#bird netting price

[lady-phasma]

In the fading light

Daemon Targaryen x fem Dornish!reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, but I was going for soft!Daemon so I don't think there are that many warnings this time.

Summary: Daemon comes to visit you at Godsgrace, the seat of House Allyrion, in Dorne. Kind of an AU in the sense that Rhaenyra isn't the object of his love, nor his motivation for "ending his marriage" to Rhea. 2.6k words

From the request here - romantic Daemon inspired by the song "kalam eineh" (Words of his eyes) by Sherine. I was able to work in a few lyrics as well ("the one whose eyes the moon envied" and "get lost in his beauty").

a/n: Dorne is a very big place and all of the houses are as different as the Northern houses. So as I write more Dornish!reader fics I start to see them uniquely in my headcanon. Godgrace is on a river from what my research tells me, so I think it worked out perfectly that Sherine is Egyptian. I've dropped some Egyptian elements into Godsgrace and that's how it is in my head now. (If there was a face claim for a location think Thebes/Luxor landscape.)

A warm breeze wafted onto the balcony where you and Daemon sat. The sun sank low against the horizon. The river in the distance shone with golds and pinks. A falcon screeched nearby. You turned from the gorgeous view of the Godsgrace river oasis to look at your Prince. He sat, reclined, opposite you. You slid your toes up the inside of his leg, teasing him. He stroked the top of your foot, your ankle, up your shin. Your smooth skin reflected the light of the setting sun much as the river did. Daemon slipped his fingertips under the hem of your thin skirt. The contrast of his pale hand under the bronze fabric was delightful to you. This Northern prince, so accustomed to clouds and darkness. Such a dreary land he came from.

You watched him as he looked out over the Greenblood river. It would be so easy to get lost in his beauty. His hair, his eyes, his mouth, everything about him was entrancing to you. You glanced back out at the river, the people going about their evening paying no attention to the lords and ladies so high above them. Birds circled above fishing boats as the nets were pulled in. Lights began to flicker in windows across the city. You smelled roasted meat and fresh baked bread on the warm air. You would have to dress for the evening meal, if you didn’t request it in your quarters.

“Did you come only because the fool Prince Martell forbade it?” You were genuinely curious. “Or because of your brother?”

“You know that is not the reason,” he spoke softly and continued to stroke your leg. “Their approval means less to me than you think.”

“You risk much coming to Godsgrace.” You wiggled your toes against his thigh.

“It is a fair price,” Daemon replied.

“Surely you are quite rested now, my love,” you goaded. “It is a long journey up the Greenblood, but not so tiring that you would ignore me.” You flashed your eyes at him. They were nearly the color of burnt umber in the fading light. Soon your maids would light torches and candles in your chambers. You would hear them through the diaphanous curtains that hung in the entry of the balcony. Though they would never dare to disturb you, even if you had your Targaryen on the floor in front of them.

Daemon turned his violet eyes toward you, finally pulled from his thoughts. Gods, you thought, even the moon could envy those eyes! The last pink of the sunset caught on his silver hair as it swung freely about his face, tendrils caught in the breeze.

“Quite rested,” he smirked as he spoke. He slipped his hand behind your knee and, reaching forward, grabbed your other leg and pulled you, bodily, to him. Your chair legs screeched against the stone floor as you threw your head back and laughed. When he had you where he wanted you, he smoothed his palms up the inside of your thighs. You rested your bare feet on the seat of his chair on either side of his legs. He pushed your skirt all the way up to your waist as he stared into your eyes. His thumbs grazed the creases of your thighs and you sighed.

“The journey was too long, but certain hindrances are now resolved,” his voice was low and quiet. “I am no longer married.”

You raised an eyebrow at these words. You trailed your fingertips down one of his forearms.

“I hope that it was painless, my prince,” you both knew the mocking of his title was not malicious. He was not your prince and you enjoyed reminding him of that. “You know, you could have stayed in Godsgrace and I could have sent one of my women to dispatch the issue quickly.” Your grin was knowing, yet seductive. Daemon’s response to Northern morality was curious to you. He didn’t want his wife, but could not bring himself to have another while she lived.

“I did not say I did the deed,” he tried not to smile. “Only that it was resolved.” Oh, he was deliciously vile when it suited him. You chuckled at this.

“Well, I had no trouble with the situation,” you grazed his thigh with one foot. “I needed only your devotion, not your marriage.”

