#Shark Maize

[msb-lair]

Dragon: Carchar - Snapper Sandsurge XXY Male

(Sandsurge scroll applied on 2023-08-04) (Sailfish scroll applied on 2023-08-04) (Marlin scroll applied on 2023-08-04) (Shark scroll applied on 2023-08-04)

Purchased For: 15,000 treasure Hatched On: 2023-06-29 ID: 87220879

Parentage: Baerglos/Baerglos Flight: Earth

Primary: Oilslick Metallic Basic Sailfish Secondary: Oilslick Myrid Basic Marlin Tertiary: Maize Underbelly Basic Shark Eyes: Common

Comments: Purchased as a mate for Salval. His sailfish-marlin genes are also part of my birthday present to myself for this year.

Apparel: TBD

Familiar: Kitsune Florist

Progeny Testing: 

[Test] Salval

Broods: 

Nested with Salval on 2023-08-04, 3 eggs [Clutch]

Mated with Salval on 2023-08-26, 2 eggs [Clutch]

Joined with Salval on 2023-09-17, 3 eggs [Clutch]

Clutched with Salval on 2023-10-25, 1 egg [Clutch]

Paired with Salval on 2024-01-22, 3 eggs [Clutch]

Matched with Salval on 2024-04-02, 3 eggs [Clutch]

Bred with Salval on 2024-06-30, 3 eggs [Clutch]

Crossed with Salval on 2024-09-19, 3 eggs [Clutch]

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Reference: Food History

B.C.

10,000 - almonds, cherries, bread, flour, soup

8,000 - wheat ⚜ 7,000 - wine, beer, pistachios, pig, goat, sheep, lard

6,500 - cattle domestication, apples ⚜ 6,000 - tortilla, dates, maize

5,000 - honey, ginger, quinoa, avocados, potatoes, milk, yogurt

4,000 - focaccia, watermelons, grapes, pomegranates

3,200 - chicken domestication ⚜ 3,000 - butter, onion, garlic, apricots

2,737 - tea ⚜ 2,500 - olive oil, seaweed, duck ⚜ 2,300 - saffron

2,000 - peaches, liquorice, marshmallow, pasta, ham, sesame seeds

1,500 - chocolate, vanilla ⚜ 1,200 - sugar ⚜ 1,000 - mangoes, oats, pickles

900 - pears, tomatoes ⚜ 700 - cinnamon ⚜ 600 - bananas, poppy seeds

500 - artichokes ⚜ 400 - pastries, appetizers, vinegar

300 - parsley ⚜ 200 - turkeys, asparagus, rhubarb ⚜ 65 - quince

1st—13th Century

1st Century - chestnuts, lobster, crab, shrimp, truffles, blueberries, raspberries, capers, kale, blood (as food), fried chicken, foie gras, French toast, omelettes, rice pudding, flan, cheesecake, pears in syrup

3rd Century - lemons ⚜ 5th - pretzels ⚜ 6th - eggplant

7th Century - spinach, kimchi ⚜ 9th - coffee, nutmeg

10th Century - flower waters, Peking duck, shark's fin soup

11th Century - baklava, corned beef, cider, lychees, seitan

12th Century - breadfruit, artichokes, gooseberries

13th Century - ravioli, lasagne, mozzarella, pancakes, waffles, couscous

14th—19th Century

14th Century - kebabs, moon cakes, guacamole, pie, apple pie, crumpets, gingerbread

15th Century - coconuts, Japanese sushi and sashimi, pineapples, marmalade, risotto, marzipan, doughnuts, hot dogs

16th Century - pecans, cashews (in India), Japanese tempura, vanilla (in Europe), fruit leather, skim milk, sweetbreads, salsa, quiche, teriyaki chicken, English trifle, potato salad

17th Century - treacle, pralines, coffee cake, modern ice cream, maple sugar, rum, French onion soup, cream puffs, bagels, pumpkin pie, lemonade, croissants, lemon meringue pie

18th Century - root beer, tapioca, French fries, ketchup, casseroles, mayonnaise, eggnog, soda water, lollipops, sangria, muffins, crackers, chowder, croquettes, cupcakes, sandwiches, apple butter, souffle, deviled eggs

19th Century - toffee, butterscotch, cocoa, Turkish delight, iodized salt, vanilla extract, modern marshmallows, potato chips, fish and chips, breakfast cereal, Tabasco sauce, Kobe beef, margarine, unsalted butter, Graham crackers, fondant, passionfruit, saltwater taffy, milkshakes, pizza, peanut butter, tea bags, cotton candy, jelly beans, candy corn, elbow macaroni, fondue, wedding cake, canapes, gumbo, ginger ale, carrot cake, bouillabaisse, cobbler, peanut brittle, pesto, baked Alaska, iced tea, fruit salad, fudge, eggs Benedict, Waldorf salad

20th Century

1901 - peanut butter and jelly ⚜ 1904 - banana splits ⚜ 1905 - NY pizza

1906 - brownies, onion rings ⚜ 1907 - aioli

1908 - Steak Diane, buttercream frosting ⚜ 1909 - shrimp cocktail

1910 - Jell-O (America's most famous dessert)

1910s - orange juice ⚜ 1912 - Oreos, maraschino cherries, fortune cookies

1912 - Chicken a la King, Thousand Island dressing

1914 - Fettuccine Alfredo ⚜ 1915 - hush puppies

1917 - marshmallow fluff ⚜ 1921 - Wonder Bread, zucchini

1919 - chocolate truffles ⚜ 1922 - Vegemite, Girl Scout cookies

1923 - popsicles ⚜ 1924 - frozen foods, pineapple upside-down cake, Caesar salad, chocolate-covered potato chips

1927 - Kool-Aid, s'mores, mayonnaise cake ⚜ 1929 - Twizzlers

1930s - Pavlova cakes, Philly cheese steak, Pigs in blankets, margaritas, banana bread, Cajun fried turkey ⚜ 1931 - souffle, refrigerator pie

1933 - chocolate covered pretzels ⚜ 1936 - no-bake cookies

1937 - Reubens, chicken Kiev, SPAM, Krispy Kreme

1938 - chicken and waffles ⚜ 1939 - seedless watermelon

1941 - Rice Krispies treats, Monte Cristo sandwiches ⚜ 1943 - nachos

1946 - chicken burgers, tuna melts, Nutella ⚜ 1947- chiffon cake

1950s - chicken parm, Irish coffee, cappuccino, smoothies, frozen pizza, diet soda, TV Dinners, ranch dressing ⚜ 1951 - bananas foster

1953 - coronation chicken ⚜ 1956 - German chocolate cake, panini

1957 - Quebec Poutine ⚜ 1958 - Instant ramen noodles, crab rangoon, lemon bars ⚜ 1960s - beef Wellington, green eggs and ham, red velvet cake

1963 - black forest cake ⚜ 1964 - Belgian waffles, Pop Tarts, Buffalo wings, ants on a log, pita bread ⚜ 1965 - Gatorade, Slurpees

1966 - chocolate fondue ⚜ 1967 - high fructose corn syrup

1970s - California rolls, pasta primavera, tiramisu ⚜ 1971 - fajitas

1975 - hicken tikka masala ⚜ 1980 - turducken

1980s - Panko, portobello mushrooms, bubble tea, chicken nuggets, Sriracha, Red Bull energy drink, everything bagels

1990s - artisan breads, Jamaican jerk ⚜ 1991 - turkey bacon, chocolate molten lava cake, earthquake cake ⚜ 1993 - broccolini

1995 - Tofurkey ⚜ 1997 - grape tomatoes

21st Century

2002 - flat iron steak, tear-free onions ⚜ 2007 - Kool-Aid pickles, cake pops

2008 - Mexican funnel cake ⚜ 2013 - cronuts, test tube burgers

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[inspofromancientworld]

Resurrection figures at El Perú-Waka’

By No machine-readable author provided. Authenticmaya~commonswiki assumed (based on copyright claims). - No machine-readable source provided. Own work assumed (based on copyright claims)., CC BY-SA 2.5, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1611602

El Perú-Waka’ is a Maya city in what is now Guatemala that was inhabited from about 500 BCE through 800 BCE. It is about 60 km from Tikal (which might have been called Yax Mutal) and was a center of the Maya civilization. It was rediscovered in the 1960s by oil prospectors and in the 1970s, the site was documented by Ian Graham, a Harvard researcher. In 2003, excavation was started by David Freidel and Héctor Escobedo.

The name El Perú, as it's called on maps, was what the site was named until it was discovered that the Maya called it Waka' so now it's more often referred to as El Perú-Waka' in research. There are records of the city in Teotihuacan, first in 378, indicating the arrival of ambassadors in Waka' for an alliance with Tikal. Later, there's records of a betrayal and alliance with Calakmul in the late 7th century, solidified by a political marriage between K'inich Balam (Sun Faced Jaguar) to Lady T'abi, during a time when Tikal was less powerful. Not long after, Tikal reemerged, leading to a war with Calakmul and their allies. In about 743, Waka' was defeated and became a vassal state and then had their celestial serpent (possibly the patron god of the city) moved to Tikal.

Maya ritual resurrection scene composed of 23 figurines representing royal court and supernatural characters, El Perú-Waka’, Petén, Guatemala, Maya, 600-650 CE, Museo Nacional de Arqueología y Etnología, Guatemala, Guatemala City, photo © Ricky Lopez

In 2006, a set of 23 figurines were found in a burial, called by the number 39. These figurines represent the "Resurrecting the Maize King" and the royal court. The king figure is knelt next to a seated deer with a figure T carved into its chest, which is the glyph for "ik'", which symbolizes 'breath, wind, and life'. Because of this glyph, the deer is the king's guide to the afterlife. There are also other members of the court, including the new king, the queen with a shield, a shaman with her mouth open wide, and dwarves that have removable helmets. The figures are easily identified because of their decorations, which are still fairly vivid, and how they're made of pottery. These figurines were also laid out into a circular configuration, allowing us to intuit the story that they were meant to convey by those who left them.

Standing only 11 centimeters tall, the Waka’ Olmec figurine nonetheless has a commanding presence. El Perú-Waka' Burial 39, Museo Nacional de Arqueología y Etnología, Guatemala, Guatemala City. Photograph: Kenneth Garrett

Another interesting artifact in this burial is an Olmec-like figurine of a dancer that was found inside two vessels that were joined lip-to-lip that were lined with pigment from cinnabar, the red color associated with the maize god. This figurine seems to have a shark's fin coming from its head, and the shape of its eyes are like the Olmec death god's crescent-shaped eyes, as well as its hands in the positions that indicate kingship.

[mochifowl]

So I just saw a post that the official Flight Rising account posted here on Tumblr and I saw that the dragon in the post had button eyes and I decided to go onto Flight Rising to check it out myself and scried this baby!

