#Celtic Thin Places

[cricketchirp]

My Reawaking

In any given year, I've said good-bye to you, my dear vernal pool in late May or early June. But this year of Twenty-twenty-three has been like no other as you've retained water beyond your ephemeral season. When upon July 14 I peered into your shallow depth, I was greeted with frog legs growing upon tadpole bodies, a sight not witnessed in your waters ever before. In years past miniature…

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Thin Places, Jordan Kisner. 

[yaut-jaknowit]

Hello:D

Okay but MxM: imagine there’s like a ‘peace’ treaty between humans and Yautja and some interspecies programs are set up, and a Yautja and a human who absolutely despise each other get teamed up, absolutely bully each other and then one begins to realise it’s sexual tension not hate and they just end up fucking on the job🗣️🔥

Thick As A Knife

Pairings: Celtic (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 6300 (Whoop! Ten pages)

Summary: This was all your friend's fault. Sign up for the treaty, he said. It'll be fun, he said. It's not like you would've gotten picked. Until you received a phone call one day. The only reason you don't say no was the fact of the pay. The pay.

Author Note: This... this unfortunately isn't one of my best works. I don't feel very proud of it but I can't find the energy to redo. I'm so sorry, dude, I tried my best. I hope it still works for you though! I tried to make it decent by using your favorite man's.

Masterlist

Ao3

Out of everyone that was offered as a sacrifice, er, sorry. That was placed into the program, you had been one that was chosen. One of your friends put your name into the gamble just for the fun of it alongside herself. Look at what’s happening now.

All of your stuff was pulled from your apartment and placed into a shipping container. Where it will be taken to an interspecies ship that was the first of its kind. Not only will that happen, but apparently you’re going to be placed with the species you hated. A species who was completely uncivilized. They call humans primitive but strut around half naked in fishnets. If there wasn’t a good amount of cash that’s being deposited into your account as you say, there was no way in hell you would let this happen. Not if you’re going to trapped in a space with the Yautjas.

A scoff left your lips, eyes rolling. This was unbelievable. Space travel wasn’t shiny new, but it’s not like you’ve been outside of earth’s atmosphere before. That’s when your leg began to shake, bouncing up and down in a rapid motion.

So far, there’s been no incidents. That included both the ship you’ll be residing on and with the new friendly Yautjas your government decided to friend. It was best to keep your enemies close, keep an eye on them. Yet, here they are, sticking you to a randomly picked alien as well. The two of you had one thing in common. Forced by your governments to follow their commands.

The door to the shipping unit shut before your very eyes and locked away all your possessions. Your lips pressed into a thin line.

Over on the street, a black car pulled into the parking lot. The windows completely blacked out. All you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. Then, the tinted window rolled down to reveal a woman dressed in a suit. She reminded you of the movie Men In Black with the black glasses. Once again, you couldn’t see here eyes.

She motioned towards the front see you were meant to take. With one more glance to what could be the last time you may see your apartment, you opened the door and slid in. The shipping container was left behind for someone to come pick and take to your new home. Thinking about it was making it more of a reality in your mind. Your leg began to twitch again.

All the way to the launch site, the driver kept silent. Her glasses provided the perfect barrier from seeing her eyes and getting a read on her. You wrung out your fingers while they sat in your lap the entire car ride.

About three hours had passed before she turned onto what looked to be an abandoned road. It was strictly gravel. This wasn’t what you were expecting to be the grand entrance to a new life in space. You watched as low hills passed on either side of the car. She wasn’t in much of a rush, carefully about how bumpy the backroad was.

The car came over a hill. On the other side sat a small, navy blue vessel. A vessel that resembled the ships many of the Yautjas used. Your mood soured immediately, ruined by the reminder of where you were going. Your muscles grew tense. Unsaid words entered the air and filled it with tension that the driver could feel.

When the vehicle came to halt, the process was swift. You were given a quick brief of how to act and what to do while on this ship. It practically went into one ear and out the other. Honestly, you tried to listen, tried to be a good sacrifice. But with the situation, you stopped caring. If only they were the ones going to be stuck with the brute of an alien for however long they pleased. There were no set times. Just a paycheck in the mail every two weeks you are there. A good paycheck that had you mostly compliant.

After everything was said and done, they ushered you towards this navy blue vessel. A ramp lowered down at your presence. It felt like a scene from Star Wars. The hiss of steam before a ramp revealed the inside of this ship. As a human, your curiosity was screaming at you, wanting to figure out everything that made this thing tick. You were becoming part of the first group of humans to enter space. Though, with the aid of another species. It was still a feat that wasn’t achievable in this manner until now.

They showed you up the ramp before leaving you in the middle of a small gathering room. The ship itself wasn’t massive by any means. Just a carrier ship for short travel.

Towards the front of the vessel was the cockpit. At first, you missed the figure but your eyes snapped back to him.

From limited pictures, you could still tell this was that Yautja, that unfortunate partner you’ve been paired with. They call him Celtic. It almost gave him a sort of human side to him but immediately narrowed your eyes on the figure. He was your ride? You internally scoffed and fought off the want to cross your arms. That would look bad on your part. And that paycheck was looking really, really nice.

The brute of a man stood up. Never in your life had you been around one of them before. They don’t come to earth. Not unless they hunted before the treaty. That didn’t happen much anymore, unless someone offered themselves up for the hunt. That was part of the deal the government made with the Yautjas.

And he was tall and thick. He had to be at least three times your mass. His sensor dreads weren’t extremely long. They were a dark black, signaling his young age. You were surprised his government had sent someone on the younger side to be part of the treaty. Yet, here you were as well.

A forced smile cracked at your features. It felt more like a grimace. Celtic stopped in front of you and tilted his head down, bright yellow eyes peering into your very soul. It became a staring contest, trying to find the weakness in each other. Whatever you could get to make sure you had the upper hand. He was a beast, a species that knows no mercy. You hated the fact that you had been roped into those by your friend. There was no backing out. All you could do was endure this for however long it was necessary. Get the money, get out. Simple as that.

His mandibles flickered, tongue darting out to taste the air. “You are not what I was expecting,” he speaks in a slower voice. A proper speech as if he just recently learned English. It took a lot of will not to cross your arms and drop the façade at his words. This is part of the reason you disliked this species as a whole. They were all the same. There was no difference between any of them. They all had that rude attitude. It irked you so much too.

Your hand curled into a fist at your sides. You clicked your tongue, eyes roaming from head to toe in a careless manner. “And you’re not as high skilled as I thought you would be,” your snarked and relaxed your grip. It would be best not show your emotions as much to these guys.

One thing you knew about these guys was where to hurt them. Their pride and hunting skills. Hit either of those and they will show they don’t like to be challenged. It didn’t matter what sex, both sex’s aren’t going to back down from a challenge. Especially one they know that could be won. One against a weak ooman that’s defenseless. You read up on some of their culture. To make sure you had everything in your power to survive this to the disastrous end. The people with the white wigs didn’t know a lick about what happens below their boot.

Just think of the money.

The way his eyes darkened, mandibles pulling tight over his alien mouth. Nothing needed to be said that you got under his skin. You held back a proudful smirk and kept your eyes narrowed on his towering figure.

Celtic scoffed then spun on his heel before strutting into the cockpit. You let the grin crack your façade wide open. Ah, that was lovely. You meandered after him and peered into the new space. It wasn’t spacious by any means, but it held the most important pieces to fly the craft. Despite your smug feelings, you were in awe at the incredible technology shift. You hid it before taking a seat to the left of him. The Yautja didn’t even glance in your direction.

Ah, you had really hit him where it hurt. Good. He’s probably killed one of your kind. He deserved it.

Underneath you, the ship rumbled, and the engines flared to life. It was powerful to be inside of such a thing. Your grin flickered onto your features for only a second. This wasn’t the time. You shoved it down to the pit of your stomach and gripped onto the armrests. This was your first time launching into space, leaving earths atmosphere. There was no way to stop the thundering of your heart.

Earth’s ground left the landing gear’s feet. You leaned forward in your seat to peer over the edge of console to look out the window. Once a hundred feet in the air, Celtic rapidly presses a few buttons then grabbed a lever. You had no time to react when he punched it. The force sent you flying back into the seat with a soft ‘oof’. The air in your lungs was pushed out but you quickly regained control.

He pressed forward and tilted the craft into a climb. Clouds whooshed passed the window. A sight you’ve never got to see before, even when flying. It continued to push higher and higher into the sky. Soon the day sky turned into night in a matter of a minute. Without light pollution of the cities, the stars were free to shine as brightly as they wished. You leaned forward in awe. The sight beyond anything you’d experienced before.

The craft leveled out without the fighting force of earth’s gravity to pull it down. The lack of gravity pulled at your stomach. Nausea washed over you for a few moments. Then, everything returned to normal. Your grip still clung to the armrests of the co-pilot’s chair. It would take an act of God to get you to loosen up. Fear wasn’t the contributing factor but the unknown of the whole situation made you feel unease. You’ve seen plenty of pictures and 3D models of the vessel you’ll be staying in. That’s fake over the rude awaking of the real world. It was really happening.

A moment passed when your gaze returned to the open vast space. In front of the ship, far away, was the forementioned ship. Your jaw slackened at the size. It rivaled a football field or cruise ship easily. Without any indicator, it was difficult to tell. There was nothing in space to compare it to, to see how big it really was. But it was huge.

That’s where you were going to be staying. A fact you didn’t have hit you in the fact until now. Celtic flew the ship closer to what’s called a mother ship. It’s a hub, per se. It’s where a clan would live and could maintain one as well. Similar to a tiny planet.

With practice ease, Celtic pulls the ship in the docking portion of the ship. He lands nearly perfect with only a bounce then shuts down all the engines. A new silence washes over the two of you. Celtic is up and out of his seat without a word. The lumbering form expertly spins on his heel once up and marches towards the back of the carrier vessel you were in. You jolted at the sudden abandonment and rushed after him like a stumbling fool. “What that fuck!? Wait up for me,” you yelled at him and barely made it to him when the ramp had touched the ground.

There he goes again.

Long strides take him down the ramp. You tsked to yourself and raced after his fleeing form. Clearly, he dislikes your presence. That’s makes two of you.

You ran into his back with grunt and stumbled back. Right as you were about to yell at him for that, a throat clearing stopped you in your tracks. You peered around Celtics form to find three well decorated Yautjas standing in front of him. An ‘oh shit’ moment slapped you straight in the face. Your lips pressed into a thin line.

To look like less than a fool, you calmly stepped out from behind him and stood with your shoulders squared. Four pairs of eyes were set onto your form. You recalled from the information given to you, to not stare into their eyes. It can be seen as a challenge. Something you would never, ever want to deal with. You respectfully bowed your head in their direction, understanding they are at least elders. A high rank amongst their culture. To piss them off meant a death sentence.

One of them called your name and drew your timid gaze to the trio. You are respectful to let your eyes flicker between them or towards the ground.

“We are pleased to see you’ve joined us,” the one to your left politely greets you, mandibles slowly stretching out. “This is a wonderful opportunity for both of our communities to learn from this experience.” You had to shut off your throat to stop a scoff from escaping in their faces. They learned plenty from all the times they visited.

The middle one, an earthy green tone, dips his head a centimeter. “Yes. It is a great experience for all parties. As for your stay, you aren’t obligated to stay. You are no prisoner but a guest amongst the Yautja. If an issue arises, don’t be afraid to reach out to the three of us. We want to ensure you make it off of the mother ship alive.” The joke is crude but seems a normal thing for them.

They all chuckle in a short manner. “Your quarters are different compared to normal ones onboard. You are stationed with Celtic here, as he is your partner for this. There are two separate rooms. He will be your guide throughout all of this,” the one on your right spoke up. “Your things shall arrive at the end of the cycle. We wish the best of luck towards the both of you.”

All of them glanced at Celtic for a fleeting moment before leaving you to him. Celtic watched as the elders left the docking area. The second they were out of sight, he started a fast pace in a certain direction. You were left to scamper after him all over again. You gritted your teeth and practically ran to catch up to him.

“Seriously, wait up! I’m not as tall as you,” you snapped at the still retreating frame. Your legs moved as fast as they could to catch up to him. Celtic didn’t even glance down at you and kept the same speedy pace towards a certain direction.

With the knowledge of how long it will take for your unit to make it up here, you were stuck with the clothes on your back and the phone in your pocket. Nothing else. You grumbled under your pants while forced to jog next to the strutting male. He was fast, you’ll have to give him that. Celtic walked with purpose towards an elevator. The doors opened at your approach. He entered and spun on his heel to face the entrance. His eyes didn’t even flicker in your general direction. They stared out into the open space of the docking port. You barely made it inside in time before the doors closed and sealed your fate with him.

All the way to the desired floor, Celtic was silent. The gears inside of his head were working overtime. You didn’t need to know him long to see what was happening. Not that you cared. There wasn’t a chance you would care about him. Not in a million years.

In a flash, the male was out the door and down the hall. A growl left your throat. You chased after him and slipped past other roaming Yautjas. Some gave you glares while other completely ignored you, unless you ran into them. Then, a threatening snarl would work its way to your ears. You were swift to get out of their way and flail to keep up with Celtic. He was doing this on purpose. There were no doubts about that. All you wanted was to go to the designated room and call it a night. Today’s been filled with plenty of excitement, including packing everything important to your everyday activities. You didn’t know how long you were going to be here. It was best to be prepared.

Celtic stopped in his tracks. Right at the moment you caught up to him. You bumped into his side with your shoulder. A pointed look was thrown at you. Instead of cowering like you would’ve to any other Yautja, you sneered and challenged him silently to do something. Sure, have this whole treaty situation go up in arms right off the bat. You didn’t care. There was a paycheck sitting happily in your bank account. One nice enough to keep you content for a while.

The alien paused his actions from entering the room and crowded into your space. Despite being one-third of his mass and weight, you kept up the challenge and rose on your tippy toes. His bright eyes darkened at the sight. The lower two of his mandibles twitched in thought. The upper ones were pulled tight over his mouth. Your muscles were locked, ready for whatever he decided to throw at you. You weren’t going to let him or anyone else push you around. Especially, him.

Even when he got so close his stomach pressed against your chest, you didn’t waver. Something in his eyes flickered but you held strong. Number one rule in their culture, don’t back down from a fight. Especially so quickly, it makes you look weak and pathetic. You weren’t either of those. You weren’t going to be that.

The two of you stayed like this for a long time. People passed by. Some glancing at the strange sight while other just ignored the scene as if it was normal. But, it was him who faltered.

His eyes rolled in such a human manner you did a double take. A grumble left his throat while he turned away and strolled into the room. You dumbly stood there for a few moments before rushing inside. Just before the door closed shut and sealed off your new space to the rest of the mother ship. You halted in the foyer and glanced around the areas you could see.

This wasn’t what you were expecting. Though, this was a treaty of alliance and such, you weren’t expecting just a large space.

There were at least three doors you could see from your stop in the main entrance. Everything seemed polished down to the modules and made everything perfect. You slowly meander further inside. There was a kitchen, a decent sized one. A dining room as well; as if you were going to have diner with Celtic, let alone share a meal with him.

