#Weather resistant seeds

[umangharyana]

मौसम को मात देने वाली किस्में: उन्नत बीजों से किसानों की उपज बढ़ाने की योजना

Ministry of agriculture: जलवा��ु परिवर्तन के असर के चलते मौसम में आए बदलाव ने कृषि क्षेत्र को खासा प्रभावित किया है। बारिश के अनियमित पैटर्न, अत्यधिक गर्मी और ठंड, तथा सूखा और बाढ़ जैसी घटनाओं ने किसानों के लिए बहुत सी चुनौतियाँ उत्पन्न की हैं। इन परिस्थितियों से निपटने के लिए सरकार ने एक बड़ी पहल शुरू की है, जिसमें गेहूं और अन्य फसलों की उन्नत किस्मों पर विशेष ध्यान दिया जा रहा है। प्रधानमंत्री…

[reasonsforhope]

"In response to last year’s record-breaking heat due to El Niño and impacts from climate change, Indigenous Zenù farmers in Colombia are trying to revive the cultivation of traditional climate-resilient seeds and agroecology systems.

One traditional farming system combines farming with fishing: locals fish during the rainy season when water levels are high, and farm during the dry season on the fertile soils left by the receding water.

Locals and ecologists say conflicts over land with surrounding plantation owners, cattle ranchers and mines are also worsening the impacts of the climate crisis.

To protect their land, the Zenù reserve, which is today surrounded by monoculture plantations, was in 2005 declared the first Colombian territory free from GMOs.

...

In the Zenù reserve, issues with the weather, climate or soil are spread by word of mouth between farmers, or on La Positiva 103.0, a community agroecology radio station. And what’s been on every farmer’s mind is last year’s record-breaking heat and droughts. Both of these were charged by the twin impacts of climate change and a newly developing El Niño, a naturally occurring warmer period that last occurred here in 2016, say climate scientists.

Experts from Colombia’s Institute of Hydrology, Meteorology and Environmental Studies say the impacts of El Niño will be felt in Colombia until April 2024, adding to farmers’ concerns. Other scientists forecast June to August may be even hotter than 2023, and the next five years could be the hottest on record. On Jan. 24, President Gustavo Petro said he will declare wildfires a natural disaster, following an increase in forest fires that scientists attribute to the effects of El Niño.

In the face of these changes, Zenù farmers are trying to revive traditional agricultural practices like ancestral seed conservation and a unique agroecology system.

Pictured: Remberto Gil’s house is surrounded by an agroforestry system where turkeys and other animals graze under fruit trees such as maracuyá (Passiflora edulis), papaya (Carica papaya) and banana (Musa acuminata colla). Medicinal herbs like toronjil (Melissa officinalis) and tres bolas (Leonotis nepetifolia), and bushes like ají (Capsicum baccatum), yam and frijol diablito (beans) are part of the undergrowth. Image by Monica Pelliccia for Mongabay.

“Climate change is scary due to the possibility of food scarcity,” says Rodrigo Hernandez, a local authority with the Santa Isabel community. “Our ancestral seeds offer a solution as more resistant to climate change.”

Based on their experience, farmers say their ancestral seed varieties are more resistant to high temperatures compared to the imported varieties and cultivars they currently use. These ancestral varieties have adapted to the region’s ecosystem and require less water, they tell Mongabay. According to a report by local organization Grupo Semillas and development foundation SWISSAID, indigenous corn varieties like blaquito are more resistant to the heat, cariaco tolerates drought easily, and negrito is very resistant to high temperatures.

The Zenù diet still incorporates the traditional diversity of seeds, plant varieties and animals they consume, though they too are threatened by climate change: from fish recipes made from bocachico (Prochilodus magdalenae), and reptiles like the babilla or spectacled caiman (Caiman crocodilus), to different corn varieties to prepare arepas (cornmeal cakes), liquor, cheeses and soups.

“The most important challenge we have now is to save ancient species and involve new generations in ancestral practice,” says Sonia Rocha Marquez, a professor of social sciences at Sinù University in the city of Montería.

...[Despite] land scarcity, Negrete says communities are developing important projects to protect their traditional food systems. Farmers and seed custodians, like Gil, are working with the Association of Organic Agriculture and Livestock Producers (ASPROAL) and their Communitarian Seed House (Casa Comunitaria de Semillas Criollas y Nativas)...

Pictured: Remberto Gil is a seed guardian and farmer who works at the Communitarian Seed House, where the ASPROL association stores 32 seeds of rare or almost extinct species. Image by Monica Pelliccia for Mongabay.

Located near Gil’s house, the seed bank hosts a rainbow of 12 corn varieties, from glistening black to blue to light pink to purple and even white. There are also jars of seeds for local varieties of beans, eggplants, pumpkins and aromatic herbs, some stored in refrigerators. All are ancient varieties shared between local families.

Outside the seed bank is a terrace where chickens and turkeys graze under an agroforestry system for farmers to emulate: local varieties of passion fruit, papaya and banana trees grow above bushes of ají peppers and beans. Traditional medicinal herbs like toronjil or lemon balm (Melissa officinalis) form part of the undergrowth.

Today, 25 families are involved in sharing, storing and commercializing the seeds of 32 rare or almost-extinct varieties.

“When I was a kid, my father brought me to the farm to participate in recovering the land,” says Nilvadys Arrieta, 56, a farmer member of ASPROAL. “Now, I still act with the same collective thinking that moves what we are doing.”

“Working together helps us to save, share more seeds, and sell at fair price [while] avoiding intermediaries and increasing families’ incomes,” Gil says. “Last year, we sold 8 million seeds to organic restaurants in Bogotà and Medellín.”

So far, the 80% of the farmers families living in the Zenù reserve participate in both the agroecology and seed revival projects, he adds."

-via Mongabay, February 6, 2024

[valsverse]

‎‎‎‎‎‎⠀⠀(୨୧) STOLEN KISSES AND POMEGRANATE SEEDS⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀. .⠀PAIRING ⠀⟡⠀ percy jackson x child of aphrodite!reader

﹙💌﹚ in which ：as a child of aphrodite, you have a liking for things that are red. roses, pomegranates, percy jackson's lips- wait, what?⠀ ── ⠀ 645⠀requested

THE DROWSY SUMMER SUN bled through the leafy canopy of the oak tree where you and percy sprawled at a weathered picnic table. half-sliced pomegranates littered the space between you, their seeds like tiny rubies glinting in the light, the crimson juice trickling down the oak’s surface, painting it in delicate, sinuous lines of red.

percy moved with practiced ease, his pocket knife flashing as he worked, methodically picking out the seeds for you to savor. slice, halve, pick. slice, halve, pick. you stole glances at him from the corner of your eye, captivated by the way the sunlight played in his dark hair, how his laughter lines carved deeper when he smiled, how his focus sharpened as if each seed were a treasure meant only for you. his hands were steady, deliberate, as he plucked each seed and let it fall into the porcelain, gold-rimmed bowl from which you ate.

breaking from your trance, you nudged him lightly with your elbow. “you know aphrodite was the first to plant pomegranates, right? you ought to thank her later,” you teased, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

percy looked up, his brows arching in exaggerated surprise. “oh? is that right?” he asked, his chin resting on his hand as his knife paused mid-air. his eyes, a stormy sea green speckled with flecks of gold, met yours with an unsettling calm that sent a flutter through your chest—a flutter that had been growing more insistent lately, as if it had a mind of its own. almost annoying.

“of course it is! are you implying otherwise?” you shot back, crossing your arms. you knew he wasn’t, but you seized onto the distraction, anything to escape the warmth growing in your chest.

percy’s smile only curled with a lazy grace as he toyed with the pomegranate seed he picked earlier, his fingers moving idly as his gaze remained fixed on you. he shook his head with an air of dreamy nonchalance, offering no reply, only a sigh that seemed to drift on the air.

“are you even listening?” you teased, laughter laced through your words as you reached out to snatch the seed from his hand. the seed’s cool, slick surface was a stark contrast to the warmth that spread through your fingertips as they brushed against his. percy arched an eyebrow, a mock offense flickering in his eyes, but let you take it, his touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. as the tart sweetness of the pomegranate seed burst on your tongue, you caught the glimmer of something in percy’s eyes—an expression that shifted from surprise to delight. his laugh followed, rich and warm, a melody you'd memorized long ago. “what is it?” you asked, pausing mid-chew, the seed still resting on your tongue as curiosity knit your brows together. “what’s so funny?”

"nothing," percy said, his voice thick with amusement as he tried to catch his breath. "it’s just…" he trailed off, his gaze softening as he leaned in, closing the distance between you. "you’ve got a little something…"

before you could react, he tilted his head and swiped his tongue over the crimson stain of pomegranate juice that had pooled at the corner of your mouth with a deliberate slowness, the touch of his lips sending a shock of warmth through you. and then, as if pulled by a force neither of you could resist, he deepened the kiss, the sharp tang of pomegranate mingling with the heat of his breath, the world narrowing to just this—just him.

his hand cradled your cheek as he finally drew back, his breath still hot against your skin. “there, that's better.” he murmured, a soft smile ghosting across his lips as he held up the pomegranate seed you’d claimed earlier, rolling it between his fingers. “you’re right. i really should thank aphrodite later.”

©valsverse— do not steal, edit, or repost my works. plagiarism is prohibited.

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One TwentyTwo

This chapter is NSFW

“Okay,” Steve says to himself quietly, trying to psych himself up for this. They’ve washed up and brushed their teeth, Eddie’s already in bed and Steve is running out of excuses to hide in the bathroom.

Yesterday was a pretty long day, the couple hours of housework before watching ‘Splash,’ at lunch time, and then Joyce and Hopper's visit in the afternoon. So, last night after scrubbing the pool, Steve had been exhausted and Eddie’s new muscles had been quivering with exertion. He’d walked like an old man to get up the stairs, and showering together had been quick and perfunctory; Eddie practically falling asleep against Steve under the water. He’d barely managed their ‘last kiss of the day’ before falling asleep.

Tonight, not so much, and Eddie had been watching Steve expectantly for at least an hour before they came to bed. Or at least, it felt like he had been, maybe it’s just Steve’s imagination.

Tonight is the night. Probably.

Steve remembers the way Eddie’s dick had seemed to startle and slip back inside, like a terrified cat hiding under the couch. “It’s probably more frightened of you than you are of it,” Steve whispers reassurance to himself as he dries his hands, then heads into the bedroom and climbs into bed.

“Stee love,” Eddie says as Steve settles down.

“Hey baby? You okay?”

Eddie makes an affirmative noise, “kisses?”

“Sure,” because how could Steve possibly resist him. The prickliness has grown out of Eddie’s hair, it’s long enough to become more like a peach fuzz now, and Steve likes running his hands over it a little. He fiddles with the point of Eddie’s ear too.

“Eddie? Before...when you had a tail...did you have a, uhm, did you have a dick then?”

“Dick?”

Steve hums, leaning back to cup himself through his pants to show him, “dick. Or penis I guess, is the proper name.”

Eddie’s face lights with understanding, “no. Not before.”

“Right. Right. So...we need to work this out together.”

“Together,” Eddie latches onto the salient point there. Steve’s pretty sure Eddie would agree to pretty much anything as long as Steve spiced it up with a ‘together.’ Which is kind of nice, to be loved like that.

They kiss again, soft and gentle, Steve sometimes pulling back to rub noses, until it’s Eddie’s turn to ask a question, “pull pants down?”

Steve snorts a laugh, he can’t help it. Fond and warm inside; nothing could possibly be scary with Eddie.

“Sure baby, we can do that.”

They undress themselves, Eddie with no concern for the space around him, and Steve has to dodge a lethal elbow as Eddie strips off real quick.

Looking down the long pale line of Eddie’s bony body, a thought occurs to Steve, “did you poop before?”

Eddie shakes his head, “no poop tail.”

“Oh. So I guess you just...digested absolutely everything? There was no poop at all?”

“Yes poop,” and then Eddie makes a motion, opening his mouth and fake coughing, indicating with his fingers that he caught something, that something...came up.

“Out of your mouth,” Steve says, unable to hide how absolutely horrified he is at the image. And then flashing on all the times they kissed before Eddie had legs.

“Not...poop,” Eddie thinks for a second, “seeds. Pear…” he holds his hand above his head, a single finger sticking up, “pear hat.”

“Ohhhhh...the seeds and,” Steve copies Eddie, one finger pointing above his head, “stalk.” Eddie nods, “what did you do with them?” Steve never ever saw Eddie do this, he had no idea this was even happening.

Eddie makes a fair impression of scratching at the coverlet, and then pushing a mound of...dirt back over what he’s just imaginary buried in the covers, “you planted them. You planted the seeds. Like with the pine cones?”