Primary gene: Rattlesnake (Sandsurge)/Azure

Secondary gene: Diamondback (Sandsurge)/Maize

Tertiary gene: Shark (Sandsurge)/Mist

Eyes: Button

Element: Wind

[faithrainee]

Arthur liveblogging be like:

Dutch harassing me yesterday about laying around camp and not getting money when I moved maize bags, chopped wood, moved hay bales, donated $1.99 to camp-which is a lot, mind you- bought stuff from the ledger AND did three loan sharking for Strauss in one day. Meanwhile he's sitting there reading. Mind your damn business-

[faisdm]

Sometimes I remember the time for work I had to look up what a vegetable is and discovered vegetables don’t exactly exist.

No, really. So... you know how when you list “vegetables” and you include say, tomatoes, and some smart asshole is like “actually, those are a fruit!” and smiles, smugly. Well... The thing is, we have definitions for what a fruit is: It’s an edible part of a flowering plant that has seeds inside. Pretty simple. And we know what a bean is, because it’s an edible seed in a fleshy pod, and we know what a nut is and so on...

But a “vegetable” is just a loosely defined catch-all term for savoury-tasting edible bits of plants that aren’t necessarily nuts or grains. Vegetables might be roots (like carrots), leaves (like spinach), stems (like celery), flowers (like cauliflower), seeds (like peas), sometimes including the pod (like green beans), and sometimes things that ought to be fruits count as vegetables because they’re not sweet... and sometimes things that ought to be vegetables aren’t vegetables because they’re “carbs” or “grains” like wheat, rice, maybe maize...

Vegetables don’t technically exist.

Anyway, this is what happens when your boss asks you to make a silly in-universe website about vegetable appreciation for an easter egg in a children’s book and your autistic hyper-focus kicks in. If you’re ever reading books in the Agent Asha series, and you see a website link, follow it, because you’ll probably find something I put way too much effort into. Like, I wonder how many people saw this link in  Agent Asha: Operation Shark Bytes and typed it in (the Romance page is just pure me shitposting, I highly recommend it):

http://www.veryinterestinglibrarystuff.com/Main

[redheadgleek]

Your Star Wars Day meal planning from my friend Margaret:

If you’re in the mood for Italian there are many Wampas-tas to choose from: Boba Fetticinni, Obi-Wan Canolli, or Bow-tie Fighters. Or maybe you’d prefer Pizza the Hut*, Rey-sotto, or Poe-lenta.

French maybe? Try DeathStarGo, Coq au Finn, RataR2Dtouille, Princess Souffléia, Lardon Calrissian, Wilhuff Tartine, Cheese Fondooku, Macaron Solo, BouillaRebelBase, or Emperor PalpaGratin.

How about Indian? Darth Vada, Darth Dahl, Obi-wan Tandoori, Padmé A-masala, Laddu Calrissian, Rose Tikka, Lamb Finn-daloo, SaMos(Eisley)as, Cucumber Rey-ta, Padowan Papadum, Princess Lassi, Saag Poe-neer, aLuke Gobi, and Naan Solo (or maybe Alder-naan) are all good choices.

Would you rather eat Mexican? Try the Huevos Kylo Rencharros, Darth Verde, Maize Kanata, Rose Taco, Flan Solo*, Admiral Ackbar-itto, Barbacoa Fett, Poe-zole, Chile Rey-leno, EnchiLeia, Dulce de Luke, Darth Molé, Chewie-changa, Lando Chorizo-an, and EmpanYodas. Or go Tex-Mex with Fritos Stormscoopers and Seven-Leia Dip*.

Would Chinese hit the spot? WonTaunTauns (also known as Padowontons* or Obi-Wanton Kanobi), C3POrange Chicken, Rey-king Duck, Egg Foo Yung Padowan, ChewBakChoi, Mon Mothma-po-do-fu, Szechuan Solo, Fortune Wookies, Kung Poe Chicken, and Shark Finn Soup are all great dishes to make in your E-wok.

Or maybe Japanese food like Rey-men noodles, Supreme Leader Poke, Bento Solo, YakiYoda noodles, Udon Jinn, a Tatuna-ine Roll, General Leia Onigiri, Katsu Ren, or Tem-Poe-ra is more your style.

What if it’s just all Greek to you? Then try Tzatziki-Gon Jinn, Han-akopita, Count Dooku-scous, Hummus Eisley, Souv-Luke-i, Boba Ganoush, Philo Ren, Padmé Ama-dolma, Mox Moussakanata, and some Chewbaklava for dessert.

But what if you just want to eat at a good old American Diner? Start with some Chicken Finn-gers and Mashed Poe-tatoes. Or maybe you’d rather have X-chicken-wing fighters and some Fry Fighters. Admiral AckBar-B-Que, Darth Taters, Hoth Dogs, or an R2-DTuna Melt made with Mos Eisley Canned-tuna. Order an Iceberg Wedge Antilles Salad, Yodagurt, Endor-itos, or Watto-melon on the side. On the light side, try a Bagel-bah with Lox Kanata. Wash it all down with a Captain Fanta, Yoda Pop, Qui-Gon Gin and Tonic, or Iced Emperor Palpa-tea. And for dessert, choose from Banantha Cream Pie or a big slice of Aunt Baru-barb pie.

Hope that got some Endor-phins flowing!

[nameofallteams]

333 Funny Cornhole Team Names

Cornhole is one of the most fun and laid-back games you can play, making it perfect for casual gatherings, tailgating, or even competitive leagues. One of the best parts about cornhole is coming up with hilarious team names that reflect your team’s personality and sense of humor. Whether you want to stand out at tournaments or just get a few laughs, here are 333 funny cornhole team names to inspire you! Cornhole Puns & Wordplay Puns are always a hit, and they work perfectly for cornhole team names. Here are some clever and funny cornhole puns to consider: - Corn Stars - Hole Patrol - The Corn Identity - Corn to be Wild - Shuck Dynasty - Corn Hub - Corn in the USA - Holey Moley - Unicornholers - Cornslingers - The Cornholios - Baggin' Rights - Corn to be Alive - Shuck ‘N’ Awe - Hole Lotta Fun - Kernel Sanders - Corn Dogs - Corn of Duty - Shuck Buddies - Kernel Knowledge Food-Themed Cornhole Team Names Given that corn is a food, it’s no surprise that food puns and names are popular in cornhole. Here are some of the funniest food-related team names: - Nacho Average Cornhole Team - Cornbread Bandits - Bagel & Hole Lox - Baggin’ Bacon - Kernel Mustard and the Bags - The Snack Attackers - Corn Chips ‘N’ Dip - Butter Me Up - The Shuckaneers - Salsa Slingers - Maize Rage - Popcorn Pirates - The Bagel Bunch - Candy Corn Crushers - Burrito Brothers - Buttered Cornholes - Sweet Cornhole O’ Mine - The Kernel Kings - Nacho Average Tossers - The Burrito Bombers Cornhole Team Names Inspired by Drinking Cornhole and beer often go hand in hand. If your team is all about having a good time and throwing back a few drinks, these alcohol-inspired team names will be a hit: - Brews & Bags - Beer Me - Chuggin' & Chuckin' - Sip Happens - Pour Decisions - Buzzed Baggers - Tossin’ & Toastin’ - Beerly Functional - Hole Lotta Beer - Drinkers with a Throwing Problem - Keg Stand Chuckers - Bags, Beers, and Cheers - Corn and Coors - The Drunken Tossers - Brew Slingers - Chuggers & Sluggers - Drinkin’ and Sinkin’ - The Cornhole Shooters - Sip, Sip, Toss - Tossed & Sauced Pop Culture-Inspired Cornhole Team Names From TV shows and movies to music and sports, pop culture offers tons of ideas for funny cornhole team names. Here are some of the best: - Bag to the Future - The Great Cornholios - Hole in Oats - Corn in 60 Seconds - The Bag Street Boys - Game of Throws - Holeyfield & Tyson - Hole in the Wall - The Bag Pipers - The Walking Dead Weight - Slingin’ in the Rain - Bagnum PI - Hole Busters - Bagatha Christie - Sons of Pitches - Tossed Salad & Scrambled Bags - Holey Potter - Bagnum Force - Bags of Anarchy - Obi Wan Cornholer Punny Cornhole Team Names Puns can make any team name more fun and memorable. Here are some more pun-filled cornhole team names that are sure to get a laugh: - Sack to the Future - Bags to Riches - Hole in Juan - Baggin’ and Braggin’ - Baggin’ Dragons - Sack it Up - Throw Job - Holey Rollers - Toss Like a Boss - Bags of Glory - The Sacrificers - Hole in Fun - Baggin’ Wagon - Sac Attack - Bag Off! - Toss a Bag, Save the World - Lord of the Bags - Cornado Warning - Bag O’ Tricks - Bag to the Bone Competitive Cornhole Team Names If your team takes cornhole seriously but you still want a funny twist, try out one of these competitive names with a playful side: - Hole Dominators - Baggin’ Champions - Hole-y Terrors - Slingin’ Aces - Corn Masters - The Shuckaneers - Hole Hearted Champions - The Corn Identity - The Cornhole Crushers - Baggin’ Elite - Shuck ‘Em Up - Cornhole Commandos - Bag Masters - Slinging Sensations - Toss Masters - Cornhole Conquerors - The Sack Kings - Throwdown Titans - Shuckin’ Champs - The Hole Heroes Animal-Themed Cornhole Team Names If you love animals and want to incorporate them into your cornhole team name, here are some funny and creative ideas: - Shuckin’ Squirrels - Bags of Fury - Holey Cows - The Cornholing Coyotes - Cornhole Cobras - Baggin' Beasts - The Shuckin’ Sharks - The Tossing Tigers - Baggin’ Badgers - Cornhole Kangaroos - Baggin’ Buffalos - Flying Cornhuskers - Holey Owls - Baggin’ Bears - The Tossing Turtles - Corny Crocs - Tossin’ Tuna - Baggin’ Birds - Corn-Eating Cheetahs - Baggin’ Bulldogs Miscellaneous Funny Cornhole Team Names Can’t fit your team into any specific category? Here are some random, fun, and silly team names that defy categorization: - Corn of Thrones - Bean Baggers - Team Cornucopia - Holey Moley Guacamole - Chucktown Chuggers - The Bag Toss Boss - Corn on the Slob - The Cornhole-a-rinas - Sackmasters - Baggin’ Rights - The Holey Grail - The Toss-taculars - Bag Slappers - The Cornchips - Throw Some Bags On It - The Bag Brigade - Cornhole Cowboys - The Cornfed Crushers - Tossing Tornadoes - Sack Kings Classic & Simple Cornhole Team Names Sometimes, simplicity is best. These classic cornhole team names are easy to remember and still funny: - Bags and Beers - The Tossing Squad - Holey Rollers - The Bag Boys - Corn Chuckers - Bag Em’ and Tag Em’ - The Holey Ones - Toss to Victory - Corn Kings - Bag Toss Masters - Hole in One - Bagging Champions - Cornhuskers - The Bag Bandits - Corn Stars - Tossers Anonymous - The Bag Slingers - Baggin’ Buddies - Cornhole Kings - The Hole Lot Conclusion From puns and pop culture references to food, animals, and beyond, the possibilities for funny cornhole team names are endless. Whether you're aiming for light-hearted fun or a competitive edge, this list of 333 cornhole team names should help you find the perfect fit for your squad. So, pick a name, grab your bags, and let the games begin! Read the full article

[african-travel-n-tours]

Why Kenya Should Be Your Next Travel Destination

Kenya, a land of breathtaking landscapes, diverse wildlife, vibrant cultures, and warm hospitality, beckons travelers from around the globe. Here’s why Kenya should be at the top of your travel bucket list:

1. Safari Adventures

Kenya is synonymous with safari: Picture yourself in the midst of the Maasai Mara, witnessing the Great Migration of wildebeest and zebras, or tracking majestic lions in Amboseli National Park with the backdrop of Mount Kilimanjaro. From the vast savannahs of Tsavo to the rugged beauty of Samburu, Kenya offers some of the best safari experiences in the world.