“That you will always have, my lady,” he replied as he sank to his knees in front of you. You moved your foot to his shoulder, the other still in his chair, as you languidly spread your legs to make room for him. He looked up at you again, catching your eyes with his as he kissed your thigh, then your belly. You stroked one hand over his silky head as he lowered it and kissed the dark hair between your legs. You heard him inhale, smelling you, and you became even wetter.

Daemon licked the full length of your slit and paused at your pearl. He circled it with the tip of his tongue and you gripped the arms of your chair. He slid an arm around one thigh to steady you. Then he grazed a finger through your folds, finding your entrance quickly, as if he knew your geography by heart. He teased and didn’t slide inside you yet. He used two fingers to circle your opening, almost matching the rhythm of his tongue on your clit. Your hips rocked. You tried, and failed, to get his fingers inside. He stilled you as much as he could and continued for a moment that felt like an eternity.

When he finally slipped his fingers into your wet heat he sucked on your clit and your hands flew to the back of his head. You moaned and pushed against his mouth. You thought you felt him chuckle. You didn’t care. You ground your hips on his mouth and fingers.

“Daemon,” you whispered, as that was as loud as you could manage. “That’s it, just there. Please.”

He rubbed his fingertips against the spot that drove you wild, fighting against your clenching muscles. His tongue resumed its circling movements, but with a slightly quicker pace. Your breathing was becoming shallow and the sounds you made came deep from your chest. He pumped his fingers harder into you, knowing the pressure you needed to reach your climax. Your toes curled on his shoulder. You let go of his head, gripped the arms of your chair again, and your body curled forward as your climax overwhelmed you. You yelled his name, moaned incoherently, and then laughed. He hadn’t stopped, tongue still lapping causing your thighs to twitch. You playfully pushed at his forehead to give you peace.

You leaned forward and cupped his face in your hands. His expression wasn’t playful, as yours was. The look was full of something akin to admiration. You kissed him, roughly. You licked yourself from his lips, his tongue, and moaned into his mouth. He reached up and tangled his fingers into your hair at the nape of your neck, letting some of it loose from the pins that held it in place. Without much grace, he blindly began to release your hair from its confines.

Daemon broke your kiss and began to stand up. You let your fingers trail down his body as he did. You grazed your fingers over his pants, deliberately avoiding the hardness straining the fabric. He pulled pins and a comb from your hair, tossing them on the floor with abandon. You looked up at him, a playfully displeased look on your face for the carelessness he showed for your jewelry, and shook out your hair. It fell in near-black waves down your shoulders and back.

“I need you,” Daemon breathed. His eyes were dark with lust. Still looking up at him from your chair, you pressed your palm over his erection. His eyes nearly closed. His chest rose and fell, trying to maintain his composure. You pressed just a little harder. He grabbed your wrists. It didn’t hurt but made it evident that he couldn’t be teased this evening. You stood, your wrists still in his hands. You raised to tiptoes and pulled at his bottom lip with your teeth. Your eyes narrowed in defiance against being so restrained.

“That’s enough!” He threw you over his shoulder. You squealed and laughed, kicking your feet and pounding your fists lightly against his back. Your laughter bounced off the stone walls as he carried you through the curtains into your chambers. You pushed against him, raising your head to look at the two startled maids, and laughed harder.

“Let me go!” You giggled and kicked your feet but he only held your ankles as he walked you to the bed. You heard the two girls scamper from the room, giggling and twittering.

Daemon dropped you lightly on the bed. You were breathless from laughing. He smiled down at you, but that look was back. What had changed since he had gone North? Your laughter faded into giggles, which in turn faded into quick breaths as he knelt on the bed and kissed his way up your feet, calves, and thighs. He began to unfasten the ties of your skirt at your waist and you helped him with the small buttons of your delicate top.

He licked and kissed the curves of your exposed belly. He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, then kissed each of your nipples. You played with his silky hair, enjoying watching him worship you. When he reached your neck and jaw you began tugging on his shirt, pulling it toward his shoulders. He straightened long enough pull it over his head, then bent down to your mouth again. You kissed him back, hands gripping his neck, stroking his shoulders, down his biceps.

