jump scares, and no animals are harmed—though the same cannot be promised of the protagonist!

Created for the 2023 Spooktober Visual Novel Jam by:

Character Art and Design: Remnantation

Original Soundtrack: John Åhlin

Coding: Windchimes

Logo and UI Design: ingthing

Direction, Sound Design, Backgrounds, and Writing: B.L. McDarragh

[verdemoun]

honestly think kieran's death devastated hosea.

they're both constantly at camp, they must've interacted. and kieran has every reason to hate them: the way they treated the boy was proof to hosea of how far they'd fallen, how much dutch had changed and how much he missed the old dutch. but instead of hating them, kieran, terrified and meek and charmingly pathetic, frantically gets to work helping out however he can. kieran's so grateful for being allowed to stay, and seems genuinely delighted whenever an interaction in camp doesn't end in threats of violence. hosea looks at the gang and sees the pinkertons closing in on them like a noose and then there's kieran saying joining their gang was the best choice he'd ever made (as if he had a choice) and intially, hosea cannot understand it.

so when hosea notices kieran making a poultice with burdock, he's intrigued. he strikes up a conversation about herbal medicines and is oddly delighted to find kieran very intently listening as he prattles on about ginseng. then when hosea notices kieran very not discreetly eavesdropping on a conversation about fishing spots, and discovers the boy is a passionate fisherman, he immediately has to correct the injustice of kieran not having his own fishing pole. and again, kieran is just so overwhelmingly grateful for the smallest kindnesses.

over campfire conversations he learns more about kieran, not intentionally but y'know, he might happen to listen more when he notices the boy actually having the confidence to speak. hosea learns about how his parents died when he was young, and he was orphaned, and alone, fending for himself because when had the world been anything other than cruel, and when the army didn't work out it was inevitable he'd become an outlaw to survive - and hosea's heart aches a little, because how many times had he heard that story? how easily could kieran duffy have been one of the troubled youths they picked off the street in the early days of the van der linde gang and raised as their own?

perhaps accidentally reawakening that old paternal instinct he thought he'd buried, hosea very, very indirectly tries to make kieran's life a little easier. reminds him he's one of them now, he's allowed to take branwen out and go fishing whenever he wants (despite how awful arthur has generally been to him, kieran still very excitedly asks him to go with him). hosea keeps an eye out to make sure kieran's eating enough to gain back some of the weight he lost under their abuse, even going fishing himself when he notices they're running low on food. quietly makes sure there's always coffee at the scout fire, since the boy so rarely seems to come through the main hub of camp. when mary-beth mentions he can't read (though the comment seemed to make the poor boy self-conscious) hosea offers to read a horse meal pamphlet to him. kieran duffy, who is such a gentle soul it's frankly infuriating, immediately thinks to give the pamphlet to arthur because arthur would appreciate it.

the payoff for all his discrete work comes at shady belle, when hosea notices kieran sleeping inside the circle of wagons instead of with the horses. finally, finally, a sign he was starting to believe he belonged. at jack's party kieran actually relaxes enough to get drunk, still too anxious to join in with the louder celebrations, but he's talking to arthur and they're laughing: and it's nights like this that reminds hosea why he stuck with dutch so long - because they aren't just a gang, they're a curious conglomeration of a family, and in that moment they're all safe and happy

and then, days that felt like minutes later, he's kneeling beside kieran's decapitated corpse. he's the only one who kneels beside kieran's body, as dutch says to bury him near but not too near. it wasn't like sean's death, or davey's, where they were outlaws killed in the line of the lifestyles they'd chosen: missions. the poor kid had been taken, tortured and killed and they were too busy with dutch's goddamned plan to notice him missing. no one was sent looking for kieran duffy: whose life had been the tragedy any one of them could have lived if they didn't have the van der linde gang. they'd all let their guard down that night. it could have been arthur, or john, or tilly, any of the brilliant people hosea considered his children, who he had raised, and taught to read and write.

but it was kieran duffy, and he died alone. the only kindness hosea could offer was carrying his head, so it - he - was buried with the rest of his body - and vow they would start learning from their mistakes.

[bonefall]

so burdocks represent hard traditionalism, honeysuckle is regular traditionalism and thistles are thistle law.

Do you have set plants for Fire Alone/soft traditionalism bordering on Fire Alond

I hadn't, because the idea of using burdocks to represent cats like Mudclaw had only struck me so recently, and then it hit me. I know EXACTLY what flower represents Soft Traditionalists.

It's blackberry flowers. Bramble.

It looks a lot like a completely white Forget-Me-Not, which is the flower of Fire Alone. Five petals for the five Clans.

Like honeysuckle, it grows in tangling, hardy bushes, preserving the old metaphor that "fighting makes the Clans strong"

But unlike a honeysuckle, it bares sought-after fruit and has protective thorns against outside threats.

Softer Traditionalists, like Heartstar and Tallstar in hindsight, will frequently use diplomacy and agree that rules of engagement are a sensible idea. They try to soften the violence of the battle culture and are open-minded to some reforms, but, they typically don't want to go much further.

And Bramblestar himself is pretty emblematic of that. At his WORST he's more of a perfectly mid-line Traditionalist, but at his best, he's here. He'll use diplomacy until it's just getting in the way, he feels like going any further with a compromise is just letting ThunderClan "get pushed around." Ultimately he still agrees that the 5 Clans should be separate, unless there's an outside threat they need to unite against. Like an invasion or a natural disaster.

He didn't have much of a problem with attacking the Sisters, after all. Regardless that his decision was heavily influenced by wanting to hurt Squirrelflight, he justified it to himself with his political feelings about "protecting the Clans."