Eddie nods, “planted the seeds, yes,” and then he points, their universal sign for ‘outside’, “pear trees?”

“I...I don’t know if they will grow, I don’t really know much about trees but...when the weather gets a little warmer, we can go looking for them?”

“Warm weather put tent out?”

“Yeah, yeah sure baby we can put your tent back up,” Eddie nods, content with Steve’s answer, he leans in for more kisses, the oval points of Eddie’s nails scratching gently down Steve’s back, Steve stops them again, carefully disengaging, another thought occurs to him, “did you plant things in The Upside Down?”

Eddie nods, “seeds. Black trees and…” he makes a wriggly motion with his hands.

“The vines,” Steve suddenly understands, “you planted them, for food?”

“Yes...tadpole vines best food. Not good when...parent?”

“Ohhh...they’re nicer when they’re, like young, I guess?”

Eddie hums smiling. Steve can’t help it, he kisses him again, Eddie wriggling closer, pressing them together. Eddie’s bony, but it isn’t off putting, and Steve can feel his cock pressing against the top of Eddie’s slit for a moment before he remembers what comes out of there and pulls back a little, “can I touch you?”

“Touch good.”

“Can I touch you here?” Steve hovers his hand in the space between them, wanting to make sure Eddie understands completely before he does anything. Eddie nods, rolling onto his back a little to allow Steve some access, “okay, lets do this.” There’s no way Steve’s going to be able to let himself get into this if he’s worrying about Eddie’s dick suddenly biting him.

It also means if Eddie just...didn’t have a dick before, then that means they need to figure out...everything. Can Eddie even have an orgasm? Steve has no idea how his parts work so, “I guess we can just...try stuff, okay baby?”

“Eddidie try,” Eddie confirms, shifting his legs further apart, as clear of an invite as Eddie could possibly give; Steve throws a leg over Eddie’s to get close enough. The soft light of the bedside lamp is enough to see by.

Eddie’s shifting, parting his legs, has caused the slit to gape a little down between Eddie’s legs, but nothing has made an appearance just yet, “I guess I’ll just...go for it.”

Steve traces the edge of Eddie’s slit with a fingertip, careful and soft. He figures it’s not that different to what a girl would have in placement, but it seems tighter and smaller, more flush to Eddie’s body; neater somehow. He’s also completely hairless here, and there’s no stubble, so Steve figures nothing is ever going to grow down here. Steve lets his fingertip slide into where Eddie has gaped open a little. It’s not dry inside, but it’s not exactly moist either. It just feels like more skin.

Steve rubs his finger up and down the middle of Eddie’s slit a couple of times, not going any further than the part that’s opened naturally. Eddie’s dick still hasn’t made an appearance. “This okay?” Eddie’s watching him with wide eyes, lying still for the moment. He doesn’t appear to be...well...aroused, or showing any particular interest yet, but he nods. “Okay, lets go a little...more.”

Steve lets his finger sink in. There’s no resistance, and Steve finds it’s a little more moist the deeper he goes. Eddie accepts his finger easily, shifting a little and letting out a sweet sounding sigh once Steve is as deep as he can go. The top of Eddie’s slit finally parts, just the head of his dick poking out a little. Like it’s...cautious. Curious.

“Uhm, hey,” Steve says, and then berates himself internally for how absolutely fucking ridiculous that was. Luckily Eddie has no clue what’s normal and clearly isn’t judging him for having a chat with his dick.

Steve’s been with plenty of girls, but never with a guy. And definitely never with anyone who doesn’t have human parts so, unfortunately, absolutely non of Steve’s experience is translating to how he’s supposed to deal with this…he takes a breath, and decides he needs to be all in.

“Okay,” he carefully presses down with his finger, Eddie’s narrow inside, the sides of his channel gripping Steve’s finger as he slides downward until he finds the ‘bottom’ of Eddie’s opening. He traces it with his finger, following the dip until he finds a...ridge. Or a pucker; he rubs it with his moist finger. Eddie makes a huffing noise, “feel good?”

Eddie frowns at him, “maybe?”

“Right, okay,” so Steve withdraws his finger, Eddie making a soft noise of what Steve hopes is pleasure. He carefully offers his slightly moist fingertip to the black, rounded exposed head of Eddie’s cock, and then just...waits. Eddie’s penis slithers out a little further, and then, after a brief stand off, it gently nudges at Steve’s offered finger. “Oh, okay, yeah,” Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie’s briefly to check in, only to find he’s looking down his own body, watching with as much open interest as Steve is. Right then.

Eddie’s dick slithers all the way out, the head as black as Steve remembers, fading into the usual color of Eddie’s pale flesh; it tangles gently with Steve’s fingers, and Eddie makes a noise. Just a little wisp of a thing, but it gives Steve hope that he’s doing the right thing with this. He risks a brief look; Eddie’s cheeks have a little flush to them, his mouth popped open just a tiny bit.

Eddie’s dick is nudging at Steve’s finger, drawing his attention back down, and Steve watches as the head opens up, slowly the petals peel apart. It’s pink inside, Steve sees this time, and covered in hundreds of the most minuscule little pink bumps. Like kind of teeth, or the start of teeth, but they never quite made it there. It waits, hovering uncertainly.

Steve takes a deep breath, letting it out slow, “okay little guy,” and he really, really needs to stop speaking to Eddie’s penis, like, right now.

Steve, gently, offers the pad of his thumb. The petals cup it, a soft touch, all of the tiny little nobbles pressing against Steve’s skin, just wide enough that their petal tips cross over the edges of Steve’s thumbnail. Eddie sighs, and then...kind of nothing happens.

Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie again, since his dick seems content to just hold Steve’s thumb, “Eddie, this okay?”

Eddie nods.

“Any idea what I should...do?”

Eddie shakes his head, looking at Steve helplessly.

“Right, okay, maybe I can…” Steve shifts his hand, keeping his thumb where it is, he wraps his fingers around the thick shaft. Eddie’s dick squirms a little in his grip, but otherwise it seems fine. Steve holds a little tighter, and next to him, Eddie breathes out a little sound. Maybe a little startled, “okay?”

Eddie nods real quick, the sound of his short hair dragging on the pillow, “touch good,” he insists, reaching up himself to grip Steve’s arm where Steve is half hovering over him.

“Okay,” they both look down again, past Eddie’s ribs and his still nearly concave stomach, “okay.”

Steve grips a little tighter, Eddie dick is squirming against Steve’s palm but not like it’s trying to escape or anything, just like it’s rubbing against all of Steve’s hand that it can reach. Steve figures sticking to what works is probably the way to go, so he takes away his thumb to hold Eddie properly, then tries gently sliding his hand down, in an attempt to jack Eddie off.

The flower petal head flails a little, grasping at the air. When Steve pulls down, Eddie's dick simply bends with him, and Steve is sure some of it just...goes back inside. So rather than rubbing Eddie’s dick he just ends up...moving it. Steve hums, that’s not going to work he doesn’t think. Eddie’s dick might be firm but it’s just not rigid enough for Steve to make that work. Steve draws his hand back up to the top, offering the flailing head his thumb, where once again it latches, apparently, happily.

Eddie makes another soft noise at that, he did last time too, Steve thinks. Maybe that’s where he should focus his attention. He decides to try it, gripping Eddie’s dick more firmly, it gives him purchase to rub the pad of his thumb across the dip of the opening and the petals.

Eddie’s breath comes sharp and startled, his nails digging into Steve’s arm, “did I hurt you?”

“No. No it didn’t hurt. Good. Touch many good.”

Right, well, that's about as big of a green light as Steve figures he’s going to get. He rubs again with his thumb. He rubs straight across, forward and back, the pad of his thumb following the shallow bowl shaped dip revealed by the petals, which Eddie seems to like if his quiet noises are anything to go by.

Steve changes it up, trying small circles across all the petals, the tiny little bumps dragging on his skin...almost like he’s rubbing the soft side of velcro. “Stee,” Eddie moans, shifting his hips, parting his legs even further.

“Okay baby?” Steve asks him, although he can’t take his eyes off where Eddie’s penis is wriggling against his palm and fingers, where the flower petals are opening and closing on Steve's thumb. They bend easily where Steve presses on them, alternately stretching as far open as they can before they grip at Steve’s thumb again, moving in a strange, pulsing dance.

The next time they open fully, Steve uses the opportunity to rub his thumb all the way across them, tip to tip, and Eddie’s hips buck uncontrolled, Eddie making a startled noise of pleasure.

Steve himself has started to get hard against Eddie’s hip, Eddie’s wriggling and obvious noises of pleasure causing Steve to become aroused, and he lets himself grind a little, only half aware of his own movements. The wet head drags against Eddie’s soft skin, so Steve rocks again, he’s not able to drag his eyes away from where he’s working the flower petal head of Eddie’s cock.

The drag of all the little nobbles feels a little dry, so Steve leans down, lifting his thumb out of the way for a moment to let a blob of spit drip onto Eddie’s dick, Steve presses it in with his thumb, spreading the moisture.

Eddie’s reaction is almost immediate, his back arches and the petals grip Steve’s thumb tight. Much tighter than they have up until now. Eddie’s hips are writhing against the bed, rolling like waves as Steve just holds still. Eddie makes quiet noises, and Steve flicks his eyes up for a second to check on him; Eddie’s eyes are squeezed shut tight, his mouth hanging open wide. The hand on Steve’s arm holding there loosely, forgotten as Eddie, presumably, orgasms.

The head of Eddie’s dick feels like it’s pulsing. Sucking. Gentle pulls against the pad of of Steve’s thumb, like little sucking kisses. And then it fades, becoming weaker, the petals grip loosening as Eddie’s hips relax back onto the bed and become still, his penis slowly slipping from Steve’s fingers. It withdraws some of the way, resting floppily against the bottom of Eddie’s tummy.

It looks a little drunk, the way it wobbles over.

“Stee,” Eddie says weakly, his hand flopping against Steve’s arm in a halfhearted pat.

“Yeah?”

“Good,” Eddie blinks at him, pupils blown wide but eyes all sleepy. He smacks his lips a second before shifting against Steve and frowning down at himself, “et.”

Eddie’s speech seems to have regressed back to how it was in the beginning, but Steve doesn’t mind. He kind of likes that he just blew Eddie’s mind, “wet? Where?”

“In,” Eddie answers, shifting again, one leg is still trapped by Steve’s thigh, but Eddie moves the other leg, trying to pull them together, he wriggles his free leg to scissor his thighs together.

And yeah, Steve can see it now, seeping shiny wet from the middle of Eddie’s slit, “can I?”

Steve’s hand hovers, waiting for Eddie to nod, which he does.

Eddie is very wet now. He shifts, parting his legs again to accommodate Steve’s finger, and then fingers after the first one slips in so easily. It looks completely clear in the light, and it’s very viscous on Steve’s fingers. Steve pulls them out again to look at them; it’s very thick, almost jello like where it clings, all shiny. It’s super slick where Steve rubs his fingers together.

Sever rocks against Eddie’s hip again, his hard cock dragging against Eddie’s hip at the thought of sinking his cock into Eddie’s wet slit.

It’s warm inside, Steve notices first when he puts his fingers back, the slick on his fingers had chilled in the air, highlighting the difference. It’s much easier to feel around now, Steve’s fingers sliding easily through the slick. Eddie sighs, and it sounds contented, so Steve asks, “this okay?”

Eddie hums, “touch good.”

“As good as when I was touching your dick?”

Eddie frowns sleepily, thinking about it, “no. Different.”

Steve nods, he gets that.

Steve investigates properly now, touching all of Eddie’s insides that he can reach. The walls are slick all over now, some of the gooey slick being pressed out around Steve’s fingers. Steve can’t find any features but for the pucker right at the bottom, so he touches there again.

A wet fingertip breaches it far more easily than Steve expects, and Eddie yelps, suddenly grabbing Steve’s wrist, “no,” Eddie’s dick slips back inside, like it wants to get out of the way.

“Okay, okay, is it bad?”

Eddie giggles, shifting against the sensations before relaxing again and blinking, “maybe. Good bad.”

“Okay,” Steve files that away, but avoids it for now.

Steve’s hips have started rocking again, as he slowly finger fucks Eddie’s channel. All the soft wetness making slick noises as he does. Eddie makes happy noises, the occasional relaxed sigh, but he looks sleepy again, “do you think you could come from this?”

“Come?”

“Like before, it felt really good?”

“Eddie come then wet? Dick touch come?”

“Yeah, do you think me touching you like this will make you come again?”

Eddie seems to think for a minute, blinking more awake again and tilting his hips a little to rock down onto Steve’s fingers, “feel many good...not come good.”

“Right, okay,” Eddie keeps shifting, and Steve follows the movement with his own hips, his cock leaking now, leaving a little smear of precome on Eddie’s skin.

“Stee come?”