2. Diverse Wildlife

Home to the Big Five: Kenya boasts an incredible diversity of wildlife, including lions, elephants, rhinos, leopards, and buffalos. Beyond the Big Five, you can spot cheetahs, giraffes, zebras, hippos, crocodiles, and a plethora of bird species in their natural habitats.

3. Natural Wonders

Scenic beauty that mesmerizes: From the snow-capped peaks of Mount Kenya to the turquoise waters of the Indian Ocean, Kenya’s landscapes are diverse and stunning. Explore the Rift Valley’s lakes, dive into coral reefs off the coast of Diani Beach, or hike through the lush forests of Aberdare National Park.

4. Rich Cultural Heritage

Experience vibrant cultures: Interact with Kenya’s diverse ethnic groups, such as the Maasai, Samburu, and Turkana. Discover their traditions, colorful attire, and unique way of life through cultural visits, village stays, and tribal ceremonies.

5. Adventure Activities

Thrills for every adventurer: Whether it’s climbing Mount Kenya, Africa’s second-highest peak, or exploring Hell’s Gate National Park on a bicycle safari, Kenya offers a plethora of adrenaline-pumping activities. Enjoy hot air balloon safaris over the Maasai Mara or snorkel alongside whale sharks in Watamu Marine National Park.

6. Conservation Success Stories

Leading in wildlife conservation: Kenya is at the forefront of conservation efforts, with initiatives like the Rhino Ark Project protecting endangered species and habitats. Many lodges and camps support sustainable tourism practices, ensuring that your visit contributes to preserving Kenya’s natural heritage.

7. Warm Hospitality

Welcome to ‘Hakuna Matata’: Kenyans are known for their warmth and hospitality, greeting visitors with genuine smiles and making you feel at home. Whether you’re in bustling Nairobi or a remote village, you’ll experience the famed Swahili hospitality everywhere you go.

8. Culinary Delights

Taste of Kenya: Indulge in Kenya’s flavorful cuisine, blending traditional African dishes with influences from Arab, Indian, and European cultures. Try nyama choma (grilled meat), ugali (maize meal), and sample exotic fruits and spices from local markets.

9. Accessibility and Infrastructure

Easy travel: Kenya’s well-developed tourism infrastructure makes it easy to navigate the country. Domestic flights connect major parks and cities, while roads are improving, allowing for scenic road trips and easy access to remote destinations.

10. Unforgettable Experiences

Memories to cherish: Whether you’re witnessing a lion hunt, sipping sundowners with a view of the savannah, or learning about traditional medicine from a Maasai elder, Kenya offers experiences that will stay with you forever.

Conclusion

Kenya is more than just a safari destination; it’s a journey into the heart of Africa’s wild beauty simply seeking relaxation in paradise, Kenya promises an unforgettable travel experience that will ignite your senses and leave you yearning to return.Come discover Kenya—where the spirit of Africa comes alive in every sunset, every wildlife encounter, and every heartfelt ‘Jambo!’ from its people.

[strytells]

@auratvm said: This “being in love” thing was for the birds. Or was it the bees? Both? Whatever the hell it was land-dwellers said—they always had the funniest sayings. Rear-end on a north-bound mule? Take a hike? That’s the shit Jade tried dragging him along on—he got how that was supposed to be offensive.

But he knew he valued Maize’s joy more than he ever thought he would. Had he told his past self that cephalo-twerp with a taste for adventure no matter what danger it may bring would be the same one he’d be following the coattails of, he’d point and laugh and probably rob him.

So here he was, the locket Maize had to abandon all those years ago when chased from ruins by a shark behind his back. Polished to mint condition from nights upon nights of hard work; the photo inside still in its weathered condition, because he knew the novelty was what mattered most to Maize.

He smiled at him, all teeth, as he raised it just in his line of vision.

“Remember this?” [ merle > maize ]Valentine's day Asks // Kinda accepting!

Maize had been more than content to avoid this holiday of love and affection, he was more than okay with the free food along with hearing the compliments from his peers (when he got them...), even a little greeting between him and Azul was okay.

HOWEVER.

Hearing familiar footsteps approach drew him from his current work of inventory for the lounge (he promised Azul he'd get to it before the weekend), looking over his shoulder to Merle as he found himself smiling. Putting his work down he marked where he currently was on inventory before giving his friend his undivided attention.

And his smile only grew at the sight of the locket, quickly taking it and examining it closer- his ears starting to wiggle with delight, looking back at Merle with an even bigger smile.

"Of course I do! How could I forget this!?"

He never forgot that chase when he found it, that shark forced him into the tightest confines his hearts were racing by the time it was over... He hoped that shark liked that face full of ink.

"I haven't seen this since we were kids!! How'd you find it again??" Though the pure joy on his face could easily be translated into a thank you for his shark.

"And how'd you get it fixed? Last I checked it was coated in barnacles..."

[mesoamericanhistoryinfodumps]

Book review of "Aquatic Adaptations in Mesoamerica (by Eduardo Williams)"

Technically the full title is a bit longer, but it feels redundant to write it out when I'm going to get into what it means in this next paragraph anyway.

The book's subtitle is "subsistence activities in ethnoarchaeological research", which basically means that the book aims to compare the subsistence activities (such as fishing, duck hunting, salt-making, tool-use and so on) of people currently living in the Mesoamerican region with how Mesoamerican peoples long ago might have carried out the same sorts of subsistence activities.

For example, the book goes into a detailed description of how fishermen carry out their trade in present-day Mexico and what tools they use. While there's no guarantee that the Aztecs used the same tools, guessing that they might be older versions of a modern tradition is as good of a lead as you can get in many cases, especially considering the sparseness of written sources.

As it turns out, modern day fishing will leave very specific traces such as fishing net weights of a specific size, and these do indeed have their equivalents in the same geographic area in the archaeological record - as such we can now make a pretty good guess that they may have used similar fishing tools.

More specifically, the book records subsistence activities that are all in some way centered on lakes, rivers, and bodies of water - having read this book it becomes abundantly clear that the Mesoamerican diet would have been nutritionally poor without access to lakes, and plenty of basic household items like reed mats would have been missing. Lakes are important!

All this is to say that I really enjoyed the methodology of the book. It combines past and future and shows why it's meaningful to link the two together, and if I could describe the book in one word it would be 'meticulous'. That being said it can be rather dry and I would recommend skim-reading through it if you're just reading for fun.

Rating 8/10

Fun facts/what did I learn from this book?

Lakes provided locals with the first wild variants of the staples of Mesoamerican societies, such as maize and amaranth.

Besides providing food, lakeside activity supplied salt (also nutritionally important!) for fixing dyes to cloth, and reeds for mat-making.

Chinampas were an agricultural method of creating farmland in the middle of lakes and were highly productive, they supplied a pretty significant quantity of food to the population of Tenochtitlan for one.

Bats were off-limits as food for religious reasons (and quite possibly health reasons as well)

The Maya hunted sharks in rather large numbers, apparently you could buy shark meat and shark liver at your local market.

The nixtamalization process of treating maize with lime to make it more nutritious was a huge deal for improving the diet and allowing the population to increase. The lime for this process may have been taken from lime-rich seafood shells, which would make a lot of practical sense.

Insects and their eggs were quite popular foods. The insects could be fried and then wrapped in tortillas or used as fillings in tamales. Insect eggs were generally ground to a paste, made into small cakes and cooked on a griddle (comal).

[peacocksandquetzals]

Coyotl Goes to Tenochtitlan (historical fiction I wrote, tell me what you think)

My mother's people belong to the desert. There are not a lot of people in our village. We live on what we hunt- deer, rabbits, and wild turkeys. Our priests chew peyote and receive visions to guide us. The chief of our village is a generous man. He has a bobcat pelt draped around his shoulders.

My father's people further south who live in big cities call us the Chichimeca, which means "dog people." They think of us less civilized as them because we sometimes move with the seasons and don't stay in one place for long. We just have a different way of life as them. 

One day, my father announced that he was tired of the desert. "There's nothing to see here but sand and cacti. Coyotl, my son, you're a man now. You're fifteen summers old. I think it's time to take you on a visit to my country." 

My younger siblings were jealous of me, as none of them had ever left the desert before. My mother was happy for me, saying it's important for young men to see the world. She gave my father a kiss, and soon I was on my way with him to his hometown: the great city of Tenochtitlan. 

We travelled by foot for most of the way. My father knew exactly what inns to stop at. He used to be a merchant a long time ago, so he had a lot of experience with travelling all over the region on business trips on behalf of Tenochtitlan. 

We made a pit stop in the Otomí lands. "They make the best octli here, son." He let me try some of the intoxicating drink because he said I was old enough to handle it. I winced at the taste. My father laughed and said there would be far better things to eat and drink in Tenochtitlan. 

When we got closer to our destination, we got on board a canoe. I nearly tipped it over in excitement when I saw Tenochtitlan on the horizon. 

It looked like a city for gods. A huge temple-pyramid was in the heart of the city, and it was the most massive thing I'd ever seen. It was constructed with such care and beauty. It seemed like a giant mountain to me with its summit above the clouds. 

When we got closer to the city, I could see that there were thousands of canoes. Indeed, the most common way of getting around in Tenochtitlan was by canoe. The whole city was built on a lake, so there were more canals than streets. Hundreds of engineers were tasked with the job of keeping the buildings safe from floods. 

We rowed past the chinampas- gardens that floated on the lakewater. They grew crops there like maize and beans. 

Finally, my father took me to a splendid, bustling marketplace. It was full of everything you could imagine. I went up to a food stall and ordered a tamale- maize dough mixed with chillies and wrapped inside a corn husk. It tasted delicious. 

My father bought a bracelet made of shark teeth that was made by coastal people I'd never heard of. "Your mother will love this," he said. 

I shuddered when I saw a stall that sold pelts from a fierce animal called a jaguar. They were from the hot Mayan lands in the south, full of jungles and powerful city-states. 