All you could speculate about the closed doors were those were the bedrooms and a bathroom. There was also a living room as well. Plenty of space to house a party. You huffed and turned towards him.

“Have you chosen a room or…?” you trailed off in hopes of an answer from him. He blinked at you then disappeared into one of the bedrooms without a word. Anger flared to life. You wanted to wring his neck. Instead, you walked into the only other available room and sat down on the mattress. It was extremely low to the ground. By the looks of it, it almost seemed like it was sunken into the floor. Your legs were kicked out straight in front of you.

Out of everything, this wasn’t what you were expecting. From a life on a planet, you were content with the space offered to you. The people on the other hand. That wasn’t something you were fond of. In all honesty, you wanted to smack him so hard he could see straight. Yet, you refrained from violence on the first.

And the second. Then, the third. Until the days began to blur together that point.

It wasn’t hard to keep track though. Out of everything though, the only thing that was exciting or adrenaline pumping was being dragged to the front of the ship. Straight to the captains cockpit to do a video call back home. You preformed a few briefings with your agents or point of contact. Nothing besides that was entertaining.

Celtic was still pissed at you. He kept his distance far from you as much as possible. Unless the two of you are called upon to speak before the important figures of this whole operation. That’s really when you would only talk to each other and truly see one another. Any other time, he’s either out with his hunt brothers or in his room.

As the only lone human on this alien ship, you’ve cornered yourself into the room. The door was locked most of the time and kept you safe from the monsters you were surrounded by. Food was the only time you freely came out. The need to feed so you didn’t starve was a necessity. You would busy yourself during that time. Even if Celtic came in to the shared apartment, he would go straight to his space. Not a word even uttered in your general direction.

One day, the male came in. Unlike every other time he’s been here, he stopped at the island in the kitchen. Celtic bent over the island and rested on his elbows, eyes watching your every move about. You grew anxious, unsure whether he meant harm or not. Not that he ever has shown he wanted to cause you injury, but you couldn’t help this feeling deep inside of you.

After another minute goes by, you tensed up and spun around on your heel. “What in the world is your problem?!” you snapped at him and pointed the spatula in your hand at him. A brow arches. You motioned with the object in hand for him to move along. “Shoo, let me cook in peace.” He continued to stare at you. You narrowed your eyes at him and pressed your lips into a tight, thin line. Apparently, he didn’t have anything better to do at this moment. Your gaze flickered down his body, taking in the sight of the lack of clothes that adorned him. His muscular body easily on display without any remorse. Like the dumbass you are, you stared longer than you meant to.

Celtic just stayed there. A sigh left your lips. You grumbled under your breath before slowly turning back around to face the stove. It wasn’t like you could anything to make him move if he didn’t. The Yautja was three times your mass. It would be easy to figure out how well that would turn out to be without even needing to see anything occur.

The entire time, his eyes stayed on you. The hunk stood in the same spot, not even wavering. Just a predator watching… his prey. You shuttered at the thought and quickened your pace. The faster you finished the process, the faster you could get into your room. Away from him and weirdness happening right now.

Your food was nearly done. The burner was shut off. It smelled like heaven. If one thing about this time away from home has taught you something, how to truly cook. When you have nothing else to do, cooking is a great experience to have under your belt.

Large, warm hands grasped at your hips, nearly encircling your entire waist. A gasp tore from your throat. Your hands braced onto the edge of the stove when a weight pinned you in pace.

An inner instinct deep down commanded you to stay put. You gingerly peeked over your shoulder. Celtic, in all of his glory, stood there. A rumbling purr poured from his throat. A noise that had your muscles relaxing underneath him. You bowed your head and huffed. “What… what is your problem?” you grounded out.

Claws dented your shirt. “You.” The weight shifted. The stove’s edge dug into your stomach, further proving his strength against you. You gritted your teeth at the slight ache that gave you.

He bowed his spine to hover his mouth next to your head. “You’ve been my problem. This entire time. You’ve driven me insane.” The long, forked, pink tongue flickered out to taste the air. “It’s been impossible to keep my hands still every time I get a whiff of you. You’re ooman. I shouldn’t even like you. This is all for formality.”

The grip tightened. His face inched closer to the crook of your neck. “I’ve imagined plenty of times about how I should go about this. But I can’t take it. I need you, little prey.” You shuttered out a whimpered and clenched your jaw tightly. By god’s grace, you shouldn’t be entertaining this, letting him even touch you. The feel of his hands on you was amazing.

Then, you steeled your emotions. One of your elbows strikes him in the exposed side and send him stepping back away from you. A firm look graced your features when you spun around to face Celtic.

In his bent over state, he picked up his head to find your fierce gaze. You whipped out a hand. Your fingers encircled his throat. With whatever power that drove you, you pushed his form back. He was forced back until the couch caught his legs. The towering figure tipped over and landed onto the cushions you. A grin cracked your features. You climbed into his lap and straddled his large hips. Everything about him was larger than life. It would be a challenge, but you didn’t care. Not at this point.

Your hand still held tightly onto his throat. Celtic looked at your commanding form and let you take control. “Guess what, you’ve been my problem this entire time too. Being a bitch every time I do something.” You sat up higher and made him look up at you slightly. “I’ve wanted nothing more than to wring out your neck. You standing around like a weirdo, with this sculpted body.”

Bright, yellow eyes watched your every move. The Yautja was intrigued with what you were doing. Your other hand palmed at his abs to make your point to him.

A deep grumbled escaped his throat, vibrating against your palm. “And what are you going to do about it?” he challenged, a glint filling his eyes.

Instantly, your anger flared wider than a solar flare. You leaned in close enough to feel the breath of his. “I’m going to rip off your fucking pants,” you said more as a question rather than a statement. You wanted his consent, hoping not to be reading off the wrong signs of this whole situation. That would make this ten times worse than before.

One of his mandibles quirked up. “Best of luck, little prey.” Your teeth grounded against one another. He chuckled nonchalantly. You ripped your hand off his throat and used both to unbuckle his pants. It was easy to figure out how they open and tugged them down enough to expose the slick slit of his sheath.

This was something you weren’t going to admit but you did some research on their anatomy. They had a sheath compared to everything hanging out, including internal testicles. You were jealous of their anatomy and wish humans had that.

A smirk broke across your features. “What’s this I see? Mister high and mighty is aroused from a little human being dominate, isn’t that right?” you taunted the beast of an alien underneath you. Your thumb ran along the wetness of his slit and barely pressed against it.

Two hands grasped at your hips again and pulled you down to grind against his groin. You choked on a gasp and slapped your hands down on his shoulders. Celtic rutted his hips up against your clothed crotch. Immediately, your dick began to stir to life, hidden away in your pants. A bulge began to form at the stimulation.

“Does the little human think he can take charge? When I could easily pin you down and take you on the floor like some animal?” Celtic snarled and tilted your hips just enough so the side of your cock rubbed against his open pants. You bit the inside of your cheek to prevent a moan from escaping. Pleasure raced up the base of your spine. “Pants. Off. Now.” There was a slight hint in his voice that gave you the chance to back out.

You struggled out of your pants until they were on the floor. Your cock was erect and throbbing at the lack of attention.

The Yautja purred at the sight, hands palming at your exposed thighs. Long, black claws dragged across the skin and left behind red marks in their wake. He grasped the globes of your ass and lifted you up against his chest. You scrambled to hold onto his shoulders for purchase. The length of your cock rubbed against the muscle of his torso. Your toes curled at the feeling of pleasure again.

He used both hands to spread your cheeks wide. You were forced to lean against him for support and gazed down at him. “Now, do you want this knot inside of you or not?” You took the hint to reach down and encircled your hand around his pulsing cock. It was hot to the touch and wet from his shaft.

The pointed head poked at your exposed hole. You couldn’t stop the way you tensed at the feeling. He was large in stature and size. There was without a doubt this would hurt. But you wanted it. To teach him a lesson. Because fuck him. You were about to. You gritted your teeth then sank down.

Only the head was able to fit on the first try. Your body desperately wanted to curl in on itself when the ache hit you hard. It took all of your power not to. The beast snarled, claws digging into your malleable flesh and created dents in your skin. But, he didn’t notice nor cared. Celtic used his superior strength to force you down while also thrusting his hips up.

Skin slapping against echoed in the shared space around the two of you. A high-pitched keen left your cracked lips. You leaned back to rest your hands on his thighs and hold on. In his eyes, a dangerous looked entered them. You clenched around the intrusion inside of you. His irises darkened. His grip caused blood to trickle down your fragile skin. The pain of that was the last thing on your mind. You knew instantly by the expression he held you were in for it. Your jaw stayed tense, gritting your teeth against one another.

The slow drag of his cock out of your stretched, abused hole had you feeling more sensitive than ever before. Celtic slammed you down and kept the pace like that. You were being used as a flesh light for him. Every noise you made echoed back at you. It sounded like sin and heavenly sex at the same time. Your moans loud and needy as his entire length rubbed against your prostate, never leaving the pleasure spot alone.

Each bounce caused your cock to slap against each other’s stomach. The sensitive tip grew flush with blood. Pre leaked out and wettened both of your skins. It was dirty and needy all at the same time.

All you could do was brace on his knees and relax your muscles. Yet, when the pain finally waned, you pushed off of them and fumbled against his chest. The Yautja growled his warning. Not like you cared.

You were able to stable yourself on his torso before starting to meet each of his thrusts. He looked nearly as much as a mess as you were. “Can’t, ah, can’t handle it, Celtic?” you taunt him with an shit eating grin. Said male narrowed his gaze on you, thrusts messing up slightly. “Thought you were all, all game and whatnot? But, you truly can’t handle a human’s ass. Little bitch.”

His claws continued to draw blood freely from your skin. Celtic stopped. The only sound in the room was the combined panting from the two of you. His bright eyes were nearly a dark shade of yellow. It was scary.

“Oh, little prey. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.” He leaned into your personal space, panting hot air on your neck. “I have more stamina than you. You’ll be a whining, crying mess by the time I run through your ass. You won’t have anything left in your balls,” he challenged back, tongue flickering out again.

With an arm, you curl it around the back of his neck and tried to rise up higher on your knees. “I don’t think you’ll even last more than a round. You’ll be drooling by the first time you come. And, you’ll come quick. So pathetic.” His hands were so tight around your waist, it was impossible to move. Instead, you reached between the two of you and grasped at your own aching cock. You spat into your hand and started to stroke yourself in need of relief.

“Say’s the one-“ he lets you rise “-needily stroking himself in my lap.” He forces your form back down on his shaft. You screamed out and nearly pinched the base of your cock. The motion causes you to fall on to his torse, still pumping away. “See? Pathetic. Still jerking off with a cock deep inside of him. Such a needy, little ooman. Greedy little hole, needing my cock to fill it.”

The muscles on his stomach are chiseled. You pressed one side of your cock with a palm on his abs and thrusted against his toned muscles. A whined surged passed your lips. “S-shut up,” you snarked back weakly, not caring as much as before. Not with the edge growing near. “Fuck, yeah. Gonna come. I’m gon-gonna make a mess all over you. Teach yo-you a lesson.” It won’t work. You hoped it wouldn’t work.

Celtic grinned widely with his mandibles and angled his hips. Each thrust forced his length to slide against your prostate with all the strength he has. “Teach me a lesson? Sure. The lesson is how tight a ooman’s ass is. So fucking tight. I can’t wait to knot you.” You keened and quickened your thrusts. “There you go, desperate whore. Needing an alien to fuck you in the ass to get you to shut up.”

“I wish I had known that when I met you. Would’ve done it a long time ago,” he snarled, voice growing deep with each word.

At this point, you couldn’t think straight. The pleasure was rampant. It took over every sense you had. All you knew was the need to come. You came hard.

With a choked scream, head bowed down into his chest, cum spurted from the head of your dick and coated his entire torso. Each thrust only caused more to cover him. Your length throbbed hard, trying to soak Celtic. You mewled and squirmed in his hold, trying to get him to ease up. That only seemed to spur him on more. He somehow quickened his pace.

The skin on the back’s of your thighs and ass were going to be so sore tomorrow. You knew sitting down was going to be next to impossible. He held you place though, not allowing you any reprieve from his assault. “You’re going to take my cock like the good little prey you are. Fucking take it!” he snarled and grounded his hips against yours one last time.

Hot, thick spurts of cum filled you. A thick ball of flesh plugged you up, sealing every drop of Celtic’s seed inside of you. You were a limp mess on his torso, unable to even raise your head.

He collapsed against the couch with a deep, content purr that vibrated throughout his entire body. Strong, massive hands petted down your sweaty back. “Paya, I can tell it’s going to take forever for my knot to go down.” Shit, right… Yautja’s have knots. That’s why you felt fuller than normal. You groaned and rubbed your face against his similarly sweaty chest.

“Shut up,” you grumbled and stayed against him. It maybe sticky and a little gross. Yet, with his knot pressing against your prostate, you were trying not to go into overstimulation.

A chuckle left the creature’s chest. Celtic ran a hand from the base of your spine all the way to your neck. Said limb stayed there and cradled you close him. Your eyes shut, letting the dopamine fill your veins.

[astra-ravana]

Celebrating Samhain

Samhain, pronounced "SAH-win", is the eighth Sabbat and final spoke on the Wheel of the Year. With ancient Celtic origins, Samhain was one of the four fire festivals, and falls at the halfway point between the Autumn Equinox ans Winter Solstice. Opposing Beltane on the Wheel, Samhain also similarly features a 'thinning of the Veil', a time when the barrier between our world and that of spirits and other magickal entities is weakened and easier to cross. While Beltane famously is a strong time to interact with the Fae due to the Veil thinning, Samhain is most known for interactions with spiritual entities, the dead, and ancestors.

Samhain is also known as the third and final Harvest Festival (the first being Lughnasadh, and the second Mabon). The frost is coming, and most of the produce has been collected from the fields and stored away. As people prepared for oncoming harsh weather and lack of food/resources, they had to cut back on everything that wasn't crucial to their survival. Thus, this festival was the time of the animal harvest. All creatures who could not be fed through the harsh Winter were harvested during this time, and celebrated for their sacrifice.

Other names for Samhain and similar celebrations include:

• Halloween

• All Hallow's Eve

• The Witch's New Year

• The Third/Final Harvest

• Calan Gaeaf, "The First Day Of Winter"

• Oiche Shamnhna

• All Soul's Day

• All Saint's Day

• Devil's Night

Common Samhain Traditions

• The Dumb Supper is when a meal is hosted and consumed by the living, but the dead and spirits are invited to participate and given seats and places at the table as a sign of respect. Often the windows are all open during a Dumb Supper to invite the spirits into a home. Sometimes specific spirits or ancestors are invited or the invitation is simply left open to any spirits that wish to attend. The living attendants traditionally eat in silence to honor the spirits and hear their messages.

• Carving Jack-O-Lanterns originally came from the myth of "Stringy Jack", which is an Irish folktale about a man who tricked the Devil and now has to wander the world with a lit piece of coal protected inside a carved turnip. This evolved into people carving their own turnips and potatoes and placing them in windows or doorways to scare away Stringy Jack and other tricky or potentially harmful spirits. Once Irish immigrants came to America, the tradition was continued with pumpkins.