In the modern era, the Clan's overton window has massively shifted towards Fire Alone. So Soft Traditionalists are really common, and "true" Traditionalists are what we'd consider right-leaning instead of JUST centrists.

To recap the flowers:

Thistle Law = Bull Thistle

Hard Traditionalism = Burdock

"True" Traditionalist = Honeysuckle

Soft Traditionalist = Blackberry/Bramble

Fire Alone = Forget-Me-Not

SkyClan's politics are different because of their unique origin, and they like to use leaves instead of flowers to represent themselves due to their relationship with oaks.

[earthdeep]

the flowers finally decided to start coming in and with that important clue I can finally identify the giant fuck off plant as a greater burdock!

and I think I understand the name better now. it looks a lot like a dock plant, and produces burrs!

you'd think with the advent of the internet, it'd be easier to id the giant-leaved plants at the back of the garden that no one in the family can recognise

it is not

the next website to tell me to download an app to scan a picture, rather than just having a guide that's neatly tagged with leaf shape/stem structure/flower type/etc, is getting gd shot

how is this a field that's still so reliant on physical handbooks

[imaginealexturner]

Author's notes: Hi, readers! How are you? Before you start reading, I need to give you some very important information: The imagines are written in Portuguese (my mother tongue), and are translated into English through an app. I ask for everyone's understanding if there are any errors or words out of context, as translators normally make mistakes. That said, thanks for being here and, happy reading! 🩵

Content: This is adult content that depicts explicit sexual scenes.

The Unexpected

You were in London, accompanying your friend on a trip she needed to take for study reasons.

— Wow, it's cold here — you said to your friend Clleo, while putting on your denim jacket.

— Get used to it — she replied, stretching out in the chair.

— The worst thing is speaking English, I'm still learning — you said, heading towards the door.

You and your friend weren't very good with the English language, but every day you practiced a little to communicate at least.

— Don't forget to bring Dandelion & Burdock — Clleo told you, before you knocked on the door and went out to buy.

As you walked, you enjoyed the city, looking at everything around you, everything was very new to you. This walk lasted about five minutes, until you saw a small market and immediately entered it.

— Hmmm... Let's see here — you said to yourself as you walked through the market aisles. — Milk, cookies, bread... — I don't think there's anything missing!

You went to the cashier to pay for your purchases, but on the way you remembered that Cleo asked you not to forget to buy that drink.

— Heavens! You exclaimed with your right hand on your forehead — I was almost forgetting the drink Clleo asked me for.

You stopped in front of some refrigerators, inside them there were several different drinks — My God, I don't remember the name of the drink she told me, I should have written it down. — You muttered to yourself, looking at the refrigerators.

You picked up your cell phone to try to call her — Damn, there's no signal — you went back to looking in the refrigerators for the drink.

On his right side was a boy, he was wearing a black drawstring shirt, a denim jacket and brown pants. He also had straight hair, the strands of which rested on his face.

He had his hands in his pockets and was looking at one of the refrigerators.

— Hi, excuse me — You caught the boy's attention, who then looked at you when he heard your voice.

— Sorry to bother you, could you help me find a drink?

- Of course! Which are you looking for? — He replied, taking a few steps towards you.

You looked surprised when you looked at the boy's face. You had the feeling you had seen him somewhere before.

— I... I think it's... It starts with the letter D, I forgot — Dandel... Dandelion, something like that.

— Ah, I think you mean Dandelion & Burdock, don't you? — He said, laughing a little.

– That, exactly that. Do you know if it's available here? – You asked him.

— I just saw it there in that refrigerator — He pointed out.

— Oh, thank you! You helped me a lot,” you said, offering him a smile.

- You're welcome! — You're not from here, are you? — he continued.

— No, I'm not! I'm from another country, I'm accompanying a friend.

- I noticed! Your accent is different. — He said, with his hands in his pants pockets.

You looked at the ground, laughing through your nose.

— Yes, I don't speak English very well.

— You learn as the days go by, it's not that difficult — he said, opening the fridge and taking out a drink.

— Yes, I will learn — you said. — Again, thank you very much... what's your name? — You asked.

—Alex. Great pleasure! — He extended his hand to shake you.

Have you contacted him - Alex? — It was at that moment that you realized you were in front of the lead singer of Arctic Monkeys. — You're the lead singer of — He interrupted.

— Yes, it's me. He offered her a smile.

- My God! I knew I knew you from somewhere, but I didn't remember where.

He laughed through his nose

— Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself, my name is Y/N, and I'm very happy to have met you today.

He nodded — Well, I have to go now. I have band appointments in an hour and a half. I already got what I needed.

He was going to turn around, but he came back and said: Oh, if you're interested, today I'll be with the band at the exhibition that celebrates British musical culture. It will be at the art museum two blocks away. It will be a surprise presentation, so you will be the first person to know about it.

— He laughed and continued — We're going to promote our new album, Humbug.

— Well, I didn’t expect an invitation like that – you laughed shyly — But yes, I will go, invitation accepted.

He nodded — See you there then — He said.

He turned and you headed towards the fridge Alex had shown you to get Clleo's drink.

Inside you were vibrating, you couldn't control your emotions at having found the lead singer of Arctic Monkeys right in front of you and without you expecting it.

Furthermore, he invited you to a band event... You were happy.

You took the drink and headed towards the register.

— Cleo!!! Cleo!!! — You entered the apartment euphorically, calling your friend and placing the purchases on the table

— Wow, what animation is this?! — Cleo asked, looking at the bags

— I... have an appointment in 30 minutes. – You said.

— Uh, what commitment? — Cleo asked confused. — We arrived here less than a week ago and you already have an appointment? - she said.

