#Red Parrot on the Branch of a Tree

[arinewman7]

Red Parrot on the Branch of a Tree

Ito Jakuchu

color woodblock print, ca. 1905

[meisterdrucke]

Yellow and Red Parrot by Jacques Barraband (hand-coloured engraving)

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Okay but imagine sex pollen with Miguel fucking you on your back and then even when he cums he just keeps going and it’s spilling out and refractory period who and you’re overstimulated and he’s like no no you’re not allowed to tap out and he — and he —!!!!!

Sorry

MONA. You put me in a fucking MOOD LMFAO This is way longer than I intended. And its pure filth 🫣

Word Count: 2k+

NSFW below the cut.

Part 2

...

Earth 703- A post-apocalyptic world in which New York was nothing more than a ferocious jungle.

You stared off into the distance, the familiar city skyline overrun by wild flora and thick green vines sneaking in through broken windows and cracked concrete. 

“What the fuck.” You whispered to yourself, eyes now trained on the massive dragonfly that whizzed by you. Miguel grunted, punching a large finger over the screen of his watch.

The mission was supposed to be simple: Catch the anomaly—send them back to their own universe—go home. That’s it. No detours, no distractions. In and out.

“Are we close?” You questioned, pressing up against Miguel’s side at the sight of another massive insect, “I wanna get the hell outta here.”

“We just missed him.” He sucked his teeth. His mask disappeared in a flash of digital pixels to reveal his scowling face, narrowed red eyes and brows furrowed in frustration.

You’ve been wandering around the city for forty-five minutes, trekking through the godforsaken jungle with no luck. The anomaly, a Prowler from some random universe (you couldn’t remember, you weren’t paying attention at the meeting), was clever, quickwitted, and inconspicuous. You’d wished Miguel had chosen Jess for this one, but he’d refused. He’d used the excuse of her pregnancy but really, she’d already complained to you beforehand that the humidity would do her hair no favors. 

“What now?” You questioned, plopping down at the base of a bulky tree trunk a few feet away. The trees were so massive that the branches seemed to kiss the sky, monstrous green leaves blocking out most of the morning sunlight.

“Keep lookin’,” he huffed, running his fingers through his hair, “we’re getting close.”

“Miguel,” you whined, your head thumping back against the trunk, “you said that forty-five minutes ago.”

“Get up,” he demanded, shooting out a web of electric red to swiftly pull you toward him. You yelped, crossing the distance within seconds, crashing into Miguel's sturdy body.

“I hate when you do that.” Your words were muffled by his broad chest, peeling your sweaty cheek away from the synthetic material of his suit. The tiniest smile ghosted over his lips. 

“I know.” 

… 

You’d left Miguel on his own for a few minutes. 

You’d gotten distracted, swinging up into one of the treetops to observe one of the colorful parrots squawking in the distance. It’d looked just like the ones back home, except this one was enormous, probably bigger than a medium-sized dog. 

“Fuck!” You’d heard Miguel yell from down below, spitting out curses in Spanish, choking on the words as coughs racked his body. He’d been waving his hands in front of his face to clear his vision to no avail. You watched as his body reacted immediately to whatever it was that ailed him, his body hunching over as if in pain.

“Miguel!” You dropped to your feet in front of him and attempted to reach for him, but he recoiled, fearing your touch. 

“Stay back!” he wheezed, crouching down and holding his head in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

“It hurts,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as his body trembled, his fingers weaving through his thick hair strands to violently tug from the root.

“Stop,” you scolded, getting on your knees in front of him to pry his hands away, “tell me what’s wrong so that I can help you.” You shoved him down by the shoulders so that he was sitting with his knees out, bringing a hand to his face and yanking it up by his chin. His eyes, normally a mahogany shade glowed a disturbing red, his pupils dilated. 

“Ran into a plant,” he forced the words from his throat, his skin gleaming with sweat, “s-some flower, I don’t know, some kind of pollen.” He groaned again, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Shit, ok, ok, ok, we can fix this,” you panicked, placing the back of your hand against his forehead. He was burning, skin blistering hot. “Where does it hurt.”

Miguel remained silent, breathing harshly through his nostrils as beads of sweat began to trickle down his face. He looked down between his legs and you followed his line of vision. Oh. OH.

His bulge was tenting through his suit, fighting against the restraints of the digital fabric. The area glimmered brightly before his cock burst through the pixels, flopping out and twitching with need.

Miguel was big. 

His cock stood tall and proud, bobbing against his stomach, the tip leaking a thin bead of precum that ran down his length. 

You stared for a moment, transfixed on the angry red tip before you found your voice. “Miguel—”

“You need to go,” he spat viciously, his fangs protruding as if to scare you away, “if you don't I’ll—” He stopped himself, lips pressed into a tight line as his chest began to heave. You could hear his heart rate accelerate with every passing second.

“Let me help you,” you whispered, your hand hovering over his cock. He looked away from you, his skin flushed from his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. “Miguel, please, let me help you.”

“I don’t want to force—”

“You’re not forcing me,” you breathed, letting the pad of your finger tap against his tip, smearing his precum over the surface. Your cunt throbbed, squeezing tight with an overwhelming desire to be filled. “I want to.” You cooed, your tone causing his eyes to flutter. 

Miguel grunted, grabbing your hand and placing it over his throbbing cock.

“Then help me.” He hissed.

…

You needed a new suit. Immediately.

Miguel had torn into it, ripping the seams apart from the crotch, all the way up to your neck, revealing your chest and glistening pussy. You had no time to complain, mewling when he spread your thighs apart with his large hands, his eyes trained on the heat between your legs before diving in to eat from you.

You squealed, your hands flying to his head as he kissed and licked and spit over your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit. His tongue dipped into your hole a few times before licking one long stripe up to your bundle of nerves, swirling his tongue around it before sucking it into his mouth.

Okay—you’ve had your pussy eaten before, but goddamn never like this, never like it was a matter of life or death, as if your pussy alone was the answer to all things.

Miguel continued his ministrations, releasing a growl every few moments, licking to oblivion until you thought his jaw would lock. 

He made you see stars, groaning loudly as you gushed into his mouth. He savored your tangy taste as he lapped at your wet folds, making sure to lick up every drop he could find. 

His mouth and chin were soaked in your juices when he came back up, and it shot a fresh wave of arousal through your veins. His hand reached out to cup your face, his thumb smearing over the traces of his cum dotting across your cheek when you’d sucked him off earlier, catching some of it in your mouth before he'd pulled out, wanting to paint your face with it at the last moment. 

He dipped his thumb into your mouth, forcing you to clean it as he slid his cock over your messy pussy, smearing the underside in your juices. His body shook with need, his eyes glazed and lidded, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he whimpered something about you being so wet.

He pulled out his thumb from your mouth with a pop and watched how you panted underneath him, your exposed skin now covered in a sheen of sweat.

��I’m sorry,” he muttered, positioning your legs over his shoulders before draping himself over you, folding you in half, “I’m sorry if I’m not gentle.”

Gentle? You were a big girl, you didn’t need him to be—

You cried out as soon as he pressed his fat head into your tiny hole, forcing your pussy to open up for him as he pushed in deeper without giving you much time to adjust.

“Fuck,” you sobbed, your hands scrambling to grip his arms as he began to thrust his hips, dragging his cock in and out of you at a bruising pace. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Miguel began to babble, grunting when your cunt squeezed the life from him, the slick noises of your drenched pussy egging him on. 

Maybe…gentle would have been nice knowing now how big he was, but you understood the circumstances of the situation. This was meant to be anything but gentle.

He had you coming again, your back arching and your bare chest pressing against his clothed one before he filled you with his own spend, pushing it as deep as he could into you. He pulled out harshly causing you to moan, watching his cum leak from your swollen pussy before slapping his length over your folds a few times and dipping back in.

He fucked you harder this time until your pussy throbbed and burned from the size of him, filling you up with so much of his cum, and delighting in the way it dripped out of you. 

“Again.” He grunted, pushing his cock into your convulsing walls, slamming in deep as he licked and sucked on your nipples, leaving red love marks over your skin. You sobbed from the pleasure, feeling his weight push you into the ground.

“I can’t!” You cried, pushing weakly against his shoulders.

“You can and you will.” Miguel commanded. He couldn’t stop, barely giving you a minute to catch your breath after making you both cum again before sinking into your searing heat, stretching you beyond your limits.

You were lightheaded and spent, losing count of the number of orgasms he’d given you. Miguel growled, pulling out his cock from your abused hole and shooting his load over your body. He pressed it into your skin, smearing it over your breasts and tender nipples, down your abdomen, and finally, over your burning pussy. 

He paused, his eyes tracing over your fucked out form before reaching down to pump himself with the leftover cum in his hand.

“I’m sorry, Hermosa,” he whispered, draping himself over you again, “I can’t stop, you feel too good. So fucking tight.” He slurped your nipple into his hot mouth, sucking the taste of him from your skin as he pushed his large cock into you. 

Your eyes fluttered and you cried out, your fingers digging into the earth, focusing on nothing but Miguel's rich voice:

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m—

…

It was nightfall by the time Miguel was satiated.

You felt weak, eyes heavy with sleep and body limp. Miguel sat against a tree and had you cradled in his arms, your body nestled comfortably between his legs. He rested his head over yours, inhaling the scent of sweat and dirt trapped in your hair. 

“See that flower?” He muttered, pointing straight ahead at a few giant white daisies clustering around a tree. They were massive, like everything else in that universe, the stems taller than Miguel when he was standing at his full height. You nodded sleepily, ignoring the ache in your still exposed cunt. “Don’t go near it.”

“Got it.” You absentmindedly played with the frayed pieces of your suit, letting Miguel shield your exposed skin from the elements.

You probably should’ve left already, should’ve gone back to HQ for a much-needed shower and rest, probably schedule another meeting, but Miguel wouldn’t budge, his grip on you tightening whenever you so much as shifted against him.

“Quèdate quieta.” He grunted.

“Miguel,” you protested, “we have to go home. The anomaly—”

“I know, hermosa,” he murmured softly, “I know.” You never seen him this soft before, nor speak in such a gentle way, not with anyone and least of all, not with you.

You both sat there in silence, processing what happened while listening to the sounds of the jungle, the birds chirping in the distance, the leaves rustling in the gentle wind. You sighed, playing with his interlocked fingers over your stomach. It was strangely intimate (despite everything else that happened), having him coddle you. 

“Miguel?”

“Mm?” 

“You better get me a suit like yours.” 

“What’s wrong with the fabric ones from HQ?”

“It’s a waste if you’re just gonna rip it off again.” You heard him snort out a breath, just the tiniest thing that implied he understood your meaning. You were hoping this wouldn’t be the first nor last time you’d be under him. “We got a deal?” 

Miguel chuckled, his hand leaving the safety of your abdomen to venture down into your sopping-wet folds. You bit your lip, spreading your tired thighs, whimpering as his thick fingers swirled inside.

“Deal, Hermosa.”

...

Quèdate quieta- Keep still

[barbieaemond]

A snake in the bosom

Moodboard by the queen herself @zae5

PAIRING: Prince Regent Aemond x Lady!reader

WARNINGS: dark Aemond, angst, public humiliation, semi public sex, p in v, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), religious kink, knife kink if you squint, overstimulation, light choking.

WORD COUNT: 5.3k

Author’s note: House Peake were green loyalists during the Dance. Shout out to @zae5 who helped me brain storming this filth 🫶

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @chompchompluke

The skies rumble as they always do when preluding a storm. But it’s different this time. The thunder echoes in your chest, sliding through your ribs and then rattling them to break free.

A warning, the Gods’ way to seal what cannot be undone. They greet this new day, this new order, with blinding lightning. The Wood seems bathed by the early morning light, and yet the owls will soon resume their sentry task on the branches of these ancient trees.

A new flash forces you to look up and you think you can see them, the Seven, leaning out from their perches, pointing a finger at a woman like any other, with her bowed head devoted to obedience and her tight corset to choke to death any desire inside her heart.

And you did.

You stopped going to the library, you kept your eyes faithfully down, weeding out the need to caress the silver through your gaze, to feel the cold alabaster carved into angles so precise and sharp as to be exhausting.

You stopped lingering on the delicacy of long white fingers turning pages, on white knuckles around the sword, rippling with veins, blue and green as snakes crawling underneath. 