• Trick-Or-Treating is also derived from old Samhain traditions. The Celts believed that by dressing up they were disguising themselves from negative spirits who wandered the Earth on Samhain. In the Middle-Ages, "guising" was when children or impoverished people would dress in costumes and go door-to-door begging for food in exchange for songs or prayers. This practice was known as "souling" and the participants called "soulers". In Ireland, the practice of "mumming" involved dressing up in costumes and going door-to-door to sing in exchange for tasty cakes and baked goods.

Samhain Correspondences

Colors:

• Black

• Green

• Orange

• Purple

• Red

• Silver

Crystals:

• Black Obsidian

• Bloodstone

• Amethyst

• Black Tourmaline

• Carnelian

• Jasper

• Jet

• Malachite

• Iolite

• Onyx

• Vivianite

• Ruby

• Smokey Quartz

• Garnet

Herbs/Plants:

• Cedar

• Allspice

• Cinnamon

• Hemlock

• Sage

• Rosemary

• Patchouli

• Hazel

• Dittany of Crete

• Bay

• Clove

• Belladonna

• Dragon's Blood

• Wormwood

• Mandrake

• Mugwort

• Snapdragon

• Gourds

• Nutmeg

• Frankincense

• Ginger

• Pine

• Hyssop

• Marigold

Animals:

• Bats

• Snakes

• Cats

• Spiders

• Scorpions

• Coyotes

• Jackals

• Dogs

• Wolves

• Foxes

• Crows

• Ravens

• Owls

• Rats

• Stags

Food/Drink:

• Pumpkins

• Cider

• Beef

• Chicken

• Pork

• Cranberries

• Turnips

• Potatoes

• Garlic

• Soups/stews

• Pears

• Corn

• Ale

• Apples

• Grain

• Pies

Deities:

• Hekate

• Lucifer

• Anubis

• Loki

• Lilith

• Morrigan

• Nyx

• Hades

• Persephone

• Osiris

• Apollo

• Cerridwen

• Hel

• Freya

• Demeter

• Bast

• Mercury

• Yama

• Dis

• Herne

Magickal Workings:

• Spirit Work

• Ancestral Work

• Banishing

• Cleansing

• Divination

• Baneful Magick

• Shadow Work

• Rebirth/Resurrection

• Transformation

• Creativity

• Defensive Magick

• Preparation

• Ambition

• Purification

• Protection

Bonus: Samhain Incense Recipe

• 2 parts Rosemary

• 1 part Frankincense

• 1 part Cinnamon

• 1 part Cloves

• 1 part Patchouli

• 1/2 part Sage

• 1/4 part Hyssop

• Pinch of Sea Salt

[queers-gambit]

My Date With the President's Daughter

part one: Blue Bunny

prompt: your father finds out about Tangerine in the worst way during a charity gala before marauders try to rob it.

pairing: Tangerine x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Bullet Train

word count: 6.3k+

note: a little Disney Channel throwback in the title anyone?

warnings: use of Irish names that DO NOT dictate race, more Mafia antics, short smut / interrupted smut (you'll see), NSFW i think, mature content, cursing, chaos and violence, weapons: guns and knives, blood. dead bodies, reader's a Daddy's Girl, abrupt ending, slight angst, more hurt and comfort i guess, author still has no idea what this plot is - revoke her internet access.

The theme of the gala that night was inspired by the Palace of Versailles; regal, royal, glittering and so very, very gold. It was held at one of the most expensive hotels in the city, the entire building rented out in preparation with three different caterers and expensive bottles of alcohol being served. The gala was THE place to be - most people vying for an invitation, everyone who was anyone in attendance; dripping in designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry that sparkled in candlelight.

Every single year for the past 25 years, your legendary father hosted a large charity event that your mother was project manager of - meaning she chose the themes, decor, and the invite list. Only elite persons (both in the public and private eye) with deep pockets were invited, knowing they'd cut a large check if they wanted your father to stay out of their business territories. So, in honor of the richer-than-rich attendees, your mother used grand and golden decorations; creating a tastefully regal atmosphere for those who didn't actually have a drop of royal blood in their veins.

You father, Fallon, meaning "leader" in the ancient Celtic language, looked as handsome and dapper as ever; his tux dry cleaned, steamed, ironed, and tailored, paired with clean and shining dress shoes that had a bright red sole. His hair was slicked back, tattoos on his neck visible from the swept-back style.

Your mother, Maeve, whose name meant "she who rules", looked like she had just walked off a runway. Her dress hugged her slender and impressive figure, the material shimmering under the soft lighting. Her heels were high, hair pinned off her neck to show off bright diamond earrings that matched the thin chain of glittering gems around her collarbones, the sparkling tennis bracelet, and the absurdly large wedding ring on her finger. Her face was lightly painted with make-up, always a woman who didn't need much - if any at all. You prayed to age as gracefully as she.

Your brother, Oisín - pronounced [Oh - Sheen] - meant "little deer"; a cheeky but shy lad at the ripe age of 10. He wore a matching tux as your father, and had an emerald broach pinned on his lapel to indicate he belonged to your family. His au pair was supposed to be watching him so you could mingle with donors, but Oisín didn't stray from your side; a wee hand holding the material of your expensive dress on your hip to keep himself from getting lost.

The gala was crowded. Large event room stifling, requiring the air be turned on. Perfume assaulting the senses in a clash of scents.

The trademark "cha-ching" sound effect echoed in your mind as you shmoozed a few guests into their donations; impressing your brother by how easy you made it look. You thanked each donor with a pretty smile and fluttering lashes, floating around the room to meet other investors; giving them your family's charity's mission statement and explained where their money would go. Most of the people in this room were seedy criminals - similar to your father - and the other few were corrupt politicians who were nestled in the criminal's pockets.

By no means was the night boring, but this was work for you; all business, no pleasure.

The decor your mother chose had a lot of glittering gold details; a few imported busts and statues, an entire wall full of sculpted grass to mimic the Palace's own garden designs; artwork hung in thick, intricate frames, bright crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The event hall was specifically chosen for the floor-to-ceiling windows, sculpted shrubbery planted around the room; banquet tables covered in white cloth and chairs made of white plush - complimenting the detailed golden accents. It was gorgeous, you were impressed by your mother's attention to detail.

You wore a dress made of fine silk, the pretty green hue complimenting your skin tone; hair left down, pinned at the sides, showing off the dangling, expensive earrings your father gifted you on your 18th birthday. You, too, wore heels that forced you to walk taller and with calculated steps; rimmed eyes darting around to ensure there wasn't any shady business transpiring. But when surrounded by people who made their living by being sketchy, it was hard to clock each and every movement; being why your father had hired a very specific (and loyal) security service.

With several checks in hand, you visited your father's banker, a mute man named Bradley, and handed them over for safe keeping; your brother able to practice his sign language. Bradley was happy to reply, your entire family versed in multiple languages, and showed the young lad his process of collecting and documenting the donations. After tallying your new checks to the grand total, he used British Sign Language to inform you and Oisín of the updated tally generated so far.

"Why does Daddy need to do this?" The young lad asked, holding your hand tightly; not being a fan of social interactions - especially to this magnitude.

"To keep business moving squeaky clean," you answered softly, smiling at a few who passed you. "Money makes the world go 'round, don't it?"

He sighed, "Do we know all these people?"

"We do, they're Daddy's associates," you nodded, "and you best believe, they all know us. See, one day, you'll learn their names and what businesses they provide, how Daddy keeps them all employed."

Oisín looked uncomfortable, wondering, "Are they dangerous? Like the guys that came for Christmas?"

You came to a halt around the edge of the room, caressing his head while being careful not to muse his hair out of place. "They're all dangerous, in their own way, yes, lovie. But," you lowered into a squat so you could look your brother in his eyes, "you'll learn, Daddy's much more dangerous. So, we host events like this t'keep everyone happy and in line, you see? It's a power play."

He nodded, glancing around the room of adults. "Do I have to stay the whole time, though? Mommy said I could invite Darrel and Kevin - they're over there," he pointed towards one of the round tables, two of his classmates laughing with their mothers standing off to the side. "And I'm hungry!"

"Oh, you're a hungry lad, is it?" You smiled, watching his head bob. "Well then, in that case, we should feed you, huh? C'mon," you straightened and offered your hand, which he took gratefully. "We'll get yah fed, sweetums, and you can hang with your friends, yeah?"

"Daddy won't be mad?"

"No, I'll tell him you did really well tonight, helping me collect donations," you winked, leading him to one of the catering tables. You made up his plate with different options, carrying it to the table his friends, Darrel and Kevin, were sat at.

The boys - who looked adorably dapper in suits and bowties - greeted your brother happily; letting you set his plate down and greet the mothers kindly to thank them for their attendance that night.

"Oh, Miss!" Your brother's au pair, Lisa, hustled up to you, "I'm so sorry, I lost track - "

"No, no, 's fine, you're all right, deep breath, love," you assured, squeezing her upper arm. "Having a good night so far?"

"Oh, it's magical, Miss, innit?" She beamed, looking around in wonder. "Never been before despite working for your family all these years, I'm grateful for your mother's invitation tonight."

"Oh, we're very happy to host yah, sweetheart," you smiled. "But, uh, you mind keepin' an eye on Oisín for me? I've gotta work a bit more. He just wants t'hang with his friends, think he's a bit tired."

"Of course," she rushed.

"I'd wager you can take him t'bed after Daddy's speech, hmm? I know he'll want Oisín here for that, at the very least."

Lisa agreed, mingling with the other mothers as you pecked Oisín's head and told him to behave, that you were gonna go back to working the gala; which he at least acknowledged before being sucked back into a card game with Darrel. You didn't mind the blow off, liking the idea that he had as normal of a life as possible - a farfetched idea considering your father ran the bloody Irish Mafia and all. He's attended three different schools since he started his educational career, so you were content to leave him with his friends; letting boys be boys.

After making another deposit to Bradley, you visited one of the modern and unique glass bars (one of three stations) while feeling somewhat dejected by the night's missing guest. But speak (or think) of the Devil and He shall appear.

"You weren't kiddin' when you said your family goes all out for events like this. Jesus fuckin' Christ," a familiar, accented voice crooned; a body saddling up to the bar beside you. You first saw his hands clasped together on the bar, recognizing the golden rings and single bracelet, smirking as your eyes lifted to meet that of Aaron - or Tangerine.

"You're late," you mused, locking eyes with the bartender and holding up two fingers; indicating you now wanted two of the drinks you ordered, him nodding.

"Sorry 'bout that, love, yeah, no, Lem and I got caught up in somethin', had ta deal, then get cleaned up for yah. Figured you wouldn't want us walkin' in here with blood on us."

"You'd be right," you hummed, red painted lips stretching in amusement as you both casually leaned on the glass bartop with your forearms. "Doesn't matter, you're here now - thank God."

"That bad, huh?"

"Not like previous years," you admitted, sending a glance over your shoulder at the group of milling socialites. "Since Daddy inducted The Agency, some traction's picked up believe it or not. Seems like a lot of people like the idea of contract killers for hire and investing in the Black Market. Seems like you lot really up the ante, don't'cha?"

"Ah," he smirked, "you're welcome, then. Happy t'be of service."

"I'll only thank you when you make a donation to the cause."

"Yeah?" He smirked. "Well, you got anywhere private for me to write a check, then, love? Can't have anyone knowin' I'm charitable, got a reputation to uphold, know what I mean?" Then he leaned in real close, lips ghosted against your ear and making a shiver shoot down your spine, "C'mon, doll, 's been 3 weeks since I've seen yah."

"I know," you sighed, "but we've been busy tonight. Plus, Daddy would kill you - like, actually kill you - 'cause he's listed you specifically for me to stay away from."

"And yet, here you are, naughty girl, huh? Disobeying orders?" He smirked and put a space between you for the sake of appearances, two glasses of whiskey set before you. "Your Daddy's been preoccupied all night, love - don't think he'd even notice if we pop out for a bit. 'Fraid to admit but if I don't get you alone soon, I might actually lose my shit, darlin', honestly."

"Aaron, sweetheart, my family is hosting this event and we're responsible for collections," you deadpanned, but smirked, "'s a bit inappropriate to abandon such an important night by sneaking off."

"Can't tell me you're not tempted."

Now, you full-on grinned, "I didn't wear panties for a reason."

"You fuckin' tease," he growled over the rim of the crystal glass. When he tasted the whiskey, he hummed in shock, looking at the amber liquid, "Fuck me, that's nice."

"My family may or may not own several distilleries. You're drinking an exquisite, 15-year ol' whiskey, love." You took your own sip, casting another look around the room, finding your brother first, still with his friends before locating your parents. They were pleasantly distracted by an ambassador, making you grin at Tangerine, "C'mon."

"Hey?" He wondered, quickly setting his half-drank glass down as you snatched his free hand to quickly lead him away. He smirked and casted a look over his shoulder, instantly meeting Lemon's eyes - finding him laughing at the pair of you, toasting his drink at his brother in impression as if he knew what you two were up to.

Thanks to Thomas the Tank Engine, Lemon definitely knew what you two were doing - being excellent at reading people.

You lead your lover out of the event hall, checking up and down the empty hall and missing the way one of the security guards clocked your escape. You lead Tangerine into the large, private, unisex bathroom; shoving him against the closed door and instantly latching onto him in a deep kiss.

He was fully prepared, catching your hips; hissing a breath in through his nose, releasing a gentle moan out of sheer relief. When you pulled back, he grinned, "Got no idea how much I fuckin' missed yah, darlin'."

"Missed you more," you whispered in a rush, arms wrapping around his neck as he simultaneously began backing you up. It was a hungry kiss; heated, passionate, teeth clanking from impact, both attempting to make up for lost time. Ever in-sync, both your mouths opened to push your tongues against one another; exchanging saliva and the taste of expensive whiskey.

"C'mere," he panted after having backed you into the sink counter, seizing hold of your silken hips and hoisting you upwards. Your mouths were never far apart, joining together once more now that you were sat at a vantage point. Your hands shoved his navy blue suit jacket from his shoulders, it being set aside to the other end of the counter while you worked on his belt. "Never goin' this long again," he mumbled into your kiss, pushing the material of your dress up to let your legs spread wider in accommodation. Your lover rushed, "Jesus, fuck, feels like forever, don't it?"

You nodded as his hands pushed under the bunched material to grip the plush meat of your thighs; giving a gentle massage before sliding them higher until he met your bare hips. The cold counter bit into your exposed flesh.

"Oh, fuck me, you really didn't wear panties?" He groaned, glancing down as he lifted silk from your lap to catch a glimpse of your bare cunt - ready to greet him.

"Had a feelin' you'd show up, you just can't stay away, can yah?" You smirked, cheekily licking his lips as his belt clattered open. "Thought you'd might appreciate it," your chuckle was swallowed by his moan as the zipper of his trousers sounded almost shrilly to your over heightened senses. "Just need you close, so fuckin' close, please, missed you, baby - "

"No idea how much I've missed you, love, fuckin' hell," he rushed, reaching into his briefs the moment you had loosened the waistband of his tailored trousers to take hold of his cock. "This ain't gonna be nice an' easy, love, yeah? All right?" He checked, feeling you slide to the edge of the counter.