Daemon moved with you, still kissing, as you began to sit up. You gently pressed his shoulders back and guided him to lay down. You straddled his thighs and began pulling at the laces of his pants. He groaned at the pressure of your fingers. You stroked his freed cock, watching your hands move slowly. You enjoyed making him wait but you couldn’t wait any longer. You released him and begin to remove his breeches. Once you had both struggled with that for a moment, you trying not to giggle during the endeavor, you climbed up him and placed yourself on his belly. You could feel his cock pressing against your buttocks. You leaned forward and kissed him and he cupped both of your breasts in his hands.

You lifted your hips enough to reach between you and guide him into your wetness. He growled and squeezed your breasts a bit harder. Slowly, you took him inside you. You raised up, allowing him to keep his hands on you, and pressed your hands against his stomach as you rocked your hips. You took his cock as deep as you could. Gradually, at first, then setting a gentle pace that brought sweet sounds from Daemon’s lips. You leaned forward slightly, finding the angle you needed. He moved his hands, one to your neck, one to your hip. As you settled on a rhythm, he began to match you, thrusting upward slightly each time you rocked back on his cock.

You let your head fall forward, you hair sweeping forward, framing your face and his. Your fingers curled against his chest. You kept this pace as long as you could before your cunt began to ache with the beginnings of your climax. You slowed and Daemon took over. Gripping both of your hips, he fucked up into you, harder than you had been able to manage. His grunts made you squeeze around his cock. They were wonderful sounds that only increased your need for him.

You rested your face against his, pressing your cheeks together. Neither of you could stay quiet. Your name fell from his lips as fluidly as the curses he uttered. His fingers dug into your hips as he pulled you down onto each of his upward thrusts. The sound of flesh against flesh, lewd and satisfying. Your bodies glistened with sweat in the torch light. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him but the pleasure was too great.

“Yes, please, Daemon,” you whined in his ear. Your lips drug across his cheek as you searched for his mouth. You tried to kiss him. Instead you panted and moaned against his mouth. As your climax began the wave that would drown you, you heard his voice, much calmer than yours could have been in that moment.

“Look at me.” You did. He didn’t stop fucking you, but he held your gaze with those perfect eyes. “I love you. I would kill for you. I would kill anyone who kept us apart.”

Something in his eyes, not just his words, was your undoing. Your climax spread over you at the same time as it curled up inside you. You squeezed your thighs against his hips, almost stopping his movements entirely. You bent to him and kissed him, moaning and sighing, as you came.

Suddenly Daemon’s large arms encircled you and in your delirium you could hardly notice that he was moving you. You clung to his shoulders as he somehow, and gracefully, managed to lay you on your back. He had not pulled out. You wrapped your legs around his hips and ran your hands into his hair.

Daemon fucked you without restraint. You were coming down from your climax but your cunt gripped him tight and he grunted with each deep thrust. He shifted his weight to one hand and deftly scooped one of your legs into the crook of his arm. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him. He was watching you.

“Touch yourself,” he panted. “Come on my cock again.” His smile was enough to convince you, if his words hadn’t been.

So you did. You rubbed your fingers quickly, and in time with his strokes. When you were close again, you arched under him, head thrown back, Daemon’s mouth on your exposed neck. Then he pressed his hips against you as hard as he could. His cock buried completely inside you as he came. Your cunt spasmed around him and you both felt his seed fill you as your climax peaked. He cursed and tried to gently lower your leg. Your body shook and you were unable to help him. He chuckled and kissed your forehead.

As he slowly pulled out and away from you, you mewled and groaned, closing your thighs and squeezing them together. Daemon lowered himself down next to you, on his side. He rested his head on your chest. You smoothed his hair away from his forehead in a long stroke down to his back and sighed. You let your hand rest on his shoulder. He held you close to him.

The cool night breeze wicked the sweat off your skin. The torches guttered slightly. You wrapped one leg over Daemon’s. You wanted every part of your body touching his. You breathed in his smell mixed with your own and the dusty sweetness of Godsgrace coming in through the curtains.

“No one will come between us,” Daemon whispered against you.

“I know, my love, my dragon” you replied, lips brushing against the top of his head.

The sun had set and, perhaps, the dark was what he needed. In the light of day The Rogue Prince was rakish and disreputable. But at night, with you, he could shed that facade.