“Not yet...I want to, though.”

“Eddidie can? Help? Same before? Tail.”

“Yeah. Yeah baby you can touch this time, if you want. Use your hands?”

“Okay,” they switch positions a little, Eddie not seeming to be at all bothered by it when Steve’s fingers abruptly slip free of him. Steve uses the slick on his fingers to wet his cock first, and when Eddie’s sees this he lifts a leg, not at all self conscious, and drags his own fingers over his slit, gathering the thick wetness there.

Steve helps Eddie position his hand, wrapping it around Eddie’s hand on his cock, then moving them both. Eddie catches on fast, “I’m not going to take long,” Steve tells him, already feeling the familiar tightening in his balls.

Steve lets go, Eddie has the idea now, and he jacks Steve fast, making wet noises. His fingers are so pale next to Steve’s skin, but firm and strong, and Steve doesn’t look away from the movement of Eddie’s hand.

“Close baby,” Steve breaths out a warning, his own hips starting to tilt, fucking a little into Eddie’s movements.

Steve lets his eyes close and his head slide back, Eddie lets out a sweet sounding, “oh,” as Steve starts to come, the first pulses landing hot on his own stomach. He has to reach out again, grasping Eddie’s hand to slow him, to show him how to work Steve through his orgasm.

Steve lets himself have a second, after, blinking sleepily as the last twitches of pleasure tingle though him. Next to him, Eddie makes a sound of disgust, and Steve looks over to find he’s clearly just licked some of Steve’s come off his fingers.

Steve can’t help it, he laughs, “not good?”

Eddie wrinkles his nose, “not good.”

“You want to get cleaned up?”

Eddie nods, “wet.”

They shower again together, just to get the worst of it off, “did that feel okay baby? Was it good?”

Eddie nods, “good. Feel…” Eddie stops a second, standing under the water, trying to figure out how to tell Steve. He makes the flashing movement from the Christmas lights, with his hands, “pretty. Many many,” he rubs his tummy, but low down, making his fingers dance in little tingles across his skin, “good like Christmas food and Pizza and Pears.”

“I think I get what you mean. It felt really good.”

Eddie nods, seemingly satisfied, but then frowns, “more later? Again?”

Steve snorts a laugh. That does make him feel absolutely certain, Eddie must have liked it if he’s asking again so soon, “sure baby.”

Eddie’s not at all self conscious, and he happily cocks a leg, resting his foot on the side of the tub to let Steve clear out the goop from inside his slit. Steve figures he gets the worst of it, inspecting a particularly lumpy part that’s has stuck itself to his fingertips.

There are darker shapes inside, small dots Steve thinks, about the size of peas maybe. Steve inspects the darker splotches clinging to his fingers; he’s only found a couple in amongst the clear jello they’ve cleaned from between Eddie’s legs, “baby, what do you think these are?”

Eddie shrugs, “seeds?”

Steve lets the water catch them, washing them away, “best not plant those in the yard.”

Eddie snorts a laugh, “Eddidie trees,” and then laughs again, tickled by the idea.

Part TwentyFour

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hello, I was wondering if you had anything writing notes related to winter such as vocabulary, phrases, etc.

Word List: Winter

Winter—the season between autumn and spring comprising in the northern hemisphere usually the months of December, January, and February or as reckoned astronomically extending from the December solstice to the March equinox; the colder half of the year; a period of inactivity or decay

Dead of winter - the middle of the winter

Midwinter - the winter solstice; the middle of winter

Nuclear winter - the chilling of climate that is hypothesized to be a consequence of nuclear war and to result from the prolonged blockage of sunlight by high-altitude dust clouds produced by nuclear explosions

Outwinter - to stay outdoors in winter

Winterberry - an eastern North American shrub (Ilex verticillata) of the holly family with axillary flowers, usually bright red berries, and deciduous leaves that turn black in the fall; called also black alder

Winterbloom - witch hazel; azalea

Winterbound - restrained (as from a favored sport or other outdoor activity) by winter

Winterbourne - a stream that flows only or chiefly in winter

Wintercreeper - an evergreen shrubby, trailing, or climbing euonymus (Euonymus fortunei) that is widely cultivated as an ornamental in several horticultural varieties differing chiefly in habit or in form or color of leaves

Winterer - one that winters; specifically: a winter resident or visitor

Winterfeed - livestock feed for winter use

Wintergreen - any of a genus (Pyrola of the family Ericaceae, the heath family) of evergreen perennial herbs (such as the shinleafs) that have basal leaves and racemose flowers; any of a genus (Gaultheria) of evergreen plants of the heath family

Winter-hardy - hardy in respect to winter conditions; especially: able to withstand much cold

Winterim - an intersession at some colleges and universities chiefly in January

Winterish - suitable to winter; suggestive of winter; somewhat wintry

Winterize - to make ready for winter or winter use and especially resistant or proof against winter weather

Winter-kill - to kill (a plant or part of a plant) by exposure to winter conditions; to die as a result of exposure to winter conditions

Winterless - free from winter; not characterized by wintery conditions (as of weather)

Winterlong - excessively or tiresomely long

Winterpea - a peavine (Lathyrus hirsutus) with densely silky pods that is native to the Mediterranean region but introduced into the U.S. as a green manure or winter forage crop

Winter savory - a perennial European mint (Satureja montana) with leaves used for seasoning

Wintertide - wintertime

Winterward - in the direction of winter

Winterweed - weedy plant that remains green during winter

Wintry - of, relating to, or characteristic of winter

The concept of winter in European languages is associated with the season of dormancy, particularly in relation to crops; some plants die, leaving their seeds, and others merely cease growth until spring. Many animals also become dormant, especially those that hibernate; numerous insects die.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Word Lists

Hope this helps with your writing!

[currentclimate]

“We are not having normal seasons any more”, said Lane Selman, an agricultural researcher at Oregon State University and founder of a seed-producer community called the Culinary Breeding Network. As the northern hemisphere shakes off its hottest summer on record, intensifying weather events threaten the variety we take for granted when we page through winter-delivered seed catalogues, dreaming of a bountiful spring.

[gronkgal]

Monster Engines

Finally developing my own style for monster engines. First up Steamies:

Steamies I based on cat/dragon.

Diet: Coal and carrion/ carnivores, may some vegetables.

Fur: Upper legs have long fur, lower legs soft velvet fur. Face fur will vary by regional origin. Tender engines have tufted tails.

Other: Steamies can breathe fire to protect them. They have very cat like behaviors, including liking to be clean and a strong dislike of rain.

Diesels:

Diesels I based on dog/feathered dinosaurs/dragon.

Diet: Diesel oil and seafood. Will eat any high oil fruits and vegetables also. Nuts/seeds are always a treat.

Feathers: body and legs covered in fluffy protofeathers, tails and legs will have primary feathers. Oil glands coat feathers to make them water resistant.

Shunting: Legs are strong and have boney plates to protect them from unruly trucks. Tails are shorter with less feathers.

Mixed Traffic/Express: Thinner legs with more feathers. Tails are fully feathered and the length of the body. Tails are used for protection from the weather.

Express: Males have retractable dewclaws on back legs for protection.

These are just my development sketches. Big thanks to these inspiring artists:

@thefluffyrailway-official

@steam-beasts

@superarti

[summoningspark]

I saw this post and thought aw man I wish my seeds were here, and literally less than five minutes later

Post that makes your seeds arrive

SEEDS MY SEEDS ARE HERE

SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS SEEDS

[jaybug-jabbers]

Gelatopod - Ice/Fairy

(Vanilla-Caramel Flavor is normal, Mint-Choco is shiny)

Artist - I adopted this wonderful fakemon from xeeble! So I decided to make up a full list of game data, moves, lore, etc. for it. Enjoy! :D

Abilities - Sticky Hold/Ice Body/Weak Armor (Hidden)

Pokedex Entries

Scarlet: Gelatopod leaves behind a sticky trail when it moves. A rich, creamy ice cream can be made from the collected slime.

Violet: At night, it uses the spike on its shell to dig into the ground, anchoring itself into place. Then it withdraws into its shell to sleep in safety.

Stats & Moves

BST - 485

HP - 73

Attack - 56

Defense - 100

Special Attack - 90

Special Defense - 126

Speed - 40

Learnset

Lvl 1: Sweet Scent, Sweet Kiss, Aromatherapy, Disarming Voice

Lvl 4: Defense Curl

Lvl 8: Baby Doll Eyes

Lvl 12: Draining Kiss

Lvl 16: Ice Ball

Lvl 21: Covet

Lvl 24: Icy Wind

Lvl 28: Sticky Web

Lvl 32: Dazzling Gleam

Lvl 36: Snowscape

Lvl 40: Ice Beam

Lvl 44: Misty Terrain

Lvl 48: Moonblast

Lvl 52: Shell Smash

Friendship Level Raised to 160: Love Dart (Signature Move)

Egg Moves

Mirror Coat, Acid Armor, Fake Tears, Aurora Veil

Signature Move - Love Dart

Learned when Gelatopod's friendship level reaches 160 and then the player completes a battle with it

Type - Fairy, Physical, Non-Contact

Damage Power - 20 PP - 10 (max 16) Accuracy - 75%

Secondary Effect - Causes Infatuation in both male and female pokemon. Infatuation ends in 1-4 turns.

Flavor Text - The user fires a dart made of hardened slime at the target. Foes of both the opposite and same gender will become infatuated with the user.

TM Moves

Take Down, Protect, Facade, Endure, Sleep Talk, Rest, Substitute, Giga Impact, Hyper Beam, Helping Hand, Icy Wind, Avalanche, Snowscape, Ice Beam, Blizzard, Charm, Dazzling Gleam, Disarming Voice, Draining Kiss, Misty Terrain, Play Rough, Struggle Bug, U-Turn, Mud Shot, Mud-Slap, Dig, Weather Ball, Bullet Seed, Giga Drain, Power Gem, Tera Blast

Other Game Data

Gender Ratio - 50/50

Catch Rate - 75

Egg Groups - Fairy & Amorphous

Hatch Time - 20 Cycles

Height/Weight - 1'0''/1.3 lbs

Base Experience Yield - 170

Leveling Rate - Medium Fast

EV Yield - 2 (Defense & Special Defense)

Body Shape - Serpentine

Pokedex Color - White

Base Friendship - 70

Game Locations - Glaseado Mountain, plus a 3% chance of encountering Gelatopod when the player buys Ice Cream from any of the Ice Cream stands

Notes

I'm not a competitive player, but I did my best to balance this fakemon fairly and not make it too broken. Feel free to give feedback if you have any thoughts!

I have a huge bias for Bug Pokemon since they're my favorite type, and at first I wanted to make it Bug/Ice, since any intervebrate could be tossed into the 'Bug' typing. But ultimately I decided to keep xeeble's original idea of Ice/Fairy. There's precedent of food-themed pokemon being Fairy type, and Ice/Fairy would be very interesting due to its rarity (only Alolan Ninetails has it). Its type weaknesses are also slightly easier to handle than Bug/Ice imo

The signature move is indeed based on real love darts, I could not resist something that fascinating being made into a Pokemon move, even if the real games may possibly shy away from the idea. (Honestly it could be argued "Love Dart" is based on Cupid's arrow so Gamefreak might actually get away with making a move like this though.) Its effectiveness on both males and females is a nod to snails/slugs being biological hermaphrodites. I can see this move also being learned by Gastrodon and Magcargo in Scarlet/Violet

[moongreenlight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley who despite his better judgement lets Soap talk him into picking up a girl for the night.

Mdni. Nsfw below cut.

Apparently Soap knows a guy who knows a guy in the area they’re deployed. They’d been staying at some shithole inn in France for weeks. Driving into the city to stake out some mark day in and day out. Tedious, mind-numbing work. Sitting at cafes and on patios at pubs people watching. Looking for anyone that may or may not match the vague description that had been provided by some mole on the other side.

Simon could sit still and shut up. Johnny was a separate issue. He could dial in for a few hours at a time, but then he’d start to slip. Bored and antsy, he’d try and strike up conversation. Inevitably returning to what must have been his favorite topic, or the one thing plaguing his mind the most. He’s horny. Fucking hell, is he horny.

Bitching and whining about not being able to get any play here because he doesn’t speak a lick of French and even when he tries it comes out so muddied that nobody takes him seriously. And that the inn they’re set up at is years away from town. Paints him out to be a serial killer.

Simon would grind his teeth and endure yet another one-sided talk about how bored Johnny had been getting of his hand. Even the left one wasn’t doing the trick anymore. He’d resorted to calling in some favors he was apparently owed to get the help of some girls in his evenings off.

“Jesus. Lookit the legs on her.”

Johnny had almost fallen out of his chair swiveling his entire body to watch some girl in a short skirt and a long trench coat stride past their spot outside of a cafe.