"Didn't think anything else," you grinned, gasping lightly when the head of his cock swept up and down your slit. "Plenty of time for that later, just need you fuckin' close - closer than close."

"Feel how fuckin' wet you are already? Goddamnit - "

"All for you, baby, c'mon, don't tease - "

In a single motion, Tangerine sheathed himself in your warmth, grinning in mischief, "Huh? Sayin' somethin', weren't yah, doll? Go 'head, finish your sentence, 'M listening."

You only chuckled, hands holding his neck and bicep in vice grips to keep yourself anchored as close as possible to him. "Three weeks without yah, and you wanna provoke me?" You whispered, feeling him begin to thrust in agonizing movements.

"Wouldn't be me if I didn't, huh?"

You chuckled breathlessly - gasping when, suddenly, the bathroom door burst open. You were facing that way, looking up from Tangerine's shoulder, only to discover your worst fear. "Holy shit! Daddy!?" You squeaked, Tangerine jolting and cursing in a hushed tone as he instantly yanked out of your wet warmth.

"Oh, you betta be fuckin' kiddin' me," your father seethed. "The fuck is goin' on here!? What the fuck are you goin'!? Who the fuck is that - is-is-is that who I think it is?" He growled, your lover fumbling to tuck himself away and pull his trousers back together - not moving from between your legs in an effort to preserve your modesty. But he had turned slightly to give your father a glimpse of his face, making your Daddy snarl, "Oh, bloody fuckin' hell! You serious? Fuckin' Tangerine, is it? You lost your mind, girl!?"

"Daddy, please," you warbled nervously, tears of anxiety gathering.

"Get the fuck out here - now! Boff of yah's!" He commanded in a roar, stepping out of the doorway.

"Oh, holy fuck," Aaron breathed, latching his belt and looking at you with wide eyes. "Well, was nice while this lasted, huh? Gonna miss yah, pretty girl - "

"The fuck are you - "

"He's gonna fuckin' kill me, sugar," Tangerine frowned, your dress falling gracefully into place when you slid off the counter. "Your father's gonna fuckin' kill me, Goddamnit," he pulled his suit jacket back on. "Think I can make it out that window?"

"He already knows it's you, runnin' now won't help," you sniffled, shaking your head and moving for the still-opened door. "You didn't think to fucking lock the door? Jesus fuck, Aaron..."

He followed after you, meeting your father in the empty hallway outside where the gala was in full-swing. He looked enraged, jaw clenched and wide eyes ablaze, looking the both of you over in disgust. "You out of your bloody mind you stupid girl? Huh?" He demanded, "I told you - very clearly - you weren't to fuckin' see him again."

"Daddy - "

"And this is how I find out? Huh? That my daughter doesn't respect my authority or listen to my words? How the fuck do you think people would react to that? They see you disobeying and get the idea to do the same."

"I'm not yours to command - "

"You're my daughter!" Fallon barked in anger, "My only fuckin' daughter, which means, you are, indeed, mine to command - just like everyone else in this fucking organization! You understand? My word is law - "

"This isn't just some petty fling, Daddy, that I'm engaged in to pass the time! I'm in love with him!" You blurted out, eyes widening when you heard your own words and watched your father's face fall.

"Beg your pardon?" He seethed slowly. "Have you gone mental? Finally fuckin' lost it? Huh? You must be outta your Goddamn mind if you think you love this silly fuck! He doesn't love you back, Y/N, you're just a coveted prize because you're my daughter - it's a thrill to men like him! Women like you, you're just trophies! There's no authenticity - "

"With all due respect," Tangerine interrupted boldly with anger lacing his words, "but you've got it all wrong, sir. Your daughter is the most important person t'me - outside my bruva, of course. She's not a trophy to collect, she's not a dainty object for me to store onna shelf - she's not a notch on my belt. But you're right about one thing," his arm extended around your waist, "she is the most coveted prize - but that's because of who she is, not who her father is. She's my prize, yeah, because she's the end goal men search their whole lives for and for whatever reason, she fuckin' chose me. I consider it the greatest honor - "

"You got some fuckin' nerve, don't'cha?" Your father growled. "You know what, lad? Since it's evident my daughter doesn't take me seriously, maybe you'll be smart enough to heed my warning. You leave her the fuck alone or - "

"I can't do that, sir," Tan refused, "'cause like it or not, I'm mad for her. Absolutely stupid for her. I love your daughter past words, don't even think I've ever loved someone 'cause bein' with her feels so fuckin' different in comparison.

"That so?"

Tangerine nodded, other hand shoving into his pocket to toy with the cool metal of golden brass knuckles. "There's nobody in this world like your daughter, sir. Bein' in love with her is like euphoria, yeah? Makes me think back and realize how wrong I was about my feelings for anyone else 'cause of how I feel for her. I say there ain't no way I've ever loved anyone else 'cause I've never felt this way before - I've only felt this type of love with your daughter. Yeah? She's fuckin' everything to me, so, with respect, I can't stay away. I won't."

"Yeah? Yeah? Fuckin' fine. All right, sure, let's see if The Agency has anythin' t'say about this, huh? When I pull the plug on this deal, I'll be sure to tell your employers why and let them deal with you for ruining this business partnership."

"Daddy," you gasped, rushing when he turned for the event hall's doors, Aaron following swiftly. You caught the metal doors when your father yanked them open and strode into the room, doing your best to catch him before he did anything too rash. "Wait, wait, Daddy, please, just listen, listen to me - I didn't mean for this to happen!"

"Didn't mean for what? Me findin' yah fuckin' in the bathroom like a desperate whore?" He snarled over his shoulder, the thick crowd slowing him.

"Well, yes, but I also didn't mean to fall in love with him! All right? But you know better than all of us that it's not a choice, it just happens! Look at you and Mum - "

He rounded on you, Tan at your flank, opening his mouth to scold you when something caught his eye behind you. You didn't have time to question him as rapid shots filled the air, a telltale sign of an automatic gun being fired in the crowded room. You flinched slightly, Tangerine instantly grabbing your waist to cover your body with his; turning to locate the threat, only to discover a gaggle of men in all black wearing ski masks and duffel bags on their shoulders.

"Friends of yours?" Tan snipped at your father, keeping you low as the crowd shrieked in panic - all trying to escape, still being shot at. This caused the seedy individuals with guns to take a stand and shoot back at the intruders, creating mass confusion and limited advantages.

"Bruv!"

"Brian," Aaron panted, people bumping into one another as they panicked in a flood of bodies. He looked down at you and then to your father, Fallon, only to find blood blooming under his white button up. "Oh, fuck," his eyes widened, gunshots still sounding, "right, we gotta move - can deal with everything else later. Here, here, here," Tangerine plucked a cloth napkin from a nearby table and shoved it over your father's wound to help staunch the bleeding.

"They got the doors, mate," Lemon shook his head when you noticed your father's wound. Luckily, it didn't appear to be in a fatal location, his hand holding pressure as the security detail were being gunned down. "The fuck do we do now?" Lemon asked over shrill shrieks.

"What we do best," Tangerine answered, pushing your father into action and brandishing his gun. "Stay close - "

"I'm not leaving without my wife and son!" Your father growled.

"Lem!"

"On it," he agreed, disappearing into the swarm of people.

Your lover kept you close, shoving through the crowd to lead towards a set of heavy metal doors. Several men stepped in your way, Tan sneering, "Right, fuck this." He opened fire.

You squeaked in shock when a different body tackled Aaron from the side to knock him out of sight, your father keeping a hold on you as straggling bodies dropped around you. "There he is!" You heard over the confusion, locating a set of men surging towards you.

There was nowhere to go, leaving you to physically block your father in a bid to protect him - not needing to when Tangerine intercepted the two threats. He didn't have his gun anymore, lost in a stampede of feet on bloody marble floors, opting to use his fists and brute strength against the robbers. The brass knuckles helped.

You had to admit, it was the perfect night to attack considering how much money Bradley was keeping track of. Plus the fact that everyone's guard was down made tonight the perfect opportunity for marauders to act against your family.

However, in a sea of confusion, you were separated from your father's side; losing him amongst the people and feeling a tight hand seize your upper arm. "I got the daughter!" The man in a ski mask informed through the visible comms system. "Moving for the south wing, bring the van around t'the alley."

"Aaron!" You begged, trying to wrangle free but discovering your strength was nothing compared to the 6'3'' goon's. "Aaron! Aaron, please! Help!"

"Shut the fuck up," the man snapped, backhanding you and never releasing his grip. A single trickle of blood oozed from one nostril as the man's ring split your bottom lip. "Fuckin' move!" He barked at you in a thick accent, "Move, bitch, let's go!"

"What do you want!? Please, just - just tell me! I can give you whatever it is - please! Fucking let go!"

Another enemy joined you, sneering, "Oi! The fuck you doin'? Don't damage the goods, fuckin' idiot, we gotta keep her in decent shape for the ransom! Fallon ain't payin' if his daughter's been assaulted - "

But a gunshot boomed and the other man's body jolted before falling flat on his back - dead with a hole in his forehead. You tried to capitalize on your captor's shock, unsuccessful, feeling blood splatter on your back from a different fallen body. You saw your father under the wing of his security, his own gun being used in defense, begging, "Daddy! Daddy, help!"

The one night you don't ensure your thigh holster's filled, of course this happens!

Fallon was only able to watch as Tangerine fought his way up to you struggling in the bulky man's grip; impressed when one contract killer engaged another. "Oi!" Tan barked, "Hands off my girl, yah fuckin' lunatic!" He threw several punches, the goon forced to release you to defend himself. Fallon watched as Tangerine waited until you were freed and a step to the side before opening fire again - killing the man who dared touch you. He realized that Tangerine had waited until you were clear to take the shot - feeling impression plant in his gut. Yet there was no time to dwell as intruders circled him.

"Oh, my God!" You whimpered, bodies left in growing pools of blood; your dress dragging in the tacky substance to paint abstract swirls on the shining floor; trying to avoid being swept up in the streams of panicking people. Your name was barked, another hand grabbing you, but this time, it was Lemon - sprayed in enemy blood.

"C'mon, doll, I got'cha!" He promised, being engaged by another robber. You sobbed in shock when an arm caught you in a headlock and forcefully drug you backwards; heeled feet scrambling in an attempt to keep up and avoid falling over.

"Lemon! Please! Fuck's sake!"

Breathing was hard to do in a headlock, dancing black spots blurring your vision slowly and your heart hammering in fear. A machine gun sounded again. The bicep tightened, dramatically limiting air.

"Fuckin' get off her, arsehole!" Recognizing Aaron's voice was a sheer relief, gasping for air when the arm constricted around your neck released suddenly. However, the momentum made you stumble to the ground at the same time for the goon's dead body to drop right next to you. His wide, dead eyes stared unseeingly at you, forcing a shiver down your spine and for your stomach to knot.

"Jesus Christ, oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God," you panted, scrambling when blood spread closer.

"C'mon, love, c'mere, c'mere," Tangerine grunted, hauling you to your feet and protectively keeping you to his side. Being in front of you now, you could note the blood on his button up, how the robber's own punches had bruised and bloodied his face; figuring you looked somewhat similar. "Right, listen please, need yah t'do somethin' for me, love," he kept a sharp eye out for other threats as he tugged up one of his trouser legs. He pulled out the gun strapped in the holster, handing it to you with the instruction, "Shoot first, answers later. Yeah? Hey?"

You nodded and accepted the weapon, unlocking the safety. "I have to find Mum and Oisín," you worried, men and women screaming as the brutal fight continued.

"Just stay close, love, 's fuckin' madhouse - FUCK!" He snapped, aiming and firing at a man racing for you two. "C'mon, we gotta move, gotta get you out of here - right to the fuck now - "

Your gun sounded, Tangerine watching another robber drop only feet away. He pushed you through the people, both with your heads on a swivel; working in tandem to clear the banquet hall of robbers and direct survivors to get out. Your curly-haired boyfriend held one of the robbers by the neck and repeatedly punching his face into a pulp after the other man had attempted to snatch you, too.

Nobody came remotely close to you again, not when Tangerine was on guard; protecting you, defending you, killing for you. The skin on his bare knuckles had split open, but Tangerine didn't even notice; he just moved on to the next threat.

Soon, the gunfire ceased, leaving a ringing in survivor's ears, and after a quick look around the room, Tangerine confirmed the threats were all eliminated - but so were several guests of the charity gala.

You gasped in guilt, hand slapping over your mouth when you nearly tripped over Lisa's body; bullet holes shredding her flesh.

"Bruv," Lemon panted, approaching the two of you and making Tan flinch. "Woah, hey, easy, 's just me," he held his hands up, your lover sighing in relief and keeping you sheltered behind him. "You two good?" Brian asked, sheen of sweat coating his skin.

"You hit, love? Hey?" Tangerine looked down at you, keeping one arm around you and his body at a protective angle. "Shit, your face - your fucking face, sweetheart, look at me, look at me, lemme see," he frowned, holstering his gun to take both your cheeks in his hands and look for other injury.

"I'm okay, promise I'm not hurt," you panted, hands trembling. "Are you two?"

"I'm good," he nodded, eyeing Lemon. "Yeah?"

"Good, yeah, I'm good," Brian confirmed, "but I got some bad news. Looks like they got the banker. I can't tell if they made off with the money or not."

"They couldn't've, we only accepted checks tonight," you explained. "No cash, no assets to steal."

"Take it that's not public knowledge," Lemon sighed. "Probably thought they could rob y'all blind in one move, thinkin' tonight would have cash donations."

You sniffled, "You seen my family?"

"Uh," Lemon looked around, nodding, "yeah, your dad's over there."

Peering around Tangerine's form, you located your father slowly stalking around the room; taking note of the dead bodies left behind, survivors clearing out into the hallways. Fallon made his way up to you three, your voice trembling, "Daddy? You all right? Where's Mum and Oisín?"

"They're safe, with the paramedics," he reported, instantly taking you in his embrace. "Ah, fuck, lost sight of yah in this mess, had me worried, girl."

"I'm sorry."

"Nah," he whispered, caressing the back of your head, "don't apologize, you ain't do nothin'." He took a breath, keeping you caressed to his shoulder, "Gotta admit, felt a helluva lot better knowin' your man had your six." You pulled back slowly, watching your father sigh and nod at the Twins, admitting, "Thank you for protectin' my daughter, don't know how t'repay yah."

"Wasn't nothin' to it, sir," Tangerine assured, adjusting his suit jacket, "just wanted to protect my woman."

"I saw," he nodded. "You boys okay?"

"Yes, sir," Lemon nodded, Tangerine doing the same.

"Very good... Then I think I owe you an apology," your father told Tan, shocking you - not knowing the last time you ever heard you father admit to an apology.

"Not necessary, sir, I understand," Tan deflected, skin glistening in a thin sheen of sweat, blood dabbed around from the robber's fists, "I'm just relieved your family's safe."