You entered the bathroom, leaving the door closed — I swear I'll explain it to you later, friend! —You said from inside the bathroom.

She didn't respond, just widened her eyes and went back to rummaging through her shopping bags. — At least you didn't forget Dandelion & Burdock — Clleo said and you laughed, as you got into the shower.

You got ready quickly, put on the best dress, the highest heels you had, put on makeup, nothing exaggerated.

— So, how am I? — You stopped in front of Clleo.

— Wow, how beautiful!!! Won't you tell me you're going to meet someone?

— No, friend! — You laughed — I was invited to an event that will be held at the museum next door — You said, taking your bag and heading towards the door. — I can't explain it to you now, but I'll tell you everything in a little while.

You took a taxi, which dropped you off right in front of the museum.

Upon entering the place, you came across exhibits that talked about different British bands. You looked at a poster that specifically talked about the band Arctic Monkeys, when you were interrupted by a waiter.

— Drink, ma'am?

— Oh, yes, I accept, thank you.

You grabbed the drink and then sat down.

It didn't take long for someone to grab a microphone and announce the surprise to passersby. Everyone sat down on the chairs.

The band members entered the venue and went up to the small speaking stage.

The lights went out and the boys started playing the songs.

They were all so good you couldn't pick a favorite. Until suddenly:

"I thought I saw you in the Battleship" — You closed your eyes while listening

"She said: I'm really not supposed to, but, yes

You can call me anything you want"

Ok, you found your favorite!

It was beautiful to close the night that day.

At the end of the performance, everyone lined up for photos and autographs with the band members.

You didn’t know if you would wait to tell Alex you were there or if you would leave.

The line was still long and you couldn't stay any longer. You got up from the table and when you got up, Alex saw you from afar as he signed an autograph.

He took a moment to look at you, just to make sure it was you.

— Matt, I'll be right back — Alex said to the colleague who was closest to him at the moment. — He handed the pen into Matt's hands.

— Hey, Y/N — you heard a voice coming from

distant.

— Hey, you came! — He said excitedly.

— Yes, I came and loved the entire presentation. You guys rocked it and your voice is beautiful.

He laughed through his nose — Thank you! - He said then.

— It's good to know you're here — He continued — well, I have to come back to sign some autographs, but I'd like you to stay. After here we will go to a private party and each one is entitled to one guest. Would you like to be my private guest?

You covered your face with your hands — Oh, my God, I don’t even know what to say — you said.

— Just say yes and wait for me sitting in that chair. — He said pulling out a chair for you to sit down.

You laughed shyly, but accepted.

Some time later he returns alone with the car key in his hands.

- Let's go?! —He told you.

— Oh, yes — you got up and followed him.

When you arrived in front of his car, the other members watched you get into Alex's car.

Mind your own business — Alex said with a mischievous smile on his lips.

You got in and he got in with you and sat in the driver's seat.

Comfortable? - he asked

- Very!

— Well, it's a calm party, no exaggerations, no loud music. It’s more to talk about – he said.

— Oh, how good! I prefer places like this, to relax and talk — you were interrupted by Alex's words

- Damn! I forgot that I still have to go to the hotel to get the drinks we brought.

You looked at him smiling — everything is fine, no problem.

– It will be quick.

—No need to rush, I hope.

He looked at you with a mischievous smile.

The idea of ​​going to a party with Alex was already surreal for you, anything else that could happen from now on would be beneficial to you.

He parked the car near the hotel entrance. There were some rather suspicious men outside the hotel, drunk and inebriated, and so Alex thought it better for you to follow him rather than leave her there alone.

— Come with me — he said from the car window, already outside.

�� Okay — you took off your seat belt and got out of the car.

You followed Alex to the hotel room.

When you arrived at the door, he opened it and you entered.

Alex went to the minibar and gathered the cans of drinks that were there, placing them in a box that kept them cold.

You sat on the edge of the bed, a little shy about the situation.

- can I help? You asked.

- Of course! — He replied smiling — come here.

You approached and started to help him with the cans of drinks from the minibar, at one point you touched the same can and then became a little indifferent due to the touch of each other's hands, this made you quickly put the can down, and fell to the floor, opening up and spilling all the drink on you. Alex ended up getting wet too.

You looked at each other without saying anything.

— Oh, my God, what have I done? — you said, shaking your hands and looking at your wet dress.

Alex started laughing at the situation — So does that mean you're clumsy?

You raised an eyebrow

He laughed at your reaction

— Calm down, calm down, I'm joking. But now your dress is wet...

You sat on the bed in despair.

— I'm not going to a party like that, Alex — You made a sad face.

— Calm down, don’t worry. I'll ask them to come here and get the drinks while you shower. I'll give you one of my shirts to wear and in the meantime you let the dress dry a little.

— I didn't want to ruin your party...

—Don't say that, it didn't ruin anything, I was already a little discouraged.

— Okay — you said — when I get home I’ll wash it.

You walked awkwardly to the bathroom and Alex took the opportunity to call Matt to tell him about the unexpected situation, and asked him to come get the drinks.

When he hung up, he laughed to himself at the situation as he waited for Matt.

You were taking a shower in Alex's hotel room, you couldn't believe what was happening to you, you started to think that more embarrassing things could happen.

From inside the bathroom you heard Alex humming, you spent a little time under the shower enjoying the moment, appreciating every note he reached, his voice numbed you.

When you were done, you grabbed the towel to dry off and realized you would have to tell Alex that you now needed his shirt.

You were embarrassed by the situation, so you gathered all your strength and called him.

—Alex?

- Yes? — He replied.

— You can bring the shirt now.