“Mhm.”

Simon was in a better spot to watch her pass. Eyeing her frame from over the rim of his steaming mug of tea. Fucking dreadful day. Drizzling rain. Bordering on sleet because of how miserable the weather was. Cloudy with a breeze that felt bitterly cold even through his coat. Shit tea, too. He couldn’t help but allow his mind to wander.

Not like they’d made any progress. Not like they could make any progress being staked out on a side street with no traffic whatsoever. The girl had been the only person other than their server that they’d seen come by in the last half hour. And sure, she had good legs. Better than their server’s at least. Some cranky older woman who’d ignored his attempts to order in French and looked mugged off that she had to deal with them at all, especially sat outside in this weather.

“Hell’s bells. Almost forgot you had a brain in there somewhere.”

Johnny, of course, couldn’t resist making a dig.

“Don’t get carried away.”

Simon grunted.

“Naw. C’mon, L.T. You like girls? They’ve got girls.”

Should have predicted that he was going to run wild with this.

“M’warnin’ you.”

“Loads of girls. Fuckin’ customizable. Send you a preference sheet and everything. Real professional operation.”

Johnny snickered into his paper coffee cup. Given to him along with a nasty look when he’d fidgeted with the ceramic mug he’d first had a bit too much and sent it smashing into the pavement.

Simon wasn’t one to be jerked around cock-first like Johnny, but Jesus. He was wearing thin. Maybe the isolation was getting to him. Maybe a seed had been planted somewhere deep in his mind from Johnny’s moaning. Not to mention, it was impossible to get it up watching French cable porn on a twin bed. He was backed-up and pissed off with the work. And with no end in sight, it could push a man to do strange things.

He shifted his hips forward in his seat, taking a long drink of his tea as he scanned the empty street for the umteenth time.

“Haven’t used up all your favors?”

You would have thought he’d just backhanded Johnny the way his eyes bugged out of his head.

“Gie’s a break.”

“Jus’ a question.”

Simon shrugged, sighing like he was already regretting asking. He was.

“Don’t work me up over nothin’, L.T.”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows and leaning his forearms onto the table. Now completely distracted from the task at hand.

“Johnny.”

“Sure I could work somethin’ out. Only ‘cause I’m feelin’ generous. Ken yer a’right owing me a favor?”

Simon snorted.

“Sure I can manage.”

Johnny’s eyes were glinting something awful. More lively than he’d been in days. Practically laying over the table and kicking his feet. Thrilled to finally have the means to something Simon wanted.

“We’ll see about that’.”

Conversation moved on. Dragged back to the mission with instruction to change location. They spent a full ten hours out in the rain and the cold and the grey for absolutely no payout. Again. Still at square goddamn one. It was arguably worse than combat. Least on a real mission he’d get some release.

Johnny had stepped away in the early evening to make a call. Just before they were tapped out by Price and Gaz. Likely cashing in his favors owed, because he came back with a smug smile and two pints. Saying something about how Simon needed to quit taking himself so seriously. All work and no play or some stupid shit to that tune. Made a comment in passing on their drive back to the inn about how he should get his quarters decent by nine.

Honestly, Simon wasn’t expecting much. It was a bit of a ridiculous concept to him to begin with. He’d regretted saying anything straight after the words had left his mouth. He wasn’t sure he’d even be able to entertain some two-bit whore, even if she just served to curb his boredom. He never sought out things like this. Never felt the need. He wasn’t like Johnny or Gaz where he had to sneak off during missions for a wank or a quick fuck when time allowed. Not like Price where he’d seek a willing nurse or secretary to grope or bend over his desk on a day off. Sure, he’d take the opportunity if it arose, but he was always more focused on the job while he was at work rather than chasing his next high.

And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken anyone home. Fucked into his hand as much was necessary to keep everything operational. Knew when it was time when he started lashing out on a hairpin trigger. Got lazy on missions. Lost one too many sparring matches during training because he couldn’t focus.

So when nine came and went, he just found himself agitated that he’d requested the woman at the front desk change the sheets on his bed again so late. Ducking out to the balcony for a cigarette when she came in and slipping her a few euros on her way out despite the way her lip curled distastefully. Fucking frogs.

He was sat on the armchair in the corner of his room. Halfway paying attention to whatever channel was on the TV across from him and nursing a tumbler of shit whiskey he’d picked up from the shops their first night in. Swapped his mission clothes for a black tee shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. Tugging his balaclava over his face out of pure habit. Strictly instructed not to wear it out for the sake of keeping a low profile. Though he wasn’t sure how much good that did. He stood out from the crowd with his scars and crooked nose and tattoos without the covering. Whatever. Wardrobe wasn’t his job for a reason he supposed.

The sharp knock on his door grated heavily on his last nerve. Eliciting a low growl, but no movement to answer. It was half ten at this point. He wasn’t expecting anyone. Probably just another group of teenagers lost on their way to a friend’s room.

Another knock, and this time it didn’t stop. A muffled giggle through the door.

“Jesus Christ.”

He grumbled, shoving up and striding over to the door. Jerking the door open and using his hulking frame to cover the small opening he allowed.

Johnny’s fist nearly collided with Simon’s jaw. Distracted by the two girls stood behind him in the hall, giggling at him and batting their lashes. He was grinning like a goddamned devil. Chest puffed-out, shoulders rolled back. Entirely too comfortable.

Simon cocked a brow, giving the group a scornful once-over.

“Aye, L.T.! I come bearing gifts.”

Simon’s brow shot up further, eyes flicking from his friend to each of the girls behind him. Johnny immediately caught on to his confusion and barked a laugh, slinging his arm around the shoulder of the girl on the left. She sunk comfortably into position, leaning into him and giggling like it had been rehearsed.

She was pretty. Both of the girls were. The one tucked under Johnny’s arm had long auburn hair tumbling over her shoulders. Bright green eyes. Great smile. Perfectly groomed. Both of them covered conservatively by long coats to protect from the rain that had gradually started to come down harder and colder through the day. Hard to tell they were hooking by looking at them.

They seemed more familiar with Johnny than what Simon could assume was normal. It made his stomach turn if he thought too much into it, so he didn’t. Instead he side stepped, allowing the second girl barely enough room to slip through the door, and jerked his head for her to move.

“S’pose I know better than to expect a thank you.”

Johnny grinned, entirely unbothered by Simon’s glare that was boring through his skull. Arm already wandering down the auburn haired girl’s back at an alarming speed.

“Not as dim as you look, Sargent.”

Simon sighed, snapping the door shut.

“You’re late.”

He said flatly before he’d even finished locking the door. Turning to face the girl who’d already made herself comfortable on the edge of his bed. Leaned back on her hands, flashing him a dazzling smile.

“Throwing off your schedule, am I?”

You said, voice dripping with honeyed sarcasm. This made Simon recoil slightly. He’d been expecting some trashy, mildly-disgusting woman to come stumbling through the door when Johnny had mentioned he was cashing in favors. Not you. Not by a long shot. You looked, for lack of a better word, spoiled. Expensive. Perfectly styled, glossy hair. A tasteful amount of makeup. Not so much that it marred your features, but enough to make you nearly unapproachably attractive. And relatively covered-up. Expensive looking fur-trimmed coat falling just above your ankle.

Noticeable lack of a French accent. And you weren’t cowering in his presence, which suggested that you’d dealt with worse than him. A thought that sent something strange down his spine. Jealousy maybe? Anger? Sympathy? He wasn’t in the mood to dig further into that.

He crossed the room, lowering himself back into the armchair he’d been stationed in before his night was interrupted.

“You’re an hour and a half late.”

His tone was clipped. His eyes cold and hard. Fixed directly on you in an almost invasive kind of eye-contact. He jerked up his balaclava to his nose to take a deep drink from his glass. Studying you from over the rim. Killing the contents and setting it back on the side table with a soft thud.

You pursed your lips for a fraction of a second, standing from the corner of the bed and pacing across the small room to stand in front of him. Threatening to encroach on his personal space. Smiling tightly in a way that seemed to come with a practiced nonchalance. That same feeling settled in the center of his stomach.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I got caught up.”

Your soft, sweet tone did nothing to tame his irritation.

“They couldn’t even send a professional?”

He shot back tersely, folding his arms over his chest. You cocked your head slightly to the side. A fraction of genuine humor peeking through your smile.

“Plenty professional.”

You shrugged, letting the comment roll off of you. Water off a duck’s back. It irritated Simon to no end and he couldn’t pinpoint why. Trying to settle his mind by watching the way your perfectly manicured fingers began to work on slowly undoing the buttons of your coat with careful attention.

He snorted, tugging his balaclava back down over his jaw.

“That your thing, then?”

You gestured to his face covering. Shrugging off your coat to reveal a fucking scrap of a dress. Much more in-line with what he’d imagined a hooker to wear. A tiny, black, strapless thing that hugged your curves like it had been sewn directly onto you. Black lace garter pulled high on your thigh. Knee-height black boots that must have made you four inches taller than you were.

He cocked a brow, tapping a finger on the arm of his chair.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You cracked a true smile at that. Folding your coat neatly in your arms before setting it on the beat-up dresser to his right. Returning attentively to your spot in front of him.

He stiffened. Already perfect posture becoming rigid to the point of snapping. Keeping his hands firmly planted on either arm of the chair. Narrowing his eyes as he looked over your face in much closer detail.

“It’s late.”

Was all he managed. Voice rough as ever.

“And?”

You tilted your head like a confused dog.

“And you were an hour and a half late. It’s late.”

He shot back dryly. Nails digging into the chair.

“Let me make it up to you.“

You sank to your knees just between his legs surprisingly gracefully given how tight your dress was. Falling delicately onto the disgusting carpet. Faded and torn and fraying. Scratching at your bare knees. Didn’t even pull a face. Conditioned to understand that this was normal. Trained to grin and bear it. Another stone added to the weight anchoring him to his seat.

It was horribly cliche. Such a painfully tacky line, but he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth; so he shifted his hips forward and allowed your slender fingers to dance up his thighs and dip under the waistband of his sweatpants. Aided you in tugging them down to his ankles. Grit his teeth together when you began palming him through his underwear. Trying not to catch your eyes that were fixed up on him. Trying to push the nagging voice in the back of his mind away. Reminding him of just how dirty this was. Made him feel fucking pathetic. Calling in the aid of a hooker like he couldn’t bed a girl himself.

And the worst part. The part that brought up the most self-loathing; was how fucking fast the blood was racing to his cock under your touch. How much he truly enjoyed seeing you knelt down and blinking up at him with a look that could have been confused for adoration. Maybe you were a professional.

He sucked in a sharp breath through his nose when you finally sprung his aching cock free from his boxers. Forcing his head back to avoid your gaze. Pressing it hard against the wall to the point of giving himself a headache. Scarring the soft wood of the chair’s arms with his nails when you licked a hot stripe from his base to the tip.

All of his guilt and knotted up emotions seemed to dissolve themselves at least partially when you wrapped your lips around him. He’d almost forgotten just how warm a mouth was. Infinitely better than his hand. Jesus, was it.

He kept his hands to himself. Not needing to guide you like he had so many others. Tried to let himself relax under the feeling of your hand gripping his base and your mouth working his tip. And he nearly did get swept away when you removed your hand and tried to force his stiff cock to the back of your throat. Allowing you to work at choking and gagging around him for longer than was probably polite. But again, he just found himself irritated. Edging himself out of pure goddamn accident because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force himself from his mind.

He couldn’t understand why you were such a sticking point to him. He’d had one night stands before. Hell, that’s all he’d had. Never cared much about the quality or condition or history of the girls he slept with. Maybe he had a savior complex he was too stubborn to admit to. Maybe his mind had been so warped and addled over the years that he formed some kind of baseless connection with you for God knew what reason. He just couldn’t fucking stop thinking about you.

He would have liked to. Would have liked to screw his eyes shut and focus on how good you felt wrapped around him. Mouth hot and wet. Wanted to focus on the ecstasy of your throat struggling to fit him. Listen to your soft, choked whines. Let himself pretend you were no different to the others he’d bedded before, but it was fruitless. He made a low sound, a growl that lodged itself somewhere in his chest, before taking your jaw in his hand and pulling you off of him. Cock still throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.

“You need to go.”

He made the mistake of glancing down. Saw the way your perfect makeup had begun smearing around your eyes and down your cheeks just barely. Big eyes rimmed with tears. Nose running, chin and lips glistening. Slick from your own spit. It nearly pushed him over the edge, but he knew inevitably he was prolonging his own torture.

“What?”

Your voice was hoarse because of how much strain your throat had been under. Softer than it had been. Less confident. You looked almost hurt. Wiping your mouth on the back of your hand and sniffing softly. Jaw held fixed in his hand.

“You need to go.”