Not looking didn't do much good.

It's all burned into your eyelids, and the more you don't look the more your mind betrays you like a stab in the back, evoking slender hands and an arched mouth that lazily pulls itself up into an omniscient smirk.

It happens so often that you've come to terms with it. Desire is a shadow that follows you step by step, crawls into your bed as you lie with your husband, makes you close your eyes as you peak and in the darkness that shadow is finally flesh, pulsing and weighing on you, but it is not.

It shouldn’t and it will never.

The lightning tells you can no longer hide, there is no way to stall now, no way to trick the King about the allegiance of your family. It is easy to fool a fool, more so when he’s willing to make himself one in front of a woman. But the King is burned. His cries of pain can be heard outside Maegor’s Holdfast, until the Maesters are merciful enough to give him milk of the poppy.

The throne is empty, the Kingdom has no ruler. But the Gods are snickering with thrill and dread.

Not for long.

“My lady, there’s a storm coming.”

You turn and see your maid clutching a cloak to her chest to shelter from the wind. "Please, you should go back inside.”

You nod tiredly, walking on the thick grass, dragging yourself back within these walls in which days seem to pass following two different times.

There’s the real, urgent one, a military up and down of whispers and promises, pawns moving and ravens coming and going, breaking or forging alliances as easy and quick as their wings flapping. And then there’s your time, dilated, obscenely slow, like molasses. It sticks to your fingers, prevents you from picking up ink and parchment and write, cheat, whisper what you have easily spilled from the worn out lungs of your husband.

“Men sing like parrots in their final throes, remember that. They’d tell you anything when they think with their cock.”

Samantha had been right. But your sister is playing her game in Oldtown and Old Town is not the Red Keep. There are no eyes on the walls there, or ears behind the portraits. There’s no shadow trailing on her path, clouding her mind enough to look away from the game. A game of life and death, your father reminded you in his last letter, the scolding clear in the way the feather had pierced the parchment in some points. The answer was nowhere but in your head, and you were too ashamed to even confess it to a Septa, let alone put it on paper. There’s a snake crawling in your garden of lies and instead of chasing it away, you’re nursing it in your bosom.

You slow your steps upon glimpsing your husband. He’s striding towards you along the corridor. There’s a slight furrow between his brows, one that you have been able to recognize on the faces of many within this fortress. But it's more severe now, or maybe it's just that shadow that makes you see a new man, a stranger.

Has his hair always been that dull and mousy? Has his posture always been so unassuming?

They have since that night in the library, the sin whispers.

“Husband.”

“I’ve been looking for you. We have been summoned to the throne room.”

“Is something the matter? Is the King—"

"The King lives. But the Maesters believe it is best to confine him to bed. Come, Prince Aemond is waiting for us." he grabs your arm and you walk with him, glad that he can’t see the shadow falling on your face at the mention of the King’s brother.

The throne room is so dark that servants are hurrying themselves to light more candles. Every now and then a new lightning flashes from the large windows, making the Iron Throne an eerie sight at the center of the Hall.

There are a few Lords of the court with their ladies, and they seem just as lost as you as they see you and your husband halting before the ancient seat.

Whereas not more than a moon ago, Lords and Ladies would have had to wait hours to be received by Aegon, the new ruler is not long in coming.

The huge doors open and Aemond Targaryen stalks the room carrying the same storm breaking outside. He makes a striking figure, ominous; the lighting pours on his long silver hair making them look like moon rays.

A dreamy picture, were it not for the conqueror's crown on his head and the sapphire in plain sight.

It is the first time you see him without the eyepatch, the first time anyone has seen him without it. They said he wore it so as not to frighten the ladies, but the one-eyed Prince is done hiding. And if fear is all he can muster, so be it. It serves him well for what will come.

He halts before the Iron Throne and takes a good look at the little gathering. You can’t help but trail your eyes on his lean and tall figure, wearing a dark green doublet made of velvet. But it’s the sapphire that catches your eye, and the long scar marring his marbled face.

You remember that one. You remember it shamefully clear while disappearing along with his head beneath your gown.

“My lords” he starts lacing his hands behind his back “As you may know, my brother is in no condition to rule. Thus, according to the law, in case of physical or mental incapacity of the sovereign, the younger brother must bear the weight of the crown.”

There is a shy, almost uneasy passing of glances between those present, but Aemond ignores them altogether. “I will not style myself as King. You will address me as Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm."

Silence falls upon the huge Hall until a loud thunder seem to awaken one of the lords who hurriedly bends his knee before the Prince. "My Prince, I renew my absolute loyalty to you and your—“

"Get up, my Lord, I did not summon you to hear you pledge your loyalty.” He says in a bored tone, darting his eye at the man “Rest assured, if I had any doubt about it, Vhagar would be feasting on your corpse as we speak.”

Silence falls once more and Aemond revels in it. He can smell fear, just like the creature he rides. “But you did raise an interesting subject.” he tilts his head and looks at Lord Peake, your husband, with a benevolent expression stretching on his face. “Lord Peake, if I asked you to pledge your loyalty to me and my family, would you do it?”

You dare not to raise your head, keeping your eyes glued to the ground, but you can sense your husband’s uneasiness, the sound close to one being insulted as he addresses the Prince. “Prince Aemond, my loyalty to your Grandsire and the Dowager Queen has never wavered and it never shall.”

The Prince nods slowly, seemingly pleased by the answer, and keeps his gaze down for a few moments before casting a sharp glance at you. You can’t see it but you can feel it.

“That is very noble of you, Lord Peake. But I can’t help but wonder, is your lady wife of the same mind as you?”

Lord Peake looks puzzled, shifting the weight on his feet “My Prince, my wife is—”

“No.” Aemond cuts him off, darting a single look at the Lord before returning on you “Let her speak.”

With a deep breath, you look up, shrinking under his violet eye and the sapphire ominously glinting of his own light. “My prince, I am saddened that your Grace would think I’m nothing but loyal to your brother, the one and only heir to the Seven Kingdoms. Every day, I pray the Gods to heal him from his burns and give him strength to—”

“Hush.” He says, raising a hand to stop you. “That’s enough.”

You shut your mouth nervously, tensing all the more as he looks at you, unblinking, for a long moment before his lips stretch into a slow, cunning smirk.

“You know, I spoke to your distant cousin once, Lord…something Tyrell. He said something very interesting to me.”

You keep a blank face even when dread starts to run down your spine. Despite the distant kinship, there’s always been bad blood between Tarlys and Tyrells. 

“He said to be very careful with Tarly women. Pretty vapid things, he said, hiding a viper’s bite.”

“I am neither my prince.” you state calmly “I’m just a woman like any other, serving my husband, my house, my King.”

“Hmm.” He ponders, the smile lingering still. Then, he picks something form his pocket and asks “What is this then?”

Despite the darkness, you could recognize that seal with eyes closed. And that seal, now, in this room, clutched by Prince Aemond’s fingers, is a death sentence.

“This is not the seal of House Peake.” he rightly says.

You look down, mustering your courage, and say “No, your Grace. That is just a silly token of love between two sisters. I use it to send ravens to my sister in Oldtown.”

“I see. And why do you hide it?”

“I do not, your Grace.”

“Lying to the King may cost your head, my Lady. You’d do well to remember that.”

“Wife…” your husband takes your arm, searches your face with an anxious stare “What is going on?”

“The White cloaks found it.” The Prince informs him “when I made them search your rooms.” He looks back at you and raises an eyebrow “For a token you’re supposed to be so fond of, I may suggest placing it somewhere else than the bottom of an old trunk.”

“Am I on trial for sending letters to my sister?”

“Yes. Considering the circumstances under which these ravens were sent. Ladies give letters to their maids, they do not go personally to the rookery, more so in the hour of the bat.”

Courage leaves you like a gust of wind. You thought you had been clever, careful. Why would anyone take notice of a court lady simply taking a walk in the early hours? And even if they had, they would have dismissed the thought at the first distraction. But not him.

“You think I would not notice? I may be half blind but I can assure you, my lady, I see everything.”  He throws the seal on the ground and resumes his soldier-like posture, standing tall and domineering with his arms laced back. “What did you tell your sister? Knowledge about our war plans? Are you secretly siding with the Blacks? I’d advise you to choose your words carefully. From them depends whether you’ll see the next dawn or not.”

Your shoulders slump a little, like a doomed creature sticking its head in the noose.

“My father asked me to spy on my husband to gather knowledge about the green army at Rook’s Rest. But I did not send any raven. I stopped since—"

“Since what? Do continue, my lady, I think your Lord husband is keen to know why his wife stopped playing him like a fool.” He leans his head forward, like someone desperately willing to hear a big secret, but your tongue is a dead thing in your mouth.

“No?” he inquires as silence stretches “Fine, I’ll tell you. You see, Lord Peake, recently your Lady wife seemed to have developed a sudden interest in the library.” the prince says with a little grin “I’m aware of this because I am myself an avid reader. In fact, your lady wife and I have been keeping each other company lately. A rather…intimate company.”

Some of the ladies start to whisper at your back, and you know what kind of words they’re labeling you.

“Wife.” Your husband calls, and this time his voice is steel “What is the meaning of this?”

You open and close your mouth, unsure whether it is worse to tell your husband how you’ve played him or to confess your sin.

“Come, don't deny it now.” the Prince goads you “All the hours you've spent, all those late nights did bear fruit, did they not? You've betrayed your house and the Crown, yet what sweetness it was to have gotten a taste, I'm sure your husband would agree.”

Lord Peaks looks utterly bewildered, shifting his gaze between you and the Prince like a dead fish.

“Oh, so he hasn't after all.” Aemond laughs “A pity, for your treacherous essence reeks of the most bittersweet nectar. Tart, but delicious.”

Your husband’s face is whiter than a sheet for a moment, followed by a red veil of anger and shame. The latter is in plain sight in the way you keep your head down; the Gods have stopped pointing their finger at you and left you in the claws of a much crueler creature. Namely, your own desire.

 “Search her.” Aemond orders returning to a stern face “And search her thoroughly.”

“My prince?” asks one of the guards.

“Women can be sneaky with all those veils and layers. Lose the corset.”

The cloaks look at him puzzled, just as you and your husband and anyone else in the room, but the guards know better than to disobey the King. 

One of them goes to stand behind you and starts pulling the laces of your dress, another is busying himself with lowering your sleeves.

Your eyes bore to the ground with the purest humiliation as your chest gradually grows exposed. You could raise your hands to hide your breast, but you have nothing to hide, not anymore.

You know it and Aemond knows too. He’s not doing this because he thinks you’re hiding something. He’s doing so for his own pleasure—to see you bare, to finally make you come out of your den and stop hiding from him. 

You dare not look at him but you can feel his eye lingering on you, on your body; you can sense the ghost of a delighted smirk on that wicked mouth. 

He takes an unreasonably long time before he gives a short nod to the guards, at last satisfied with your public humiliation. What drives your husband to move is not regard for you, but for his own dignity. What are women if not property of men? And however ruined you are now, Lord Peake will not have talk of his wife standing with her breasts out in the Throne Room.

But just as he leans down to you, the Prince speaks “You may go, Lord Peake. All of you.”

The Lord stalls, looking lost at his Prince.

“You can wait outside. She stays.” Aemond commands.

His eye is boring into you as he walks down the few steps with leisure, lingering on the sole of his boot before resting it on the ground. “She needs to learn the price of her disobedience.”

Your husband hesitates, looks at you with lingering disdain and a veil of fear that keeps his eyes wide open, but he can only bow his head.

When you’re left alone the Prince, save for the guards on the four sides of the hall, you dare to look up and see his eye blazing, a cunning edge to it.

He starts circling around you, and what’s left of your dignity makes your hands fly up to cover your chest.

“You said you stopped writing to your sister. And you stopped coming to the library.” he starts with a collected and calm voice. “Why?”

“You know why.” you mutter.

“You better drop this condescending tone if you want to leave this room with your head on your shoulders.”

“Apologies, my Prince. I did not mean to offend you. But I dim you wise enough to understand why I thought it was best to keep my distance from you.”

He stops his circling for a moment “Enlighten me.” and then he’s pacing again.

You swallow, smelling ashes and smoke on his trail. “It was a sin.”