— Just a moment — he replied, as he went to his suitcase to look for it.

He took a Foster The People shirt from his suitcase and knocked twice on the bathroom door with his fingers.

You opened it so he couldn’t see you in your towel.

— Thank you — you thanked him.

- You're welcome!

You wore his clothes and you could smell his perfume clinging to you, like Alex Turner's trademark.

You looked in the bathroom mirror and noticed that his shirt fit you like a sexy dress.

Your cheeks flushed as you realized he was going to see you like this, but there was nothing else you could do.

You opened the door slowly and looked at the floor without reacting.

Alex was looking at his phone at the moment, and when he saw you leave, he looked up from his phone and looked at you. He was mesmerized, his body was beautiful, he couldn't hide it.

You cleared your throat before saying anything.

—Don't look at me like that, I'm dying of embarrassment.

Alex woke up from hypnosis when he heard you speak.

- What? No, no... don't be embarrassed — he said, looking away — you look beautiful.

— Thank you — you said and went to the balcony to leave the dress drying there.

Alex's eyes followed you.

You came back and sat next to him on the edge of the bed.

— Alex, I'm sorry again — he interrupted you

— Never mind, it's over — he said — are you comfortable now?

— Yes, thank you.

— while Matt doesn't arrive, shall we steal some drinks for ourselves? — he suggested with a silly smile on his face.

- Let's go! — you smiled with your hand over your mouth.

He grabbed a can and handed it to you. He sat next to you again holding the drink.

You were talking and Alex couldn't take his eyes off your thighs.

You found the courage to tell him what you thought.

— Alex... we're alone here, we're two adults and...

Before you could finish speaking, he came closer and kissed you warmly, you felt his lips fit perfectly with yours, one of his hands rested on your hip, you felt your body heat up.

The kiss made him go down to her neck and place a few kisses and bites there.

— Alex... — you said between whispers and light moans.

Got no response from him.

He just continued to taste her body.

you gave in more and more and threw your head back.

It was then that you slowly lay down, while he took off your shirt, he knelt between you and helped you take off the shirt he had given you to wear, exposing your beautiful breasts.

— Now it's better — he said, as he began to suck the nipple calmly.

You felt his warm tongue alternating between both nipples. He licked in circles, making you roll your eyes and moan uncontrollably.

He paused for a moment leaving you crazy begging for more.

He went down a little further, ran his fingers through your black lace panties, threw them to the side and started licking you gently. His tongue moved in a way that made you roll your eyes in pleasure.

— that's it, don't stop, don't stop. — You repeated.

He then had to abandon you once again, getting up.

You then placed yourself face down in front of him and placed your hands on the clearly visible bulge in his pants.

You then opened the zipper and saw the blue underwear, you sneakily ran your tongue over the underwear on his bulge, and then pulled the underwear down, making his dick jump in your face.

— Wow — you said in surprise, and then licked the head.

Very slowly you started to suck him, he threw his head back and sighed with lust. At one point, he grabbed her hair and helped her move back and forth. You choked a few times, and saw how much more crazy it made you.

— I really need you to fuck me right now — you said, looking into his eyes, while your hand masturbated him.

— Hmm, I like hearing that.

You then lay down on your front and he settled on top of you, fitting his cock at your entrance and you then felt him inside you.

Your moans accompanied his movements, which were frantic.

The sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the hotel room, Alex was so turned on, that it didn't take long for him to cum inside you.

He let his body fall onto yours and then you kissed him.

— I promise we'll do a second round, you made me so excited that I needed to cum soon.

You laughed at his comment.

— only you to make me laugh in a situation like this.

He laughed through his nose

His phone then started ringing.

— Damn, I forgot about Matt!!!

He got up and started to get dressed, looked at his cell phone and received more than 10 messages from Matt asking about his delay.

He returned the call

— Alex, I've been here for 20 minutes! Where are you? - Matt said.

— Dude, I'm sorry. I'm going downstairs to deliver the drinks.

— You're not going to tell me that... — Matt said suspiciously.

Alex laughed in response

“I figured,” Matt said, laughing too.

— Well, the important thing is that I'm bringing the drinks.

He hung up.

— I need to end this, but you can continue as we haven't finished yet.

He winked at you and you saw him slam the door.

You couldn't believe everything you were experiencing, but you knew you didn't want it to end.

You took out your cell phone and there were several messages and calls from your friend.

You then called her

— Phew, it's alive!! —Clleo said on the phone.

[vickyvicarious]

“I made a mistake, Kemp, a huge mistake, in carrying this thing through alone. I have wasted strength, time, opportunities. Alone—it is wonderful how little a man can do alone! To rob a little, to hurt a little, and there is the end. “What I want, Kemp, is a goal-keeper, a helper, and a hiding-place, an arrangement whereby I can sleep and eat and rest in peace, and unsuspected. I must have a confederate. With a confederate, with food and rest—a thousand things are possible. “Hitherto I have gone on vague lines. We have to consider all that invisibility means, all that it does not mean. It means little advantage for eavesdropping and so forth—one makes sounds. It’s of little help—a little help perhaps—in housebreaking and so forth. Once you’ve caught me you could easily imprison me. But on the other hand I am hard to catch. This invisibility, in fact, is only good in two cases: It’s useful in getting away, it’s useful in approaching. It’s particularly useful, therefore, in killing. I can walk round a man, whatever weapon he has, choose my point, strike as I like. Dodge as I like. Escape as I like.” Kemp’s hand went to his moustache. Was that a movement downstairs? “And it is killing we must do, Kemp.” “It is killing we must do,” repeated Kemp. “I’m listening to your plan, Griffin, but I’m not agreeing, mind. Why killing?” “Not wanton killing, but a judicious slaying. The point is, they know there is an Invisible Man—as well as we know there is an Invisible Man. And that Invisible Man, Kemp, must now establish a Reign of Terror. Yes; no doubt it’s startling. But I mean it. A Reign of Terror. He must take some town like your Burdock and terrify and dominate it. He must issue his orders. He can do that in a thousand ways—scraps of paper thrust under doors would suffice. And all who disobey his orders he must kill, and kill all who would defend them.”