No one thought I was strange, even though I clearly looked foreign and I was not very good at speaking Nahuatl. They were used to getting travellers from all over the world. 

When it was time to leave the magnificent city, I was full of stories to tell my younger siblings. Tenochtitlan was an incredible place, but I was starting to miss them and my mom. 

"I've travelled far and wide," said my dad. "But there's no place like home."

[giobrio]

Shark Bitten Vix

A belated Bornday gift for @crikeydave with Vix trying to beat the heat with a sweet treat! No pistachios.

[specialagentartemis]

30 years ago, some of us were born.  Some of us were children.  All of us at least have someone - parents, teachers, or friends - who were alive 30 years ago, who can tell you directly what things were like in the early 90s.  A lot of iconic movies and music were released 30 years ago that are considered fundamental pieces of pop culture now.  30 years ago, the world was not very different at all from how it is now, and neither were people.

300 years ago, snarky teen Benjamin Franklin published anonymous advice and satire letters in the newspaper. The Mapuche rose against the Spanish in Chile for the fifth time in an attempt to take back political control of their people and land, and Popé led the Pueblos in their revolt against the Spanish which drove them out of the Rio Grande region. (The American Revolution was still 50 years away.) Vivaldi and Bach composed concertos, bookmakers in China meticulously printed five-thousand-volume comprehensive encyclopedias of history and culture, and the British signed treaties with the Wabenaki Confederacy and the Mohawk Nation. Isaac Newton described an exciting new theory of physics and a ton of pirates roamed, like, every coast. Jonathan Swift wrote biting, bitter satire of the British colonization of Ireland, and West Africans were captured and brought to the Americas as slaves. The first major public vaccination campaign was held in Boston, which a lot of people were suspicious of and resisted very strongly.

3,000 years ago, Central American farmers had long established maize corn from teosinte and tended fields of corn, selectively breeding it to adapt it to regional climates; farmers in Japan began to cultivate rice.  David became king of Israel, and Pharaohs postured with political propaganda.  The rulers of Egypt and Kush alternately traded and showed off their riches with each other or struggled for power over the lands of the Nile.  People of the Middle East and the Mediterranean wrote prayers to their gods, letters to their siblings, and complaints to their copper merchants on clay tablets.  Chinese poets compiled books of poetry.  The Olmec people in Mexico played ballgames.  One unlucky wood merchant in the Levant sent letters home to Egypt complaining of his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Trip.

30,000 years ago, people in Eastern Europe painted breathtaking scenes of animals and hunting on the walls of caves by firelight; across the world, people in Indonesia did the same.  Hunters chipped spear-points and knives out of stone; cooks ground stone into food-processing tools.  People sailed or paddled boats across the strait from Asia to Australia, and navigated boats across the open ocean to the Solomon Islands.  In Australia and Southeast Asia, fishermen went out to sea on boats to catch sharks and tuna.  South African hunters developed bow and arrow technology, with arrowheads made of carved bone and tipped with poison to take down big game in a series of technological innovations.  In Germany, someone carved an imaginary image of a lion-headed human; in Eastern Europe, figures of women were sculpted from clay.  Hunter-gatherers on the Russian steppes buried important dead bedecked with strings of jewelry.

Humans have been anatomically modern - with the same bones, the same teeth, the same brains as you and me - for 300,000 years.  They had the same intellectual capacity then, felt as deeply and thought as well, wondered as much about the world and had opinions about things and personal preferences and different skills, as any of us.

What was life like for them?

[seihun]

can i be your boyfriend? (take this quiz to find out!) — a bbh social media au

prev ◂ part 9B ▸ next

ϟ pairings: baekhyun x oc:reader

ϟ tag list: @artfulbarnes​ @bat-shark-repellant​ @baek-byunies​ @bbh-kji​ @exuwu​ @elyxion1485��� @haechanspudu​ @j-pping​ @kkpoptrashhh​ @littleflowercrown13​ @marina-del-rey98​ @mangobaek​ @miraculyfe​ @oasissehun​ @ohwosehun  @p-polaroid​ @peachesyeol​ @penguinsoo-l​ @rikachusworld​ @sakura-uji​ @sekshi-namjas​ @to-all-the-stories-i-love​ @writingindaisies​ @xiutingmyself​ @yourexotextplus​

ϟ notes: aaaand here’s part two of the update!! if i could fit them all into one post i would, but hopefully this works too 🤗just for clarification, this part takes place about a weekish after the previous part (part 9A). and yes, that is zendaya as the face claim for maize, i am living vicariously through minseok 

[kylorengarbagedump]

Little Bird: Chapter 39 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 38 here. Part 40 here.

Summary: The WHO probably doesn't recommend you do any of these things while pregnant.

Words:  9900

Warnings: tw: graphic depictions of big time violence, both physical AND sexual, DUBIOUS consent, voyeurism

Characters: Kylo Ren x Handmaid!Reader

A/N: Hello, welcome back to my horror show! Hahaha.

Thank you very much for your patience in me waiting to get this chapter out. As you can tell, it is a beast. I genuinely hope you enjoyed it as apology for the long wait.

Cannot thank everyone's kindness and thoughtfulness enough. Your comments always, always brighten my day. I love y'all with my whole heart.

“So the plan is to flank them.”

“We’ll flank them here--Kuruk, Ap’lek, and you will take the east side. Cardo, Trudgen, and myself will take the west.”

“Where do we pull over, then? We won’t be able to get the Buzzard that close.”

The Night Buzzard was split into three sections--the front third was dedicated to food and supplies storage and an imitation of livable seating, the second third designated entirely for weaponry. The rear of the bus consisted of four stony, stripped bunks, beds in function only. 

The Knights Templar--save for one, who was driving--had spent the past hour out of the six-hour journey at the front. They crowded over a map, debating their strategy while you watched, perched on the tiny couch across from them. Your Commander loomed beside you, silent, the knife of his gaze occasionally slipping over you, so sharp it slit you through his mask. He had hardly spoken a word since you’d boarded; the quick, piercing glances were the only evidence you had that he remembered you were there--a feat while stuck in close proximity on an armored bus.

“A five-hundred foot perimeter is typical.”

“Five-hundred feet gives them too much opportunity. The Buzzard has jammers.”

“Jammers don’t mask the sound of the engine, ‘Shar.”

“All right then, Vic, but the more space we give them, the greater chance they have of escape.”

Kylo Ren turned to them. “The primary objective is to destroy the subversives. Flank the encampment, salvage what documentation you can, kill any that cross your path.” He paused. “Leave Pryde to me.”

His voice was cold, even through the modulation. You sulked into the corner of the couch, anxiety knitting in your chest. To be near your Commander brought you a sense of peace, but the unanswered question of your future--your child’s future--left you lurching. You longed for a moment, two moments alone with him, an opportunity to search his eyes and find liberty in his response. Perhaps in a hormonal, pregnant haze, you’d imagined it like a prophecy: his large hands, curling around yours, his lip trembling with fear, his silence a concession. And you’d imagined the words swirling into your ears, granting you everything you’d grown to need.

I’m choosing you, he’d breathe.We’re free.

But staring at him now, hidden under a helmet, armored, toting a rifle and pistol, you weren’t sure where the man in your prophecy might be. You weren’t sure if that particular man had ever existed at all. 

The bus shuddered, striking into rough terrain; beyond the tinted windows, you could make out a field blanched under the quarter-moon, wild maize exploding through the grasses. 

“We’re about half a mile out,” called the driver--Kuruk, you thought. 

At this, Kylo opened a cabinet and grabbed two devices--they beeped and hissed when he turned them on, and he fiddled with them both in a sort of calibration before crouching to be level with you. He pushed one into your hands, stowing the other one on his hip.

“This frequency is full-duplex. We will hear each other at all times. If someone unfamiliar to you even glances at the Night Buzzard, you will call for me.” He pinched your chin between leather fingers, angling your eyes into the void of his mask. “Do you understand?”

Your cheeks burned. You swallowed. “Yes, Commander.”

He huffed--static in the mask--and patted your cheek. “Good girl.”

As you blushed, he stood and crossed to the Knights. They steeped themselves in hushed discussion until the driver signaled their arrival. With a rumble, the Buzzard slowed, coasting to a stop behind a smattering of trees, and through the darkness, you could spy a collection of distant glowing lights, cold and artificial. One of the Knights murmured something about cutting a generator, and Kylo nodded. A brief, mustered agreement, and the doors opened, the soldiers filing out, leaving their leader behind. He turned to you a final time.

“The exterior is bulletproof. The door will lock.” His presence was heavy. You wished you could touch him. “At even a glance.”

“I know.” You gazed at the transceiver, its power light blinking like a heartbeat. “I will.”

Kylo held you under his stare for a lingering second before stomping down the steps and exiting the Buzzard. With everyone now gone, the air seemed stale. Empty. Sighing, you rose to your feet, dragging yourself to the driver’s seat and plopping into it, cradling the radio in your lap. The only noise filtering through the speaker was muffled static. 

Though you could only see from several hundred feet away, the camp seemed unassuming, composed of a couple dozen military vehicles and a bunch of pitched tents that appeared half-packed away. They’d said the encampment was moving tonight--the Buzzard’s dash read 10:42 PM. Bodies bustled under the lights, Angels in black uniforms and armed with rifles carting indiscernible armfuls to store them on trucks. You scanned the fields, searching for your Commander, but found nothing. Kylo Ren and his men had disintegrated into the dark. 

It started with a flicker--the camp’s lights fluttered like a flame--and a black veil swallowed the outer ring of the perimeter. The men in your sight seemed confused, not concerned, spinning to examine the issue, creeping forward. And then one dropped with a crack, the items in his arms tumbling free, his body folding into itself as it hit the ground. With firecracker panic, the camp erupted, soldiers revealing their rifles and whirling in sloppy formation, only to watch other comrades smack the dirt, shot dead in random, bloody heaps. 

A coordinated effort was abandoned, and the Angels scattered, rifled roaches under dying halogen lights. But their attempts to hide were futile--the second they found shelter, another layer of lighting winked out, and they scuttled to the center, shooting volleys of gunfire in no particular direction. It was only then you caught them--the Knights, cutting through the camp like raven razors, collapsing tents and impaling bodies as they passed. A pair was back to back, twirling as one clotheslined two Angels and the other emptied a clip into an approaching squad. A third covered those two, winding around them and unleashing a full automatic round into the camp. 

Then a sharp bang, white fire--you winced--the men in the camp stiffening in temporary paralysis. In their stupor, the other three Knights descended, sharks consuming a helpless meal, rending their prey into paper shreds. One Knight slit a man’s face from ear to ear, a crest of blood in the dirt, and twisted his knife into the back of his mouth. The man screamed into the sky, so loud you heard it from the Buzzard, and then through the transceiver, followed by echoes of furious voices demanding order in new, terrible chaos. 