"No, listen, I was wrong," Fallon admitted, "sayin' all that shit to you - about you. You know, makin' my assumptions, goin' based on rumors. You've got a bit of a reputation, I was just tryna protect my daughter from gettin' her heart broke." He sighed, shaking his head, "Can protect her from damn near everything - except the complications of her own heart; the woes of a relationship."

"I understand, sir."

"But seein' you tonight, fightin' for her, fightin' to get back to her... I was wrong," Fallon sighed, offering his hand. When Tan shook it, your father offered, "For what it's worth, you've got my permission to... Continue whatever this is. Any lad willing t'put themselves in harms way for my girl is all right in my books."

"I appreciate that," Tangerine sniffled, meeting your eye and smirking slightly. "Your daughter means a lot t'me, swear I won't make yah regret givin' us your approval."

Fallon sighed, nodding, "Yeah, all right, good. 'Cause she's precious to me, you know? I'll fuckin' gut you if you hurt her."

"I believe it," Tan sighed, a single twinge of nervousness to his tone, "but you don't gotta worry, sir, right, 'cause last thing I want is t'hurt the woman I love. She's precious to me, too."

"Right, good, uh, well... Thank you, both, for helping tonight. Would've been a fuckin' bloodbath without yah."

You frowned, gazing around the marble floors, "Still a bloodbath, ain't it? Half our men are dead, several investors... Daddy, who the fuck were these men?"

"That's what I'm gonna find out," he growled, his surviving personnel taking note of the event-room-turned-battlefield, slowly starting to move bodies. Little known fact: the hotel had an industrial size furnace in the boiler room - somewhere your father could burn bodies without the police being tipped off.

"Th-They said something about a ransom," you told the trio in a trembling tone, "about ransoming me back to you, Daddy. Said you wouldn't pay if I was injured, so they shouldn't rough me up."

"Hey," Tan whispered, pulling you into his side securely, "don't gotta worry 'bout that - know there's nowhere for anyone to hide you that I wouldn't find."

Fallon actually liked that sentiment, watching you nod and for your lover to hold you securely and placing a kiss to your forehead. So, he asked, knowing the answer, "Can I trust you to take care of my daughter, lad?"

"Absolutely."

"Don't make me regret this."

"Not in this lifetime, sir."

"Good. I'll find you lot in the mornin', get gone."

After a brief reunion with your mother and brother, learning they were uninjured and safe, you boyfriend finally opened the door to the hotel room you two had been assigned. Lemon was right next door, and when you entered, your luggage was left on the bed for you both. It was quiet as you both cleaned up and prepared for bed; silent tears trickling down your cheeks, mind replaying the night's events over and over and over... Like a never ending nightmare.

In the shower, you sat on the floor with arms tight around your knees, Tangerine sitting with you as warm water cascaded; cocooning steam around you. Blood washed off in waves of pink, circling the drain; your boyfriend gently massaging your body with a washcloth, discovering a scattering of injury - some still open and weeping. He was forced to blink back tears when your neck revealed a significant bruise; considering it a reminder of his failure to protect you, not knowing you felt the direct opposite and knew, if he hadn't been there, things would've been much, much worse.

When you joined Aaron in bed, the silence continued. Your heads laid on plush, stark white pillows; on your sides to stare at one another with hands clasped together between you. No words were needed, no explanation or thanks necessary, neither feeling the need to speak on what happened that night. Tangerine let go of your one hand, slowly reaching out to caress your cheek and jaw, fingertip tracing soft lines; shuffling closer to rest his cut forehead on yours.

In the dark of the room, over the sounds of the humming air conditioner unit, Tangerine whispered, "I love you, doll."

"I love you, too, Aaron. Thank you for... You know, tonight... All you did."

"You being safe, in my arms, is enough thanks."

"I-I'm glad you were here."

He nodded in agreement, "So am I. Don't know what I'd of done if I wasn't - if I had t'hear about this later... If they had succeeded in snatching you. Might not have been able to forgive myself."

"Good thing we don't have to know." Your eyes danced between his, admitting, "I don't think I want t'go without you, love. I don't think I feel secure unless you're with me."

"Yeah?" He smirked slightly, "That your way of sayin' you wanna spend more time with me?"

"Might be my way of sayin' I wanna spend all my time with you," you whispered, tears glazing your eyes. "And Daddy approves, so we don't have to sneak around anymore, right?"

"Right, get yah all t'myself," Tan agreed softly. "We'll talk in the morning, sweetheart, yeah?" He stretched slightly to peck your lips, encouraging, "Get some rest, Bunny. 'S been a helluva night."

Tangerine made you feel safe, he protected you and killed for you - so while you were unsure how sleep would find you when your mind was plagued with replaying chaotic memories from that evening, you let yourself relax.

requesting rules and masterlist

Bullet Train masterlist

[armthearmour]

Arms and Armor of the Hallstatt Celts: A (not-so) Brief Overview

The Hallstatt culture is an archaeologically-defined material culture group. The typesite for this group is in Hallstatt, Austria, where a deep salt mine which had been in use since the Neolithic served as the lifeblood of the local community. A substantial cemetery of approximately 1,300 burials near the mine has helped to clearly define artistic trends associated with this cultural group. The culture is associated with early Celtic or proto-Celtic language speaking groups, and for a long time, was thought to have been the origin of the proto-celtic language. This idea has since been debunked, as it is now known the first proto-Celtic speakers predated the Hallstatt culture.

The Hallstatt culture is divided into four phases, A-D (henceforth abbreviated as Ha. A-D). The first two of these phases are associated with the end of the bronze age in the region, the last two, with the beginning of the iron age.

Since the defining of the culture in 1846, Hallstatt influence has been found from Eastern France to Hungary, as far south as Serbia and as far North as Poland. The core Hallstatt region covers much of Austria and Southern Germany. By the Ha. C period, distinct practices had arisen in the Hallstatt sphere of influence: distinct enough for academics to split the culture into two “zones”, the East and the West.

Unfortunately, due to the antiquity of this culture and the utter lack of any written records concerning them, the archaeological record is both relatively thin, and the only source of information available for these people. As such, in constructing a timeline of Hallstatt arms and armor, there will be substantial gaps which we can only hope will be filled by future discoveries.

Armor

Three types of armor are commonly found in Hallstatt contexts: belts, cuirasses, and helmets.

That broad belts (both of leather and of bronze) are considered armor in the ancient Mediterranean is clear from references in which these items are placed in context with other armor. In the Iliad, for example, in book 7 after Ajax and Hector meet on the field of battle and fight to a stalemate, they exchange equipment. Hector “gave over his silver-studded sword, bringing with it the sheath and well-cut baldric” (l. 303-304), while Ajax reciprocated with “his war-belt bright with crimson” (l. 305). Additionally, a short list of military equipment issued by the Neo-Assyrian empire recovered in Tel Halaf lists 10 leather belts alongside bows, swords, spears, and other arms and armor.

A number of bronze and gold belt plates survive from both the Eastern and Western zones, though most of these plates date to the Ha. D period.

While the majority of these plates are decorated with embossed and incised geometric patterns, some (particularly from the Eastern zone) include scenes of warriors on foot and on horseback.

The cuirasses of the Hallstatt period exhibit an interesting progression. In their most basic form, these bronze cuirasses remain essentially the same from Ha. A-D. They are characterized by essentially simple forms: a tubular breast and backplate which terminates at the waist and includes a tall standing collar to defend the neck. The earliest examples, however, include substantial embossed decoration in much the same manner as appears on the belt plates.

Only in the late Ha. B to early Ha. C period does this decoration begin to take on a more anatomical form; a group of seven cuirasses recovered in Marmesse, France in 1974 shows this evolution nicely. These cuirasses retain the same form, though a slight taper is now evident near the waist. The circular embossing closely resembles that of the previous period, however embossed lines are now apparent, and the placement of the embossing is such as to evoke the musculature of the warrior wearing it.

The final stage of the cuirasse’s evolution arrives in Ha. D. This form is much more plain, lacking the apparent horror vacui which typified earlier iterations of this style. Instead, the anatomical element is even more pronounced: embossing emphasizes the warrior’s pectoral and abdominal muscles, and additional circular bronze plates are riveted to the upper chest to simulate nipples.

The final element of armor with substantial enough evidence in a Hallstatt context to be addressed is the helmet. Unfortunately, surviving helmets are extremely scarce, and there is no pictorial evidence to consult prior to the Ha. D period.

Four helmet types appear both archaeologically and artistically in Hallstatt contexts. We will call these the crested, the plated, the double-crested, and the Negau.

Only one artistic example of the crested helmet is to be found, and no archaeological examples. It is to be found on a grave good in the shape of a wagon adorned with many figures made ca. 600 BC and recovered in Strettweg, Austria.

A find from Normandy (outside the Hallstatt sphere of influence) dated ca. 1200-700 BC shows what this type of helmet may have looked like.

The plated type is nearly as obscure, represented by only a single survival and a single artwork. The helmet, recovered in Šentvid, Slovenia and dated ca. 800-450 BC, is curious for the distinct pearly texture of its surface.

A number of similar helmets appear on a situla recovered from the Certosa Necropolis in modern Bologna, Italy. This situla is dated ca. 600 BC, and bears a striking resemblance to other situlae found in Hallstatt contexts.

The most well attested form of Hallstatt helmet is the double-crested type. This type appears with the onset of Ha. D, and sees use until the end of the Hallstatt period. It is attested to by several survivals

and numerous depictions on a number of situlae

and belt plates.

This type is so-called for the twin crests that adorn the helmet’s skull; crests which, as is attested by the pictorial evidence, served as anchors to large plumes likely made from horse hair.

The final type is named for a town in Slovenia where a large cache of helmets of this type was found in 1812. The Negau type appears at the very tail end of Ha. D, and primarily in Etruscan and Italic contexts. However a number of finds (including the eponymous horde) come from regions of Hallstatt (and eventually La Téne) influence.

Weapons

The weapons which can be found in Hallstatt contexts are very much the same as those found elsewhere in Europe, consisting primarily on spears, axes, swords, and daggers. The spears and axes of the period are very similar to those found elsewhere in Europe and across the Mediterranean in the late bronze to early iron age, and as such will not be discussed further.

Indeed, even the swords of the Hallstatt bronze age (Ha. A-B) bear no significant differences from other swords found in Central and Western Europe at the time.

It is not until Ha. C, and the advent of the iron age, when two new types unique to the culture emerge. Though similar, these sword types, called Gündlingen

and Mindelheim, are distinguished by a number of factors.

First and foremost is size, with Mindelheim swords averaging around 85 cm or 33.5 in in length, while the Gündlingen type only averages 70-75 cm (27.5-29.5 in). Another striking feature of the Mindelheim type which is almost non-existent on Gündlingen swords is a pair of deep grooves on either side of the blade. Additionally, Gündlingen swords are only ever found in bronze, while Mindelheim can be found in either bronze or iron. Gündlingen swords seem to have been tremendously greater in popularity, with only 27 examples of the Mindelheim type being known to over 240 of the Gündlingen. There is also a geographical element: the majority of Mindelheim swords have been found in the east from Austria to Germany, Poland, and as far north as Sweden. Gündlingen swords, by contrast, have mostly been found in the west, as far as Britain and Ireland. Neither type, however, can be found in the core Hallstatt Regions after the advent of Ha. D, when daggers become the primary funerary good of the elite.

Daggers, of course, were not unknown in Hallstatt regions prior to 620 BC. A number of survivals from Ha. A-B attest to the fact that single-edged daggers were popular.

With the advent of the iron age and the rise in popularity of the peculiar Hallstatt sword types, daggers become more rare, until once again they spring back to the fore in Ha. D. At this time, a particular dagger type is almost ubiquitous. This dagger has long, straight quillons mirrored by a tubular pommel. The grip is thin, and the blade is broad and double-edged. This same basic form is present, both plain and with various embellishments, until the end of the Hallstatt period.

[witchboxco]

Samhain Altar Ideas & Correspondences

Samhain is the Celtic festival that marks the end of the harvest season and the thinning of the veil between the living and the spirit world. It's a time to honor your ancestors, connect with the spirit world, and plan ahead for months of darkness.

Altar Ideas

Altar Cloth: Choose dark, earthy colors like black, deep purple, or dark green to set the foundation for your altar.

Candles: Black or orange candles represent the energies of Samhain. You can also include white or silver candles for purification and connection to the spirit realm.

Seasonal Fruits: Apples, pomegranates, and grapes are commonly associated with Samhain and can be offered as symbols of the harvest.

Fallen Leaves: Gather fallen leaves, especially those with vibrant autumn colors, to represent the changing seasons and the cycle of life and death.

Acorns and Nuts: These symbolize the potential for new beginnings and growth and can be placed on your altar to honor the harvest.

Pumpkins and Gourds: Decorate your altar with small pumpkins and gourds, which are quintessential symbols of autumn and Samhain.

Ancestral Photos: Include photographs of deceased loved ones to honor and connect with your ancestors.

Ancestral Mementos: Heirlooms, jewelry, or items that belonged to your ancestors can serve as a link to their energy and presence.

Divination Tools: Samhain has historically been a time for divination to predict the upcoming year. Tarot cards, runes, a crystal ball, pendulum, or scrying mirror can be placed on your altar for Samhain divination and communication with the spirit world.

Crystals and Gemstones: Obsidian, onyx, amethyst, or garnet.

Broom (Besom): Place a besom on or near your altar to symbolize the act of sweeping away negativity and making room for positive energy and transformation.

Incense and Smudging Materials: frankincense, myrrh, or sage.

Offering Dishes: Use special dishes or bowls to hold offerings for your ancestors or spirit guides, such as food, drink, or tokens of appreciation.

Seasonal Flowers: Add fresh or dried flowers that are in bloom during the fall, like marigolds, chrysanthemums, asters, or dried lavender.

Personal Letters or Messages: Write letters or messages to your deceased loved ones, expressing your thoughts and feelings. Place these on your altar as a form of communication.

Symbols of Death and Rebirth: Skulls, bones, or representations of the God and Goddess in their transition from one phase to another.

Bells or Wind Chimes: These can be rung to invite and communicate with spirits, serving as a way to signal your intentions and presence.

Samhain Correspondences

Colors: Black, Orange, Red

Deities: The Morrigan, Hecate, Persephone, Cernunnos

Herbs: Mugwort, Cinnamon, Rosemary, Tobacco, Pumpkin Seeds, Rue, Wormwood.

Foods and Offerings: Apples, nuts, pumpkins, mulled cider, pomegranates. A silent dumb supper may be held to celebrate the harvest and connect with departed loved ones.

Intentions: New beginnings, transformation, death and rebirth, reflection, ancestral connection, spiritual protection, divination.

[whoopsyeahokay]

October Sun

summary: things had gone from weird to worse in a matter of seconds. it'd seemed all your secrets had decided to reveal themselves to Wally without so much as considering how you'd feel about it. you'd guessed that was the price you'd had to pay for your choice to share yourself with a member of Split River High's Afterlife Support Group.

pairing: Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: eventual smutty smut smut. and mad spoilers. and obvious Canon divergence. very involved, very dense plot.

bon reading, frens

___________________________💀

OCTOBER SUN pt.10

You were six, sitting on your sister Aurora's lap in a hospital room. Monitors beeped—long intervals, pitched notes—and, below that, your great-aunt's rattled breathing. Everything stank of disinfectant.