“Hmm. Which one?” He asks somewhere behind you. Out the corner of your eye, you see him slightly leaning towards you, silver rolling past his shoulder as he cocks his head to one side “Your betrayal or the fact that you let me feast on your cunt like a common whore?”

You swallow again. Shame is still coiling in your belly, but there’s also something else on hearing those words coming from his mouth, recalling that night. This man has just humiliated you in front of the court and yet you crave for him to get closer.

“Both.”

“Both?”

“I did not want to.” You say and it’s true. And this, this is the last chance you might have to avoid the pike, or worse, Vhagar’s fangs. “My father forced me.” You say turning your head left and right as he resumes his pacing behind you “I don’t know which kind of deal he has struck with Prince Daemon but I swear it, my Prince, I said nothing about Rook’s Rest, I—“

The word dies on your tongue along with your breath as you feel the coldness of a sharp blade against your throat.

“I should slit your throat here and now.” He whispers dangerously, you can hear his teeth gritting. His arm is pressing on your chest, keeping you locked against him. “What else Lord Tarly ordered you in all his great wisdom? Mh? To seduce me? To play me like a fool, like you played my brother and your husband to gather knowledge about our armies and report it to my uncle and his whore?”

“No, I—" you try to say, but he presses the blade firmer and you choke a gasp, unconsciously grabbing his arm.

“You will speak when I say so.” He seethes, pulling your arm back with his other hand, painfully twisting your bone until a moan of pain escapes your mouth.

It awakens something inside him, something savage that makes him collide his body against yours “Hmm.” He coos darkly in your ear “This brings me back to that night.”

He swiftly twirls the dagger, sheathing the Valyrian steel, but his hand is quick to resume his caging, sliding on your half-covered breast, looking down your shoulders at your bare chest.

His fingers are cold as they slowly travel up, but they lick flames on your skin, making your nipples harden. “Do you remember, little snake? I do.” he runs the tip of his finger on the hard sensitive skin and you whimper softly “It was hard to forget the sounds you made.” He speaks to your neck, his breath scorching “I could hear them when I fucked my hand at night. You made me sin so many times. Was that part of the plan too? Did your father force you to moan my name while you peaked on my tongue?”

“Please…” you sob quietly, feeling fire nestling in your belly at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his bulge against your lower back.

“Do you moan like that when your husband fucks you? Mh?”

He wants an answer, and he pinches one of your nipples when you don’t please him.

“No…”

“No? I thought so.”

Your body reacts on his own, clenching for how his voice in your ear pools like liquid fire below your stomach. You can see his delighted smirk out of the corner of your eye. “You better speak now, little one. Not even the Gods can save you from the spike. Why would they? They turn their backs on traitors and sinners. And you dared to sin with a Kinslayer. You have only me to beg for mercy.”

“You don’t want to kill me.” You choke when his hand laces around your throat.

He would’ve done it already. He might still do it, but his pressing hardness on your back tells you otherwise.

“No. I have a better use for you.” he says squeezing your neck “I will make an example out of your treacherous mouth. They will look at you and be reminded of the mercy of my crown.”

He steps back and you have little time to catch your breath as he sits on the Iron Throne with the confidence of a God on his perch. The candles mix with lightnings, making the blue of the sapphire and the obsidian of the crown shimmer in a disturbing way.

He rests his arms along the forged swords, his long legs almost sprawled out on the ground. “Come and pledge your loyalty, my lady.”

Your heart hammers in your throat as you swallow. This is a game of life or death, but not now. Your two times have merged into a perpetual dizziness and you’re sinking into the claws of your desire like quicksand.

“No.” he admonishes with a voice like honey when you dare a step closer “On your knees. Like the sinner you are.”

You sink to the ground and his eye goes down with you, smirking with something savage flashing on his face. “Go ahead.” He says spreading his legs around you. “Take your blessing.”

You raise your hands slowly, close to his belt but when you start unbuckling it you find there’s no tremor in your fingers. And he’s too quick to notice. “You wanted this, do you?” he asks “Did you close your eyes and pretend to suck my cock instead of your husband’s?”

The buckles clink together as you finish the unbuckling but he suddenly leans over you, gripping your cheeks with a hold of iron.

“Answer me.”

“Yes.” You quickly, shamefully say.

The left edge of his mouth pulls up tiredly, omnisciently. “How? Like this?” In a blink his long fingers breach your mouth, hitting the back of your throat until you choke on them. He pulls them back just slightly, grazing your tongue, and he looks at you with a lustful blaze in his eye.

“Suck.” he orders, and you oblige, keeping your eyes on him as your mouth close around his two fingers, sucking gently and twirling your tongue around the skin.

“Hmm.” He croons with pleasure, leaving your mouth abruptly to lean back against the throne, sliding a little on the ancient seat to push his crotch before you. He makes haste of pulling his cock out, giving it a few tugs while he keeps looking at you, at the longing darkening your eyes and wetting your gowns.

You take hold of his hard hot length, all veiny and leaking from the tip and it’s only natural for you to close your lips around it. You have obscenely dreamed of this.

He lets out a loud gasp, gripping the throne with his hands as your head goes down, taking him all in. It hits the back of your throat with a lewd choking sound; you breathe through your nose, resuming your holy punishment once you have adjusted to length and girth, sucking hard and fast.

"Greedy little thing.” He praises with his eye growing heavy with pleasure “Easy. Easy, now.” he goads you to slow down, and you do, looking up to see him watching you closely, his lips parted, his breath slow and puffed.

“Fuck—” he curses, titling his head back but keeping his eye fixed on you. “See? This is the only good use for your cheating mouth. And you look so pretty.”

The ache between your legs is unbearable, you’re swollen and wet, you can feel your undergown dampening.

“Are you soaked for me, hmm? I bet you’re dripping all over the Conqueror’s swords.”

You have no way to answer as you keep bobbing your head up and down, a sinner worshipping her own sin.

“Open your mouth—wide” he orders and you do, drooling all over him as he starts to thrust harshly in your mouth.

“Yes. Like this, yes—fuck” He pumps in and out, bucking his hips, hitting your throat on and on while he moans helplessly and loudly, as only a King on his throne can.

“Hollow your cheeks.” And when you do it, something snaps inside him. He grabs your hair, pulling at the roots painfully while he keeps fucking your mouth frantically, choking your breath. But you don’t mind. This could be your last day, your last hour breathing. The snake is sucking at your bones and you welcome the poison.

“Enough.” he croaks when he was starting to breathe too fast, too close to the end. “Get up.”

Your knees ache as you pull yourself up but he’s so quick in lifting up your skirts and grabbing your waist to make you turn and sit on his lap, facing the Throne Room. The Guards are exactly where they’re supposed to be, blind and deaf to what they can perfectly see and hear.

“Let me give you my blessing, now.” Aemond says spreading your legs on the throne, making you wince as you feel his hot fingertips on your wet aching folds. “You’re soaked.” he states proudly, smiling with victory next to your ear.

He draws lazy circles on your bundle, sliding down your dripping lips, slowly, too slowly. You buck your hips against his hand and his chuckle travels up and down inside you, rattling your bones like thunder.

“Please…” you cry when his fingers brush your swollen lips once more.

“I should summon back your husband. So he’d see how his pretty wife begs to be fucked by her Prince like a whore. Shall I?”

You grab his hand, pressing it to your core and he dips a finger inside, spilling a loud moan from you that makes him bite your ear as he feels your hot walls clenching around him.

“Fine. We shall let him hear it.”

He brings his soaked fingers to your mouth, sticking them inside to make you taste yourself, and then he takes your wrist, trapping it on your stomach with his hand. He easily slides his cock inside you, moaning along with you into the haunting silence of the hall. His thrusts are deep and quick, desire has consumed him too, for too long. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh are only barely muffled by your frantic gasps. Your eyes are closed in a painful bliss, his hot labored breath dampens your neck as he fills you to the hilt.

Your throat is sore with lack of air as you turn your head and he slams his mouth against yours, filling your mouth with his scorching tongue, biting your lip and sucking until it’s swollen. All of this while relentlessly rutting into you, giving you violent bursts of pleasure that make your moans high-pitched and loud, so loud that everyone outside these walls can hear them. Your husband will hear them, the guards are definitely doing so.

“Fucking Gods, you feel so good” He pants in your mouth “You really wanted this. Your cunt is squeezing my cock like a vice. That husband of yours never fucked you this good, did he?”

“Gods—” you whine, squeezing your eyes shut but he grabs your chin with his free hand, forcing you to turn your head. “The Gods cannot hear you now. They’re deaf to the pleas of sinners.” with his free hand he clutches your bundle and he starts to torture you, drawing fast circles, while his length keeps rutting harshly. “Lucky for you I’m more merciful than the Gods.”

The tension in your belly is unbearable, it makes you cry obscenely and the sound only pushes him to go harder, faster.

“Please—I—I can’t—Gods—”

“You can’t what? Mh?” he nothing but growls, thrusting once more and then again. “This is your retribution.” He says baring his teeth “You failed your family for this. You lied and cheated. Now fucking—take—it” his last words punctuated with three deeper thrusts that make you whimper and roll your eyes back.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your peak, letting out a long moan matched with sloppy shakes of your body against his. But he doesn’t stop, chasing his own pleasure as you whimper and sob with overstimulation. His hand keeps moving on your apex, all sticky with your pleasure and you grip his arm, trying to stop him. “Please—I can’t take it anymore—please my Prince—"

“You can and you will.” He promises “Give me one more. Come on, little traitor, just one more.”  

You’re not late in granting his wish, trembling all over him and curling your toes with spasms in your muscles.

He groans loudly beneath you, teeth clamping down your shoulder and he stills completely, coming inside you with a choked sound of relief vibrating from his throat.

You whimper softly, feeling him pulsing inside you, but he grabs your waist and forces you to stand up. You waver on your weak feet, his hand is around your arm but only to firmly push you away from him. Falling on the ground, you look up to see him fixing his breeches, hair all disheveled and a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Guards.” He says hoarsely, catching his breath, and two white cloaks stand at attention, their faces blank, pretending to be oblivious to what they have just witnessed. “Take her to my chambers and have the maid give her moon tea.”

Then he looks down at you, his face is wild and yet viciously focused. “We’re going to find a way to send your husband back to Starpike.” He says grazing your lips with his long fingers. “You’re not leaving my chambers anytime soon. In the time being,” his hand grips your mouth harshly, his voice eerily calm “You will write to Oldtown in your own hand, and ask my uncle to send me the head of Samantha Tarly.”

You widen your eyes with terror and he smiles, sweet and poisonous. “And remember, little snake. If I find you near the rookery at odd hours again, I will cut your throat in your sleep. Such a waste it would be. I’d rather have you choking on my cock than your own blood.”

He leaves without another word and you’re left on the ground. You can’t beg mercy to the Gods now, you will have to beg for his and his alone.

thank you so much for reading!! 💕

[aquaquadrant]

Why do I feel like Etho and Patho would actually really get along well. Like there'd be a minute of "oh shit" then they'd be making some weird machine together.

Also any chance you would be willing to share the story about Patho's clock and maybe info on Hels Bdubs?

(honestly? true. patho isn’t bothered enough w the concept of being a doppelgänger so he’d be chill w etho if etho was chill with him. and etho’s like. always chill. anyway idk if this’ll answer ur questions but here’s uhhhh something)

~*~

patho pauses at the top of the netherrack hill, boots hissing briefly as he shifts off a magma block.

xyz: -12,485.167 / 67.09835 / 253,295.942

the coordinates ever-present within his field of view tell him he should be another hundred or so blocks away in the z axis, but he can already see the jungle’s grown since his last visit. it’s been slowly overtaking the neighboring nether waste biome for a couple decades, now. rate of growth has held constant, unchanging. that's something, at least.

patho slowly scans the horizon. words and numbers flash across the left half of his vision as his cybernetic eye rapidly processes new information based on visual input: netherrack, netherrack, crimson nylium, grass, jungle wood, jungle wood, jungle leaves, weeping vine. light level 3, 3, 3, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4. there's a lava pool eleven blocks over in the x axis; light level 15.

he starts walking again.