There's so much going on in this conversation. First, the obvious irony of Griffin telling Kemp how he understands now that he needs a helper he can trust, while Kemp is trying to ensure he gets caught in the next few minutes. Griffin saying that he will be easily imprisoned once caught but that he's hard to catch, as Kemp frets over whether they will be able to catch him now. That's pretty obvious, and both funny and also sad. It's perfectly understandable for Kemp to want Griffin to be caught even before he talks about this plan, but it sucks that Griffin's sincerity is just completely bouncing off him. Griffin is for the first time trying to make a connection with someone (something that could potentially turn this situation around) but he's been rejected from the start.

But there's also... what is Griffin talking about? This goes from 'yeah, Griffin, you shouldn't be going it alone' to 'no Griffin not like that holy shit' real damn fast. And it's really interesting in the context of the rest of his behavior, because... this really doesn't seem to match it throughout most of the book so far.

Griffin has used plenty of violence before now. He defaults to threats or physical harm when he feels too vulnerable or powerless. But while he's been reckless and careless with it, there has never really been premeditated malice to anything he does. He's not scheming evil upon others. He's mostly reacting, again, often in what seems a kind of panic. When he gets most violent, at least. He has done harmful things with forethought, but those are mostly limited to theft, and are informed by selfishness and a lack of consideration/awareness of potential consequences.

He also has been consistently motivated by curing his invisibility. He wants his resources back, and privacy/freedom to work in order to do just that. He very quickly decided making himself invisible was a shortsighted mistake, as he encountered drawback after drawback in the immediate aftermath. He also wasn't motivated by any particular single goal of seizing power when he made himself invisible. He was deeply depressed and clinging to 'seeing it through', and then panicked when he came into conflict with his landlord. His paranoia about his invention was intense, but that too is linked to him seeking control over his own life, not others' as such.

So then, why this turnaround? Well, last chapter he said this:

"I had one hope. It was a half idea! I have it still. It is a full blown idea now. A way of getting back! Of restoring what I have done. When I choose. When I have done all I mean to do invisibly."

So, now it seems Griffin's motivation has shifted. He no longer wants immediate relief from invisibility. Instead, he wants to do things while invisible first. He wants to establish a Reign of Terror, to take over a town by utilizing his invisibility in the only way he can see it being of practical use: murder and the spreading of fear. But he says that as a 'must' as 'judicious'. So it's still not for the pleasure of it. Then, why?

First, I frankly don't believe Griffin is actually capable of enforcing the kind of siege he describes here. Physically maybe (depending on how unprepared others are), but emotionally I don't think he could keep it up. He'd collapse, he'd succumb to the guilt he clearly does feel at times. When he's not in a constant state of high emotion (largely fear, which with Griffin transitions seamlessly into rage) he wouldn't be able to keep murdering people so coldly and logically. He can of course work himself up over time, and can hold a grudge, which might be enough to get him started enacting this plan, but I don't believe he could see it through all the way. Still enough to do monstrous things, of course, just not enough to be effective at establishing his goal. (And even that shows his typical lack of forethought. Does he think that no one else would help them? That this town would just succumb to him in total isolation?)

But why does he even want it? I think it actually reflects all his same motivations until now. He feels cornered and he reacts badly, lashing out at others. As the rejection builds all around him, as his options dwindle, as his fear and helplessness grow - he consistently reacts by escalating and proving everyone's worst assumptions about him correct. And right now, even though he has found Kemp and thinks he can mostly trust him, it's not enough to make him feel safe. There are lots of people actively hunting him, now. And he can't just stay in Kemp's rooms forever. He would hate the idea, would feel imprisoned. He doesn't think much of stealing from others, but absolutely hates being stolen from (and he has so little, that the loss feels correspondingly huger), especially something like his books which contain the key to freeing him. So being here is a brief reprieve but he's still deeply afraid. And that makes him deeply angry. And so he wants revenge, he wants to punish them (in general, who make him feel afraid - and Marvel in particular, who has 'betrayed' him).

He also quite likely knows even with his idea it will take an unknown but likely significant amount more time to perfect his cure. So even if all he wanted was to be cured, he would need a safe place to work until then. And the tension is so high right now, his fear of being betrayed is so strong, that I don't think he believes it would be possible to do the necessary work unless he has the town cowed under his invisible heel.

“I don’t agree to this, Griffin,” he said. “Understand me, I don’t agree to this. Why dream of playing a game against the race? How can you hope to gain happiness? Don’t be a lone wolf. Publish your results; take the world—take the nation at least—into your confidence. Think what you might do with a million helpers—”

This line is also key. Kemp urges Griffin to confide in others. All his considerations of the usefulness of invisibility were from the perspective of a lone man against a cruel world. Very selfish and very assuming of a hostile environment. This too is reflected in Griffin's treatment of the few people he has reached out to - Marvel and Kemp. In both cases, he seeks understanding and sympathy. But he also seeks it at metaphorical gunpoint, by threatening them with what he could invisibly do to harm them. It's because as much as he may pour out his heart to Kemp here, he doesn't fully trust him. He doesn't fully trust anyone. By collaborating with them, all he is doing is giving them power over him, and that means they have power to hurt him. So instead he clings to his own power to hurt them first.