The horror picked up the pace of your heart--this was different than the times you’d watched Kylo. Their savagery was almost sadistic; a thought confirmed when two Knights paused their spree to watch an Angel wriggle like a split worm, kicking him as his blood clumped mud under his chest.  You swallowed, tearing your eyes away as another section of lights died, plunging the entire camp into darkness. Shouting choruses of strained voices ripped through the radio, the only sign of activity the sparks of muzzle fire and shifting shadows under the moon.

Staccato pops pierced the speaker, and you jumped, focus darting between the device and the absolute nothing you could see beyond the bus. And then a voice, familiar--the man you remembered as Pryde.

“Took you long enough, Ren.” Another round of gunshots. “Three weeks to pin us down?”

Two shots, louder, closer. “Easier to find rats when they have nowhere to hide.”

“You’re willing to bet on that.” A single pop.

“Betting implies faith in the outcome.” A pause. “I don’t have faith. I have knowledge.” 

A cacophony of shots staticked the speaker, and you clapped your hands over your mouth, silencing your squeals. You glanced out the window, still seeing nothing but the twinkles of the Knights’ massacre. Like dust, the exchange settled, someone panting over the channel. From the clarity of breath, it didn’t sound like Kylo.

“Impossible,” said Pryde. “There are cells that you can’t possibly--won’t possibly ever know about.”

“You’re willing to bet on that.”

Something crossed through a shaft of starlight, moving toward the Buzzard. You blinked, inching toward the dashboard. It was difficult to see in the darkness.

“You pushed Gilead too far.”

“I’m improving it.”

“Your improvements are borderline treason.”

“You’re heading a coup.”

Explosions of noise through the radio, a growling scrape--your throat tightened. The shadow was definitely human. It was definitely coming closer. Running.

You grabbed the transceiver, holding it to your mouth. “Um. Commander?”

The only response was static, a party of bullets through the speaker. Fear stabbed your chest, your pulse in your ears.

“It will never be treason to restore Gilead to God’s word.” Another crackle. “I’m righting your mistakes.” More gunfire. “This isn’t a coup, it’s retribution.”

“Commander,” you said, a little louder. “Sir.”

“You’ll need the support of the Council.”

It was an Angel. He was rushing the Buzzard with something, some sort of bag in his hand. It looked, maybe, wiry. It looked, in your mind, like a bomb. 

Your heart careened--why wasn’t he listening, why wasn’t he answering--and you fumbled the radio, sending it tumbling onto the floor of the bus and under your feet. The light stopped blinking. 

“Fuck.” You tried to kick it toward you, managing only to knock it under the seat. “Fuck! Kylo! Kylo!” 

Of course, there was no response.

“You think you have the support of the Council? You’re no Snoke. You never will be.”

You scrambled to the floor, knees scratching metal. Reached for the transceiver.

“I killed Snoke.” A clatter of metal--you snagged the device and flung it toward you. “This is my destiny.”

Turning it on, you screeched, “Kylo please there’s someone running with a bag please help!”

The sound of a gunshot. An inhuman snarl. And the radio went dead. 

“Kylo?” you said. “Commander? Sir?”

A shriek of fire erupted in the camp, spewing dirt and smoke into the air, and you screamed, shouting nonsense into the transceiver, as if this would summon him to your side. The explosion guttered in seconds, flames trickling to death, fog fading. There was no sign of the Knights. Or your Commander.

Your heart thudded. Something could’ve happened to him. He could be dead. But there was no time to process or consider it. You were alone in the Buzzard. With the Angel only coming closer. One hundred possibilities reeled through your mind--he could be escaping, defecting, taking this chance to denounce his chains--yet the only one you could consider was the one that involved him blowing you and the bus to whichever afterlife actually existed. Running wasn’t an option, if he did blow up the bus, with you being in the middle of nowhere and with no places to hide. There was only one other choice. Before anything and everything else, you needed to survive. 

Steeling your jaw, you scrambled toward the second third of the bus, threw open the weaponry cabinets and stared at the assembly of rifles, shotguns, pistols, and other deathbringers. There was no leisure to figure out how to use a new type of gun--you barely knew how to use one. You snatched a pistol, testing its weight in your palm before fussing to find the safety. Your fingers found the magazine release instead--it popped out, revealing a full clip, and you silently thanked whatever divine being allowed that to happen, because there was no way you would’ve checked to see if the stupid thing had bullets. The safety was already disengaged.  Swallowing, you wiped your palms on your robe and tramped to the exit, chin quaking while you flipped the lock and opened the door. 

The summer air stuffed your lungs, and you wheezed through it, stumbling into the dirt. Holding your breath, you sidled up to the Buzzard, spying the Angel sprinting through the grass. Your hands shook, stomach churned. There was no way you’d nail this shot. Unfortunately, you had to try.

Teeth gnashing, you tugged back the slide and raised your arms, elbows locked, fixing the sight of the pistol on the shifting shade. To account for delay, you led the barrel in front of his path, following him for one second, and two. You pulled the trigger.

Rattled by force, the bullet went wide, whizzing into space, and you gulped, watching as the Angel paused, searching for its origin. You hunted for oxygen, but the air was thick, ears shrill with terror. Adrenaline drunk, you threw your arms forward, aiming again. Fuck it. He still wasn’t moving. This time, you wouldn’t miss. 

Lip curling, you fired, wrists flung back, and the Angel yelped, dropping a knee. You had only seconds to celebrate before he turned straight toward you, and your blood froze. He struggled to his feet, hand moving at his waist--you panted, unable to stop the rapid vibration wracking your joints as you tried to aim again. In a zombie shuffle, he leveled his own pistol and sent off a shot, pinging the steel next to your head.

“Fuck!” 

You clung to the side of the Buzzard, heaving now, clenching the gun in your hands. You wanted to get it together. He still had that bag in his arms, and now he knew you were here. You needed to get it together. With his injury, he was holding his gun one-handed--the recoil recovery would be your chance. Every pulse of your heart clouded your sight--you drew in a slow, deep inhale through your nose, ignoring the flighty feather of thought in the back of your mind:

Where the hell was your Commander?

Shaking it off, you adjusted your grasp and spun the corner, moving to aim--another shot glanced off the bus, and you shrieked, falling to your knees. Growling, fight-or-flight flaring, you tracked the Angel, determined to win, and pulled the trigger.

And nothing happened. 

“What the fuck,” you said, and smacked the gun, like this would help. You tried to shoot again, but nothing. “What the fuck!”

Your failure was the Angel’s opportunity--you glanced up, his arm already raised. 

Pop.

Wincing, you waited for the pain. But none came. You blinked, peering into the grasses, and spotted the Angel, crumpled to the ground. 

Commander Kylo Ren broke through the night, a cyclone through the fields--relief flooded you, fleeing your lungs--he was alive. He was here. And he was charging you like a tank.

“Kylo,” you breathed, and clambered to your feet, pulling your lips in over your teeth. But he didn’t respond. Your fight-or-flight stalled in his approach. 

Palms wet, your grip slipped and the gun smacked the dirt, shooting a round into the grass. You flinched, neck hot, made to grab it, but before you could reach, a gloved hand gnarled your hair and whipped you back, hauling you onto the Buzzard.

You yipped in pain. “Kylo!” Tugging at his fingers, you tried to pry free as he yanked you up the steps, but he tightened his grip, wrenching you forward and tossing you onto the couch. “Will you--”

His mask snapped with static--he seized your face, pinching your cheeks. “You seem to have a penchant for bullets,” he said. “If you’re so interested, I’ll put another one in you myself.”

You glared at him, pushing him off. “Are you kidding?” you said. “I thought he had a bomb!”

Kylo grabbed your face again. “He was carrying documents. And your solution was to begin a shooting match.”

“Who cares?” you spat. “You’re the one who didn’t respond to the radio!”

He growled. “You may care little for your own life, but you are--” 

In the distance, tires squealed, a vehicle spinning into the field--his head snapped toward the front, and he pushed you free, striding to the driver’s seat.

Without a word, he revved the engine and threw it into gear, slamming on the gas and peeling through the grass, speeding in the other vehicle’s direction. You jolted with the terrain, seeking purchase on the couch, but he jerked the shift into low gear, motor wailing as he plowed through the plains. Thrown forward, you grappled with the table across from you, peering through the windshield, watching Kylo barrel into the night.

You knew that he was in pursuit of Pryde. But your conversation didn’t feel finished. In the back of your mind, alarms blared: evidence, evidence of your inevitable fate. The man in your prophecy was a stranger. The one in your reality hadn’t come when you’d called him. He seemed reluctant to choose you at all.

The Buzzard roared, its acceleration impressive for its size, chasing the speeding sedan, catching its rear in its headlights. Focused, Kylo shoved the gearshift forward, and the engine howled, flinging you back to the couch with a yelp.

“Stop moving.”

You frowned. “It’s not like there are seatbelts back here.” 

The sedan cut to the left, zooming toward a highway, and Kylo growled. “Get up here.”

Gripping the sides of the aisle, you pulled yourself toward the driver’s seat, and when you met the back of the chair, Kylo reached around, wound an arm around your waist, and dragged you on his lap. You squeaked--before you could adjust, he hit the brakes and jerked the wheel; the Buzzard whined, teetering in protest, and Kylo tugged you to his frame, shifting under you to keep you both from hitting the floor. 

Your face burned--despite your frustration with him, he was large and warm underneath you, his  chest steady at your back. Swallowing, you grabbed his thighs, hoping to steady yourself, and if he noticed, he didn’t care, letting you cling while he focused on the hunt. The sedan bumbled across pavement, sliced through the highway, back into the fields--Kylo smashed the gas, and the Buzzard flew over the asphalt with a smack, bouncing you on his lap, sending heat to your cheeks. The distance from his prey was negligible, now; the car was some type of black Volkswagen, the license plate glinting in the glare of headlights.

Kylo stiffened and lowered the window, buffeting you with gusts of syrupy air, and grabbed your hands, tacking them to the wheel. “Steer.”

Your jaw dropped. “Wait--”

He brandished his pistol and stretched out--you jostled over his thighs--lining up a shot as you bore down on the car. Gritting your teeth, you kept the Buzzard straight as it rumbled over the dirt, and he tensed, firing two shots, blowing out his target’s rear tires. The Volkswagen whirled, a tornado in the grass spiraling toward you, set to collide with your front-end; you thought to do nothing else but swerve and spin the wheel. The sharp curve pitched the bus off of its side, and you cursed, the both of you thrown toward the steps. 

A strong arm barred your waist, catching you and wresting you back, and a leather hand encompassed yours--Kylo slammed the brakes, righting the tires as the bus screeched to a stop feet away from the car, rocking you both into the driver’s side, his hold buffering you from injury. You panted, face and flesh hot, head airy; in the grass, Pryde scrambled from the Volkwagen into blinding light, a crimson streak through his scalp. He ducked, took cover behind his car and drew his pistol, lodging two shots in the windshield. You yelped--there was no chance to speak before Kylo pushed you off, his own pistol in hand as he shouldered his way through the bus door and into the glow of the Buzzard’s headlamps.