153 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 23/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 18 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,487.331 / 65.21091 / 253,375.987 block: -12,487 65 253,375 chunk: -780 15 7,835 facing: south (towards positive z)(1.5/5) client light: 5 (0 sky, 5 block) biome: error:nether waste local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 5/247 + 0/8

the data shifts with every step. he's learned to tune most of it out by now, only paying attention to the biome indicator as he crosses the chunk threshold.

biome: error:crimson jungle

particles and sounds immediately jump up a couple degrees. glowing red specks dance slowly in the air, mingling with the ambient noises; hoglins rooting around in the brush, parrots calling unseen from the canopy above, lava bubbling in a pool nearby.

p: 35 sounds: 23/247

the temperature is warmer here. patho shrugs off his jacket, letting it hang at his elbows as he picks his way through the jungle. he doesn't even need to think about where he's going, coordinates left ignored at the edge of his vision. he's taken this path many times before, and he never has to wander very long.

his boots crunch softly on the nylium and grass terrain. jungle leaves and crimson fungus alike brush at his shoulders as he ducks underneath branches, taking care not to get tangled in weeping vines.

this is his favorite jungle. it's not the only crimson jungle he's ever come across- not to mention the warped jungles- but out of all the biomes he's seen, it's the one with the greenest leaves. something about this jungle sustains the normal trees just as well as it does the fungi, allowing the grass and leaves to stay bright and full instead growing in wilted and brown. it makes a lovely contrast with the blood red fungi.

not for the first time, he's thankful that the jungle is far enough away from spawn to be left alone. if other players knew about this place, with its well-sustained passive mob spawning and greenery, they'd destroy it for resources for sure. but he never worries too much about that possibility, because no mob or player sets foot in this jungle without permission from-

a weeping vine suddenly sprouts from the ground and lashes around patho's leg.

it's quickly joined by several more, snaking out from the undergrowth to wrap around his other limbs. before he can blink, he's lifted off the ground and pulled up into the trees. he doesn't struggle, doesn't panic- this is nothing new to him. the vines string him up among the highest branches, where a familiar figure is crouched in front of him, nothing but a pair of glowing red eyes beneath a heap of moss.

<player>dat -7063fdce-39ac-4a12-d836-a990c45b2bb0

"hey, dbubs," patho says casually.

the figure straightens up, hood falling back to reveal his face. his huge red eyes are sparkling with excitement, despite the dark circles lining them, and his mouth falls open in a wide, sharp-toothed grin. vines of varying shapes and sizes curl lazily around his body, small tendrils sprouting from the mossy cloak he wears. a couple veins of red discolor his skin, crawling up his neck and across his face. his messy hair is a bit whiter than the last time patho saw him, tinged red at the roots. a clock hangs around his neck, to match the one hanging from patho's hip.

"patho!" dbubs practically shouts, throwing his arms out.

sounds: 24/247

before dbubs can say anything else, patho asks his usual question. “what’s your name?”

“what’s my-” dbubs blinks, works his jaw for a second. “GODSLAYER666,” he proclaims loudly, puffing his chest out. then he pauses, frowns. “wait, no, i- i don’t know why i just said that. uh…”

it’s somewhere in the middle, then. not as bad as his worst days- at least he’s aware he’s lying, even if he has no control over it. and patho has to admit, that's one of the most entertaining responses dbubs has ever given to his little test.

"uh huh." patho shifts in the web of vines. they're holding a bit tighter than normal. of course, he could still easily break out of them. if he wanted to. "did you miss me, dbubs?" he asks instead, his voice teasing.

dbubs throws his head back to let out a sharp laugh, sending a shower of red particles fluttering through the air. "what?" he demands incredulously, his eyes blown wide. "miss you? i d- eugh, n'you stupid- i- i didn't even notice you were gone!"

patho hums with amusement. "then you don't wanna, like, kiss me or anything?"

"no," dbubs insists stubbornly, even as he comes closer. he steps boldly into patho's space, hands coming up to grab his face. "no, no of course not, i don't..." his long eyelashes flutter as he looks patho up and down. he smells like moss; like old vegetation and decay. there's soil and dried blood caked under his fingernails. "why would i- you ha- you have a lotta nerve..." dbubs tugs at the left strap of patho's mask, tilting his head. "do i- uh, do i get to see ya?" he asks, expression suddenly eager.

"yeah," patho chuckles.

dbubs grins widely, pulling patho's mask down. for a moment, he just looks at him. his calloused hand scuffs along the metal parts of patho's face- the entire ramus of his left mandible and most of his cheekbone, lost in the explosion that took his eye. the remaining skin is rough with scar tissue. dbubs strokes his thumb along that, too.

"i lo- um, i- i hate your stupid face," dbubs mumbles before he finally kisses patho. he seems to process his words a second later, breaking away with a small gasp of "oh! i d-", but patho simply leans in again, reclaiming his lips.

he knows what dbubs meant.

~*~

dbubs spares patho the trouble of walking, simply having the vines carry him to the hideaway. it's a difficult base to categorize: part tree house, part nest, part garden. in some places the floor is made of wood- in others, just a thick layer of leaves. there are potted plants and hanging vines everywhere, interspersed among stacks of barrels and moldy bookcases. little red mushrooms sprout from walls made of thatch and tree trunks. a couple of shroomlights provide gentle lighting as glittery particles drift through the open air; red, from the biome itself, and green from the spore blossom that patho brought him last year.

the vines unceremoniously drop patho onto the makeshift bed- a mat of moss and old, shredded banners. he's barely gotten settled, pulling his mask up and pulling his jacket off, before dbubs flops onto him with a heavy wuff.

"so!" dbubs starts loudly, propping his elbows up on patho's stomach. "what brings ya to see ol' dbubs today, huh?"

patho huffs a laugh. "what, i can't just stop by to say hi?"

"oh sure, okay." dbubs rolls his eyes, one of his vines flicking through the air dismissively. "you j- yeah, okay, be all secretive, then! see if i care." his haughty demeanor doesn't last long, though, as he shimmies up a little further, arms folded on patho's chest. "d'you- uh, do you wanna hear what i've been doin'?"

patho sighs good-naturedly, shifting so he can tuck his arms behind his head and lean back against the wall. "alright, go ahead."

dbubs beams at him and immediately starts telling lies. he tells patho about all the amazing things he's built (the jungle looks the same), all the incredible battles he's fought (no one's entered the jungle in years), all the wonderful places he's gone (he can't leave the jungle).

but patho doesn't mind that it's all lies. he's content to listen anyways.

they carry on like this until dbubs suddenly pauses, scrambling for his clock. "uh oh! gotta schreep."

patho glances at his own clock; dbubs is right on time, as always. that's one thing he never lies about. "okay, okay," he says, pushing dbubs off- he hits the moss with a soft thump. "lemme get my anchor."

"well, hurry up already!" dbubs shouts impatiently, vines swatting at patho's arm as he pops down his ender chest.

after placing the anchor and setting his spawn, patho reaches up and presses his finger directly into the center of his left eye, shutting it off.

he doesn’t regret putting a data processor into his cybernetic eye; the information it’s given him is invaluable. but every now and then, he needs a break from it. even when his eyes are closed, the display is still active, showing blank values on the back of his eyelid. turning the eye off is the only way to make it go away- of course, at the price of half his vision. so he only does it if he’s sleeping somewhere fully secure, and if he’s alone.

the jungle is an exception. dbubs has full domain out here- no mob or player can come close to his home without him allowing it.

"finally," dbubs huffs as patho settles back down. he's quick to cling with both his arms and assorted vines.

patho can't help but chuckle. "what's that you said about not missing me?"

"oh, shut up!"

~*~

patho abruptly reenters consciousness, emerging from a deep, dreamless sleep. with a soft groan, he fumbles to turn on his cybernetic eye, wincing at the sudden influx of data.

149 fps t: inf fancy-clouds b: 15x15 3 tx 3 rx c: 695/41672 (s) d: 16, pc: 000, pu: 00, ab: 42 e: 1/109, b: 0, sd: 9 p: 52 t: 109 error fc:0 xyz: -12,587.412 / 96.77253 / 253,401.623 block: -12,587 96 253,401 chunk: -783 15 7,845 facing: north (towards negative z)(1.5/5) client light: 7 (0 sky, 7 block) biome: error:crimson jungle local difficulty: 6.75//0.00 (day error404 not found) sounds: 27/247 + 0/8

"goooood morning!" dbubs calls, over on the other side of the little nook. he's busy rummaging through barrels, perhaps trying to find some breakfast. it’s unlikely he has any food stored; when he’s hungry, he hunts, and the jungle always provides.

"mornin'," patho says, rubbing his face. he sits up- and then pauses. there are weeping vines wrapped tightly around his legs. he sighs. “dbubs, you’re doing it again.”

“what?" dbubs manages to sound surprised. "no! no, i’m not, i’m- i’m just over here, minding my own business, crafting a loom.”

“a loom,” patho repeats flatly.

“yes! for um, for banners.”

“do you even have any wool?”

“do i ha- uh, of course! yes, of course i do.”

“can i see it?”

“no. no, i- i just ate it, actually. um-”

“you ate it?”

“yeah. sorry.”

patho sighs again. he kicks the weeping vines away. "i uh, i didn't mean to be gone for so long," he says, rising to his feet. "but, you know, i- i got held up with a job."

"a job?" dbubs glances over his shoulder at patho, squinting. "what kinda job?"

patho stretches his arms above his head, hearing both his natural and mechanical shoulder joints pop. "some guys out west are tryin' to make a portal out of hels."

"a portal?" dbubs's mouth falls open. "oh, for goodness sakes- and you call me a liar!"

patho knows better than to take offense. "it's true. they've got a player who came here from another world."

"uh huh." dbubs scoffs, but he can't quite hide the anxious shimmer in his eyes. "yeah, yeah, sure... so- i mean, did you do it, then? make them a portal?"

"basically." patho shrugs. "i uh, i told them everything they needed to know, to make one."

"right. you told th- okay." dbubs nods, bites his lip. "um- you didn't stay? to see the portal? or, uh…”

patho chuckles, crossing the distance to put his arms around dbubs's waist. "nah. i mean, come on, you know me, dbubs. i'm a- i'm a hels player, through and through. what's the rest of the universe got that's better than this place, right?"

dbubs grins at that, slotting his arms through patho's. "oh, you- you're such an idiot! y'know, i uh, i've been outside'a hels before and i- um, let me tell ya, you're missing out!"

"mhmm." patho smiles even though his mask is on. he knows dbubs can tell.

"yeah! "dbubs nods vigorously. "and, uh, there's- i got a whole world that's just mine!"

"is that right?" patho rests his chin on the top of dbubs's head. "tell me about it."

"it's a beautiful world, of course. my perfect builds, i ha-"

"of course."

"- uh, hey! quit interruptin'!"

"sorry, sorry."

"i di- thank you. so i um, i built a big ol' crastle, with a- hyeugh, a sorta um, horse course... y'know, with th- with the fastest horses anyone ever saw, one-stick horses, and- and uh, everyone was really impressed…”

this won’t last forever. it’ll only be a matter of weeks, months if they’re lucky, before patho won’t be able to ignore the itch to wander again. before the comfort and familiarity of the jungle becomes unbearable. before dbubs grows so used to his presence that the jungle itself tries to overtake him, the way it has dbubs- vines and veins of red.

he’ll leave without warning in the middle of the night, while dbubs is sleeping, because trying to leave while dbubs is awake never ends well. he’ll leave without a word and try not to think about the frantic whispers he knows dbubs sends him on lonely nights, despite knowing patho will never receive them (it’s the only time he regrets fusing his communicator with his arm- but how was he supposed to know he’d hear it in his mind? how was he supposed to know that disabling the chat was the only way not to lose himself completely to the endless flood of data?)

he’ll stay away long enough for dbubs to shatter apart, losing himself to the wildness of the jungle, and come back together. he’ll wait until dbubs has recovered from his grief, so that the next time dbubs sees him there will only be joy. because no matter how many times patho hurts him, dbubs always forgets it eventually.