In Griffin's eyes, there is no such thing as an equal relationship. There is such thing as trust rewarded, or even given freely. And so in order to ensure his own safety he has to be the one in charge. He has to convince Kemp that they will both reap great rewards, he has to be able to hurt him and get away should anything fall through.

It all ties in perfectly with his backstory of being an outsider (albino, not socially adept at all), and being poor (in many ways powerless). And of course, it is such a self-fulfilling prophecy of terrible outcomes. If you only give violence, you're only getting violence in return. Someone has to let their guard down first, someone has to be willing to trust and be vulnerable for things to ever change. But Griffin is convinced that would be a mistake to ever fully do. And as much as I want to tell him he's wrong, his experiences corroborate that view. Everywhere he goes, he's experienced rejection and hate, or nosiness and distrust at best, no matter how much he tries to be on his best behavior. Every time he even partially lets down his guard or reaches out to others, they turn on him. And of course so much of that is because of the way he never fully relaxes, the way he always keeps a threat hanging over their heads, but he's not gonna see that. All he's gonna see is that he's been right all along. That he truly is in this alone. That he has to be selfish and he has to hit first and hit harder because he is outnumbered and if they catch him he won't be able to get away.

[ghetsismybeloved]

Clay and Ghetsis are canon

you all talk about ghetsis with giovanni or colress but what about.....

i mean ghetsis compliments clay and clay let the criminal that literally order the guys that pissed him off two minutes earlier go away with little to no hesitation

actually clay dumped lacey mother to get with ghetsis in black and white 3 and that's why ghetsis isn't committing any more crimes

and the fact ghetsis tied him up crucifixion style in the manga isn't not a counter argument , it's just a silly prank. It happens , who never did that in an attempt to flirt anyway ?

also clay is the first to arrive to the castle , he didn't get lost in the way like the other gym leader because he actually knew the way and was just eager to see his bf obviously

i might even say he lended ghetsis some of his man to build the stuff because he loves him so much you know

this ship is basically canon anyway

(sorry my brain is just starting to hyperfocus on clay lately and i had to include him in any way i could in my ghetsis blog hihi

also his name in french is "bardane"" (burdock) which is a root vegetable and it's clearly cooler than naming him clay and closer to his japanese name

actually english , portuguese , brazilian and chinese name are the only one that aren't related to root fruit or directly from his japanese name )

[goforth-ladymidnight]

A Rose by Any Other Name

Tamlin Week 2024, Day 3: Flower Language

@tamlinweek

Pairing: Tamlin x Lucien

Rating: Teen and up (for language)

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Nynsar is one day away, and Lucien learns that there is more to the minor Spring Court holiday than he had first supposed.

Read on AO3, or read on below:

“Have you decided what flower you’re going to wear on Nynsar tomorrow?” Tamlin asked, meeting Lucien’s eyes in the tall bedroom mirror.

Lucien stifled a snort as he slipped his shirt over his head. “Isn’t that a Spring Court custom?” he asked, more scornfully than he’d intended.

Tamlin paused from adjusting his collar and turned to face him. “You’re part of the Spring Court now,” he said with some surprise. “It would be a good way to introduce yourself to the others.”

“What’s the point?” Lucien grumbled, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Everyone already knows we’re fucking.”

Tamlin gave him a patient smile as he stepped closer and reached out to tie Lucien’s shirt strings. “Maybe that’s what you call it in the Autumn Court,” he said evenly, tying an expert knot. “But here we call it making love.”

Lucien blushed. “Same thing, isn’t it?”

Tamlin arched an eyebrow at him. “You think so?”

Lucien shrugged. “We end up in the same bed no matter what you call it, so… yes?” His ‘yes’ sounded less confident than he intended. Some emissary he was turning out to be.

Tamlin surprised him by chuckling, then patted Lucien’s chest as he pulled away. “Consider wearing foxglove tomorrow,” he remarked. “It’d suit you.”

“Foxglove? Why?” Lucien called out as Tamlin strode toward the doorway.

Tamlin paused to give him a brief, mysterious smile. “Look it up,” was all he said before he closed the door behind him.

Lucien hadn’t counted on spending his day off in the library, but as Tamlin’s official emissary, and unofficial bedfellow, he had to know what kind of impression to make upon the residents of his new home.

Home.

The Spring Court.

After having lived in the Autumn Court for over a century, he had suddenly found himself an exile. Just because he had dared to love someone his father had deemed lesser. If only Beron could see him now. A High Lord’s consort in all but name.

What sort of flower would a consort wear on Nynsar, anyway? Even though Lucien still scoffed at the tradition, it was important to Tamlin, and Tamlin was important to him.

There were several books on the Language of Flowers in the High Lord’s personal library, enough to make a faerie’s head spin. Lucien grimaced at the selection. None of the other Courts communicated in such frivolous, obscure ways, but he supposed the Spring Court had its reasons, or there wouldn’t be so many books on the subject. At last he selected a slender tome that seemed promising: Floriography,a Garden of Meaning.

Flipping through it, he sauntered toward the extra desk in the corner and leaned against it to find answers. He didn’t expect his search to take long, although it would be easy to lose himself in this particular book. The illustrations were surprisingly intricate for such a simple tome. No wonder it was in the High Lord’s library.

The first illustration Lucien flipped to was for Amaranth, which meant Eternal Love. Lucien snorted and turned the page. Eternal pain in the ass was more like it. Amarantha, Hybern’s emissary, fawned over Tamlin every time she visited Spring. Maybe there was a flower in this book to tell her to fuck off.