Pop, pop--the fire stalled your Commander’s advance, and he shielded himself with the bus’s body. Emblazoned with righteous furor, Pryde shot again, burying a bullet in the frame.

“You’re an idiot, Ren. You’ll do this forever. I won’t be the last.” From your height, you could see Pryde fussing with something. He must not have known you were there. “As long as you go against God’s plan, you’ll never win.”

Then he tossed whatever was in his hand, covering his eyes--a stabbing flash eclipsed your sight, its detonation drowning your ears, and you gasped, seething, curling at the waist. When the noise died, you groaned, rubbing the artifacts from your vision, peering into the field. In the seconds you’d been stymied, Pryde had disappeared. Your Commander shot into the car--nothing--and crept through the grass, head on a swivel.

Spits of gunfire from the driver’s side of the Buzzard, and Kylo juked back, landing them on opposite sides of the bus in a stand-off. You chewed your lip. Pryde definitely didn’t know you were there. And there was still a cache of guns in the cabinets. Turning, you snuck through the aisle--but when you reached the storage, a hail of bullets crackled from the Buzzard’s rear. Despite being inside, you bowed, heart in your stomach, pulse pounding with fear. You needed to keep going.

Swallowing, you threw open the door to the cache, plucking another pistol from its hook. You remembered your near-follies earlier: magazine, check. Safety, check. Slide pulled back, check. More sweat on your palms. Cursing to yourself, you wiped them on your robes again, shuffling to the front--and then another blast, another searing light. You hissed, knees buckling, gunshots echoing through your ringing ears. A grunt escaped you, your jaw tense, and you shook off the pain, forcing yourself to look through the windshield. Your eyes adjusted, unfuzzing, just in time to see Enric Pryde raise his gun and shoot your Commander twice in the chest.

It happened in split seconds. Kylo staggered, impact hampered by his bulletproof vest, his gun falling into the grass; you trapped a scream, your muscles burst with adrenaline. Bungling the pistol in your grip, you scaled the driver’s seat, blood soaring, brain baffled--you were doing this again you were seriously doing this again--and leaned out the window. Pryde approached, raised his weapon, training it on Kylo, and in that instant, your mind cleared, annoyance and worry and terror swallowed with rage, all of it coalescing into a single, solitary thought:

That’s my child’s father, asshole.

You steadied your arms, pulled the trigger--your ears trilled, elbows bowed--and Pryde howled, knee slamming the dirt. Pinching your lips together, you fought the urge to tremble, preparing to shoot again, but Kylo had already recovered. He lunged, tackling Pryde to ground, the other man’s pistol sailing into the air and disappearing into the dark. 

Pryde twisted underneath your Commander’s weight, trying and failing to throw him off. “God doesn’t make exceptions, Ren!” Kylo clocked him in the jaw, and he choked, sputtered. “Gilead will never accept you making a whore your--”

Kylo’s fist clobbered his face, striking him over and over and over, blood spewing from his mouth, his nose, over his chin. You couldn’t sit down, something strange tingling your neck under the knowledge that the mention of you made him snap: a sick glimmer of affection, of hope. A disgusting delusion that, perhaps, he really could choose you. Bone cracked, Pryde’s cheek collapsed, and Kylo stopped, heaving, arm reeled back.

The older man wheezed, skull pulverized to a mess of meat. “Go ahead and kill me, Ren. But there’s no such thing as destiny. The longer you try to fight God’s design, the greater you’ll lose.”

“Interesting theory. But God doesn’t design Gilead.” Kylo glanced at you, still bent out of the Buzzard. Your heart fluttered--without him having to say it, you knew what he was asking. With an underhand, you lobbed him the gun, and he snatched it from the air, jammed it against Pryde’s broken chin. “I do.”

Pryde gagged, red drool dribbling from his lips. “You’re the devil.” 

“Yes.” Kylo’s voice was mechanized malevolence. “I am.”

Pop. Blood spattered his visor, Pryde’s head lolled in the grass. At the same time you exhaled, slumping into the driver’s seat, your Commander’s shoulders bunched, then fell. He hung there, hovering over his victim. Silent, he stared for a moment before he rose, pistol in hold, and crossed to the bus.

You should have felt relief as the door opened and he stepped onto the Buzzard--his enemies vanquished, a victorious soldier, your body the spoils--but when he towered over you, your ribcage constricted with dread. Pryde’s words looped through your mind.

You’ll do this forever. I won’t be the last. The longer you try to fight... the greater you’ll lose.

They nagged you, clawed at the wrinkles of your brain. Because despite their origin, you knew--despite not wanting to know--that they were very, unfortunately, true. And if you knew that, then part of Kylo had to know that, too. Part of him had to know how shallow this victory was.

He flicked a switch on the dashboard, and picked up a wired transmitter, spinning a knob until static fizzed from the Buzzard’s radio. “Target eliminated,” he said, and reported a pair of coordinates. “Your status.”

Another voice came through the speaker--one of the Knights. “Documentation obtained. Encampment neutralized. En route shortly.”

Without a word, he flicked the switch and replaced the transmitter. 

“Um. So.” Shifting in the seat, you gazed at him, seeking his eyes through the visor. “Will this ever stop?”

A tired hm was all he offered.

You sighed, pulling the robe closed over your chest. “I mean, will you always be fighting just so we can be together?”

He stood, solid, staring. Or not staring. It was too difficult to tell. Either way, he said nothing.

“I know that’s what you want.” You shrugged. It was easier to look at him when you didn’t know if he was looking back. “For us to be together. But this isn’t going to work.” 

His head tilted a single millimeter. “Work.” It was more of a question than a statement.

“If this is what it’s going to be, then it won’t work.” The words hung, heavy in the air, and you paused, waiting for his response. You received none. So you continued. “There’s another way, though.” Leveling him with your gaze, you held your breath. “We can just leave.” 

Kylo snorted, turning into the aisle. “We don’t need to leave.”

“We do.” You shook your head. “He’s right, Kylo.” You crossed your arms. “I hate to say it, but he’s right. You have to realize that you can’t make this perfect. It’s broken.”

“Of course it is.” He returned the pistol to the weapons rack. “It’s broken because I’m not finished.”

You frowned. “Well, it really doesn’t matter what you do,” you replied, “if it involves Gilead at all, then I don’t want it.”

He spun on his heel. “You don’t want it?” he asked, voice rising. “Is this not enough?”

Raising a brow, you caught a laugh in your chest. “Of course it’s not enough! How could it be? I told you--I’ll always want more.”

“More? More than what?” Kylo stalked through the aisle, heel-ball-toe. “Haven’t I kept you safe?” He was a black condor, cornering you in the driver’s seat. “Fucked you well?”

Heat seared your face. “It was because of you that I was in danger anyway!” Shaking your head again, you allowed your chest to puff out in indignance. “None of it is enough when you’re free, and I’m not.”

“No,” he said, “you were in danger because of imperfection. People assigned to the wrong roles. People failing to fulfill the roles they were meant to fill.” He edged closer. “Freedom is inconsequential under perfect design.”

“Your design is bullshit, your roles are bullshit!” You jumped to your feet, bumping his breast, and his shoulders tensed--but you ignored it, and pushed past him into the aisle. “As long as you try to force things on people, they’ll never be happy.” Flustered, you gestured toward him. “Hell, you’re not even happy! I know you aren’t!” 

The prophecy seemed distant and comical, now. But the inevitability of this reality was almost too painful to admit--the fact that despite your pregnancy, he was still unwilling to forgo his stance. The facts were that you would never be with Kylo Ren, he would never know his child, you would never be allowed to have him, and he would never understand your needs. 

Dozens, hundreds, thousands of nevers welled in your throat, flooded your eyes, nevers that never should have been, and nevers that never would be. Never whispering his name, never waking up in his arms, never seeing him cradle his child, and never falling asleep next to him in a future where he was your home and your family, a future where you would feel his lips on yours, naked in your shared bed, feeling safe, feeling secure, feeling loved. 

Your throat was tight. “I’m… I’m pregnant, Kylo. I don’t want to raise my child in a world where it can’t know choice. I don’t want to fulfill whatever you believe my role is!” Scanning him, you stiffened your jaw, and his fists tightened, his leather gloves squelched. “I want to be with you. I do. But it can’t be like this.” Steel sharpened your tone. “As long as you have Gilead, you’ll never have me.”

You pivoted, stepping toward the back of the bus--but a leather-bound hand grasped your neck and whipped you back, curled you against his chest, a metal muzzle at your face. Frowning, you squirmed, and he halted you with ease, subsuming you in his strength.

“That’s where you’re mistaken.” The sound coming from the mask was not one you recognized. “I already have you.” His free hand skated down your stomach. “I’ve already won.”

“Get off of me, Kylo.” You moved again, but he shook you in his hold.

“You said it yourself,” he replied. “You wanted this. You wanted my child.”

“That doesn’t matter.” Your skin tingled from his proximity, from the electric silk in his voice. “You have my body. That doesn’t mean you have my mind.”

“So you say. Yet you pulled a gun on Pryde. You helped me end his life.” He huffed, a human rumble in his throat. “Who would do that other than someone who wanted what I wanted, too?” 

You tried to shake your head, stuck in his grasp. “I don’t want what you want.” Something flickered low in your abdomen. “I don’t want to fulfill a role.”

Kylo shifted, his hand sliding from your neck into your hair, coiling around it. “You already are fulfilling your role.” Every word forced you to resist the urge to whimper. “You want to be mine. And you want it so badly that you’re willing to forsake everything to have it.”

Shame streaked through you, hotter than hell itself, and you cried out, shoving him back, only for him to grapple you and flatten you along the pantry chest first, smothering you, stoking horrified heat under your flesh. He wrenched your arm behind your back with ease, his boots framing your feet, his hips pinning your backside. 

“Don’t deny it,” he said. “You know I’m right.”

“No.” Most of you was sure he wasn’t right. But the tiny twinkle that shivered at the thought of forever being his, no matter the cost, agreed. Your chin trembled. “You’re wrong.”

Another rumble, deep in his chest. “Am I?” His pelvis pressed against you. “You’re willing to deceive Johana. Manipulate the Resistance.” One hand wagged your scalp, the other holding your hip as you wiggled under him. “You’re willing to watch others die. You’re even willing to kill.”

“Stop.” You panted, hating the rush of excitement to your thighs, hating that his words were making sense. “That’s not--that’s not how it is.” 

“But this is how it works.” A slow exhale left him. “Neither of us have ever had choices. You realize that, now. This is who we’re meant to be.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m not.” Kylo’s fingers dug into your hip. “You’re meant to be mine. And I’m meant to own you, to own all of this.” He inhaled, the noise hollow in his helmet. “You’re never escaping me.” His weight compressed you along the cabinet, shortened your breath. “And I’m never letting you leave.” 

Terror exploded into wrath. It couldn’t be true. “No!” You writhed underneath him, but he weighed on you like a boulder. “Fuck! Get off of me!”