“… so, you see, ol’ dbubs been workin' on a new technique, using the uh. grade- uh, gradient? block palettes... to create depth. ah hah! so- so listen, now, to teacher! it all starts with the color scheme..."

this won’t last forever. so for now, patho closes his eyes and listens.

error fps t: b: tx rx c: (s) d: , pc: , pu: , ab: e: , b: , sd: p: t: error fc: xyz: / / block: chunk: facing: ( )( / ) client light: ( sky, block) biome: error: local difficulty: // (day error404 not found) sounds: 1/247 + 0/8

~*~

[mindblowingscience]

Kākāpō are avid walkers, wandering on strong legs for miles at a time and hiking up mountains to find mates. They’re keen climbers too, clambering up New Zealand’s 65-foot-high rimu trees on large claws to forage for red berries on the tips of the conifer’s branches. But there’s one thing that the world’s heaviest parrot species can’t do: fly. With their bulky frames—males weigh up to nine pounds—and waddling gait, they have little chance of outrunning predators like stoats and feral cats. When threatened, the nocturnal parrots freeze, relying on their moss-green feathers to act as camouflage.

Continue Reading.

[huskynotwolf]

When I first met a Watcher — Scar

From my Fanfic Watchers and Hunters on Quotev

The world is weird. 

Like, for example, the day me and Martyn found a Watcher. 

We were, as usual, patrolling around to see if there is anything wrong. Martyn was complaining about it being boring, but Xisuma told him he had to otherwise, so he couldn’t argue with that. Impulse said he had other jobs, so he didn’t join us.

I mumbled as I went down to weaponry to get myself crossbows because I thought it would come in handy. I found Scott enchanting shields and tridents in a corner, with Cleo next to him, holding an axe. “Hey come on, don’t stare,” Martyn mumbled, grabbed a bow and a stack of arrows and started up the stairs. Cleo gave me a brief wave before walking away to another chest. 

We were walking through the forest, with Martyn murdering any chicken we came about. “Look, I don’t know the point of hunting Watchers. They’re not really messing with us, right?” He grumbled. I elbowed him hard in the ribs and grunted. “You never know when they attack. They hit hard.” I touched the long scars on my face. It was from a hawkling Watcher a bit back ago, when I got attacked by it and then my buddies had to save me. I kept my distance ever since, but I won’t hesitate to kill if I got attacked. 

There was a rustle of leaves up front, and Martin stopped torturing a nearby rabbit. “What’s that?” He perked up, walking closer to me. I pulled out my crossbow, just in case, when a swishing sound followed by the hiss of a creeper came behind up. I jumped and tried to pull Martyn away, when a multicolour blur shot past me, slammed into the creeper and knocked it into a tree. It screeched, then vanished in a puff of smoke. 

“Whew! That was close. Careful next time, travellers. Creepers are nasty in my forest.” He said, waving a hand and sweeping leaves off his red shirt. He had brown beady eyes and a pair of jeans, but sprouting behind him was a pair of giant, red-yellow-green parrot wings sprouting behind him. He had bird talons instead of legs as well. 

There is a Watcher right in front of us. 

“Ahhh!” Martyn screamed and lashed out his sword. The Watcher yelped and leapt up a tree, claws scraping against the branch. “Woah woah woah woah woah… I save your lives and now you wanna kill me? Wow, should’ve just left you there.” The Watcher mumbled. Martyn held his sword high. “Gimme a reason not to kill you right now.” He growled, poison seeping in every word. “Eh, I know you won’t. Anyway, be grateful. Now get out of my forest.” He flicked his hand in a ‘shoo’ motion. 

I raised my voice. “Wait, Martin, stop.” I pushed his sword downwards. “Sorry. You have a name?” I turned towards the mystery guy that apparently owns this forest. “What’s yours?” He replied, playing with a stick. “Scar. That’s Martyn. We’re Hunters.” I said, trying to keep my excitement. I’ve never managed to talk to a Watcher for more than thirty seconds! Most of the time they’re trying to kill me!

”Grian,” he mused. “I’d better be off. Just in case someone tries to find my base and steal all of my stuff.” He flapped his wings. Martyn stared at his wings in awe as he stretched them. “Bye!” Grian laughed and launched off the branch, sending leaves and sticks showering down onto the floor. 

“Well, should we tell Xisuma?” Martyn asked, shaking his head. “Nah. Tryin’ keep that secret.” I mumbled. He shook me. “Dude! How can you be so calm about that?!” I only held up a finger. “He seems harmless.” He slapped my hand. “Hey! You know what happened to your face? No one wants that again.” He growled. “You’re the one who said nothing will happen.” I pointed out. He scratched his head then looked down. “Yeah whatever.”

”Let’s get back to base.”

Contents

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[erenspussy420]

Twst Android Au p4

Chapter: Scarabia and Owners

.

.

You stride out of Pomefiore halls with some snags of your clothes from the branches, plucking you to return to the androids you're totally not running from. You'd just rather get the move on of course. The phantom chirping of thuarmarks bills dance around your head, mocking you. The Owner follows after you, jogging in her kitten heels, the faint clicking of metal is soft, but you assume it to be whatever keys she has on her.

Out of the Pomefiore's painted hall and back to the center of the hall and towards the bright sunny hall of rolling sand dunes and bright skies. The magic of Twisted Wonderland is unique, gifted to plenty but not to everyone. Most like you have no magic but can still sense and use magic infused items sort of a consolation prize.

Magicians from hermit humans and boisterous ones, to the magical fae who ruled the spaces of darkness and lights, to the mermaids who from the warmest lf waters and chilliest of oceans floors can use it freely and make wonders. Wanders and wonders that leave you breathless and envious of what can be done.

And now the brilliance of Raven Works magicians and technicians whose androids have left you wanting ... .and earnest to see more than what your friends from college had shown you

Even the hall has its soft winds gracing the loose fabrics of your clothes, the rustle of the Owner's skirt, as she strides past you in the hall, waving her hand," And here my dear customer is the hall of Scarabia. Our models of the beautiful Scalding Sands. "

You nod as you watch the walls of the hall, have grains of sand fly in arcs, as you turn the corner of the hall, the head of the old Sultan's Palace, peeking over the green leaves of palm trees. You had to admit, Raven Works really do live up to its hype. At the end of the hall there are no heavy doors like Pomefiore androids had. There instead were large heavy red curtains open and tied by heavy braided tassels, soft longer fabrics strewn across the ceilings with floating glass candles. As you wonder in bright eyes, the Owner giggling as she follows you a little sing song tone.

"Beautiful right? The androids today in our display are just two. Two legacies of our Al-Asim and Viper collection. Now I see that question in your eyes," The owner tuts tuts as she guides you past the dancing fountain. You follow, amazed how so much can fit into this building, but once again magic has done its course."Why just two? But of course the Grand Vizier and the dear Sultan whom he served."

Soft scent of sandalwood and jasmine wafted across the room, soft smoke curling around your jaw. You let out a soft sigh feeling more relaxed when you left the Pomefiore hall.

Before you could even say anything, the Owner led you into a space where two glass cases stood erect, facing each other. Unlike Pomefiore androids, these two were kept at a distance. Throwing her hands out with a grand laugh,"Tah-dah~!"

 An android with short white hair, tufts sticking out with gold sheen in his hair, stood under the sunlight filtering into the room. His clothes were a pallet of rich hues of red and gold, black making them more bright. Wrapped around his head a red turban-like headband with a red parrot's feathered edged with an azure blue. Gold round beads embroidered and dangled over the fabric, with red like gems that you dearly hope were fake– were sewn on. On its side, the headband tied into a large neat bow. The bow's tail was long, draping over the androids collar and shoulder like a scarf with gold stitches like hearts.

And that's just his head band. You haven't even gotten to his gold large earrings, his gold choker, gold so much on him or the white henna so carefully painted, stark against his skin. This android looked expensive and ornate, this…hm…

"Where is it," you murmur. 

You peer down at the information plate next to the android. Kalim Al-Asim Unit. Oh, this was one of the legacies then. Looking up at him, he seemed to be as tall as the Riddle and Epel Units- short statured and wiry build. Unlike the fair skinned androids, you look back to the other and see he too like Kalim were darker skinned, a warm rich brown tone Kalim had compared to the other. 

Looking over at Kalim, you noticed he seemed more…more…softer somehow. Where the other units do appear human and well crafted, but the Kalim Unit had this warmer feeling, more friendly which is weird seeing he is an android. More sweeter, the neutral set of his mouth curls at his lip. The shape of his eyes would be kind if you could see them open, you weren't much for eye contact but at this point you had the need to peer into them. The dark brown eyeshadow even brought out the shape of his eyes.

In the sunlight he glitters with his gold.

Breathing, you leaned back and waited for the Owner to start talking.

And waited.

And waited some more that you wondered where she went.

Taking a glance around you haven't yet heard the Owner say anything about the Kalim Unit. Glancing back again you see her look adoring the taller android standing in his case behind the curtains shade.

Oh right, the Owners bias.

'A real big fan then', You think as you come closer to it.

Taller, and much sharper features than Kalim's soft looks, the plate name read Jamil Viper Unit. His eye shadow is reddish in tone, and a mouth set firm. He was lean, with a muscular frame like that of a dancer with more definition in his arms. His clothes matched Kalims but a much shorter black vest with a hood than Kalim's longer tailed coat. And baggy black pants with red flames over their legs reminding you of your male cousin's obsession with flames on everything.

Snickering a bit, you look over at him and you have to give it to the Owner. He's beautiful in a more mysterious way. Where the Kalim Unit was warm and sweet, the Jamil Unit is more...cool like. His gold choker, and his dangling red gem earrings suit him, and are less ornate than Kalim's. Gold bangles and a snake like coil around his arm matching the gold tassels and bells in his hair.

And his hair, no wonder the Owner went on and on about it. Long black and silky, half the side of his hair was done in long braids that tied into a low ponytail and over his shoulders. His hair was longer than the Leona Unit's and much more sleek too.

Looking back to Kalim and then to Jamil, you compare how they were like night and day. More so than the other dorms. You felt a little bad comparing them but out of the other androids they were the only ones of their dorm.

Engrossed with your thoughts you didn't hear the familiar clicks of heels.

"Gorgeous right?" Came the voice in your ear.

Screeching you turn to the Owner with your hands thrown up ready to throw hands 

"Stop that! I thought you were still drooling over the Viper Unit," you huffed.

"I finished!" The Owner admittedly easily, she looks over to you through her pink mask, her eyes round yellow dots,"So how do you like them?"

"Well I don't know anything about them yet," You tell her," You haven't even said a single word about them!"

The Owner looked at you blankly until she slapped her cheek in shock.

"Oh dear! Where did my mind go! Right, right, come with me!" The Owner heels click-click on the tiles back to Kalim with her hand slapping the glass.

"This cutie here comes from Al-Asim legacy, as I had said before, those androids tend to be more flashy and more financial oriented from saving and to investments, quite the money makers but please let it be known we here at Raven Works work tirelessly to make sure those are up to date," She said in a matter of fact tone, she leans close to you," however what makes them more famous as they are quite the grand party throwers around. If you hate the idea of creating one then leave it to your Kalim Unit, quite the ball of sunshine."

The Owner sounded fond of Kalim's android and tapped the glass more gently. Unlike you, she had her gloves on and winex at hand so she can touch as she likes. She then adds,"However with the Kalim unit, is more companion than planner if I'm honest. Quite the social butterfly like our Cater Unit."

However there was something that was bugging you."Isn't there a family like that in the Scalding Sands, Al-Asim's? I heard they're pretty rich, like real real rich."

You weren't even joking they could buy out islands and countries and still will never make a dent. Rich enough it would make anyone sick. The posts on Magicam from some particular members of such an elite family would make you weep as you open your bills for the month. 

The Owner hums and makes a sort of noise that reminds you of a cat being forced against its will.

"Yes actually, however due to the android being simply an ... .inspiration, there is no connection to that of the Al-Asim’s. As are all of our Units, inspirations of past figures like our Great Seven. Anything that reminds of such is simply a likeness and not truly that person based on," the Owner answers in a tone that is rehearsed and nothing like her bubbly voice, oddly it sounds rather masculine.

Not that you were going to point it out.

"Riiight," you drawl, and change the subject by nodding to the Viper Unit," so uh what about him?"

The light in the Owner's eyes returns tenfold as she giggles and holds her cheeks. With a quick click of her heels, the faint noise of keys, the Owner claps the sides of the unit’s case with a loud squeal,” So this guy! This guy right here! One of our best bodyguards around!”

“Body guard?” You parroted, eyes wide as you look at the resting unit,”I thought all androids are like that?”