He repeated, firmer this time. Sucking his teeth. Trying to ignore the way your gentle panting cooled the shining trails of spit running down his shaft and sent a chill up his spine.

Your face twisted in confusion, mouth falling open. Leaning back on your haunches to look him over like he’d suddenly grown another head.

“Is it not good?”

He groaned softly, finally letting go of your head. Not realizing just how much effort it had taken for him to pull you off until he saw the small red marks decorating the delicate skin of your jaw.

“S’fine.”

“Fine?”

You looked properly offended. A little confused. Like this had never happened before- and it probably hadn’t. Of course he’d be the one to stain your perfect record. Of course he’d be the one to warp your pretty face like that. Drove him up the fucking wall.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. Now he was backed-up, pissed off, and you wouldn’t leave as easily as he would’ve liked. If he was lucky, he’d still have half a hard-on by the time he got you out the door. Maybe coax out a less than satisfying orgasm that would at least put him to sleep.

“Gave myself lockjaw for fine?”

You spoke again, those same nimble fingers now gently massaging the hinge of your jaw. He tried to avoid looking at the way your dress bunched around your hips and revealed your panties. Black lace that matched the garter on your thigh.

“It’s late.”

He huffed a sigh. Leaning down to fumble in his sweatpants pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Needing anything else to focus on. It brought him nearly nose to nose with you. Not realizing until he flicked his eyes up. And you didn’t recoil. Sat there half glaring at him, the tip of your nose almost brushing his through the balaclava. You were pretty even this close. Probably more so.

“You’ve said.”

You shot back cooly, brows knit together.

“Have I?”

He pulled back up, hooking his mask up over his nose once more and sticking the cigarette between his teeth.

“Few times.”

You looked wholly unamused. He flicked his lighter open. Lighting the tip and taking a deep drag.

“Meant it a few times.”

He shrugged, speaking through his exhale. Turning his chin up and away from you so the curling smoke didn’t wash over you.

You snorted, pushing up to your feet, putting your hands on your hips and giving him a once-over.

“You’re seriously asking me to leave?”

His teeth sunk into the butt of the cigarette just a fraction too hard. He felt the crunch of the filter bending under the force.

“S’not you, it’s me.”

He offered. A wisp of a dry smile tugging momentarily at the corner of his lips. This earned another smile from you. He caught it even through the way you chewed the inside of your cheek.

“You married?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. He almost choked on the cloud of smoke he’d been drawing in.

“No.”

His voice was harsh. Like a string pulled taught to the point of snapping.

“So what is it? You don’t like me?”

You shifted your weight a bit, but he could tell it wasn’t because you were uncomfortable. You still held yourself confidently. Shoulders rolled back, posture straight but not stiff.

“Bloody hell.”

He groaned, rubbing his brow.

“Is that it, then?”

You prodded further.

“No.”

You seemed thoroughly dissatisfied with his answers. But he didn’t know what else he could say. You seemed fine. Pretty girl. Got him closer to an orgasm than he’d come in weeks. He just couldn’t get over the fact that you were hired out to do this. Made him feel too dirty. That and he’d already looked too far into the situation. You seemed like you’d been doing this longer than anyone should have to. Strangely enough he felt some obligation to protect you. Wanted to pull you away from whatever situation that had pushed you to this.

“So what’s the hang up?”

You huffed a sigh.

“Don’t usually do this.”

He grunted out, resigning to the fact that he’d have to drink himself to sleep at this point. Leaning down to jerk his sweatpants back up his legs.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

You snarked back. He snorted a humorless chuckle from around the cigarette.

“Nothin’ against you.”

“Yeah, alright.”

You shook your head, a small smile curving your mouth. A mix of confusion and amusement. Like you couldn’t believe that this was really happening.

“I’m not in the business of I.O.U’s.”

You said, looking over your shoulder while you walked over to grab your coat from the dresser.

“S’at so?”

He ashed his cigarette into his empty glass. Trying not to snort when you flashed him a sour look.

“You’re sure? I’m supposed to be here all night.”

You were already fastening the buttons on your coat. Glancing past him to the window on the back wall of the small room. The curtains were drawn, but through the backlight of the street lamps outside you could see rain streaking the glass.

“Mhm”

He hummed his answer. Silently grateful that you were finally moving toward leaving. Least he’d be able to get a few hours of shut eye before having to go back out tomorrow. Hopefully sleep off the guilt and the slightly sick feeling that’d settled itself over him.

You left a few minutes later. After making absolutely certain he was sure. Then it was ‘cheers’ and he was dead bolting the door. He got a fresh glass and downed the rest of the bottle of whiskey. Not enough to even get him tipsy, but enough to lull him into a dreamless sleep for the few hours he allowed himself.

He should have been expecting that Johnny would give him a fucking earful in the days following. You must’ve said something to the auburn haired girl and it got around. Wouldn’t shut up about it. Gave him shit like he was getting paid to do it. Couldn’t believe that he’d pass up an opportunity like that.

They got shipped back to base about a week later. Simon was thankful for the short break. Slowly working on forgetting the entire mission. The whole ordeal with you. Focused his efforts on training and filling out the endless towers of paperwork that’d gathered on the edge of his desk in his absence.

And then it was months later. And he’d made good progress on forgetting France. Mission was a bust. Wasted time and money and effort for no payout. Turns out their mark had been in Germany the entire time. Tipped off that they were on the lookout for him. Johnny slowly stopped his teasing. Only occasionally bringing it up when Simon dismissed the efforts of an overly eager private. Things went back to normal.

After getting intel on a new assignment, Price had urged the boys to get together at some pub by base for drinks on him. Chat about next steps and do some more of the team bonding he was so keen on. Simon grudgingly obliged. The bar was full of people seeing as it was a Friday, so he was content people-watching and grunting a few words when prompted. Decent way to kill a few hours.

He’d excused himself to go outside for a smoke, pushing through the crowd until he finally reached the side alley next to the pub. Taking a few long moments to work his way through a cigarette and let his head stop pounding from the noise of the inside. He wasn’t focused on anything in particular, at least not until he heard some shouting on the street.

He furrowed his brow slightly, pushing off the brick he’d been leaned against and sidling out to see what was going on. Not usually interested in the commotion, but moving out of some deep-rooted obligation to supervise a situation.

He saw a car with dark tinted windows rolling slowly down the road. The driver leaning half-out his window and shouting something over to a girl who was walking by herself down the sidewalk. Her back was to Simon, but he could tell by how stiff she was that this wasn’t a friendly exchange.

He groaned under his breath, taking a moment to debate on if he should get involved before flicking his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his heel. Starting down the street toward the girl.

It didn’t take him long to close the distance between them. The girl was walking slowly, he could see the way her head was on a swivel, searching for an escape. The driver of the car was shouting something crass at her and she was making a point of not engaging.

“Alright?”

He called out through the dim street, rolling his shoulders back and tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. Puffing out his chest slightly in case his sheer size alone wasn’t enough to impress.

The driver faltered slightly, the girl did not stop to look back.

“Yeah, mate. Cheers.”

The man called back, trying to sound casual. Simon grunted and nodded, staying as friendly as he could. Moving a little closer to the curb to shield the girl from view. Thankfully, this was all the interaction the driver seemed to need to get the hint. Pulling off without much more prompting.

The girl’s posture immediately relaxed. Shoulders dropped, slowing her gait to a stop.

“Thanks. I owe you-“

Her voice cut off like someone had pressed mute when she turned to face Simon. He was stunned. Fucking shocked to see your face. This had to be some cruel trick played on him by the universe.

You looked great. Better than you had in France- if that was even possible. Even with the way your face paled, he could tell. Your eyes were brighter. Shining at him like headlights. He would have been able to convince himself he was hallucinating if you hadn’t had that same look of recognition painted over your face.

“Thought you weren’t in the business of I.O.U’s.”

He broke the silence after a few long moments. Both of you stood rooted to the pavement mere yards apart. Your breathless laugh broke the tension like a stone dropped in the middle of a stilled lake.

“I wasn’t.”

He nodded sharply.

“And now?”

You smiled. Brighter than you had before.

“I could be persuaded.”

He scoffed.

“S’at so?”

[cardinalcanis]

CODEX: The Viridian Phantoms

Summary: I did a thing. Been wanting to write about the custom space marine chapter that has been eating my brain the last few days. The Viridian Phantoms, my loyalist Mortarion successor chapter. They have been SO much fun to write and will totally do more things with them in the future. They are my first ever custom chapter so I would LOVE LOVE LOVE your reviews and opinions about them.

TW: People WAY too comfortable with death.

Word count: 3314

"Can I make my own fanart/OCs/head cannons/fics about/with the Viridian Phantoms?" First of all I will die <3, second of all, of course! As long as you credit me as the og creator of them I have no issue with it!

Tag squad (let me know if you wish to be tagged on stuff): @druidwolf21 @wolf-feathers12 @artemisareia @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @adhd-fandom-hyperfocus

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @kit-williams @egrets-not-regrets @jaghatai-khock @horuslupercal @moodymisty

@sinistermojo @beckyninja @justallll @ms--lobotomy @pluvio-tea @lemon-russ

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

General information: 

“We are Death, so Humanity may live.”

-Chapter name: Viridian Phantoms. 

-Other nicknames and given monikers (at least the nice ones): Angels of Krieg, The Bone Collectors, Krieger Kites, Jumping Tanks, Climbing Banshees. 

-Loyalty: Loyalist. 

-Homeworld: Krieg. 

-Symbol: A ghostly skull wreathed in chains.

-Colors: Light viridian green accented with black and silver.

Origin: 

“Father, see your children, battle-worn and pale,

Holy Chains and hooks prepared, 

Father, see your children, dead but not failed, 

By their blood may the corruption be cleansed.” 

After the events of Baal and the Plague Wars Belisarius Cawl saw the necessity of having more resistant troops. Capable of weathering extreme conditions, facing bio-monstrosities and gargantuan enemies, and being Immune to plagues and other chaos or mortal-made maladies. 

The Viridian Phantoms were born from Cawl’s experiments, using a modified strand of Mortarion’s gene-seed to create warriors who could endure almost everything. They stand as an act of defiance to Roboute Guilliman’s will in the face of what he considers advancements in the name of the Imperium’s survival, magnificent discoveries that honor the Omnissiah.  Making them only female was the loophole he found to make their existence possible, even though kept in secret for many years.  Recruited and trained on Krieg for their innate resilience and loyalty, these Marines are honed to become the embodiment of human perseverance. 

They possess their gene father’s legendary resistance combined with an aspect of Mortarion not exploited by the previous Death Guard; his untapped psyker potential. The Viridian Phantoms are unyielding assaulters, designed to weather any blow; be it a plague, environment non compatible with life, or physical force. Their combat style is defined by their heavy armor, equipped with hooks and chains, allowing them to latch onto massive foes, scale them, and pull them down into submission so they can be butchered. Despite their heavily reinforced armor, their biomantic prowess allows them bursts of agility, enabling them to jump over large enemies and strike from unexpected angles. Even other Astartes speak about a sense of uneasiness seeing what in all senses is a terminator-like unit swinging in the air and climbing light as a feather. This makes them formidable in melee, where they wield chainswords and scythes with deadly precision. Learning from the Thousand Sons’ mistakes, they do not over rely on their psyker powers, biomancy is meant as another tool in their arsenal. Their uncanny resistance aided by biomantic regenerative capabilities make them the perfect unmovable wall for humanity. 

Made behind the primarch’s back: 

“Father, we are ready, take us if you must.”

Cawl’s unprecedented authority within the Mechanicus and his status as the architect of the Primaris project provided him with enough leeway to conduct this experiment. His known… quirks and disregard for strict Imperial protocol helped him fly under the radar. His projects are already known for secrecy, but even with the trust on his skill and status he couldn’t afford for Guilliman discovering the Phantoms before they were ready. 

The choice of  Krieg didn't only rest on its hardy loyal woman but also for its isolation, secrecy of what truly goes in their underground hives and lack of general scrutiny from the Imperium. Krieg’s conditions allow for secretive experimentation; the people of  Krieg, known for their discipline and loyalty never questioned nor revealed Cawl’s activities, they were ordered not to anyways. It is said that long lines are made to this day for parents to proudly offer their daughters for testing, even though they didn’t know what it was about, the Emperor was looking for female children so they served accordingly. 

Cawl carefully controlled who knew about the Phantoms’ existence and purpose, involving only trusted Mechanicus personnel and Kriegsmen who were at a need to know bases of their assignment and sworn to secrecy. Any record-keeping or tracking was obfuscated through a complex mix of bureaucracy and Mechanicus’ religious beliefs, already only revealing the biggest secrets to the worthy in the  Omnissiah’ eyes. 