Ginny lay in the bed; pruned and pale, translucent skin hanging from her bones. She was just past seventy, but had aged several decades in the two weeks since the symptoms had started. Now, she looked like the skeletons your neighbors strung up for Halloween. Ghastly. Small.

Dead.

Mommy dozed in the armchair across from you, her head at an awkward angle, mouth ajar, one hand rested on her swollen belly. For days, she'd subsisted on nothing but good ol' fashioned Celtic stubbornness, running herself into the ground to undo whatever had put Ginny in the hospital. Nothing worked. Potions, pastes, blood spells, smudging rituals; it didn't matter what Mommy and Nanna did, Ginny's doctor insisted her condition was deteriorating.

It was so strange, you thought, that Ginny didn't just tell them herself. After all, she was able to stand in front of you without assistance and seemed much healthier than she had even moments ago.

She'd been asleep, silvery and thin and wheezy, and then her eyes had popped open and she'd gotten to her feet with the grace of a ballerina. Auburn hair in fluffy curls, pinned neatly away from her face; lips bright, Victory red, and skin peachy.

She was as pretty as a picture in a church bell skirt and smart, collared blouse, the colors much more suited to her than the starch white of the hospital gown. The pendant of her necklace was now one of a pair dangling from her earlobes, silver circles glinting in the sterile light.

"Are you better?" You asked her, marveling at her loveliness.

Ginny crouched to meet you at your level and placed her hand on yours, green eyes bright as emeralds in the sun. She smiled, "Don't tell mummy. This will be our little secret." She addressed Aurora next, "I'll be back as soon as I can, pet."

Aurora nodded, solemn, and you both watched Ginny greet a young man in similarly outdated dress as he entered the room. You didn't know who he was, but Aurora must've because she offered him a watery smile, eyes glistening.

"Where's Ginny going?" You asked her.

She shushed you, murmuring, "You can't tell mom, okay?"

Annoyed, "I won't." You weren't 3, you knew how to keep a secret. You'd kept plenty for your new friend Hana. Like her crush on the crayon stealer, Simon Elroy, or how she always took two milks at recess instead of one.

"She's saying hello to Grandpa Jack." Aurora told you, but you sensed there was a lot more to it than that. You gave her your best glare. She rolled her eyes, "They're probably going to try and find out what's wrong with her."

But, "She's better, dummy," you said, craning your neck to watch her swan out of the room with a man who'd died before you were born.

Aurora sighed the way she did whenever she thought you said something stupid and pressed her hand to your cheek, forcing you to look at the bed.

You gasped, astonished that, there, under the layers of quilts your Nanna had brought, was Ginny; breath rattling, monitors beeping, white as a china doll and asleep.

That was how you learned that Traveling meant something different to your family.

‗‗‗‗•‗‗‗‗

One second you were clung to Wally like a limpet, the next you'd vanished into thin air. Snapped out of existence like you'd never been there at all. Frantic, Wally looked left, right, to the back of the stage, and then spun around to face the rows of seats.

His jaw dropped, blood draining from his face. You stood at the top of the center aisle, shirt no longer rucked up the way Wally had made it; hair as tidy as it had been before he'd run his fingers through it; skin no longer sporting the perfect blush he'd coaxed to the surface.

Even from where he stood, Wally could see that your eyes burned a nebula of colors, the way they had when Wally caught up to you outside the school earlier. As soon as he'd registered it—proof that something magical had just transpired—they dimmed to their normal hue, just as the man behind you, Mr. Anderson, Wally identified, demanded, "What are you doing in here?"

He seemed angry, more so than the time Wally had watched him chew out a group of boys in the locker room showers for smoking weed. Mr. Anderson grabbed you by the arm and hauled you out of the theater like you'd been trespassing.

Wally charged up the aisle, thoughts of how you could fucking teleport taking a back seat to the desire to shove Mr. Anderson to the ground for assuming he had the right to touch you like that. The connection between you and Wally bittered, shrieked, fear and fury swirling together to pump through Wally's veins.

Oh hell no.

"I'm sorry," You apologized. Mr. Anderson released you, causing you to stumble from the momentum he'd used to force you into the hallway. "I won't let it happen again."

In an ill-fated attempt to wedge himself between you and Mr. Anderson, Wally checked the man's shoulder with his own, but little happened. Mr. Anderson had repositioned himself, almost like he'd anticipated the action, and the intention waned into a light graze. One that had no impact on the man, but that caused Wally to trip into the wall.

Mr. Anderson escorted you through the school toward your locker, gravely explaining that you'd overstayed your welcome by an hour and a half; the Wednesday team practices and club activities already packed up and gone.

Glancing outside, Wally was shocked to see the sky was dark. Apparently, making out with you was the equivalent of pressing a giant PAUSE button on the fourth dimension. He was sure no more than twenty minutes had passed since you'd jumped into his arms and kissed him within an inch of his sanity.

Teleportation and time manipulation? Wally gaped, images of his favorite comic book heroes swarming his mind. Holy shit, you were an X-Man. He had big fat feelings for a Mutant prodigy. Was he the Cyclops to your Marvel Girl?

Needing to do something to ensure Mr. Anderson wouldn't try to grab you again, Wally inserted himself between you and him. A move that appeared to influence Mr. Anderson to maintain the space Wally enforced with his presence.

Good, Wally thought, cracking his knuckles, because while he had no problem trying to beat his way into the living world to knock a few of Mr. Anderson's teeth out, he knew that would take a lot more than noble intention to pull off.

He loathed feeling helpless. Back in the day, he'd stood up for the kids who got bullied, had done his best to fend off the misguided idiots who'd used their post-puberty size for evil. Trouble was that now he couldn't do more than make a light flicker by concentrating really, really hard.

Don't be fooled: Dawn made it look easy, but it wasn't.

Finally reaching your locker, Mr. Anderson reiterated, "What were you doing in there?" His demeanor all wrong. Wally knew enough about the guy to know that, usually, he was a cool kind of dorky. Relatable. However, something had obviously possessed him because he was acting like you'd discovered his hidden collection of porn mags.

Wally didn't like it. He wanted Mr. Anderson to fuck off and leave you alone more than he'd wanted anything for a long time. Retaining his position between you and Mr. Anderson, chin up, hands balled into fists at his sides, Wally willed Mr. Anderson away.

You began, "I was just—" when Wally gritted out, stare fixed on the man's haggard face, "You don't owe this dickhead an explanation, baby."

But you spoke over him, "Mathilda asked me to look for something she'd forgotten in there yesterday. She's in the Mean Girl's Musical?" You supplied, and, jeez, you were quick on your feet.

Mr. Anderson was unimpressed, "For two hours?"

"No! No. I was studying in the library when she texted me."

Wally began to wonder how many yarns you'd had to spin for it to come so easily. Part of him was uncomfortable with the notion that it seemed like second nature to you, while another, bigger, part of him seared the way lemon juice stings a papercut.

He recognized it was self-preservation. A lifetime of harboring a massive secret that, okay, might not get you carted off in a straitjacket these days, but definitely wouldn't make it easy for you to go through life normally. He'd seen people ostracized for less. Like Katelynn who, a week before her death, had been spurned by her scene kid friends because she'd admitted to being a fan of Hilary Duff.

"Do you have to get anything from the library, then?" Mr. Anderson wanted to know, the V between his brows deepening when his phone buzzed in his blazer pocket. The third time in the short minutes since he'd found you.

"No." You said, cowed, even though you shouldn't be. He'd been the one whose conduct had been inappropriate. He should be begging for your forgiveness, not making you feel terrible like it was his job. "I swear, I won't let it happen again."

Wally's blood boiled.

"See that it doesn't." Mr. Anderson warned. His phone buzzed again. "Get your things and go home."

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Anderson unpocketed and checked his phone as another call lit up the screen. Private, the caller ID claimed.

"You'll have to use the main entrance." He said, already backing away, "Everything else is locked up." Then he leveled you with a dark look of authority, "I assume you can make your own way out?"

Wally could feel the tension in your muscles, could hear your heart stutter behind your ribs. His fingers twitched, itching to bust the man's head right off his shoulders. And, damn, when had he last felt such violent inclinations? Even against those prima donna bullies, the rage hadn't distended into anything remotely close to this.

"Yeah, I..." You cleared your throat, "Yes."

Mr. Anderson retreated and took the next call that came through, his bark of, "Give me a minute," resonating through the empty hallway as he disappeared around the corner.

As soon as he was out of sight, Wally spun on his heel to face you. You shrunk against your locker, arms folded around your middle and eyes faraway, chewing the inside of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in thought.

Wally moved into your bubble, the connection between you calmed, and smoothed his hands down your waist; one into the back pocket of your jeans, the other gliding back up and into your hair.

He pulled you gently against him, tucked your head under his chin and asked, "You good, pretty girl?"

He felt you nod into his chest, "Yeah. That was just every shade of weird imaginable. Something was off about him." You leaned away just enough to gaze up at Wally. "He's usually so...friendly."

Wally pressed a kiss to the top of your head, "I don't want you to stick around, babe. I don't trust that dude not to do something stupid if he finds you again."

"For real?" You sounded stunned, "Him?"

"Honestly? Yeah. He was giving off serious Bundy vibes. You didn't do anything wrong and he acted like you'd cold-cocked his mama." Wally glared in the direction Mr. Anderson had gone, concluding, "Maybe he's the reason Maddie's blood was splattered all over the boiler room."

"Jesus, Wally, it wasn't a Fear Street massacre." You shunned the idea, disentangling yourself from him to open your locker. After a moment of reflection, "Do you really think he's capable?"

As you grabbed your backpack and started to shove what you needed into it, Wally leaned on the locker beside yours, shrugging, "Like I said, Bundy vibes. And I can't stop him if he decides to come back with a machete, so please," he implored, "Get your stuff and let's go."

Thankfully, you took his advice without further argument. Pulled on your leather jacket, slung your backpack over one shoulder, and held your hand out for Wally to take as if it was something you did all the time.

Champagne-fizz burst in Wally's chest as he accepted the invitation, lacing your fingers together and setting a leisurely but purposeful pace toward the atrium.

"So," He began, "You lie like that often?"

Shame bled into your features as you cast your gaze to the ground. You didn't look at him when you said, "Only when I have to."

"Do you have to do it a lot?"

"More than I'd like, yeah." You shrugged, audibly unhappy about the fact. "Trust me, it's not that I want to. But my family has a strict No One Can Know policy when it comes to our..." You lifted your free hand and air-quoted, "gifts."

Wally bumped into your side sportively. He took a beat to consider his question before he asked it, unsure if he was ready to hear anything other than what he wanted to. "Do you feel like you have to lie to me?"

You stopped and drew Wally back the two steps he'd taken ahead. Looking him square in the eye, you promised, "I'm not going to lie to you, Wally. About anything. Ever." Once he nodded to accept he understood, you moved along, "And anyway, you're now in on the one thing I have to lie about. So, unless I'm under a Fidelius Charm, I honestly don't have anything else to hide."

"A what charm?"

"Do we not have Harry Potter in the library?" You asked as if to no one in particular.

"Oh man, yeah. Rhonda got really into those books for awhile." Wally sloped toward you to stage-whisper by your ear, "She's a total nerd for them. Says she's a Slytherin." Wally straightened and snickered, "Whatever that means. She'd kill me if she ever found out I told you."

You drew an X over your heart, "I won't tell a soul," before you released Wally's hand to push the door to the atrium open with both of yours.

As he followed you down the ramp toward the front entrance, Wally was unable to ignore the elephant in the room any longer, "When were you going to tell me you could teleport?"

It startled a laugh out of you, the kind that starts with a snort. A wave of fondness washed over Wally and he grinned stupidly at you, all teeth and soft eyes.

"I can't." You corrected. Rather, "I can, uhm, project...astrally."

Whoa. You were officially the coolest person Wally had ever known.

A barrage of questions threatened to spill out of him, ranging from reasonable to unhinged. And who could blame him? Normal people couldn't leave their bodies at will and surf the cosmos!

"Astral projection is real?" He asked in as even a tone as he could manage.

"Being a ghost is real." You countered bluntly.

And, "Touché." He conceded, "But you can't blame a guy for being surprised when something out of the Twilight Zone can happen in real life."

You seesawed your head, lips adopting a playful smile. God, you were beautiful. "Fair." You said, winking at Wally who was then forced to swallow the need to pick you up and pin you to the nearest wall with his mouth.

The air was crisp when you both exited the school. He walked you to the picnic tables near the bus stop, resting on the end of a tabletop and pulling you between his legs. Like this, you were pressed flush against him, body fitted so perfectly into his.

The connection rumbled and flared, erupting volcano-hot, piloting Wally's actions. He slid his hands from your waist down to squeeze the pert swell of your ass, and dragged your hips against his.

You gasped, delicate, and let your head fall to the side to expose the column of your neck. Wally took advantage. Brushed his dry lips from your collar to the hinge of your jaw, little darts of tongue and drags of teeth.

"Fuck, baby, you don't know what you do to me," He groaned, his dick fattening in his sweatpants. And he sure as shit meant it. The connection between you was driving him crazy, keeping teenage boy hormones in check an impossible battle.

He rolled his hips, chasing the friction, using the leverage he had with his hands in your back pockets to drag you into his lap. He rearranged himself on the table, slid back to sit more comfortably, and encouraged you to rut against him.

Wally kissed you like it was the last time, like this was the only chance he'd ever have to do it. Slow, deep, slick. The sounds you made, fuck, wanton and needy; moans and gasps and punched-out sighs.

And then, because, of fucking course 'and then'—your phone buzzed right in Wally's palm. Long, sequential blitzes of vibration. A phone call.

You groaned in annoyance, taking your phone when Wally graciously handed it to you, and answered.

"Hey," You greeted, head on Wally's shoulder and body still.

His mama had raised a gentleman, he reminded himself and curled his long arms around you in a loose embrace, repeating football stats in his mind to cool his erection.

"Yeah," You were saying, "Yeah, I know, but I got caught up in the...Well, mom's a big girl, I'm sure she can find someone else to shake the floorboards this one time."

Wally tried to give you an inquiring look but the angle was too awkward, so instead he filed that tidbit away for later, above astral projection but below In Betweens. And, shit, that's right, you were both supposed to discuss your fritzy ghost powers, not dry hump on school property. Oops.

You growled, climbing off of Wally altogether and hopping to the ground, pacing as you expressed with sarcasm and sass, "Why don't you get your new husband to do it, or are we still keeping him in the dark about the family business?"

Wally barely made out the, "Could you stop being such a selfish little brat for o—" before you hung up on who Wally surmised was your sister. With your back to him, he couldn't tell how you felt about the exchange, but from the tension in your shoulders and how forcibly measured your breathing had become, he thought it was safe to assume not great.

"You guys don't get along?" He ventured.

On a last, heavy breath, you twirled back around, "Actually, we get along really well." You sucked your teeth, "It's our mom's choice of occupation that puts us at each other's throats." Wally knew what was coming, couldn't soften the disappointment. "I gotta go." You said regretfully.