“Sadly, that’s not the case for most androids, while many are certified for human companionship and health, many are not made for the purpose of guarding or fighting. While it is a courtesy to all, your androids will protect you in extreme circumstances.   Few androids have been certified for such positions such as the Rook Unit, the Leech Units, and our Jamil Unit here.”

Her white gloves touch over the glass again, a shimmer of magic gloss over the android,” As you can see, this unit is well guarded from theft as it is a very valuable unit. Not only does it have a guarding mode, but as well as a caretaker. Ever need a gorgeous house husband? Look no further, the Jamil Unit is the best around!”

“Best and expensive too,” You mutter.

“Exactly!” The Owner nods,” Well my dear customer this ends our tour, now if there is any android you have interest in-”

Whoa! You shake your head quickly at the Owner, shake your hands at her and you say,” Wait, I heard there are two more floors here! Can’t we see the other androids? You can’t just try to sell me a unit if you haven’t shown the others!”

No way at this point were you going to leave! There were two more fours and you knew that. Seeing so many units and the halls of the rooms, you didn’t want to leave yet. Not even if you had seen Vil, being so close to him sate your desire for now for the android, but the rest. The rest you want to see…

The Owner hums and touches her chin tapping it with her gloves in thought,”I don’t know if I can. My Boss would be so–”

‘Wait she isn’t the Owner?’ You were surprised but shook your head. Focus! 

“But I want to see the others! Of course I be…uhhh….willing to take a loan,” You gritted the last words out with some pain.

The manager, downgraded from her reveal, still hesitates.

Then out of nowhere a loud gracious caw came from everywhere and nowhere. Boisterous and loud, dripping with a tone that triggers your past life.

“Dear precious customer! We at Raven Works would be so proud to make sure you are financially ready to take an android home today!” A loud bang and dark feathers in a whirl snap at the air, your arms holding up to shield your face as the air dies down. You slowly open your eyes, your hair a mess, taking in the sight before you a tall pale man dressed in a long dark feathered cloak. His dark wavy hair touches his jaw, his pointed low ears show his fae blood. The clack of his cane against the tiles, a bundle of mirrors on his dark slacks and even his dark top hat. But what brought you to him was his dotted yellow eyes peeking down at you from behind his long beaked mask.

You peeked over to the manager and saw she had bowed lowly to him. Her hands pressed down on her skirts as her hair threatened to topple out of its bun.

“Master Crowley, may I say how handsome you loo—oo…k,” her voice dulls and she stays like that still.

“H-Hey!” Concerned, you touched the manager’s back but immediately drew back your mouth gaping. Her body! It was hard as steel! Even the soft cloth of her dress didn’t hide the undeniable steel beneath it. 

“Well! Well Customer! You seem to have gotten acquainted with our dear little manager unit,” The man dubbed Crowley, caws in delight his nails were decorated with golden talons as he brushes the fake hair of the manager fondly,”One of our earliest androids now retired. Quite the lively one but rest assured our newer lines are more warm! Life-like and as obedient as they could be!” 

Your brows furrow as you look at your previous tour guide,”Uh, is…is she going to turn on again?”

“Hm? Oh yes, yes,” He waves his hand casually at the manager as he now turns to you with a delighted look,”Now I hear you want to see our newer lines! I’d be glad to show it to such a willing and dedicated owner such as yourself!”

He strides by you, not waiting for you to catch up as he leads out of Scarabia’s grand case room. You jogged after him, as he talked and talked about loans and interest rates and how long it would be for approval and of course choosing and delivery. You leave behind the grand room, and leave the androids behind.

[mogai-sunflowers]

Fave bird?

*rubs my hands together gleefully* oh my sweet sweet Rei little do you know I actually have an official list of my top 104 favorite birds HSDLFHASDLKFHASKLJDF. so I obviously can't put pictures of them all in this post but I will give a top 10

1.Splendid fairy wren

[ID: A splendid fairy wren perched upon a small twig with blurred grass and flowers in the background. It is a small, plump bird with a bright royal blue body, light blue cheeks, and a black band around the back of its head and front of its chest. End ID.]

2.Himalayan monal

[Image ID: A close-up image of a Himalayan monal standing on the ground. It is a medium-sized, multicolored bird with the same general shape and stature as a turkey. It has a black underbody, but bright blue and purple wings, as well as a back with red, green, purple, and white feathers on it. It is fully displaying its tail, which is bright orange. End ID.]

3.Lilac-breasted roller

[Image ID: A photo of a lilac-breasted roller perched upon a small twig. It is a smallish bird with a white head, red cheeks, a lilac-tinted magenta chest and "shoulders", a bright turquoise underbelly, and both bright turquoise and royal blue on both its wings and tail. End ID.]

4.Purple-breasted sunbird

[Image ID: A photo of a purple-breasted sunbird perched upon a twig. It is a small bird with a black head, but a back and chest that is vibrantly colored as gradients between pink, orange, light blue, and purple. It has a very long and thin tail. End ID.]

5.Rosita's bunting

[Image ID: A photo of a Rosita's bunting perched upon a twig. It is a small bird with a completely blue head, back, and wings, but a vibrant chest and underbelly that's a gradient from bright pink into bright orange. End ID.]

6.Violet-backed starling

[Image ID: A photo of a violet-backed starling standing on the ground amidst sporadic clumps of grass. It is a lean, smallish bird with a pure white underbelly and chest, but a pure vibrant violet head, neck, back, tail, and wings. End ID.]

7.Philippine fairy-bluebird

[Image ID: A photo of a Philippine fairy-bluebird perched upon a twig. It is a smallish bird with a black underbody and cheeks, but bright blue on the back of its head, body, wings, and tail. It has bright red rings around its eyes. End ID.]

8.Dusky lory

[Image ID: A photo of a dusky lory perched upon a tree branch. It is a parrot with its whole body patterned in alternating orange and black bands, with a large orange beak and a black head and wings. End ID.]

9.Crimson rosella

[Image ID: A photo of a crimson rosella perched upon a flat wooden surface. It is a parrot with a bright red head, underbody, and back, but light blue cheeks, a blue tail, and wings patterned with black and blue feathers outlined in red. End ID.]

10.Crowned woodnymph

[Image ID: A photo of a crowned woodnymph perched upon a small twig. It is a hummingbird with a vibrantly iridescent green head and chest, and a vibrantly iridescent purple rest of its body. End ID.]

there are literally so so so sosososososososo many beautiful birds in the world this barely even scratches the surface tbh. but these are my top 10!

[shinymoonbird]

Anaya Nayanar, also known as Anaya and Anayar, is a Nayanar saint, venerated in the Hindu Shaivite sect. Anaya is considered to be the 14th of the 63 Nayanars. His playing of the Panchakshara (five-syllable mantra 🌟na, ma, śi, vā, ya🌟) on his flute so pleased the god, Shiva, that he took Anaya away to the eternal world.

🌟

The life of Anayar is described in the Thirutthondar Puranam (Periya Puranam) by Sekkizhar, which documents the Histories of the 63 Nayanmar. Anaya is described as a cowherd (ஆயர் or Aayar). Anayar was born and lived his life in Tirumangalam (Thirumangalam), currently in the Indian state of Tamil Nadu. Tirumangalam is a place of pilgrimage, famous for its Samavedeshvarar Temple, dedicated to Supreme Lord Shiva. Aanaayar used to tend cows. He used to take the cows for grazing in the pastures outside of the town. He used to protect the cattle from disease and beasts of prey. Anayar used to smear Sacred Ash on His body. In the meadows, He used to play the Panchakshara (Five-Letter) Mantra of Supreme Lord Shiva on his flute. Music was his way of worshipping Lord Shiva. A verse from Periya Puranam tells about how he crafted a flute from bamboo, as prescribed in the science of music (Gandharva Shastra).

🌟

One day at the onset of the monsoon, Anayar started playing the Holy Five Letter Word on His flute under the Konrai tree, which is sacred to Lord Shiva, in a garden of blossoming konrai trees. The Periya Puranam devotes several verses to describe the natural beauty of the location.

✨Aanaaya Naayanaar spread sweet melody all aound, playing on his flute with supreme skill, according to the prescribed technique. The basic note of the music - Panchaakshara - streamed sweetly like celestial nectar mixed with honey into the ears of the listeners. Entranced by this the herd of cows forgot to chew the cud, after cropping the tender shoots of grass; the little calves with mouths on the udders of the cows let the foaming milk drip down on the ground; the might-horned bulls and the wild animals like the deer came near, with the hairs of the body standing on end. The dancing peacocks stood still; the flocks of birds with their hearts filled with melody, kept quiet as in a swoon; the herdsmen left tasks incomplete. The 'Naagas', inhabitants of the underworld came out of their caverns; the celestial ladies gathered in the heavens and stood quite charmed; the other denizens of the outer space - the Gandharvas, Charanaas and the Kinnaras - too crowded the sky in their chariots. The heavenly damsels feeding their pet parrots on nectar under the shade of the Kalpaka tree, hurried to drink in the sweet music. Both the weak and the strong were caught in the same spell - the serpent with the venomous fangs leaned gently on the peacock; the unmoving lion and the huge tusker kept company; the deer with the grass in its mouth stood by the side of the tiger. ✨All nature too came under this spell - the wind ceased to blow and the blossoming branches of the trees stirred not; the streams and brooks meshing down the mountain stopped dead in their tracks; the clouds lay quiet and shed no drops of rain; the lightning did not flash and there was not a ripple in the wide seas. ✨Thus all things - movable and immovable - lay ensnared in the mesh of the nectarine music that flowed from the sweet-red lips of Aanaaya Naayanaar touching his flute. ✨Ah, the sweet music welling up from the gushing love of the player for the feet of his Lord, which filled earth and heaven then filled the ears of the indwelling Lord dancing in the Golden Hall, hard to reach for all those lacking in real Love.

✨Next, the Lord, with His consort, the very soul of compassion - He from whom all sound and music arise - the three-eyed Supreme being - appeared in the heavens, seated on His Bull-Mount. ✨His crowding hosts kept utterly quiet, so as not to disturb the music of the Panchakshara which the dancing Lord relished so much! ✨The Lord then declared: "Come unto Me, in the same pose as you now are, to enable the righteous devotees to savour your music ever" ✨This Naayanaar willingly complied! ✨The celestials rained flowers on earth; the sages chanted the Vedic hymns, while the flute continued with melody. ✨The Lord and His devotee then entered the Golden Hall at Chidambaram.

🌟

Note: Rasikas may recall in this context the techniques of music portrayed in Silappadhikaram and the effect of Sri Krishna playing on His flute graphically described by Sage Suka, Periyaazhvaar and Arunagirinathar.

A rasika is a term for an aesthete of Indian classical music. The term is derived from the Sanskrit word 'rasa', meaning full of passion, elegant, and with discrimination. Connoisseur - An expert able to appreciate a field; especially in the fine arts.

🌟

[timelessxmemories]

THE ECHOS OF SILENCE

— AUTHOR : KRATOS

— STATUS : PROLOGUE, WIP SINCE 2022, NOVEMBER 2ND.

“But..- What about my human? Where are they going to go?” I chirped, stepping onto Death’s cold, almost empty feeling hand, was it even a hand? It felt more like bones to me. But that’s not the point right now. I needed to focus on what was happening at this very moment.

“Your human will be safe, little one. Come now, we have a lot of work to get done.” Death stood, scooping me up in his hands and starting to walk into what looked like a void of darkness. I wasn’t ready to leave just yet. I wanted to say goodbye to my former human, but I couldn’t, we were already too far into the darkness to go back now. Everytime I would look back, it would just get darker, and darker, until there was nothing left to see.

Not much later we arrived in what seemed to be a huge meadow filled with trees, and tall grass, the grass had what looked to be flowers, beautiful ones at that. There was Red, Blue, Purple, flowers of every color! There were other birds there too! All different kinds. Like Blue-Jays, Parrots, Humming-Birds, the list could go on for hours! The birds looked so majestic, glimmering with what looked to be stars, they looked like spirits! But far more gorgeous than what I’ve ever been told before!