The Phantoms were obviously kept isolated from other Astartes chapters and Imperial forces to avoid detection. In their deployments, the Phantoms engaged enemies with minimal support, focusing on missions that required little to no backup. Training and conditioning was completed in Mechanicus-controlled facilities under Cawl’s lock and key, keeping them away from inquisitive eyes. He implemented protocols restricting their interaction with other Imperial personnel, ensuring their knowledge and exposure remained minimal.

The Phantoms’ early deployments were limited  remote or particularly hazardous battlefields far from populated areas or Imperial forces, where only the toughest units were expected to survive. These are regions affected by warp taint, plague, or xenos threats, where the survival of any unit would be notable but not easily verified. 

Cawl specifically chose high-mortality missions where the Phantoms could demonstrate their resilience. By deploying the Phantoms to zones where no ordinary Astartes force could feasibly operate, Cawl ensured they’d operate in isolated conditions, where successful missions were difficult to track or verify independently.

Later on he made use of trusted Rogue Traders and Mechanicus explorator missions to test the Viridian Phantoms in the fringes of the Imperium. 

Reports and data on the Phantoms were  filed under vague terms or ambiguous classifications, described in ways that did not reveal their true origin or makeup. Listed as specialized Krieg regiments or other “experimental” Mechanicus units when deployed. These reports kept them concealed, making it appear as if they were simply part of a contingent of the Death Korps or other Mechanicus-approved forces rather than a unique chapter of Astartes.

Physical appearance, chapter culture and personality: 

“Through pain and flame, we fall

And if you can stay, sister, then we'll show you the way

To return from the ashes we call.”

Moration’s gene seed gives the Viridian Phantoms a formidable yet eerie appearance that sets them apart from other chapters. Considered some if not the tallest Primaris Marines, they are built like a block of muscle, needing great upper body strength to hold their full armored weight while hanging mid air. Their skin turns a pale white or slightly grayish hue with visible veins. Their hair typically ranges in shades of white, silver, or light gray. They tend to keep their hair very long and extensively braided. Their eyes are described as a ‘pale gaze’ and ‘lifeless’ or with an almost glassy appearance, people claim that the Phantoms' gaze is ‘detached’ looking through them rather than at them. The intensity of their gaze is increased by how little they tend to blink unnerving those unaccustomed to their manner. All of these add up into giving them their phantom-like appearance they are named after.

They barely speak, when they do, it is done with precision and brevity. There is no room for flowery language or embellishment; they say what needs to be said and nothing more. Their speaking cadence tends to be emotionless and unenthusiastic, not due to lack of emotion but their little interaction with non Phantoms. As very sensible biomancers, they are constantly in touch with the inner processes inside those around them, including emotional responses. Spoken and gestured communication is just a poor mockery of the higher level subtle, unspoken connections they share. This makes them seem distant or even cold to those who rely more on direct communication, this lack of visible emotion could create misunderstandings or discomfort.

The Phantoms struggle hard to connect with outsiders, as they find typical methods of bonding cumbersome or shallow compared to the natural closeness they share among themselves. When interacting with other chapters, they struggle to adapt to more conventional forms of camaraderie, finding it challenging to communicate complex intentions in ways others understand and at the same time making them highly aware of the moods or intents of others. Knowing of the fear, frustration, anger and paranoia they cause first hand; but without the skills to properly address other's concerns. 

This sensitivity fosters deep bonds between the Phantoms, allowing them to anticipate and understand each other in ways that most Astartes can’t. It creates a near-unbreakable trust, as they’re constantly aware of each other's emotional state, intentions, and even physical condition, reinforcing the idea of sisterhood beyond the individual. The electrical discharge in one sister’s muscles ordering to lift a bolter is sensed by the others, copying the same movements, making them capable of reacting to their environment like a well coordinated flock of birds. This gives them an almost meditative focus in battle. Their awareness of their sisters’ movements allows them to coordinate without spoken commands, making them seem eerily calm and united.

Krieg’s women to the core, their loyalty to the Emperor and their battalion is absolute. They see themselves as living tools of the Imperium, willing to sacrifice anything, including their lives, without hesitation. This unwavering dedication makes them reliable but can come across as suicidal, looking for death in death’s sake. Each Phantom believes their existence is expendable if it means the mission succeeds or the forces of humanity are protected. 

The Viridian Phantoms also hold a profound respect for their fallen allies, whether they are their own sisters, other Astartes, or even mortal guardsmen and civilians. They view these fallen as martyrs of the Emperor’s cause. As a tribute, unless the remains are corrupted by Chaos, Phantoms often collect small pieces of armor, bones, cloth, strands of hair, or even rubble from the battlefield and fashion them into beads and charms. These adornments are extensively braided into their hair or hung across their weapons and armor, serving as personal memorials and tokens of respect. Teeth, in particular, are a favored keepsake known among the Phantoms as "flesh pearls," close second to hair which they braid with their own.  

With so much of their time spent among the Mechanicus it is of no surprise that one of the most significant aspects of their culture is the ceremonial tending to their gear and weapons. Each battle-sister sees her armor and weapons as an extension of herself, considering them "bound" to her flesh and spirit. Outside of battle, Phantoms often spend hours in silent preparation, maintaining and blessing their chains, hooks, and weapons in a ritual that reinforces their connection. It has been reported that this strong belief on their gear as part of their flesh has ended into several occurrences where their biomantic powers also restore cracked ceramite or instances where guns keep shooting when it is obvious that the magazine must have been emptied. 

This meticulous care for their gear makes the Phantoms selective about who is allowed to handle it. They permit only trusted Mechanicus priests or highly skilled serfs with whom they have overseen working many times to assist in maintaining their equipment. These chosen few would be expected to respect the Phantoms' many rituals and understand the reverence the Phantoms have for their weapons and armor. These selected few granted the honor of working with the Phantoms' gear have to undergo bonding rites, long meditations and purification rituals to align with each specific Phantom that has chosen them to tend to this sacred part of themselves to the highest of standards. 

The Phantoms’ secret rites, meditations and mantras help them both handle their oversensitivity to all life around them and reinforce their religious adoration for death and sacrifice.  The Phantoms hold pre-battle rituals where they recite personal death vows. These vows are spoken in low, emotionless tones, acknowledging their acceptance of death and pledging to die honorably if it serves the Imperium. Followed by their well known Death Hymns which they sing in ritual and even during battle, Viridian Phantom Death Hymns are the only instance of them raising their voices and carrying emotionally charged statements. They most are directed to a figure they ‘Father’, if it refers to either The Emperor, Mortarion or both is unknown. These chants carry an ominous, almost haunting quality, blending grim acceptance, defiance, and reverence for their purpose. The chants are rhythmic, echoing through the battlefield and unnerving allies and enemies alike with their strange, almost theatrical longing for death. They possess sections where the volume crescendos to shouts or quiets to an eerie whisper, transitioning between powerful declarations and subdued, haunting verses.

Currently, the Viridian Phantoms have no official Chapter Master due to their uncertain experimental state. Leadership has fallen by the battle sisters consensus upon Revenant (Captain) Lena Arendt, a figure respected for her exceptional combat skill and biomantic abilities. She is often referred to as the ‘Ceramite Fae’, due to even amongst other Phantoms her seamless grace mid air while fully armored creates the illusion of effortless flight. A fatal flaw her and many phantoms inherit from Mortarion is how much of a hard time they have at asking for help from non Phantoms, maybe not much out of their gene seed but their desire to prove their chapter is worthy to exist.

Gear and unconventional battle tactics: 

“We are the scythe that reaps the corruption, 

We are the chain that bounds the monstrosity to a kneel, 

We are the knife that carves the names of the fallen onto our enemies, 

We are the Emperor’s unbroken might, 

We are his bleeding sacrifice so we could still have a light, 

We are to fall so the many may rise, 

We are the Viridian Phantoms, 

And we are Death, so Humanity may live.”

As mentioned, The Phantoms hold close reverence to their gear and decorate them extensively with allies’ remains, one of the most memorable are their oracles (librarians) and gravekeepers’ (chaplains) complex teeth veils. Their armor is modeled on the reinforced Mark X, heavily modified for maximum durability. The plating is reinforced to withstand corrosive environments, disease, and warp-tainted toxins, often appearing thicker and more robust than standard armor. It is painted in a ghostly viridian green with black accents on the trim and silver detailing. Their helmets’ visors emit a ghostly pale green glow, most of them are inscribed with small runes or faint biomantic symbols.

Each Phantom carries many sets of chains and hooks designed for their signature combat style. These chains are attached to their gauntlets or armor and can be used to latch onto large enemies, structures, or terrain. The chains have runic symbols carved along each link alongside attached beads and charms, and when combined with their biomantic abilities, they become unbreakable extensions of the Phantom’s will, allowing them to anchor enemies or secure themselves in chaotic battles. The hooks are often engraved with the names of fallen sisters or even fallen guardsmen or civilians whose names they find on dog tags and forgotten personal effects among the rubble. 

The Viridian Phantoms favor chain swords and most importantly scythes for close combat, weapons that symbolize their affinity for melee and their willingness to face foes up close. All of them also have the ability to extend into chain and grappling hooks. Their scythes are heavy, with blade edges honed to a sheen, used for sweeping attacks against larger foes. Made to grab, mutilate and disembowel in single clean swipes. Alongside their melee weapons they can also favor large shields that chained together create shield walls to push back at the latest of waves.

They are no strangers to range weaponry, which even if they aren’t their favored, each is shown equal love and customization as the melee does. Sometimes even consecrating every individual bullet in day or even week long rituals meant for deep meditation and calming their psyker abilities. 

Even though they may be great assets for them, The Phantoms shun the use of chemical and viral weapons of any kind in their fight to distance themselves from their genesire’s legacy and fall into nurgle’s claws. 

Appart to what they are known for, falling gargantuan monstrosities; the Viridian Phantoms' unparalleled resilience, little regard for their own lives and biomantic abilities would lend themselves to shockingly bold, almost reckless battle tactics and strategies. These tactics seem suicidal to other Space Marines and not Codex Compliant at all:

-Shield killbox: The Phantoms would march forward under heavy enemy fire interlocking shields with one another. Using their scythes they would pull and mutilate anything that comes closer, then throw the helpless bodies behind them where other sisters await to finish them up. Functioning as an efficient assembly line of carnage. 

-Fire on my position: In coordination with allied forces, the Phantoms move into a position where friendly heavy artillery or orbital bombardment is directed. Knowing their unique resilience, they would withstand the controlled onslaught that devastates their foes, emerging from the smoke and flames, most of the time.

-Living bait: Phantoms would feign retreat or send vulnerable looking single units, drawing enemy forces into pre-arranged kill zones laden with explosives. Then, they would walk on the trap while still in the blast radius, relying on their enhanced durability to survive. Phantoms might also herd unknowing enemies into the blast radius of allied tanks. Or charge headlong into fortified enemy positions or into the path of tanks, absorbing fire and drawing attention while the rest of the battalion encircles the distracted enemy.

-Suicide landings: Phantoms generally do not fight alone unless they have a strategic purpose. Like sending one charging (or jumping off flying vehicle) into enemy positions or even the heart of their formations with explosives strapped to their armor, activating them upon impact. This act would be often followed by the surreal sight of the Phantom emerging from the carnage, bloodied but alive. 

-Walking beacons: They do have a unique skill to escort survivors through dangerous zones normal humans would not survive. Making the helpless human stay close to them inside their auras so fire, disease or acid would not hurt them or would not feel the pain and heal quickly. They tend to cover the survivors' eyes and even ears so they feel no fear or run away in the presence of danger, as running away gets them out of the Phantom's aura, which means they will succumb to the factors the are being protected against. And the people's trust and faith that the Phantoms can protect them actually makes it easier to work their biomancy on them. 

Cawl’s secret brought to the light: 

“Hear hear, Father, we're all going to die

Father, we're all going to die

Do not sing me any farewells, for me you must not cry,

hear hear, Father, we're all going to die.”

The Viridian Phantoms' first encounter with Guilliman was intense and deeply scrutinized. After proving themselves time and time again completing dangerous missions in secret under Cawl’s direction, the Phantoms were finally brought to Guilliman’s attention as a fully-formed, specialized force created to withstand the most hostile environments and fight the Imperium’s most monstrous foes. Masking themselves as just another battalion of the Unnumbered Sons, with the help of voice modulators in their voxes making them sound masculine (aside from restricting their vox channels when singing). 

They were deployed alongside his forces in a brutal battle. Observing them, Guilliman noted their resilience and uncanny coordination as they maneuvered in unison, taking down enormous threats with sacrificial tactics. The Phantoms suffered grave wounds but continued to fight, showing an almost eerie selflessness that unsettled many nearby Ultramarines.