He plastered on a smirk, aiming for levity but sounding too dismayed to stick the landing, "You'd think the universe didn't want us to help Maddie."

In what Wally could only describe as a fit of absolutely fucking not, you strode right up to him, slung your arms around his neck and pulled him into a hot, middle-finger-to-the-sky kiss.

"Fuck the universe," You said when you parted, breathless, perfect, his, "I'll come in early tomorrow. Like, seven-thirty-early. Can you meet me in the parking lot?"

Repeating his words from earlier, "Anything for you, pretty girl," Wally vowed, grinning at the prospect of cuddling up somewhere intimate with you in the morning.

Although his thoughts weren't wholly innocent, he recognized within himself the genuine desire to do anything to be near you, for however long you'd give him. Whether that was two minutes or two hours, Wally would be grateful.

"Great," You smiled, bright against the dark autumn evening, "I'll see you then."

A final, sweet stamp of your lips to Wally's cheek and you went on your way, Wally having to watch as you stepped over the boundary of the school grounds and into a world where he couldn't follow.

"Can't wait," He uttered and the connection between you both quieted completely.

💀___________________________

PART NINE - PART ELEVEN

also available on AO3!

MASTERLIST

[mimble-sparklepudding]

Scents of Samhain OC Ask List.

Celebrated from October 31st to November 1st, Samhain heralds the end of the harvest season and the onset of winter, or what the Celts considered the “darker half” of the year. As one of the major Celtic fire festivals, Samhain holds a place of significant importance, marking a period when the veil between worlds is thin and spirits are more likely to make an appearance.

Patchouli: Grounding, protection, and spiritual growth.

What does your OC use to anchor themselves emotionally during times of stress, or when they are feeling afraid? Do they think of a specific person? Focus upon their religious faith? Reflect upon a firmly held belief? Or something else?

Does your OC have any particular rituals or actions they perform for good luck, perhaps before embarking upon a risky venture or new activity?

How in touch is your OC with the spiritual beliefs and traditions of their culture of origin? Have they ever moved away from these? Perhaps only to return to them later?

How protective is your OC of those about whom they care? Does this ever come across as controlling or stifling? Or do they provide a quietly reassuring presence?

Are there specific times or places where your OC feels particular in touch with things beyond the everyday - whether the divine, the occult or the world of the dead.

Cinnamon: Warmth, prosperity, and vitality.

Does your OC enjoy feeling cosy? Perhaps being snuggled in blankets or wrapped in furs? If so, then is this something that they get to enjoy very often? And is it something about which they are quite private?

Is your OC someone who tends to store resources to get through the winter (or times of hardship in general)? Or are they more inclined to assume that things will work themselves out somehow - or even rely upon the generosity of others?

Does your OC feel more energetic or motivated during warmer seasons or when in hotter climates? Conversely, do they feel inclined to "hibernate" during colder weather?

Is your OC someone who enjoys feasting and carousing? If so then are they likely to be hosting such an event? Or more likely to be attending as a guest? If they don't enjoy such things, then what is the reason for their aversion?

Is your OC generally quite healthy? Or do they often come down with colds and minor ailments? Are they perhaps even a bit of a hypochondriac?

Nutmeg: Clarity, spiritual fortitude, and insight.

Would those who know your OC describe them as being rational and clear-thinking? Or are their thoughts often muddied by conflicting emotions? Or are they easily distracted by irrelevant details?

Does your OC find it easy to explain their views and opinions? Or do they find themselves grasping for the right words? Or perhaps stumbling over how to phrase something?

Is your OC easily able to empathise with others? Can they put themselves in someone else's shoes? Or are the motives and actions of others frequently a mystery to them?

Does your OC have the courage of their convictions? Or are they often beset by self-doubt or paralysed by indecision?

Was there a specific event or conversation which opened your OC's eyes to a particular reality? Do they ever regret learning the truth and feel nostalgic for their former innocence?

Clove: Safety, cleansing, and amiability.

Is your OC someone who makes those around them feel safe? Or is there something about them which others can find rather unsettling? If so, then is this the case constantly, or only in certain circumstances?

Is your OC generally easy-going? Or are they sometimes fussy, irritable or curmudgeonly? What tends to put them into a bad mood? Are they good at concealing the fact? Do they even try?

How important is cleanliness to your OC? Are they keen to wash and bathe as often as possible? Or can they go for extended periods without being troubled by any social expectations around personal hygiene?

When away from the comfort and convenience of amenities such as baths and showers, how does your OC keep themselves clean and fresh? If they do at all?

What does safety mean to your OC? Is it emotional or financial security? Or protection from physical harm? Is safety something for which they aim - either for themselves or others?

Frankincense: Connection, introspection, and purification.

Is your OC prone to introspection? Or do they not often look within themselves? If so then is this purely by inclination, or do they fear what they might discover?

What makes your OC feel an instant sense of connection to another person? A shared sense of humour? A common cultural heritage? Enjoyment of the same activities?

Is your OC a model of purity and innocence? Or are they prone to bawdy humour, sexual innuendos and cynical retorts? Perhaps they give the appearance of purity, but underneath things are a great deal murkier?

Does your OC ever do things and then afterwards find it hard to explain why they acted the way that they did? Or are they always clear on why they spoke or behaved in a certain way, even if they choose not to admit it to others?

Is your OC someone who other people consider easy to get to know? Are they, in fact, quite wrong about this?

Myrrh: Meditation, spiritual awareness, and grief.

Does your OC believe that their ancestors or dead relatives watch over them? Does this bring them comfort? Or would they actually rather they didn't?

Is your OC able to sit in silence with their own thoughts? Are they able to clear their mind and meditate? Or would they quickly become fidgety or bored?

Is there a particular date or season when your OC is more likely to reflect upon grief and loss? If they are grieving for a specific person then do they find times such as anniversaries or namedays particularly difficult?

To what degree is your OC mindful of the religious and spiritual beliefs of others? Even if they do not share them?

Is your OC sensitive to locations where great loss or suffering took place? Do they believe they can sense the echoes of past events? Or are they oblivious? How do they respond emotionally to being in such places?

[whencyclopedia]

Celtic Bronze Shields

The ancient Celts produced magnificent bronze shields in Iron Age Britain which were most likely for ceremonial purposes and display. Several fine examples have miraculously survived as evidence of the imagination, skill, and artistry of Celtic craftworkers. The outstanding example is the Battersea Shield, now in the British Museum, but there are several other complete bronze shields and bosses which amply illustrate that the Celts commonly decorated shields whether they were intended for battle, display, or as votive offerings.

Celtic Shields - Design & Function

Celtic warriors had distinctive shields which were most often large and oval or rectangular in shape. These shields were made of wood and leather with buckles in metal with a central boss for added strength. The reverse side typically had one handhold. Such shields are frequently represented in art from the Gundestrup Cauldron to figurines of warrior gods. The Greek historian Diodorus Siculus, writing in the 1st century BCE, described Celtic shields as:

...man-sized shields decorated according to individual taste. Some of these have projecting figures in bronze skilfully made not only for decoration but also for protection.

(in Allen, 22).

Another category of shields was those made not for the battlefield but to impress off it. Such shields were made from sheets of bronze and are so thin and fragile as to be of no practical use in actual Celtic warfare: the millimetres-thick bronze could have easily been slashed by a sword blade. However, some bronze facings would have originally been attached to a wooden or leather backing for greater strength. These shields were probably carried in processions and important tribal events as they displayed the wealth and power of the Celtic rulers who were the most likely owners of them. Buried in the tombs of such important figures or given as votive offerings in religious rituals, remarkably, several of these shields have survived for posterity. They were typically found by accident by workers and not archaeologists. As the historians J. Farley and F. Hunter state:

Many of our finest pieces of Celtic art are chance finds like this, often from wet or out-of-the-way locations such as rivers, bogs, lakes or mountains. These were not just casual losses; it is unlikely people would be so repeatedly careless with such valuable things. It is also unlikely they were buried for safekeeping; a river is not a good place in which to hide something. These items were deliberately deposited, perhaps as sacrifices to unknown gods, during rites of passage, or to seal agreements between individuals or groups. (103)

Continue reading...

[lunar-bat]

Witchcraft 101: Wicca & The Wheel of The Year

Paganism - An umbrella term for many nature-based and polytheistic spiritual traditions. Note that not all pagans practice witchcraft. Wicca - A pagan, nature-based religious movement. Wicca blends aspects of witchcraft, nature veneration, and ceremonial magic. It places a strong emphasis on honoring nature and follows a duotheistic belief system often known as the Triple Goddess and Horned God. Wheel of The Year The wheel reflects the cyclical nature of life, death, and rebirth in the natural world and is central to the rituals, spells, and celebrations of many pagan and witchcraft traditions. The Wheel of the Year is divided into eight significant points, which correspond to the Sabbats or festivals:

Samhain (October 31st): Also known as All Hollow's Eve, marks the beginning of the Wheel of the Year and is associated with the end of the harvest season and the onset of winter. Samhain is a time for honoring ancestors, reflecting on mortality, and recognizing the thinning of the veil between the physical and spirit worlds. Samhain is a time to acknowledge the cyclical nature of life and death and to connect with the spiritual realm. Yule (Winter Solstice, typically around December 21st): Marks the rebirth of the sun, with a focus on light, hope, and renewal during the darkest time of the year. Yule customs include lighting candles or a Yule log, feasting, gift-giving, and spending time with loved ones. It's a significant part of the Wheel of the Year, emphasizing the cyclical nature of life and the changing seasons. Imbolc (February 1st): Marks the early signs of spring and the gradual return of light and warmth. Imbolc is associated with the Celtic goddess Brigid and is a time for purification, cleaning, and preparing for the coming season's growth. It's often celebrated with rituals, candle lighting, and dedication to Brigid. Imbolc highlights the theme of renewal and the awakening of life after the winter months. Ostara (Spring Equinox, typically around March 21st): Marks the arrival of spring, where day and night are in balance. Ostara is a time for celebrating fertility, new beginnings, and the growth of life. It is often associated with themes of rebirth, renewal, and the awakening of nature. Common customs include egg decorating, planting seeds, and celebrating the return of warmth and longer days. Beltane (May 1st): Celebration of fertility, love, and the union of the goddess and god. Beltane is often observed with rituals, bonfires, Maypole dancing, and other festivities that emphasize the vitality and growth of life in the natural world. Midsummer (Summer Solstice, typically around June 21st): Also known as Litha, marks the longest day of the year when the sun is at its peak. Midsummer is a time for harnessing the sun's energy, celebrating the abundance of nature, and enjoying outdoor festivities. Common customs include lighting bonfires, dancing, and gathering herbs and flowers for magical and medicinal purposes. Lughnasadh (August 1st): Also known as Lammas, marks the first harvest of the year and is associated with the Celtic god Lugh. Lughnasadh is a festival dedicated to expressing gratitude for the Earth's bountiful harvest and agricultural abundance. Traditional practices during this time involve crafting corn dollies, enjoying meals made from freshly harvested crops, and engaging in various games and competitions. Mabon (Autumn Equinox, typically around September 21st): Marks the second harvest and a time of balance when day and night are equal. Mabon is a festival for reflecting on gratitude, giving thanks for the fruits of the Earth, and preparing for the darker months ahead. Common customs include feasting on seasonal foods, making offerings to the land, and creating altars with symbols of the season.

[yaut-jaknowit]

okay, okay, I got an idea for a while that you mightttttt enjoy

Basically, Nsfw idea lesgo 🔥, imagine an Elder just fucking you in a empty council room after a frustrating meeting (amab reader if you’re comfortable with it because i’m lowkey incapable of reading smut with any other gender💀)

Stress Reliever

Pairing: Wolf (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Warnings: rough sex (usual for these guys), knotting (again), mlm sex, anal sex, abandoned cock, no foreplay, no prep (straight to the point), aftercare, hints of voyeurism, blood and biting, sort of cnc (concent giving but not said, agreed upon before story starts), use of ‘good boy’, light aftercare.

Word Count: 2101 (I wish this was longer)

Summary: Wolf is frustrated after a meeting gone wrong. He has to release that pent up anger some how. Oh, how generous of you to be in the room with him.

Author Note: I'm more than happy to write AMAB stuff for you! If there's anything incorrect in here, please let me know. I don't have the body parts soooo I tried! I know you like Celtic but he's not an elder so I hope Wolf is fine for you. I do love that old, grumpy elder. If only I could get my hands on him

Masterlist

Ao3

From his chair at the meeting table, you could feel the tension in his body. Strung tighter than a bow ready to snap. Halfway through the council meeting, Wolf had placed a heavy hand on your thigh, claws lightly biting into your flesh. The pressure grew over time till blood had been drawn at the conclusion of the meeting.

The mighty hunter ordered everyone out in an instant. His thundering voice echoing back at him like a storm ready to unleash its strength. A storm you were trapped in. The ridged grasp on your poor thigh had yet to waver, even as the last Yautja evacuate the council room.

It was only a breath before Wolf had strike like a predator on its prey. In one instant, Wolf pinned you, chest down, bent over the council table. His unbearable heat blanketed your feeble body. Chitters and snarls vibrated your back and raced up your neck, creating goosebumps in their wake. The elder had you promptly at his will.

A hand found its way to your hip, claws biting through the shirt to graze your skin. You shuttered at the feeling and released a shaky breath. Those unsteady noises were drowned out by the heady, dominating growl that had blood rushing to your undeniable growing shaft. “Wo-Wolf,” you breathed his name as if it was a sin to speak a decibel louder.

Warm, thin tresses created a partial curtain. Wolf’s hand on your hip tightened. “Paya,” he murmured barely above an inhale. Then, he tore the clothing covering your waist and legs clean off. The sudden rush of air hitting the exposed skin had you yelping, thighs clenching together. As if the male wouldn’t just pry them open if he wanted to.

In an uncoordinated, rushed move, Wolf slithered a hand to the back of your knee and jerked it up. Your leg was forced onto the table. The toes on your other foot scrapped, barely touching the ground now. He had you folded into the position he wanted.

You squirmed under his hefty, muscular weight for only a moment. The Yautja snarled and snatched the back of your neck. “Stay,” he bit a domineering command that shook you to your core. Your cock jumped and bumped into the table. A hiss coming from clenched teeth at how sensitive the tip had already become.

All you could mange was a whimper and weak nod, body resting pliantly on the stone table. Wolf stayed for a few moments before pulling his weight off of you. In this position, you weren’t able to fully see his figure from the corner of your vision.

His hips were pulled away from you. Sounds of metal and leather being mess with hit your ears. Before you had the chance to act upon thoughts of disobeying him, the Yautja returned in full force.

Thick, sticky, and hot. His shaft rested at the end of your tail bone and slowly slide across your soft skin. The weight was all too familiar. But, it always felt better inside, knotted, and milked dry.

One of his hands grabbed the entire of one globe and spread it. Your tight, although, plenty stretched hole, throbbed. Without hesitance, Wolf jerked his hips back and lined up the tip. The sharp head resting between the ring of muscles.