“Is this what the afterlife is, Death?” Death smiled, putting me down onto a tree branch. “There’s so much more to the afterlife than this, little one. This is only a small part of it.” I perked up and looked at him, curiosity coursing through my feathers as I finally replied after a few moments of silence. “Really?” I chirped excitedly. “What more is there? Can I see?” I was ecstatic. What more could there possibly be? “I will show you more of what there is tomorrow. For now, you should rest. You’ve had a long day.” I nodded and got comfortable on the tree-branch I was sitting on, curling up into a comfortable sleeping position, my eyes began to get heavy, and within a matter of minutes, I had felt myself drift off to sleep comfortably.

[coltbuckley]

starter for: @unathorn

location: the woods

One thing you learned when you were living out in the middle of nowehere was that there wasn't a thing like complete quiet (and if there was, you had a big fucking problem). On the farm, there'd been always something. Mooing, barking, the rattling, falling apart engine of a truck or tractor, yelling. Same for the woods, birds and deer and whatever else was out there. This place was no damn different, aside from the fact that now, for some goddamn reason, Colt could understand it all.

It was giving him a fucking headache.

"I want nuts. Do you have nuts? I like nuts." The bird asked from it's branch up in the tree, turning it's red and green feathered head from side to side. It'd been like that for the past ten minutes, following him around, squawking. Colt could talk to them but that didn't mean they had shit to say, or were able to take a damn hint. "Fuck off. Go get 'em yourself." He rumbled back. H They always asked for food. What did he fucking look like? "I want nuts. And worms. And bugs. Give me bugs. Give me worms. I'm hungry." Colt was about ready to pelt a stone at the thing, when he heard something.

Not a bird. Definitely not a bird. A flash of white between the branches and- Colt stopped dead in his tracks as a white wolf padded out from between the trees. A big one. Very big. The kind you'd hear rumors and tellings about from your neighbours, about how it'd mauled a cow or a couple of sheep on it's own not even leaving the bones (when that cow had just ran off because the fuckwit of a farmer hadn't fixed his damn fence).

He'd dealt with coyotes and foxes before. There hadn't been wolves in the woods where he was from. But dogs. Wolves were similar to dogs, right? Should there be wolves here, with parrots and monkeys and whatever else? But this island didn't seem to give a shit about what things could. He'd been talking to a fucking parrot. "Hey there, buddy." Colt finally said, keeping his distance, his eyes fixed on the animal. "Aint'cha a pretty one. Got some seagul meat for you. Real good. You want some scraps?"

[dougdimmadodo]

Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrot (Loriculus galgulus)

Family: Typical Parrot Family (Psittaculidae)

IUCN Conservation Status: Least Concern

A tiny parrot with a distinctive blue spot on its head, the Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrot is named for its unusual sleeping habits; like other hanging parrots but unlike the vast majority of birds, members of this species sleep hanging down from branches with their heads tucked beneath their wings, seemingly mimicking leaves to avoid detection by nocturnal predators. Found mainly in damp forests across Indonesia, Malaysia, Singapore and Thailand, Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrots feed mainly on fruits (although they may also eat seeds and flowers) and may travel alone, in pairs or in larger groups containing over 100 individuals depending on food availability and season. Between January and July flocks of Blue-Crowned Hanging Parrots split up into mating pairs, with males (which can be distinguished from females such as the individuals pictured above by their red throats and more colourful tailfeathers) attempting to court females by producing high-pitch calls, puffing up their red plumage and offering regurgitated food. After pairing up couples build their nests in tree cavities (carrying materials by tucking them under their wings,) with females laying clutches of 3-4 eggs which they incubate and protect while their mate provides them, and later their chicks, with food.

——————————————————————————

Image Source: https://www.inaturalist.org/taxa/18967-Loriculus-galgulus

[activate-shadow-of-the-window]

Horizon to Horizon AU Masterpost!

(And some Saints of Eyes and Ears AU too!)

*this is a work in progress, updates will occur sporadically as I find motivation in drawers and under my bed*

A guide to my fantasy worldbuilding alternate universe built around the Hermitcraft, Empires, Evolution, and Life Series SMPs.

Questions are always welcome, and my ask box is open!

The elevator pitch:

The sun rises, and the moon rises, and the sun sets, and the moon sets, all between the Four Horizons of the world. One to each cardinal direction, and each with it’s own continent: Equinox to the North, Solstice to the south. Sunrise to the East, Sunset to the West. Civilizations rule the Land of the Sunrise, the Birthplace of Day and Night. Empires rule the Land of the Sunset, the Resting Place of Day and Night. Hermits and Emperors make peace and war, trade and explore, live and die and make merry in this First Dimension. The Second, the Nether Below, and the Third, the End Above, are lands of danger ripe for discovery. The lands to the north and south, however… who knows what’s over there, leagues past the vanishing point of plain sight?

More in-depth stuff below the cut! Fair warning, ‘tis very long.

What is the Horizon to Horizon AU?

The Horizon to Horizon AU, or more simply Horizons AU, is an alternate universe fusion containing the characters within the Hermitcraft SMP, Empires SMP, and Evolution, or Evo SMP. It is a high-to-mid fantasy setting, with some sci-fi elements when it comes to redstone.

Fics set in this au, in-universe chronological order:

- Among the mountains of everlong, a story about the Stronghold War (3,451 words, unfinished, on hiatus)

- Cracking like a dry branch in a westward wind, a story about newcomers and old debts (24,980 words, finished!)

- A kindling, of sorts, fluff and banter and all that jazz (3,423 words, unfinished)

- Legend has it that the moss grows on the north side of the trees, or, 2023 Hermittober Chapters, a story about crime and conspiracy (12,875 words, finished but I haven’t uploaded them all yet)

- Give me back my heart, you wingless thing, a story about prophecies and past tragedies (25,025 words, unfinished, a good ways along, currently working on this one)

- We’ll sing a song of days gone by, a story about the forgotten history that ties Horizons to the Saints of Eyes and Ears (unpublished, hammering it out in private at the moment)

Who’s who in this universe?

Between the Horizons, there are two major groups: the Hermits of the Sunrise, and the Emperors of the Sunset. This AU was made during Season 9 of Hermitcraft and Season 2 of Empires, and more specifically was born from a question that came into my mind during the crossover event: What would happen if the Hermits were tasked with ruling nations, like Emperors?

The emperors are pretty much doing the same thing they usually do: ruling empires. But the hermits are split into two main camps: those active in the crossover, who I arbitrarily chose to rule their own civilizations (as having a civilization for each hermit would be… some nonsense), and those not active in the crossover, who live among the civilizations, but do not rule. A full list of Hermits and who they are in alphabetical order follows:

- BdoubleO: The Lord Bee Double Oh of the Moss Throne, moss-faerie, ruler of Livingstone

- cubfan135: The Sovereign Cub Fan Voidstars of the Red Rock Crown, half-vex infected with sculk, ruler of Climbing Spires

- Docm77: The King Doc Mk-77 of the Deepfang Crown, goat-folk-faerie, ruler of The Maw

- ethoslab: Wanderer and freelance redstone technomancer, ambiguous canine-folk

- FalseSymmetry: The Lady False Symmetry of the Darkwood Throne, human(?), ruler of Umbra

- GeminiTay: The Queen Gemini Taylor of the Crown of Needles, deer-faerie, ruler of Evergreen

- Grian: The Sitter Grian Sunset of the Dusk Throne, parrot-folk, ruler of Sunset Coast

- hypnotizd: Mercenary and eyes-for-hire, bat-folk

- impulseSV: The Emperor Impulse Esvee of the Emerald Throne, cat-folk, ruler of The Labyrinth

- iskall85: The Vice-Mayor Iskall Eighty Five, wolf-folk, second-in-command of Iceberg Metropolis

- iJevin: The Crown Prince Eye Jevin of the Clearwater Crown, thinking slime, ruler of The Watering Hole

- joehills: The Administrator Joe Hills of the Other Throne, just a guy, ruler of Elsewhere

- Keralis: The Mayor Keralis of the Blue Ice Crown, wolf-folk, ruler of Iceberg Metropolis

- MumboJumbo: Chief Engineer and Technomancer of Technicolor City, plant-faerie

- PearlescentMoon: The High Priestess of the Throne of Histories, llama-folk, ruler of Great Acacia

- rendog: The King Ren Dog of the Crown of Vines, wolf-folk, ruler of The Tangle

- Skizzleman: Official cross-ocean diplomat between the Hermit Civilizations and the Empires of the Sunset, parrot-folk

- Stressmonster: Wandering trader of information from the little creatures of the world, butterfly-fae

- TangoTek: The King Tango Tek of the Basalt Throne, third-blaze-third-stray-third-human, ruler of The Neverglades

- VintageBeef: Just your local neighborhood innkeeper, tavern-keeper, and quest giver, cow-folk

- Welsknight: Trusted knight and right hand man to Bee Double, human

- xisumavoid: The Commander X of the Dragon Crown, living void?, ruler of The Dragon’s Spine

- Zedaph: Freelance wandering inventor and mad scientist, half-sheep-half-chicken-folk

- ZombieCleo: The Duchess Cleo of the Everfrost Throne, zombie, ruler of Permafrost Springs

And the Emperors of the Sunset, too:

- fwhip: The Duke Fwhip of the Icicle Throne, polar-bear-folk, ruler of Glacier Way

- Jimmy Solidarity: The Trailblazer Jimmy of the Throne of Dust, horse-folk, ruler of Frontier

- Joey Graceffa: The Lord Protector of the Petal Crown, sniffer-folk, ruler of Paradise Mountain

- Katherine Elizabeth: The Maiden Queen Katherine Elizabeth of the Powder Snow Throne, human, ruler of Skytouch

- LDShadowLady: The Lady-Defender Lizzie Shadow-Lady of the Glowing Crown, firefly-faerie, ruler of The Waterways

- MythicalSausage: The Guardian-Emperor Mythical Sausage of the Underthrone, human, ruler of The Thicket

- Pixlriffs: The Emperor Pixl Rifra of the Verdant Crown, parrot-folk, ruler of The Emerald Lands

- Scott Smajor: The Emperor Scott S. Major of the Gilded Crown, half-husk, ruler of Solis

- SmallishBeans: The King Joel S. Beans of the Ivory Crown, goat-folk, ruler of Undermoon (an Emperor in this AU)

- Shubble: The Great Librarían Shubble Shade-Stander of the Copper Throne, fox-folk, ruler of Great Aurora

- TheOrionSound: The Marcher-Lord Oli Sounder of the Crown of Grasses, llama-folk, ruler of Cross-Country

Also kicking around are the members of the Evolution SMP, who are not hermits or emperors, most of whose characters are not entirely fleshed out as of writing. Their descriptions will be updated later, and all are parrot-folk:

- MiniMuka, technomancer

- InTheLittleWood, diplomat and brother to Grian

- Nettyplays

- bigbst4

- SalemsLady, Sensor Systems Operator

- Tomohawk

- systemzee

- Taurtis/Joeyish, Shrieker Systems Operator

And what is the Saints of Eyes and Ears AU?

The Saints of Eyes and Ears AU is… sort of its own thing, and sort of a part of Horizons. It is a retelling of the events of the Life Series SMP through a semi-historical, semi-legendary lens as the cosmology/history of a religion known as Livolutionism. It is mostly based on the history-legends of Christianity, more specifically Catholicism, as that religion is the one I am most familiar with.

The elevator pitch:

In the time before time, when the world was small and the gods were close, an endless line of descendants of descendants lived and died under a sky full of eyes. Saints and sinners, lovers and enemies, bitter rivals and soulbound comrades have lived a thousand lives beneath the watchful gaze of the angels above, and demons below. But what an angel or devil is up to interpretation, as are their opaque intentions.

This will probably get its own post later down the line.

Okay, what are those legends?