After the battle, Guilliman confronted the Phantoms directly, demanding to know their origins. Their leader, Revenant Lena Arendt, revealed their loyalty and their gene-sire without hesitation, asserting their purpose and loyalty to the Emperor, not to Mortarion’s legacy. Guilliman, appalled by Cawl’s audacity, proclaimed that their very existence was an affront to the Imperium and must be erased.

The Phantoms responded by raising their bolters to their own heads, ready to end their lives at Guilliman's command. Stunned, Guilliman halted them. They remain a battalion awaiting Guilliman’s final judgment, will they be eliminated? Given a suicide mission hoping they never return? Will they ever back their birthright as the 14th? The future looks bleak and uncertain for the Viridian Phantoms. But the primarch must hasten as talk is spreading.

[arachnixe]

One Final Homecoming

The rain falls hot on my skin, landing with a sizzling hiss whenever it manages to dodge the brim of my hat and find a patch left exposed by my dress. The burns heal immediately, the spell an automatic reflex I don’t consciously register anymore.

I don’t sneer at the people hurrying through the rain, shielding themselves from the downpour with umbrellas and coats. I don’t show my contempt for what I can only conceptualize as a form of cowardice, knowing the rain would happily embrace them if they let down their guard. The water would glide smoothly over their skin with a gentle caress, a “you belong here and I love you” that stands in stark contrast to the downpour’s efforts to scour me away.

I don’t sneer. I keep myself composed. My mask of indifference remains flawless. The world may reject me, but I rejected it first, didn’t I? Being born here came with certain terms and conditions I found disagreeable, and so I made myself its enemy.

It’s in the spirit of this mutual animosity that I stand here right now, in front of an unmarked office building in a city that sleepwalks a cancerous expansion of itself. My hand drifts of its own accord into my bag seeking the reassuring touch of the seed I carry. It’s still there—smooth, warm, pulsing gently—the beating heart of something altogether foreign, yet not a heart at all, and maybe not quite a seed either, but rather a key, and if there’s anything in this world or any other that a witch understands, it’s keys.

Time’s wheel turns, as do the wheels within and without. I turn the mind’s eye inward to watch. I raise my eyes skyward to see. At last the inner aligns with the outer. Above and below, a moment clicks into place. I press my hand to a locked door and push it gently open.

The security guards inside are unprepared for me. “The Anomaly” is their name for me, and they shout the epithet while drawing guns. Their bullets splatter across my clothes, leaving even less of an impression than the raindrops, and it has been a very long time indeed since mere weather could divert my path. I pluck their threads and discard the rest—without much gentleness, I must confess—as I proceed to the elevators.

Their computer networks would deny me access to the lower floors if I asked permission, so I do not. “Down” is the most natural direction for a thing to move anyway, and it takes little persuasion to coax this little box where it wants to be. Down, down, down below the surface of this world, I pass alongside the city’s veins of sewage and lightning, poisoned air and poison dreams.

Real resistance makes itself known down below. This building’s ideas have strong roots down here, where people in stark suits spin a web of ontology to catch and contain, sneering their contempt of me. I let the mask fall. I am no moth, mercurial and unaware, easily misdirected to get ensnared by their traps. I dance electric across the apocalypse they’d weave for me, high voltage burning my entrance and exit through their collective consciousness.

I have even less gentleness to spare for these agents than I did the guards above. They collapse, mindsblood painting the walls in crackling infrablack.

A stairwell—less accessible than most, requiring the right eyes to even see it—takes me down to the bottom floor. There, the root office. In the office, a table. On the table, a briefcase. Above it all, a fluorescent light flickers.

I shove the table aside and get to digging. When a thing is meant never to be unlocked, one may need to carve a keyhole. Sometimes this means using one’s bare hands to claw through carpet and concrete. I do as I must, working quickly and ignoring the arrival of my executioner.

The bullet she puts in my head is made of realer stuff than mere lead, and I die almost immediately. Not much time left, then, but enough to reach into my bag, extract the key, and offer it a single kiss. I plant it and suture the building’s wound with the guards’ threads.

“It’s over,” my executioner informs me as if she believes me unaware that I’ve already died. I offer my most withering smile, one I’m quite sure will eventually kill her, before laying myself down to rest. My curse rattles her enough to command that concrete be poured here, filling the root office and sealing me in, as though I were radioactive waste, safe as long as I can be sequestered away indefinitely.

She will survive my smile for a decade or so. Long enough, I think, to see the strange new roots growing upward through the building, throbbing with the lifeblood of something truly alien to her reality. A fine curse, I think, to be the only one aware of corruption gripping the nexus of her life’s work.

My bones will rest easy, nourishing the world that is to come.

[maxiwaxipads]

i wrote how everyone in noir bouquet would fight a while back so here you go !!!

Badobarm

Frontliner and tank, he's capable of taking incoming damage for teammates and taunts to distract! Able to give defensive buffs, and cover for allies if they require healing or need to prepare upcoming attacks. Capable of commanding teammates efficiently, he's the party member who keeps everyone's morale up! If Badobarm is there, it will be swift and victorious!

Badobarm naturally charms his opponents with good workplace practices and being a good boss.

Badobarm (Shoujo filter*) - " Work with me where you can even survive on minimum wage and budget efficiently ~ ♡ " (the enemy, who is suddenly under a charm status effect!)

Chaco

A mid-range support character who can bolster the speed and attack of allies! Chaco can debuff the defensiveness of SEEDs, but it isn't too significant of a debuff. Out of all Noir Bouquet, he's the most nimble and able to move freely through a battlefield.

His skateboard was once ordinary until Pochacco blessed the skateboard with his magic! It can easily move through difficult terrain and is even more sturdier than it was before. (<- Maybe climb walls, but I'll consider it) Chaco can also ram his enemies with his skateboard!

If there had to be a character with stealth capabilities, it would be Chaco who can silence his breathing and footsteps. Under a situation where a retreat is necessary, Chaco would be the quickest to flee with or without his trusted skateboard!

Arupek

"A close-ranged attacker at trying his best!" But in all seriousness, Arupek is a long-ranged attacker whose water gun is tampered with different nodes able to perform supportive (healing) and offensive abilities.

His gun is a special item able to convert water into a specialized magic of its own. Once water is inserted, it is unable to be deposited. After some time, the specialized water reverts back to its original state and loses its magical properties.

As long as Arupek carries water around, he's able to reuse the water gun for a long time! He makes sure to label the water he carries as "drinkable" or "ammo."

Arupek is capable of using dark-type pokemon attacks!

(So I had the idea that being contracted with a lord gives you special abilities, and Arupek inherited a venomous bite from Pekkle) (Doesn't easily share his food with others in fear of them being affected with venom) (When he's around Badobarm, Arupek makes sure to finish his food quirk even if he dislikes it or it isn't to his preferences)

Arupek, who sees Badobarm scooping the rice from his plate into one place--intending to eat it...!?

Arupek - "Oh--WAIT! WAIT! DON'T EAT IT!" "I'll finish it. I swear! You're a good man, Badobarm! I don't want you to die!" Badobarm - "...Be my guest?"

Badobarm, who thinks highly of Arupek because he can finish his food!

Tuxam

A magic DPS, but I couldn't decide between mid-ranged or long-ranged, but he seems mid-ranged to me? Has a more practical understanding of magic and can use it for mundane tasks. Resistant to cold statuses and weather!

When it comes to magic, I think Tuxam is the strongest or on par with Pikero? Slightly (physically) stronger than the average person, but when pitted against other knights, Tuxam doesn't appear that strong. I imagine this also applies to things like his stamina and how quick he can be.

Tuxam is a character who is motivated by helping others, even if it is a strict standard. May take incoming damage for allies even if it harms him. (<- Something that he's definitely scolded for(?))

Hangyon

A close-range or mid-range attack, Hangyon is both a DPS and a terrible support character! He's a wildcard able to quickly adapt to his situations, and able to use anything within his hands as a stratagem.

I imagine Hangyon is a high-damage DPS to the detriment of his allies. Someone capable of breaking the 4th wall, and whether Hangyon knows he's a character is left vague.

Hangyon who breaks the 4th wall to ask the audience what's the best move in this situation.

Hangyon - "Ehe~ ♡ I can't hear you anyway! I'll just attack them silly."

But I like the idea that his awareness is kept intentionally vague.

Pikero, who I wrote as an offsite strategist considers Hangyon as a bomb or considers him too unpredictable to follow orders. I imagine Badobarm can sway Hangyon to take battles more seriously(?)

Hangyon who can debuff both his allies and his enemies. (And maybe even buff(?))

Pikero

A strategist who prefers staying far away from the battle! In return, he observes the situation from afar from an objective angle and determines the best actions for a plausible win.

Compared to other knights, Pikero can use magic from long distances but requires the help of "drones" to carry the magic and cast it. Because he casts his magic from a long distance, it may take a while for it to cast and he would have to inform the rest of Noir Bouquet when making incoming attacks or casting supportive spells

Pikero is also capable of casting supportive magic, like healing or giving buffs. I imagine it is obvious to tell when Pikero can cast a spell, so an enemy would have to time their attacks to avoid drone strikes or prevent Noir Bouquet from receiving buffs! (Maybe a drone has a brief moment before casting the spell)

Mentioning the drones again, they're able to perform multiple tasks for Pikero and aren't solely for battle. When Pikero casts magic through the drones, they have to carry it all the way there and it requires multiple to transport and cast.

(To visualize, imagine a vague trail of drones going back and forth similar to a cable line to deliver the magic) (Pikero has separate drones tasked with observing and recording the battle from afar, and drones who act as the cable lines and cast the magic itself)

These drones can easily be destroyed, and a slight disruption can misdirect the spell itself. But once a drone is attacked, you would have to destroy the other drones before his information is quickly relayed to Pikero.

(Possibly can overheat(?)) (Maybe bad weather can affect the performance of the drones, I could see it(?)) (I feel like I powercrept Pikero...?) (May also take a while to set up, especially in long-distance places from Keroppi Kingdom) (Maybe they also take a while to assemble(?))

(Even without the cable line drones, Pikero can still provide good insight by just observing the situation) (I imagine the drones Pikero uses for battle are all-purpose(?))

While Pikero will rarely appear in battle, I think he's faster than Chaco when there's a dire need to retreat.

I wrote to myself once, "I think everyone can agree Pikero is the weakest in Noir Bouquet." I wrote that twice. I still agree with me thrice. (lovingly)

Noir Bouquet's Physical Strength:

Pikero < Tuxam < Arupek < Chaco < Badobarm < Hangyon

Noir Bouquet's Magical Strength:

Badobarm < Chaco < Hangyon < Arupek < Pikero < Tuxam

(Again, Pikero and Tuxam might be equal to each other(?))

Noir Bouquet's Physical Defense:

Pikero < Arupek < Tuxam < Hangyon < Chaco < Badobarm

Noir Bouquet's Magical Defense:

Pikero < Hangyon < Chaco < Arupek < Tuxam < Badobarm

NIGERUNDAYO!

Badobarm < Tuxam < Arupek < Hangyon < Chaco < Pikero

(Badobarm is intentionally slow to save time for everyone else and ensure everyone makes it out safely!)

edit: have you ever reread something you’ve written and realized I USED THE <> WRONGLY???? Sure, I haven’t actively used <> in years it terms of schoolwork, but LIKE???? you know the example that the alligator eats the thing that is smaller than the other? i thought about that… but maybe the alligator was eating the one with the most meat rather than the weakest prey… I have had a lot of grammar mistakes before but like????

[rederiswrites]

If you're wondering what we ARE going to do about all that poison ivy, and the general absolute shittiness of our fields, and for that matter what the fuck two people with no farming background and like...more than full-time work already are going to do with like sixteen acres of field anyway....we don't know.

Don't get me wrong, we have a lot of ideas. Most of which we either can't currently afford or for some other reason can't achieve. But some of which are lovely.

Rotational grazing, especially the high-density, frequently moved version sometimes known as "mob grazing", would eventually fix a lot of what's wrong with those fields. But not without way more animals than we have or even intend to have. We don't even have a "mob" TO graze. The sheep will eat some poison ivy, though it's not their favorite. They'll eat the leaves off the brambles, which is a pretty effective way to deplete the plant's stores and stunt it. They won't eat the Virginia Creeper.

But in a way, it doesn't matter, because we've spent nearly the entire last year moving the ewes through the smaller of the two fields, and they're only just getting back to where they started. In order to make a serious impact, they'd need to be grazing the same spot maybe every two months, depending on weather conditions. Not once a year. As I showed in a previous video, everywhere they go, they do visibly leave nitrogen, and we can actually see a slight improvement everywhere they've passed through. But it's not fast. And getting and caring for the...I don't know, fifty or so? sheep that would speed the process would make moving and caring for those sheep a full-time job neither of us has the capacity for. It's just not even an intention of ours. We've never really discussed a "cap", but I'd say that a "someday when we have real fencing and I'm healthy" number of sheep would still be twenty or thirty at the most.