Barberry, perhaps, for Bad Temper. Hmm. Close, but not quite. Ah, Burdock. Touch Me Not. Perhaps with some Thistle—Warning, the book said—just so he could piss her off.

Lucien chuckled at the thought, then shook himself. He was getting distracted from the matter at hand. He didn’t want to spend the entire day studying, after all.

Reading further, he learned that Buttercups could indicate either Childishness or Sarcasm.

Lucien winced and turned the page. He counted himself lucky that Tamlin hadn’t suggested he wear that particular flower, no matter how much he deserved it for mouthing off all the time.

Carnations meant Fascination, Celandines meant Joys to Come…

He paused on the description for Forget-me-nots. The meaning itself was in the name, but the book said that Spring soldiers and their families would wear sprigs of the flower in remembrance of their loved ones during the War, and planted them on the graves of those who didn’t make it home.

Lucien smiled sadly. Perhaps Floriography wasn’t such a frivolous pastime after all.

He took a deep, cleansing breath, then turned the page to Forsythia. Indicating Anticipation or Innocence, the book said they were suitable for children to give as gifts on Nynsar.

Lucien straightened. He hadn’t realized that giving flowers was part of the Nynsar tradition, as well as wearing them. Tamlin hadn’t brought it up, so it was possible that he thought Lucien already knew.

Forgetting about Foxglove for the time-being, he turned towards the end of the book, to learn more about Roses, Tamlin’s favorite flower. Lucien’s eyes widened at the number of pages dedicated to it. Each color meant something different.

Red for love, pink for passion, and yellow for jealousy… and that was only the beginning. Yellow roses tinged with pink meant something different than yellow roses tinged with red. Cauldron boil him, why did it have to be so complicated?

‘Everyone already knows we’re fucking,’ Lucien had said. A simple red rose would make that message plain enough, but Tamlin had said: ‘Foxglove.’ Why?

Lucien turned to Foxglove, then snorted aloud as he read the description, even though no one was around to hear him. It meant Insincerity, or even Delirium. ‘Same thing, isn’t it?’ Lucien had asked, and Tamlin had called him a liar, if not an idiot. In Flower, no less.

Lucien snapped the book shut and tapped it against his chin. There was more to the Language of Flowers—and Nynsar—than he had first supposed. He needed to think about what to do next, and what better place to do it than out of doors, where he could find the same flowers as in the book?

Later that afternoon, Lucien found Tamlin in his study, pressing his seal to a stack of answered correspondence. He had never given it much thought, but the shape of the seal was that of a five-petaled sweetbrier rose, which, in the Spring Court, meant simply: Home. It was fitting.

Lucien cleared his throat. “Can I come in?”

Tamlin glanced up. “Of course you can. What—” A slow, handsome smile grew on his face as he took in the bouquet that Lucien was carrying. “What’s this?”

Lucien gave him a shy smile and stepped closer. “An early Nynsar present,” he said. “Or an apology bouquet,” he added with a shrug. “Depending on how you look at it.”

Tamlin’s green eyes twinkled as he pushed himself away from the desk to accept the proffered bouquet. “Hyacinths,” he observed, twirling it slowly.

“Purple hyacinths,” Lucien added. “For sorrow.”

A corner of Tamlin’s mouth twitched as he caught Lucien’s eye, then he continued, “And tulips—white tulips…”

“For sincerity,” they said together.

Tamlin nodded. “And, uh… meadowsweet,” he remarked with some surprise.

“For peace,” Lucien said quickly.

“Or uselessness,” Tamlin remarked. His mouth was twitching again.

Lucien’s face flushed. “Like I said, it all depends on how you look at it.”

“Or on which book you read,” Tamlin said, laying the bouquet on his desk, gently. “Was it: ‘A Floral Guide to the Spring Court’, by chance?” he guessed, crossing his arms.

“‘A Garden of Meaning’, actually.”

Tamlin nodded thoughtfully. “I like that one, too.”

“So do I.”

They stood in awkward silence until Tamlin finally noticed the blossom pinned to Lucien’s chest. His eyebrows rose. “I see you chose to wear Foxglove after all.”

Lucien chuckled and pinched the foxglove stem between his fingers. “Well. I was an idiot.”

Tamlin sighed. “You weren’t an idiot—”

“Yes I was.” Lucien took a deep breath and swallowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize how much Nynsar meant to you… and the rest of the Spring Court.”

Tamlin smiled softly. “I know it’s just a minor Spring holiday,” he tried to say, but Lucien cut him off.

“No it’s not. Not to you.”

Tamlin’s lips tightened as he conceded a nod. “Thank you,” he said quietly.

Sensing that he had been forgiven, Lucien drew out the small flower he had been hiding behind his back. “I know Nynsar isn’t until tomorrow,” he began shyly, “but if you would do me the honor of wearing this tomorrow, I… I would be most grateful.” He held out the pale yellow primrose in his palm and stammered, “I would have given you a rose, but I didn’t know if I should take one of your mother’s roses, and—and even though it’s not the same, it means the same thing. A-according to the book, I mean.”

Lucien wished he had a book to interpret the smile blooming on Tamlin’s face. Surprise? Amusement? He couldn’t tell.

Tamlin caught his eye. “And what meaning is that?” the High Lord asked coyly.

Lucien swallowed again. His face was on fire, and his throat was dry from nerves. “It means I… I love you,” he rasped. “I can’t live without you.”

Tamlin’s smile softened, and it made his heart skip a beat. “Of course I’ll wear it,” he said gently, and his fingertips brushed Lucien’s palm as he accepted the delicate primrose. “But only if you wear one, too.”