A low, quiet noise of amusement knocked in his throat. “Poor thing. You want to avoid it. But this is what you want.”

“No, it’s not!” 

“It is.” He nuzzled his helmet against your head. “You’re as much me as you ever were. The only difference…” He hummed, hand at your hip massaging the flesh. “I admit who I am.” 

Desire thickened your throat, your heart crumpled in despair. How dare he, how dare he make you believe he cared for you--then reveal it was a ploy to land you exactly where he’d wanted. And nothing he said had been wrong. Despite your best intentions, your earnest efforts, there was still no one’s life you cared to save--outside of your own--other than his. You tried to steady your lungs, ignoring the rising urge to have him even closer.

“I know who you are,” you said. “I know you’re better than this.”

“You do?” Kylo Ren snickered. “You’re mistaken, angel. Didn’t you hear what he said?” His muzzle, cold carbon, met your ear. “I’m the devil.”

A surge of lust swirled in your belly, and you screamed, thrashing, trying to throw him off. He ceded an inch, and you shouldered him back, only for him to wrap his hand around your throat and spin you, back smacking the cabinet. One arm framed your head, the other driving into your chest, and you swallowed against him. Scowling, you stared into the empty facade of his mask. 

Even in his assuredness, you would never tell him how deep you’d fallen--it was the final thing he couldn’t take. After all, every other line you’d meant to draw had long been washed by the waves of your selfish hunger. Hunger that, even in this moment, barked with greed. 

His mask tilted, dipping over your figure--your robe was askew, revealing half of your breast, your stomach peeking through the gap--and his grip on your neck tightened, fuzzing your pulse. Your knees weakened, even as you hoped to raze him to the floor with your eyes. Kylo huffed with restrained excitement.

“Mm. You’re trembling.” His thumb stroked your wild heartbeat. “You’re hot.” 

“Fuck you,” you said. “You’re disgusting.”

“Perhaps I am.” The hand above your head slipped under your robe, leather skimming your skin. “But we both know how you love to revel in filth.”

Air caught in your chest--this bastard--you rolled your tongue in your mouth, jaw tense, and you sucked in a breath, spitting a fat glob straight onto his mask. 

Kylo hissed, lifting you by the neck until your feet dangled, slamming your skull into the cabinet. You grunted, digging the heels of your palms into his shoulders, kicking his stomach--but he was a mountain, immune to your timid storm. His sheer size neutralized your effort, and he leaned close, flattening you along the pantry, paralyzing your limbs.

“If you know what’s good for you,” he purred, deadly soft in the mask, “you’ll clean that up.”

Hunger wasn’t barking, now. It was howling. And you wanted to stoke its appetite. 

“You’re right,” you replied. “How rude of me.” 

Smirking, you gathered another wad of spit at the top of your palate--and after a long, obvious scrape of your throat, you hocked it at his eyes.

Hurled through the air, you crashed into the aisle, feeling footsteps quake the floor. You spun onto your ass, scurrying backwards on your palms, Kylo chasing you in long, livid strides. You heaved, heart pounding, crawling until your back connected with a metal frame. One of the beds. Before you could think to dodge, he ripped you up by your hair and onto your knees, slapping you hard across the face. 

“Nasty little bitch.” His grip curled at your scalp, his other hand groping his now-obvious arousal. “You must have forgotten what your mouth is for.”

You sneered. “I’m fairly certain it’s for cursing you.”

White pain whacked your cheek, and he shook you back to reality, your vision swimming. He’d undone his belt, and pulled free his angry, erect cock. “Drop your jaw, little bird,” he murmured. “Before I break it off.”

When you hesitated, Kylo drove his thumb into your mouth and hooked it behind your teeth, tugging it down to receive his length. You stared at him, contempt simmering in your eyes, exhilaration careening through your blood. Of course you were infuriated with him, but this only seemed to incense your passion, rather than dampen it--perhaps, in that way, you were like him, too. As his cock slipped over your tongue, you let loose a soft moan, and he released you, allowing you to seal your lips around his thick, heavy shaft. 

Both hands shot into your hair, holding you still while he rocked into your mouth, and you hummed, gazing into his visor, wondering what he looked like behind the mask. Your tongue pressed to the underside of his dick, earning a growl from his chest, and he jerked your neck back, sliding in deeper. 

“Use your hands,” he said. “Unless you want me to fuck your throat.”

You rolled your eyes--but encircled the base anyway, struggling to fully wrap around his girth. Groaning, your lids fluttered while you drooled onto him, slicking your saliva down his length, bobbing your head while you struggled to keep your attention trained on his face. His cock filled your mouth, the tip poking your soft palate, and you sucked, revealing in his sharp intake of air as you tightened your grip. Even if you never did this again, having him in your mouth was a feeling you’d take to your grave--the hot silk skin at your lips, the pulsing on your tongue, the sore stretch to your jaw--all of it made you throb, made you ache for more.

“Mm, that’s right.” He adjusted his grasp, urging you back and forth on his cock, making you gag. “Much better than hearing you speak.”

Narrowing your lids, you pulled your lips back, letting your teeth catch on his shaft--Kylo grunted and jerked out of you, backhanding you in the jaw. You wailed, your sight spun with pain, but your cunt was soaked, dripping and clenching with your escalating need. 

“Fuck y--” you began, before he yanked your head back and shoved his dick down your throat. 

You retched, choked, vision flooding with tears, but with him handling your hair like reins, he trapped you there, your mouth a helpless hole for him to fuck. He snapped his hips, his dick bulging in your neck, his breath labored with the pace of his thrusts. Sweat spilled down your back, and you retched again as his cock twitched on your tongue, cranked your jaw wide, plunged in and out of your throat. 

“You pretend to fight.” The words were husky under modulation. “But you love it. You’re a slut for my cock.”

Under the noise of your groaned assent, you heard it: beyond the perimeter of the Buzzard, an unmuffled motor, advancing fast. The Knights had arrived. A thrill lit up your spine; perhaps it was the anger with your Commander--a spiteful need to make him jealous--or the fact you were more aroused than you’d been in weeks, but the thought of being caught by them, just like this, flashed fire at your neck and between your legs. You whimpered with anticipation. 

But if Kylo had noticed, he didn’t seem to care--he clutched your head, reveling in the wet warmth of your throat as you swallowed around him. Voices echoed in the stark night air outside of the bus, growing closer, and you imagined them seeing you as they walked in fresh from battle: a moaning, wanton whore on her knees, sucking their leader’s cock. 

It was too much--your fingers dipped between your legs, and you teased your clit, sobbing in pleasure. Your Commander growled and pulled out, tucking himself away, and you sputtered, both hands bracing the floor while you gulped down oxygen. 

“Dirty fucking slut.” He crouched, elbows on his knees, and grabbed your face. “You want them to watch me fuck you.” His thumb traced your swollen lower lip. “Don’t you?” 

The doors to the bus opened. And your smirk drew up in a sneer. 

“If you think you can handle other men looking at your property.”

Kylo Ren seized you by your hair again. “I can do more than handle it.” Standing, he hoisted you to your feet. “I’ll order it.” He tossed you into the aisle with such force that you stumbled, knees scraping the floor. 

The Knights ascended the steps, stopping mid-board. Humiliation scorched your nerves, you strangled a moan at the thought of how you must appear--robe splayed open to reveal your underwear, your face moist, hair mussed--and how obvious it would be to them what you’d just been doing. You swallowed your desire as the half that had climbed onto the bus now stood in silence observing you, a broken-wing bird, at the mercy of her ravenous Commander.

“Get on. Sit down.” Kylo’s voice was eerily calm behind you--the Knights filed in, stuffing themselves together around the tiny table and couch. “This is your entertainment, tonight.” His boots resonated with his approach. “If there’s even an inch of movement toward her, I will bleed you dry on the Buzzard and leave your body for worms.”

They nodded, but did not reply. 

“Now.” He wove his fingers through your hair again, and you winced, scalp tender. But he whirled you around anyway, shoving your nose into his crotch. His cock strained against his pants. “Where were we?”

You bit your lip, sliding your hands up his strong thighs. “I don’t remember, Commander.” What you were doing was incredibly devious, and certifiably insane. But the thought of embarrassing him in front of his men was a small salve on your fury. And the temptation of the consequences had your body demanding more. “It must not have been very... impressive.”

Kylo snarled and slammed your back to the weapon cabinet, grinding his covered cock into your face. “What was that?” he said. “Answer carefully.”

Heartbeat in your ears, you mouthed at the fabric of his pants, gazing at him. “I said,” you replied, nuzzling the bulge with your cheek, “that it must not have been very--” you dragged your tongue along the length, “--impressive.”

“Hm.” His hand drifted from your head to your throat. “That’s what I thought.” He clamped down, knocking your skull on the cabinet and compressing your artery, and you wheezed, pressing your thighs together. “Strip.”

You stared into his mask, blood beating at your temples--you wanted to speak, but found no words.

“Hurry,” he said, “before you pass out.” The pressure increased. “Or I’ll have to do it for you.”

Now woozy, the back of your brain dared you to let him do it, but you figured passing out wouldn’t be smart to do while pregnant (getting slapped, thrown, and choked, however, apparently fine). You shuffled your robe down your shoulders, vision blurring while you unlatched the hooks on your bra and shimmied it onto the floor. The last articles were your boots and underwear, which required you to wriggle in his hold, the movement eating the edges of your sight--and then they were gone, and he released you, waiting as you collapsed, naked, against the storage.

The Knights’ heads were aimed toward you--and to your surprise, at least two were already rubbing themselves through their pants. Your cunt pulsed. 

“Now.” A gloved hand slid into your hair again, leather tugging at the strands, while his other hand wrestled free his hard cock, the tip gleaming with pre-cum. “Where were we?”

He rammed into your mouth, and you shuddered, ignoring the urge to vomit, your delighted moans hiccuped by the vigor of his strokes. Drool doused your chin, coated your lips, and your bleary focus wandered to his soldiers, one of whom had leaned back, his chest rising, another palming himself faster. They were watching you, watching you get throat-fucked by the man who owned you, watching as you bloomed a film of sweat, watching as you loved it, your pleading, wretched face begging to be abused.

“See how badly they want you,” he muttered. “But you’re mine. It’s all--fuck--all for me…”

Another reminder--Kylo Ren was going to keep you, he did not want to let you go, and would never, ever see you as you saw him--but you ignored it, choosing to suffocate yourself in desire instead, to stave off this stupid fucking reality where you were a stupid fucking slave in stupid fucking love with her stupid fucking Commander.

Eager to dust away the cobwebs of your misery, your hand snuck between your legs, ghosting over your folds to tease your clit, and you groaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Kylo snickered.

“Look at you,” he said. “Such a whore for me. Willing to--to make yourself cum in front of a group of masked men.” He jammed his dick deep, pressing your nose to his pubic bone, and you flailed, choking on him. “Is that what you want, slut? For everyone to know what you look like when you cum?” 