The conventional, and arguable still best, way to fix the big field and its extreme fuckery would be to till and reseed. It would, believe it or not, still not eliminate all of the problem weeds, especially not the Virginia Creeper and Canada Thistle (which loves to grow back from root fragments and is resistant to normal herbicides). But it would be a huge start. We'd seed with a pasture mix that's full of plants that can handle being grazed down, and then mow where the sheep don't get to. I don't even know what it would cost to hire out all that work or rent the tools, but it's more than we have. It's like asking what it would cost to replace the siding on your house. I don't know, but I know I aint got it.

So for now, Jacob is spending a lot of hours just mowing. Mowing doesn't do as much as grazing, notably it doesn't leave nitrogen, but it does ensure that light is hitting the soil so that seeds there can sprout, and it does give the advantage to plants adapted for grazing (mainly grasses).

Eventually, the plan is to reforest several acres of the big field, using government programs. That also comes with the need to control understory growth for years until the trees mature enough to shade things out, but actually, help with that is part of some of the programs. They typically plant with a mix of natives--oak, tulip poplar, redbud...the mix varies based on what the contracted companies grew that year, apparently, but it's not really something you get to pick and choose. They come, they calculate their grid, they plant. But I don't think anything's to stop you coming through afterwards and planting your own selections in spots where saplings inevitably die. Pawpaw, white oak, American persimmon, hybrid chestnut... I dream of a day where we have maybe ten acres of forest, where I can harvest mushrooms and chestnuts, paw paws and berries and ginseng. Where the boy can bag us a wild turkey for holiday dinner or supplement the freezer with deer that got fat on fall acorns.

In my wildest fantasies (and, to be fair, what I have now was once my wildest fantasies!), the "small" field is an intercropped quilt of coppiced willow and locust, berry bushes, broad stripes of sorghum, amaranth, corn, and wheat for people and animals, strips of wildflower meadow to make corridors for animals and beneficial insects, and large patches of medicinal herbs and dye plants. The "north" field, the one that is so especially troubled now, is part forest, part pasture, with permanent perimeter fences, a loose scattering of trees that provide shade and fodder, and sheep being guided through the larger perimeter with portable electric mesh fencing.

So that's what we (very sarcastically) refer to as the "five year plan" here. But I'm trying to learn not to hamstring us with doubt and disbelief, so....that's the plan.

[taruchinator]

☔ General Audiences

☔ 1.7k Words

☔ Day 1 | Rainy Day for @flufftober

It had only been a couple of weeks since everyone made it safe and sound to the Human Realm.

Leaving nothing but pain and destruction in the place they called home, Luz was determined to make her friends feel welcomed, and at the very least somewhat happy during their impromptu visit.

So when the opportunity of showing non-boiling rain to Hunter presented itself, how could she possibly resist?

Ladies and gents, I'd like to welcome you to something I've never done before, which is trying a challenge I've always been too scared to do: Flufftober! :3

I can't promise I'll do all the prompts, but I definitely have a few things already stashed for everyone's fluffy enjoyment! This one goes to you, Huntceda nation! 💜���

“Man, I can't wait to get this to Amity when we get home! I really hope she likes it…”

Luz happily waltzed down the sidewalk past the bookstore she'd just come from, all the while never letting go of the paper bag that contained her precious treasure worth a good twenty dollars.

Hunter let out a chuckle, easily keeping up with the brunet’s brisk pace. “I doubt that'll be an issue considering you two go nuts over anything Azura related. Not sure what makes this book any different from the others, though.”

The human girl let out a fake gasp, already knowing her companion was just teasing and decided to play along. She lifted her bag and extracted the tome from inside, instantly waving it in his face as if that would be enough clarification. “This is no ordinary Azura book—It's the five year anniversary collector’s edition! It includes never-before-seen artwork, interviews with the author, and so much more! I got mine when it first came out, but when I heard it never made it to the Boiling Isles, I'd say it's the perfect gift!”

It had only been a couple of weeks since everyone made it safe and sound to the Human Realm. Leaving nothing but pain and destruction in the place they called home, Luz was determined to make her friends feel welcomed, and at the very least somewhat happy during their impromptu visit. Because of this, she prepared special gifts for everyone to hopefully cheer them up a bit.

Willow had gotten a new polaroid camera, seeing how her interests had grown into that of photography and capturing special moments in time.

Gus got the surprise of a lifetime when he awoke to a box set full of Cosmic Frontier novels, courtesy of the one and only Camila Noceda.

Hunter got a handmade birdhouse for Flapjack—albeit a bit smaller than Luz had intended, even though the blond told her it was fine—, along with a bird watching kit, with everything from binoculars to bird seed to even a notebook to document his findings. Maaaaybe she'd gone a bit overboard on his, but those were the boyfriend-girlfriend privileges!

So after today's purchase, that would knock everybody off the list. If early signs were any indication, the tokens of appreciation were working, at least for a little bit. It was the least she could do for them…

Trying to push herself out of the mental fog that wanted to trap her, Luz clung to Hunter's arm and snuggled into it with a content sigh. His warmth always seemed to soothe her no matter where they were, and the cold weather was definitely giving him extra points. “Thanks for tagging along, by the way. You could've stayed reading with Gus all afternoon…”

The blond pulled another paper bag from behind his back, all the while grinning from ear to ear in the way that made Luz's heart melt. “Are you kidding? And miss the chance of getting our own special edition copy of Cosmic Frontier? Gus is going to lose it when we show this to him! Although we might keep this to ourselves for a bit, right Flap?”

The palisman chirped in reply from his resting spot on Hunter's shoulder. Luz giggled at the display—this boy would be the death of her one of these days, and she was more than okay with that.

“Alright you bookworms, it's time to head back before—”

Cutting her sentence short, a low rumble emanated from the sky, and it was only then the duo realized how it'd changed from blue to light gray. It was definitely clear when they'd left the house earlier.

After a droplet landed on Luz's nose catching her off-guard for a moment, she finally realized what was going on: it was starting to rain. Now, it wasn't like she didn't know this would happen—the weather forecast mentioned the chance of light showers in the afternoon, hence the brunette hoping against all odds that they'd make it back before the sky decided to open up.

Hunter on the other hand, was a different story.

“L-Luz! We have to find shelter! Boiling rain's coming!” The teen reached for the girl's hand and didn't give her a chance to reply before he started bolting back to the bookstore. Despite her protests, the blond didn't stop until they were under the protection of the building’s roof. His voice was laced with concern as the grip on her hand never wavered. “You okay?”

As she was catching her breath, Luz gave him a warm smile and squeezed his hand in reassurance, hopefully conveying her appreciation through the simple gesture. “I'm fine Hunter, thanks. Although… you do remember that rain doesn't boil in the Human Realm, right?”

A beat of silence.

Flapjack chirped between them once more as he ruffled his feathers to rid them of the moisture. Hunter's ears turned a light shade of pink as he batted his palisman away in annoyance. “F-Flapjack, cut it out!”

Luz giggled once more and raised an inquisitive eyebrow while reaching into her backpack. “I'll take that as a no?”

“I-It's not really my fault, you know! Humans run from rain here too, so it's not exactly easy to remember it won't melt our faces off!” The blond pointed at the display in front of them in exasperation, most definitely trying to save any dignity he had left. It wasn't working as well as he hoped.

“Well, you're lucky you have such a resourceful girlfriend, then!” As she finished uttering those words, Luz revealed a medium sized umbrella she'd brought with her to their errands—a gift from Willow, sleek and black and designed after a cat, with little ears on top and everything. It quickly became one of her favorites.

After opening it up, the brunette walked away from the safety of the bookstore's roof until she could hear the relaxing sounds of water splashing above her head, yet it was keeping her completely dry. A hum escaped her lips as she turned to look at her surroundings, only then realizing the streets were completely empty. Maybe Hunter had a point about humans running away from rain, too.

Speaking of the blond, Luz turned back to find him staring at her in complete awe, as if she were walking through fire and not just a simple splash in the park. With a little spin that would most definitely leave her sneakers soaked thanks to the puddles underneath, the girl gave him a smile as she waved him over. “Come on! It's safe!”

Even though Luz knew Hunter believed her, the skepticism in his eyes was evident as he eyed his surroundings warily.

With a fond roll of her eyes, the girl walked back until she was face to face with her boyfriend, this time extending a hand towards him. Water splashed against her open palm, and it was nothing but refreshing. “It's okay… I promise your face won't melt off. It'll stay as cute as always.”

Another blush spread across the blond's cheeks, but this time determination seemed to shimmer in his eyes. His gloved hand began to slowly make its way outwards, trembling slightly but moving steadily in Luz's direction. With only an inch of distance between them—

“Ow!”

“W-Wah!!!”

Before she knew it, the brunette's back hit the concrete with a wet ‘thud!’, almost knocking the wind out of her if not for Hunter's hands reaching out to cradle the back of her head before impact. How he'd managed to do that in the milliseconds they'd fallen, she'd never understand. Golden Guard training was all that popped in her mind.

Speaking of which, they'd indeed fallen to the ground, with Hunter holding his weight with one hand to avoid crushing Luz, while the other slowly let go of her head to look at her with concern. “Are you okay?! I-I tried to stop but Flapjack got in the way so I could only kinda cushion the fall with my hand and—”

“Hunter! I'm fine, really! I mean aside from my back… oof, that's gonna leave a bruise in the morning…” As she sat from her position on the floor, Luz was finally able to see what happened. Flapjack was holding onto Hunter's noodle strand with what could only be described as a satisfactory expression that almost seemed to say ‘you're welcome.’

Despite Luz finding it amusing, the blond was not having any of it as he eventually tugged the palisman away and pointed a finger at his feathered chest. “You can't keep doing that, mister! Someone could've gotten seriously hurt!”

“Hey Hunter?”

“Not now Luz, he's gotta learn! You can't keep making excuses for him!”

“I was actually gonna ask if you've noticed where we're sitting.”

At that, the blond's eyes turned from his bird companion to look around. Water splashed against his clothes, leaving them completely soaked and exposed to the elements. But none of it burned. It was actually rather… peaceful?

Luz's umbrella lay discarded to the side as she opened up her arms in earnest. The smile on her face was infectious. “Told you you'd be safe! Maybe we cut Flap some slack since I'm sure he was just trying to help you get over your fear!”

The playfulness in her voice didn't go unnoticed to Hunter, and all he could do was sigh in defeat with a tired smile gracing his features. “You guys are lucky I love you. I swear I would've thrown you in a dungeon a long time ago…”

“Aww, see Flapjack? I told you he'd be forgiving!” Luz cradled the bird in her arms with a wide grin spread across her cheeks.

She was sure to get an earful from her mom once they got home—asking her how she could be so careless and that they'd catch a cold and ‘por esto no te dejo salir con tu a solas con tu muchacho!’

Still, her heart felt full and that was truly all she could ever ask for.

“WAIT LUZ WHERE ARE OUR BOOKS?!”

… Well, hopefully Amity didn't mind getting a kitty souvenir for Ghost from the pet store instead.

[enkisstories]

Frost

For monday's Winter Wonders microfic prompt on @gingerrose-hub

Hux’ gaze rested in the snow-covered landscape in front of the window, the pathetic defoliated trees and the stubborn evergreens, feeling a certain kinship with both.

“I always preferred cold temperatures, but, like all weather, loved snow best through a thick transparisteel pane”, he mused.

“You’re missing out”, Rose claimed, all the while pulling the gaberwool blanket tighter around them both. “Nothing like the feeling of coming back in from a snowball fight!”

“To a hot, soapy bath?”

“And to hot chocolate!”

Rose chipped another piece off the slate of milk chocolate they were sharing in their makeshift tent on the mattress behind the thick transparisteel pane.

“That’s not chocolate!” Hux protested. “It’s an abomination made from sugar canes that maybe grew on the same continent as a cocoa plant. But I’m afraid I’m giving the planters too much credit in this regard. Make it “same planet”.”

“What if the chocolate wasn’t New Republic made? What would be the verdict then, ey?”

“One word: More!”

“Feel free to keep the whole bar.”

With these words Rose slid out of the blanket-tent, crossed the short distance to the barrier and waved her hand in front of a sensor. The snowy landscape disappeared, once again revealing what was really behind the see-through wall: The floor of a New Republic High Security prison. Maybe somewhere behind the outer walls was Hoth… Hux had no idea where exactly he was.

These people had taken everything from him: Starkiller. His First Order. Even his drawing pens. Rose returning to them after visiting hour felt like a betrayal. Curse the Resistance, curse them for making him feel even the slightest seed of hatred for Rose Tico!

Who needed actual frost to feel cold…