He held out an identical blossom to Lucien, who stared. Hadn’t he only plucked one from the garden?

“Being High Lord has its perks,” Tamlin explained, still smiling.

Lucien chuckled as he accepted the twin blossom, then twirled the stem between his fingers. “Is this what you call making love?” he joked.

Tamlin shook his head. “No. This is,” he said, and grabbed Lucien by the collar and kissed him fiercely on the mouth.

Lucien stared at him in a daze when Tamlin’s grip on him loosened.

“I love you, too, by the way,” Tamlin murmured, smiling shyly. “Just in case it wasn’t obvious.”

Lucien returned his smile. “Happy Nynsar, Tam.”

Tamlin chuckled and wryly shook his head. “It’s not until tomorrow, idiot,” he said fondly.

Lucien feigned offense. “You know, I don’t fucking care,” he said, and when Tamlin grinned, he couldn’t help but grin back as he pulled on Tamlin’s collar and kissed him just as fiercely.

[penitentdruid]

Destroyed World, Bandits || Matthew and Áedán

@rxcklessdxvotion

The camp bustled with life as bandits prepared for their next big job. Their dogs thrashed and snarled as they sensed the heightened emotions. And the horses stomped impatiently. 

‘Shh.’ Aedan soothed a hand over Epona’s nose and turned to Tzivah. ‘How long?’ 

‘We’re just waiting for the little shit to get here,’ Dunne answered instead as he saddled Burdock up. 

Aedan snorted and nodded, irritation pricking him. Of course, Matthew would be the fucking hold-up. 

‘Remember your role?’ Dunne said. 

‘Keep the animals from getting pissy and get them out of the way.’

‘And?’ 

Aedan rolled his eyes and gave Dunne the ‘really’ look. They didn’t need to go through this again every time. It had been the same for the last ten years. They expected him to kill any animals that attacked them. Wasn’t that just logic? 

Glade ran in, a bow over one shoulder and rifle on the other. ‘I see him.’ 

‘Mount up!’ Tzivah called, and all the armed men and one woman got on their horses.

[brightoakgame]

Irregular Monday Update, Edition 16 (new, improved--and soon to be voiced...!)

Good heavens, it's been...a minute since my last proper update, hasn't it? 😶‍🌫️ To start, I want to apologize for the prolonged delay and quiet! My family is in the midst of a long-process major move, uprooting from my beloved home state and preparing for new adventures elsewhere, with the big jump likely to occur sometime around the start of the new year. Most of the past year has been a series of small leaps from one lily-pad to the next in preparation for this, and it's only been within the last month or two that things have finally stabilized enough to allow for some progress on game development. ✨ (read on, MacDuff)

Which, of course, brings us to the first update: Tell It Slant!

An Old Friend trash-talking Edgar Allan Poe in Tell It Slant

Tell It Slant is the game I had the joy of writing (and horror of script-coding) for this Spooktober! 🎃 Participating in a short jam project felt like the ideal way to get a little exercise in before launching headfirst back into Bright Oak, and I had the pleasure of working with a phenomenal, phenomenal team (directed by the wonderful E.C., with art by Jessey N. Droz, music by Senaeris, and a gorgeous UI courtesy of Remnantation, Windchimes, and vronfrog). There are over 270 entries this year--all free!--so if you're looking for something ~spoooooky~ to read this October, this is a great place to start! I'll be posting my personal shortlist of favorites in a few days. ✨

There are few teachers better than experience, and this project was no exception. Amidst identifying places I can improve (and discovering I am nothing if not consistent: there is less than 300 words difference between Tell It Slant and Burdock), something I found particularly striking was working with our remarkable, phenomenally talented cast of voice actors: CobaltKobold, Vanessa Benoit, and the inimitable Chase Via. I never intended for there to be voice acting in my projects prior to this, but after Tell It Slant, my previous works feel so...quiet. Moreover, watching the streams of Tell It Slant, I have come to recognize that having voice acting also adds a layer of accessibility that I'd really like to embrace going forward. Thus, after some discussion with voice director EeeCee and my personal security blanket Remnantation, we come to the next update:

Burdock (revisited!)

Burdock was my first-ever jam project, made last Spooktober (alongside Butterfly Rocket Studios regulars Remnantation, John Åhlin, and Windchimes, as well as the talented ingthing). Rem has expressed interest in embellishing the art, and it feels like the best starting point for me on incorporating voice acting on a personal project. If you enjoy the work of our talented cast in Tell It Slant as much as I do, you'll be pleased to know that three of the Fair Folk in Burdock are likely to sound...rather familiar. For the rest of the troupe, I'll post a link to the casting call later this week. 💚 The re-release goal we're working on presently is this winter, ideally before the year end. ✨

(I spy with my little eye...a Forster sibling dialogue from Act II! Since code tends to run off the page, here's a snap of the raw script instead)

...but what about Bright Oak?!

Bright Oak remains the big constant in my heart, and it is not exempt from this shift in perspective: it is now my intention to have Bright Oak also be fully voiced, with the exception of the main player character and their internal narration. What does that look like as far as the release timeline? Frankly, I'm not entirely sure yet. Given that I'll be getting a major assist on this from the talented E.C., I do not anticipate it to be of as much impact as the impending out of state move, however, and--depending on what avenue I end up taking to secure funding for this addition, whether continuing to work out of pocket or if I need to court crowdfunding--I do think the full game should be complete and ready for release within the next year. Even with all these twists and turns, I'm confident that in the end, we're gonna have something well and truly special, and I cannot wait to share it with you all. ✨

And that...is more than enough from me for today! Thank you all for your unswerving patience and support; I appreciate you more than words can say. 💚 B.