You tried to nod, or to agree in any way--because yes, fuck yes, you wanted his men to watch you cum for him, to have them envy you and him and have them stroke their cocks and spill their seed while they dreamed of fucking your pussy and--

Perhaps pregnancy hormones were more powerful than you’d initially thought.

Kylo slipped out of you again, and you gasped, panting, wiping the sheen of sweat from your forehead, smearing the spit from your mouth. It had already dribbled onto your tits. Every part of your body felt swollen, and every part of your body wanted release. A leather finger tilted your chin toward his visor.

“Then we’ll make you cum.” 

He laid you out on the aisle and spread your legs, and you craned your neck back, meeting a wall of the Knights, seated in a half-circle, all focused on you. You licked your lips, hoping to entice them--and then two gloved fingers pried open your folds, and before you could brace, they drove in, filling your pussy. Crying out, you shivered, clenching around him, hips gyrating to seek more of his touch. 

Kylo’s breath quickened, his thumb circled your stiff clit, pleasure sweeping over you, and you twisted your neck, wanting a better view of the front of the bus. One of the Knights was guiding two digits up and down his shaft, another working himself free, the rest now prepping themselves, waiting to touch their cocks. The sight shuddered you, made you writhe, made your core throb and your flesh burn.

“Desperate whore.” He swirled your nub faster--you throttled a moan. “See what I do to you.” His fingers curled and twisted inside of you, petting your walls. “You’re ready to cum for faces you’ve never even seen.” 

“Jesus.” Three of the Knights were stroking themselves, now, one of them fully fisting his shaft, pumping it in rhythm with Kylo’s hand. Heat blazed your thighs, forcing you toward ecstasy. “Fuck. Commander…”

Kylo grunted, a needy noise in his throat. “There we go,” he said. “Who else can make you cum like this?” He snapped his wrist, a third gloved finger pushing inside of you, his thumb tracing your clit, and you whined, back arching, air cycling faster in your lungs. “Tell me you want to stay.” You heard a soft shuffle beyond your waist--you knew he was jerking off. “Tell me, and I’ll let you cum.”

Flames flicked your neck, ire popping your bubble of bliss. Did he think he was winning? You swiveled to meet his vacant gaze. “I can cum whenever I want.” 

Switching motions, he scissored you wide, drawing zig-zags on your throbbing clit. “Don’t test me.”

You snarled and rolled, his hand pulling out when you staggered to your feet. It didn’t matter, in that moment, that you were naked and he had the capability to pulverize you under his heel--you wanted to piss him off, wanted him to feel even a fraction of the frustration that you felt, wanted him to destroy you as desperately as you wanted to destroy him. 

Kylo stood, his arm shooting toward you, and you slapped him away, spitting at him again--he snagged your wrist and thwacked your cheek, and you howled, daggering your knee into his thigh. A feral noise tore through the mask; he clasped the back of your neck, lifting and smashing you into the weapons cabinet, massive chest pinning you there.

“Get off!” You pounded your fist into the helmet, pain echoing to your elbow. “Fuck!”

He grunted, collected your wrists in one hand and pinned them above your head, the other shoving two fingers into your mouth until he reached the back of your tongue. “Be good,” he said, “or I’ll do whatever I need to do to make you.”

You leered at him, steeled your jaw, and bit down on his hand. 

Before you could breathe, that hand crushed your throat, and he knocked your thighs apart with his knee, impaling your cunt on his cock. He drove into the hilt with a growl, and you sobbed in pleasure-pain against his grip, a sharp sting, your pussy stretching for his thick, hard length. Kylo pumped into you, ruthless, primal, his chest swelling with rapid air, as if he was possessed, every thrust pushing shaky noise from your lungs.

“That’s right.” His hips collided with yours, thumb toying with your pulse, his voice ragged with desire. “Now you’ll behave, won’t you?”

Whimpering, you gasped, the unsteady bloodflow buzzing your lips and cheeks. He flattened your wrists to the cabinet, grinding your joints to the aluminum, his weight compressing your ribcage, his strength holding you still. The drag of his dick inside of you was enough to make you wail, but the ferocity, the animalistic savagery in his thrusts had your cunt throbbing, spasming, ready to cum without him touching your clit. In seconds, he’d tamed you, drenched you in sweat, submerged you in ecstasy, dangling you at the edge of submitting to his authority. 

Kylo eased off your neck. “Look at them.” 

Straining, trembling, you did--and met six men, all huffing, all enraptured. Two had stood, hunched as they stroked their cocks, others leaned back, fucking into their fists, another one trailing his palm up and down his shaft. You ruptured with lust and groaned in satisfaction, throwing your legs around Kylo’s waist, taking the brunt of his fast, vicious thrusts.

“Fuck, yes.” He brutalized your cunt, hammering into it. “They want you. They want what I have.” Like a spark, you felt it--his gaze meeting yours from behind the mask. "They envy me. Am I not enough?”

You wheezed, drawing in quickened air. “N-no,” you said. “And you--you alone n-never will be.”

His fingers bit your flesh--he lifted you from the wall, supporting your ass and cradling your skull before he crushed you onto the aisle, sliding his cock deep into your wet cunt. Kylo hissed in pleasure as you sheathed him to the base, gliding out and driving in, skin smacking while he tugged you into his heaving, rabid frame. 

“Fucking whore,” he muttered, burying the muzzle of his mask in your neck. “Why do you want to leave?” The words were pins through his teeth. “Why do you always want to leave?”

You wanted to respond, but the pace of his hips stole your breath, your words, your jaw dropped with pathetic whines. All you could do was let him fuck you into the floor, body bouncing with his force, elated to exist as a loyal, greedy hole. 

“I’m going to destroy you,” he growled. “I’m going to split this pussy wide, and I’m going to pump you full of cum.” He groaned, shivering from his own words. “And when I’m done, my men will cover you in it, bathe you in it--fuck--like the filthy, vile slut you are.” The hand at your head grasped your hair, scraped your scalp, the other slipping between your legs, expertly rubbing the engorged bundle of nerves. “Now beg to cum.”

“God!” You squirmed in delight, orgasm swelling inside of you, begging to gush out over your flesh. But you wanted, needed just a little, tiny bit more. “Fuck you!”

Kylo leaned up, bolted one hand to your waist, while the other reeled back and cracked you like lightning across the face--your mind went black, your eyes went white, and inside of your mouth, your teeth went red. 

“Beg for it!” He pummeled your pussy, stroking your clit, jerking you into each snap of his hips. “Fucking beg!”

“Christ!” At the edge of your sight, you could see the Knights, their cocks pink and throbbing, all ready to cum, all ready to shower you with it. “Please, please Commander, please make me cum!”

His hand shifted, a gloved seam skated your nub--you shattered, back lifting from the aisle, limbs trembling as euphoria burst into your blood. The pain, the violence, the passion, all of it needled into your climax, stretching it through your skin, crumbling into powerful aftershocks as Kylo pounded you through it. Then his hips stuttered, a low, bellowing sound escaping his mask; he thrust once, twice, three times, cock twitching at your core as he came, spilling his seed inside. 

Through his panting breath, he pulled out, barked an order. “Cum on her face. Paint her like a whore deserves.”

Still floating to reality, your gaze strayed from the floor, only to be met with six men tromping to encircle you, jerking their dicks with feverish focus. You blinked, whined, biting your lip--and they broke, cursing and choking in bliss as they splattered your face with load after load of cum. Hot, sticky streams roped over your forehead, your nose, your mouth, a particularly hard shot splashing down your neck and across your tits. They gasped as their climaxes left them, cocks bobbing with the tail-ends of pleasure, viscous drops dripping onto your skin.

With the final adornment of seed, they collected themselves, muttering under their masks--likely for their own benefit, rather than yours--as they tucked themselves away and meandered back to the front. In the death throes of your exhibition, you were quaking, overcome with a sudden, desperate need to sleep. Your mind plummeted into a hole, exhaustion overcoming you, actual, real-life ramifications trickling into your consciousness.

Your scalp throbbed, your face burned, you ached at every exposed joint. You swallowed--your mouth had bled, too, a bit. Making to move, you winced, finding it too difficult, resigning yourself to curl up on the Buzzard’s floor. To any observer--and perhaps, in a way, even to you--Kylo Ren had just beaten and fucked the shit out of you. And yet you couldn’t imagine, in just this single moment, being any more sated or satisfied.

Large leather hands lifting you up tore you from your reverie, and you grunted out a sigh, adjusting as your Commander gathered you in his arms. The latent pain in your heart rejected this--you didn’t want his faux-affection, didn’t want him to pretend he cared. Not when you knew he refused to let you go.

Yet you could barely summon the energy to move yourself, and the drying globs of cum were wearing out their novelty. So you relaxed, plopping your head onto his shoulder. 

Kylo carried you to one of the beds and sat, supporting you on his lap, shifting until his back was along the wall and your legs splayed over the mattress. He grabbed a towel that was folded over the bunk divider and wiped you clean, guiding the thin cloth over your semen-stained face. The movements were slow, tentative, swiping away the drool, sweat and cum, pausing when he passed a tender point of tissue. His breath was steady and even, the mask offering you nothing but an empty, vacant, stare.

Kylo Ren’s eyes had been the only way you had been able to know, or begin to guess, what was rolling through his mind. Now they were shielded, a barrier cleaving your connection in half. And denied his eyes, you were blinded, blinded from hope and joy and the open door to shared escape, left with a mockery of the man you knew. 

You were going to fight the tears--there would be no crying now, not tonight or in future nights, for someone who did not want to see you free. But his strength was soothing, his hands a comfort, his presence more intoxicating than any other substance you’d known. He maddened you, pitted you, shimmered in your mind like a faraway star; he was your monster and your warrior, the eye of his own typhoon. 

Every thread of your being was sewn irrevocably into his skin. And you when you shredded them clean, the both of you would bleed, pouring from patterned holes until you drowned in the pools of your own foolish dream.

Once he was finished, he sighed, that knife-stare slitting through you a final time before he rolled you off of his lap, leaving the bed while he guided you onto the mattress. You laid there, gazing at him in the dim bus light, one thousand heartbeats in your flesh. Kylo stepped away to grab your robe, and then returned, draping it over your tired frame before stopping to stare again. You wished he would hold you. You knew that he couldn’t.

“You’re not keeping me,” you whispered, “or our child.” You met his invisible eyes, unafraid. “I’m going to find a way to leave.”

Kylo tilted his head and crouched low, tucking away a lock of hair that had stuck to your forehead. He studied you, cupped your cheek in his palm, thumb caressing the bone, before releasing you, rising to his feet.

“We’ll see, little bird.” His voice was quiet, wickedly certain. “We’ll see.”

As he returned to the front, your lids fluttered shut, the night sweeping you into its embrace. Your cheek tingled, glittering with the ghost of his affection, your mouth fighting the smile that was sneaking onto your face.