The events of the various installments of the life series are collected into various books, which are self-contained tales that each follow a specific Saint, the winner of that particular installment, and the world and people that grow and flourish and crumble and die around them. The books and their Saints are as follows:

- The Book of Thirds, surrounding the life of the Saint Grian of the Desert Sun and the Red Winter War

- The Book of Lasts, surrounding the life of the Saint Scott of the Endless Stars and the Trickery of the Boogymen

- The Book of Doubles, surrounding the life of the Saint Pearl of the Shadowed Moon and the Bonds of the Soulmates

- The Book of Limits, surrounding the life of the Saint Martyn of the Stained Mars and the Chaos of the Clock

- The Book of Secrets, surrounding the life of the Saint Scar of the Blooming Earth and the Keeper’s Whispered Words

- The Real Book, a disputed scripture, surrounding the life of the Saint Cleo of the Fading Comet and the Repeating Lives

[americangrove]

Easement

I did not see a parakeet. Nor did I expect to because the last time anyone saw the kind I could have seen was one hundred years ago. But had I seen one, it would have had a green body, a yellow neck, and a red crown, like a granny smith apple, turning into a golden delicious, ending with a fuji flourish. Unlike apples though, this parakeet would have been indigenous. Back in his day, Audubon fixed four of them, all on a branch of matured cocklebur, their name swirling below–Carolina Parrot or Parakeet—just as live ones would have swirled above and outside his page, until they all passed (a century later) into life only re-presented (drawings, pictures, reminiscence, taxidermy).[1] So, I did not see a parakeet.

But I did see cane, as I was in a canebrake. Switchcane, rivercane and hill cane, the genus Arundinaria trio, bamboos native to North America. I am not sure which species of cane I was in, though my guess is switchcane (A. tecta), as rivercane (A. gigantea) also has the name of giant cane for its remarkable height—at maturity it is taller than a grown man on a grown horse; and hill cane (A. appalachiana) has a topographic preference that did not describe the place where I stood. 

Nevertheless, they all look similar, more like plants in diagram rather than plants in dirt, their linear stems appear pencil drawn, their lance like leaves seem generated by straight edge. Enmassed, canebrakes look like early computer-generated greenery before sinuosity was possible. In a way, they are an early plant—a fire rolls through, clears the understory, perhaps takes a tree or two down with it; the flames cease and cane is among the first to resurface, and resurface quickly for it is not as dependent on reseeding as it is on its rhizome.[2] Like the longleaf pines which it once accompanied over the land, it looked forward to the fire next time. Out of the flames came thickets, which though they may have barred other plants, they were quite welcoming to Carolina parakeets, warblers, “cougars, bobcats and wolves” canebrake rattlesnakes, creole pearly eye butterfly and untold others.[3] Walls of cane were a kind of mass housing for the many migrant, squatter and settling organisms of the southeast. They (particularly river cane) also provided materials of home and place making for humans, as their straight stems were (and still are) gathered by Native American communities especially the Cherokee.[4] Once hollowed out, canes can become basket or blowgun, mat or flute, or—as has become a rustic object— fishing poles.  There are not many significant canebrakes today. Cattle ate them, draining and development cleared them, fire suppression stymies their return; the scattered groupings I see along the road are remnants of a lost empire, holding out amidst a concrete ground that stifles them, a dense forest that smothers them, and farmland that suppresses them. But unlike the parakeet they remain. Though, like the parakeet, I was not in the canebrake to see the cane—it fortunately just happened to be there.

I only saw the canebrake, because I was in a conversation easement, which I only noticed because of a small, yellow, all caps sign—"NORTH CAROLINA SOIL AND WATER CONSERVATION EASEMENT BOUNDARY”. “Easement” is one of those legal terms that I knew more by general use than specific meaning.  Modified by the word “conservation” easement suggested the land was protected, but why, by who and to what extent was unclear until I looked it up later. The NC Department of Environmental Quality defines conservation easements as: “voluntary legal agreements designed to ensure the long-term viability and protection of the natural resources within a surveyed and recorded boundary. The easement planning process establishes allowances and restrictions that are beneficial to the landowner, the easement holder, and the environment.”[5] The conservation easement then is not foremost a means of protection, but (much more interesting I think), it is a way of organizing layers of rights and access upon a property.  Someone owns the lands, but the easement gives some else a right to use it (or not use it, in a way, when conservation is the right being exercised) which in turn inflects the rights and possibilities of both the one who possess the land and others (like myself) who neither own the land, nor hold an easement, but still gain some benefit from the easement’s existence (i.e. enjoying a now rare landscape feature).[6] The yellow sign that alerted me to presence of the easement was nailed into a sweet gum tree. In the FAQ for conservation easements one of the questions asks: “Are there way to precisely identify the boundaries of a conservation easement?”  

The answer:

As part of the restoration project, all easement corners were surveyed and monumented in the ground with metal rods. Most of these rods are also topped with 2” diameter aluminum caps. DEQ also uses a variety of methods to post easement boundaries including signage, metal posts, and tree blaze. These may be a witness post or witness tree, located near the line but not the exact location of the boundary.[7]

In some ways, my studies right now could be described as figuring out the extra-legal work of these “witness trees” and their “artefacted” forms into “witness posts” (and columns and panels and all sorts of other wooden things that “witness” human contracts and contact).[8] It gave me pause then, after reading the FAQ to realize that I had witnessed a witness tree that still witnesses (instead of being one in a historical document or text), but that in the moment the sweet gum’s legal function had not even registered to me. I was much more taken by the train of ants along its trunk likely extracting honeydew from aphids up in the canopy, and by the trail of Virginia creeper going up further than the ants, in search of its own luminous food. From the tree’s perspective, witnessing a survey has been only one frame in a very long film still being made around, and around and around it.

In truth, I did even see the easement sign until I was near the tree. And the reason I was near the tree is because a few feet away from it, along the road was the initial object of my attention—a set of black and yellow object marker signs denoting some feature adjacent to the road, a feature which is this case was a culvert underneath the road. Culverts, in their projecting pipe form look like engineering/infrastructural litter, debris left over from a drainage project. In addition to being the ugliest kind they are also the cheapest and least efficient—they do little to channel a flow directly into their opening, which limits how much comes out their exit, potentially leading to the water overflowing the road. Luckily, the culvert I came to see is the recessed box kind with wings extending on its side to welcome water into its inlet, guiding it towards its outlet.[9] Embedded in the earth, moss covered, and a bit worn, there is a minimalist beauty to this kind culvert that does not readily betray the complexity of its task at once to convey ground traffic above and the traffic of water underneath. On the outlet side, some of the water pooled, its clear bottom supported small fish and tadpoles, while its silty edge moistened mosses and grasses and a bit further up also the canes. The water this culvert channels comes from the Indian Branch River, which drains into Deep Creek River, which drains into the Tar River, which drains into the Pamlico Sound, which joins the Atlantic Ocean. Follow these larger waters and you’ll find the larger history of the canes and the Cherokees, the parakeets and the many trees which have witnesses the work of so many kinds of settling, the human version being the most recent, but likely not the last. Though we often like to think otherwise, our homes and other feats of building are ultimately done under a kind of “natural easement”, the land allows us access for a while, but as all the other prior communities of plants or persons show, no claim of possession is final, no root is long and deep enough to always remain (though many can be long remnant). Maybe I will be able to spend a good deal of my life following these state and nation spanning roots, weavings, waters and rhizomes.  

But it is not yet time to go so far out. Afterall, the only reason I saw the signs for the culvert, which put me in range to see the blaze on the tree, which brought me close enough to see a canebrake, which led me to imagine what it would be like to still be able to see parakeets, was because I pass the culvert nearly every day when I am home. Fifteen hundred feet from the front door, I have crossed this place many times running, enjoying the brief respite of shade provided by the gums before the land opens again for the farms; and I have driven by it many more times on the way to town, the car bouncing lightly over the culvert.  So, I have noticed this spot for nearly thirty years, but this is first time I have “witnessed” the three hundred years of history flowing and growing in it. Either part separately is valuable—to live in a place and feel its features or to come to a place and learn its features, nesting sensations (the shade of the trees, the bump of the road…) or nesting histories (extinction, settlement…). But to bring them together, may, for a moment sustain that special sense which is just able to catch an apple-colored dart zipping across the far end of the eye.

Photos

[1] The Carolina Parakeet, once common from New York down to the Gulf of Mexico, seems to have gone in the first half of the 20th century. The last documented one, named Incas, died in captivity in 1918. It is unclear exactly why it went extinct though habitation destruction seems part of the problem. See: https://johnjames.audubon.org/last-carolina-parakeet and https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/why-carolina-parakeet-go-extinct-180968740/

[2] There is strong interest in canes and restoring canebrakes. For a general overview see: Barret, Richard; Grabowski, Janet; Williams, M.J. "Giant Cane and Other Native Bamboos: Establishment and Use for Conservation of Natural Resources in the Southeast" U.S. Department of Agriculture, Natural Resources Conservation Service, 2021. For a 18th account of cane use in North Carolina see: Lawson, John.  A New Voyage to North Carolina. London: 1709. Digitized at https://docsouth.unc.edu/nc/lawson/menu.html.  Lawson recorded  many ways that cane was used by the Cherokee.

[3] See: Platt, Steven G., Christopher G. Brantley, and Thomas R. Rainwater. “Canebrake Fauna: Wildlife Diversity In A Critically Endangered Ecosystem.” Journal of The Elisha Mitchell Scientific Society 117, No. 1 (2001): 1–19.

[4] For contemporary work to maintain these traditions see: https://theonefeather.com/2012/05/22/river-cane-important-cherokee-cultural-staple/

[5] See: https://www.deq.nc.gov/about/divisions/deq-administrative-divisions/north-carolina-stewardship-program/living-your-conservation-easement#Aretherewaystopreciselyidentifytheboundariesofaconservationeasement-8672

[6] Though my enjoyment in this case was not a right because this easement is not public (i.e., I was trespassing).

[7] See link on note 4.

[8] Other have already done some of this work. See for example: Miller, Daegan. This Radical Land. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. 2018.

[9] Here is a wonderfully informative video on culverts: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=15XJDmawbYU

Images:

Carolina Parrot or Parakeet” in The Birds of America: From Drawings Made in the United States and Their Territories Volume 4. John James Audubon. New York: J.B. Chevalier, 1842. p.306.

Image 3208 (Canebrake in Northeast Louisiana early 1900’s). USDA Bureau of Plant Introduction. See note 2 for source.

[panzershrike-pretz]

Hey guys! I was bored and decided to draw some brazilian little babies! Enjoy💕💕

There'll be a bit of info about 'em under the cut! (And also the folklore behind the Boto!)

CUTIA - agouti are tiny rodents that can be found in most of North, Central and South America; Here in Brazil there's 9 different types of these little guys and i've been fortunate enough to cross ways with 'em, since they're everywhere xD

BOTO-COR-DE-ROSA - amazon river dolphin is famous for it's appearance in brazilian folklore. It says that during the night, they take the form of a very handsome man and seduce girls to spend the night with him. By the morning, he's gone and the girls are left pregnant with it's child. People say that this story was created because girls wouldn't admit they slept with someone before marriage lmao.

GRALHA AZUL - azure jay is the animal symbol of the state of Paraná. They are very important to our ecosystem, as they're responsible for spreading pinhão (pinion? Pine nut? Idk) seeds. Unfortunately, their population is declining and with it, the araucaria forests, which provides their main food.

ARARAJUBA - golden conure is a medium parrot native to the Amazon forest. Their colors are bright and resemble the brazilian flag.

SOLDADINHO-DO-ARARIPE - araripe manakin is a small endangered little guy. It's red cap gave it the name that, from portuguese to english, translates to "little soldier of araripe". It is from Ceará and some other states in the north-eastern region.

ARARA MILITAR - military macaw gets its name from it's green feathers. It's native to Mexico and the South America, and considered a vulnerable species. Apparently its not actually brazilian but i didn't know at the time i drew it xD.

MICO-LEÃO-DOURADO - golden marmoset is endemic to the brazilian atlantic coastal forest. Unfortunately, they're endangered due to loss of habitat, poaching and the illegal pet market.

GATO MARACAJÁ - margay is a small and nocturnal cat. They spend most of the time in trees and are able to turn their ankles 180° degrees, managing to grasp branches extremelly well.

JACARÉ-ANÃO - dwarf caiman is found in most of the north region of South America. It is the smallest of all crocodilians (and my favorite).

PIRARUCU - arapaima is one of the largest freshwater fish and can be found in the Amazon River. They where introduced to East Asia and are now a invasive species- welp, they're a delicacy anyways soooo (never tasted them, but people say they're good).

CACHORRO-DO-MATO - bush dogs have a big range of living but are rarely seen. Their species was, funnily enough, found first as fossils and then as the living thing - people thought they were extinc lol. Their closes living relatives are the Maned Wolf and the African Wild Dog.