With a single thrust, the entire length was shoved inside of you. Despite the pain of the stretch, sounds of pleasures spilled from your lips like gold. A cry echoing back at you, ringing through the chambers like a choir. In the mixture of your own sounds came with the snarl and grunts of the lethal predator taking you. His hips slapping to yours in fervor, releasing all the pent anger of the last two hours.

“W-Wolf!” you sputtered his name, hands clawing at the stone underneath you. Your nails dragged across it and couldn’t find an ounce of purchase to ground you for a moment.

“Pauk-de take it! Take it, little mate!” he spat out harshly in the wild fury of his pounding thrusts. “Those tarei’hasan are clueless.” Wolf laid more of his weight on top of you which effectively crushed you. “They had no clue to how Kainde Amedha hunt.” Sharp, lethal fangs scrapped across the skin on your neck. “Know it all’s!”

A particular thrust had you seeing stars while your body began to shake. “And I get to you use you.” Wolf clamped down on the crook of your neck, drawing blood. “All mine to release my rage on.” When your muscles fluttered around him at that last sentence, his hips stuttered with a groan. “Yeah, you pauk-de don’t mind it. Pauk-de loving it.” You practically heard the smirk in his guttural voice.

Yet, the Yautja lost himself to his frustration and need for release now. The oh-so levelheaded male was drowned in his emotions he hadn’t felt the way you were tightening on his. The way his deflated knot was already catching on your muscles.

Time slowed for the seconds leading up to an exploding climax. Everything kept building up despite this all being about Wolf releasing his frustration. At the top of this razor sharp edge, you were shoved over without a care in the world. Your cock twitch as it burst out the first rope of cum onto the underside of the table onto the ground.

Wolf snarled deafeningly straight into your ear when he felt your walls capture him in a vice grip. It forced his hips to stutter to an exasperated speed. In the heat of the moment, a hand curled around you throat. He pressed you against his chest and snarled a deep growl.

The moment he could slip out, he did only to shove the entire length of him straight back into you. A sputtering, nonsensical blabber spilled from your drooling lips. The oversensitivity far greater than you were expecting. And, you didn’t want it to stop. He let loose like a cannon destroying a fleet. This wasn’t about you. Not in any way shape or form.

A Yautja in need of release of pent up, boiling rage.

At every new slam into you had your spent cock hitting the table. The shocks of oversensitivity had your mind reeling to grab at yourself. But your muscles were locked tight, making it hard to even breathe.

“I’m the Payasaken Kainde Amedha specialist! Knowing…” his words trailed off into Yautja. A deep, nasty Yautja that had you shivering at the sounds.

He straightened up. Both of his scaly hands groped at the flesh of your cheeks and spread them as far as possible. His fire-filled eyes zeroed down on the way your abused hole was forced to stretch wide at each thrust. The way his deflated knot was shoved in then pulled back in a manner that conveyed his rage. He craved the sight of this small, vulnerable ooman struggled to take his cock. You were already a mess of wasted, spent cum and sweat blanketed your skin.

He was far from done with you.

A shift of his hips had the sharp tip of his cock driving down into your prostate then the knot to press against it. The double whammy had your vision swimming as you squirmed wildly underneath him. The overstimulation growing nearly painful.

Wolf released a threatening snarl and draped his weight over you again. Once more, without choice, you were trapped underneath. “There’s no escaping this, mate. You’re going to take what I give you.” The hand around your throat had tightened to a point that slowed the blood flow to your brain. You being to the effects of lack blood to your brain quickly.

Even in a fervorish state, Wolf knew when to release the pressure on your throat just to do it all over again three more times. Until he could smell the tall tale sign of your climax rising again. A Cheshire grin on his alien face as his thrusts begin to lose their coordination. The predator focusing on short but powerful drivers of his hips.

The hand not around your throat slithered between the two of you to press down on the small of your back. Enough to tilt your hips further down. One thrust and it was done.

Electricity shot through the taunt body of the Yautja as he slammed his hips flush to you. He bellowed a mighty roar that could be heard through the halls. The ball of flesh that sat at the base of his heft shaft swelled with a rush of blood. Ropes of hot, burning cum was milked at each squeeze of your stretched walls.

The entire frame of muscle that towered over you rested upon you like a heavy blanket. Deep, guttural breaths came from the spent creature that had just plowed you. You whimpered at the feeling of your asshole on the verge of splitting from the size of his girthy knot locked inside of you. Not a single drop of cum to be spilt past the ball of flesh nestled within you.

Purrs poured from Wolf’s throat. Sweaty, well-worn palms stroked down you side in a calming manner. Scratchy shushes falling from his mouth. “Good… good little mate. Such a good boy. Taking my knot. It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Until this point, you hadn’t realize your entire body was shivering from the oversensitivity he forced upon you. You couldn’t tell if your cock or hole ached worse. You whined.

“Paya, look at you,” he murmured and stayed above you. “The feeling of you tight around my knot drives me crazy.” Wolf let an arm to curl around your torso and timidly picked up. With the size difference, Wolf kept you suspended, toes unable to touch the ground. “Makes me want to pull out and take you all over again.”

In the haze of your mind, you felt him sit back down on his chair and put you in his lap. The two of you are trapped for the unforeseeable future. Your legs were spread to be on the outside of his legs, letting the empty room see the way he has filled you. Your spent shaft lying limp, resting where your thigh meets your torso.

The purr that still resonated from him vibrated along your skin. They sent a wave of goosebumps. Your head was lolled back to rest on his chest, eyes closed. Warm, rough hands soothed the skin on your inner thighs. “You’re still so tight, mate,” he purred straight into your ear. “No matter how many times I stretch you.”

For the moment, you could only airily huff and rolled your eyes. Claws ghost down your inner thighs to stop where your cock rested. When a hand swaddled the softened shaft, you stuttered a gasp and whined in discomfort.

His hand engulfed you and added a light pressure that had you squirming in his lap. “Look at you.” There was a Chesire grin planted on his face. Little, minute spurts of post-cum escaped and pathetically down the head only to be used as lube. Wolf softly twisted his wrist. You choked on air, body tensing up. A threatening snarl tearing from the elder’s throat as he locked his muscles. “At my hands wills.”

“Soon, I have another meeting.” Wolf’s words echoed in your brain. Your body locked up, eyes snapping open to thankfully found the room still empty. Yet, you couldn’t deny the way your cock jumped at the notion. “A magnificent sight of my knot locked deep inside of you. Something to walk into. Smell, taste,” he murmured lowly and gently stroked your deflated cock.

Sparks of hot, blazing electricity fired off of ever nerve in your body. Due to the knot still inside your stretched ass, there was no place to scuttle off to. Only you could just sit there and endure the hand stroking away at a teasing but maddening pace. Every sound made was consumed by the elder’s ears in an instant. All just for him.

Before he could push you too far into a dumb state, Wolf released his hold on you. Slowly, he reached over to grab an item then pressed it to your lips. “Drink,” he commanded. Unable to fully think, you just simply listened to his order. Your lips parting to consume the liquid provided for you.

Once he was satisfied with your intake, Wolf pulled the glass away and discarded it on the table. A purr started back up like an old farm truck to vibrate your bones. You laid there, content from his hands softly petting you.

[talonabraxas]

Kernunnos 𐂂 Talon Abraxas

Samhain Deities

As Samhain marks the thinning of the veil between worlds, various deities associated with death, rebirth, and transformation are honored. While the deities listed below are commonly revered during Samhain, traditions vary widely, and many practitioners may choose to honor other gods or spirits that resonate more closely with their personal or cultural beliefs.

The Morrigan (Celtic – Ireland)

The Morrigan, often appearing as a trio of goddesses, represents the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. As a warrior goddess, she presides over fate, especially foretelling death in battle. Her connection to death and transformation makes her particularly revered during Samhain.

Cernunnos (Celtic – Gaul)

Known as the ‘Horned God’ and associated with wild and forested areas, Cernunnos is often invoked during Samhain for his connection to the cycle of life and death. He is a mediator between humans and nature, and between the physical and spiritual worlds.

Hecate (Greek)

Hecate is the Greek goddess of witchcraft, magic, crossroads, and the spirit world. Given her ability to communicate with the dead and travel between worlds, her influence is especially powerful during Samhain, when the veil between worlds is thinnest.

The Cailleach (Celtic – Scotland and Ireland)

The Cailleach is a divine hag, often associated with winter. During Samhain, she starts her reign, wielding her staff to freeze the ground. However, she is not just a winter goddess; she also embodies the cycle of death and rebirth.

Hel (Norse)

Hel is the Norse goddess of the underworld, who presides over those who die of illness or old age. Her domain, also named Hel, is a place of peace and rest where the dead await rebirth, reflecting the themes of Samhain.

Anubis (Egyptian)

Although not a traditional deity of Samhain, some modern pagan practices have incorporated Anubis due to his role as the Egyptian god of death and mummification. He is known for guiding souls in the afterlife, fitting the theme of spirit communication during Samhain.

[doublebellyman]

For your snow day consideration …

There is a Celtic Christian term, dating back centuries ago, that refers to something called “thin places.” One definition describes thin places as "those rare locales where the distance between Heaven and Earth collapses." A walk in a quiet snowy woods is a particular thin place of mine where I can truly appreciate the divine beauty in all of God’s creations.

[the-hermit-at-midnight]

Celebrating Samhain

Samhain, also known as Samhuinn or Calan Gaeaf in Welsh, is a time of profound transformation and spiritual significance. It marks the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, when the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is said to be thinnest.   

Historical and Cultural Significance

The origins of Samhain can be traced back to pre-Christian Celtic cultures. It was a time for honoring the ancestors, appeasing the spirits, and preparing for the harsh winter months ahead. Bonfires were lit to ward off evil spirits, and feasts were held to celebrate the abundance of the harvest.

Celtic Beliefs and Practices

The Celts were a polytheistic people who believed in a pantheon of gods and goddesses. They lived in close harmony with nature and had a deep respect for the cycles of the seasons. Samhain marked the end of the harvest season and the beginning of winter, a time of darkness and death.

According to Celtic beliefs, the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead was believed to be thinnest on Samhain. This allowed spirits of the deceased to return to the earth and interact with the living. To appease the spirits and ward off evil influences, bonfires were lit, and offerings were made.

Celtic Festivals and Customs

Samhain was one of the two most important festivals in the Celtic calendar, along with Beltane. Both festivals were associated with fire, and it was believed that fire had the power to purify and protect.

Bonfires: Bonfires were a central feature of Samhain celebrations. They were believed to have the power to ward off evil spirits and to provide warmth and light in the darkness of winter.

Offerings: Offerings of food, drink, and other items were made to the spirits of the dead. These offerings were often placed on the altar or thrown into the bonfire.

Costumes: It is believed that the tradition of wearing costumes on Halloween may have originated from Samhain. People would dress up as spirits and demons to scare away evil influences.

Divination: Divination practices were common on Samhain. People would use various methods, such as reading tea leaves or throwing bones, to predict the future.

In modern times, Samhain continues to be celebrated by many people, including Wiccans, Pagans, and those who simply appreciate the rich cultural heritage of the Celtic people.

The Symbolism of Samhain

Death and Rebirth: Samhain is a time of endings and beginnings. It symbolizes the death of the old year and the rebirth of the new.

The Thinning Veil: It is believed that on Samhain, the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead is at its thinnest, allowing spirits to cross over.

The Wheel of the Year: Samhain is one of the eight major festivals in the Celtic Wheel of the Year, representing the turning of the seasons.

Celebrating Samhain

As druid, celebrating Samhain involves connecting with the natural world, honoring the ancestors, and reflecting on the cycle of life and death. Here are some in-depth ideas:

Create a Sacred Space: Decorate your home or a special outdoor area with autumnal symbols such as leaves, pumpkins, and candles. Consider incorporating elements from nature, such as stones, feathers, or pine cones.

Honor the Ancestors: Create a memorial altar to remember loved ones who have passed. Light candles, offer libations, or leave small gifts.

Connect with Nature: Spend time in nature, such as taking a walk in the woods, collecting autumn leaves, or meditating by a body of water. Pay attention to the changing of the seasons and the natural cycles around you.

Divination: Samhain is an excellent time for divination practices. Try scrying in a bowl of water, reading tarot cards, or casting runes.

Feast: Enjoy a feast of seasonal foods, such as apples, nuts, and pumpkin. Consider incorporating traditional Celtic foods into your meal.

Rituals and Ceremonies: Create your own Samhain ritual or participate in a group celebration. You might include elements such as lighting a bonfire, offering sacrifices, or performing sacred dances.

A Samhain Ritual

Materials:

A small altar or table

A white candle

A black candle

A bowl of water

A handful of autumn leaves

A piece of paper and a pen

A small offering (e.g., a piece of bread, a pinch of salt)

Instructions:

Set up the altar: Place the white and black candles on the altar, representing light and darkness, respectively. Place the bowl of water, leaves, and offering on the altar.

Meditation: Sit quietly and reflect on the past year. What have you learned? What do you want to release?

Offerings: Place the offering on the altar as a symbol of gratitude and respect.

Divination: Perform a divination ritual, such as scrying in the bowl of water or reading tarot cards.

Release: Write down anything you want to release or let go of on a piece of paper. Burn the paper in the black candle's flame.

Intentions: Write down your intentions for the coming year.

Blessing: Sprinkle yourself and your space with the blessed water.

By delving deeper into the symbolism and traditions of Samhain, you can create a more meaningful and personal celebration that connects you to the ancient wisdom of the Celtic people.

[santoschristos]

Samhain Deities

As Samhain marks the thinning of the veil between worlds, various deities associated with death, rebirth, and transformation are honored. While the deities listed below are commonly revered during Samhain, traditions vary widely, and many practitioners may choose to honor other gods or spirits that resonate more closely with their personal or cultural beliefs.

The Morrigan (Celtic – Ireland)

The Morrigan, often appearing as a trio of goddesses, represents the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. As a warrior goddess, she presides over fate, especially foretelling death in battle. Her connection to death and transformation makes her particularly revered during Samhain.

Cernunnos (Celtic – Gaul)

Known as the ‘Horned God’ and associated with wild and forested areas, Cernunnos is often invoked during Samhain for his connection to the cycle of life and death. He is a mediator between humans and nature, and between the physical and spiritual worlds.

Hecate (Greek)

Hecate is the Greek goddess of witchcraft, magic, crossroads, and the spirit world. Given her ability to communicate with the dead and travel between worlds, her influence is especially powerful during Samhain, when the veil between worlds is thinnest.

The Cailleach (Celtic – Scotland and Ireland)

The Cailleach is a divine hag, often associated with winter. During Samhain, she starts her reign, wielding her staff to freeze the ground. However, she is not just a winter goddess; she also embodies the cycle of death and rebirth.

Hel (Norse)

Hel is the Norse goddess of the underworld, who presides over those who die of illness or old age. Her domain, also named Hel, is a place of peace and rest where the dead await rebirth, reflecting the themes of Samhain.

Anubis (Egyptian)

Although not a traditional deity of Samhain, some modern pagan practices have incorporated Anubis due to his role as the Egyptian god of death and mummification. He is known for guiding souls in the afterlife, fitting the theme of spirit communication during Samhain.

Image: Cernunnos – the Horned God