Masterlist

Tags: @black-dread

[nanamis-bigtie]

heat

↬ kusakabe atsuya & afab reader

cw: no gendered pronouns, no detailed body descriptions for reader, reader has a vagina (addressed anatomy), pwp with a sprinkle of feelings, coworkers with benefits, hidden feelings, kusakabe is hairy (good for him), outdoor sex (with a sprinkle of exhibitionism), oral sex (reader receiving), piv sex, creampie (reader is on pills) word count: 5.2k summary: heatwave, repressed feelings, longer break from sex - and a big hand against the back of your neck. what can do wrong? a/n: happy server exchange @clumsyraccoon (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ*: ･ﾟ i feel i strayed a little from the prompts you gave for it, i have to shamefully admit that this text slipped out of my control, just did what it wanted to. and it wanted to be horny i hope you will enjoy it! ( ◕▿◕ )

For the umpteenth time, it has started with his hand against the back of your neck.

Your senses are blunt from the heatwave and fatigue, you haven't sensed his presence, even though he had to linger behind your back for a while before he made up his mind and approached. He could, if he wanted to, stalk like a ghost cat, but he has always respected you enough to not do that to you, you're sure of that. Your absent-mindedness is yours and your only fault, but you don't even have power nor time left for blaming yourself for it.

Anyone but maybe Gojo Satoru would be wooly-minded by the given conditions.

The heat and humidity stuck to your skin as soon as you left your apartment early in the morning, stayed with you throughout your job, bothered you in the assistant's car even after you changed into a fresh shirt. They followed you to the Jujutsu Tech Facility, forced you to give the maintenance buildings a wide berth, having you settle in the shaded area by the outdoor training grounds. It was still hot there but at least bearable, and with a bottle of cold barley tea you snatched from a vending machine on the way, you could finally lower your guard and let the afternoon numbness swallow you whole.

You had nothing to do for the rest of the day, after all. Excluding a possibility of an urgent call, your schedule contained only a commute home, a quick grocery run, and a blessed shower and AC at your little, cozy place. The initial plan even called for staying here, but the assistant who had picked you up promised he'd drop you at the train station after he'd be done with the papers, so you gratefully accepted the favor. Jujutsu Tech was like a second home to all sorcerers, but it couldn't provide you the intimacy of your own home.

It felt almost like it though, for the moment between parting your ways with the assistant and Kusakabe's hand gently scooping the back of your neck. It was empty and silent, and only the steady buzzing of the vending machine hidden behind the nearest nook reminded you that you were in a public space. You're paying the price now for pushing it behind the wall of consciousness; your heart is fluttering like a startled bird, producing even more warmth and spreading it all over your body, in no time dragging you back to the sweaty and overheated state you've barely managed to escape.

You know it's him even before he sits on his haunches by your side, and announces himself with that characteristic, overdone groan that would rather suit an older, tired man. You know the weight and feel of his hand against your neck in rote. You know the net of scars and calluses left by the hilt of his sword. You know the dry warmth of his palm, as it refuses to absorb any moisture, even against the gallons of hand cream he borrowed from you.

It's been...long, six months at the very least. And you still know.

"Hey." A lollipop stick clatters at the corner of Kusakabe's lips as he speaks. "Haven't seen you around for a while."

All the "Was busy", "I needed space" and "I had a few long missions away from Tokyo" wouldn't be lies or excuses but they all taste equally pathetic on your tongue when you try to speak, so you let the screaming cicadas fill the silence in your place.

"You could at least text me or something, damn it." And he's good at reading meaningful silence, too. "People die too easily in this job."

"Yeah, should have," you mutter, your throat painfully tense. You're more taken aback than nervous but the heat exhaustion takes its toll even here. A hearty sip of tea brings a temporal relief, but it prolongs the silence to its awkward limits. "I'm sorry."

You feel him staring but you can't bring yourself—not yet—to return the favor. Instead, you wipe the beading moisture off the bottle and use it to cool your sweaty forehead down. Your hand trembles on the way and you can't blame that on the heatwave anymore. You're nervous—and what's worse, you're nervous because you're starved and caught red-handed on it. It's always his hand against the back of your neck, no matter when and why and for how long it has been since the last time he used it against you.

Six months... Enough time to forget, if only you wanted to, enough time to find another pair of arms to wrap around your middle and pull you close. But you didn't.

"You better be now apologizing for that." Kusakabe's hand appears in the range of your vision now and taps at your bottle. "It was the last one."

"I'm...sorry?" You repeat yourself, this time as thrown as amused.

"You left me with coke and energy drinks and sparkly soda for teenage girls. No one here thinks about us, dinosaurs. They could at least spare us canned coffee." He leans to your side as he fishes a wallet out of the back pocket of his pants. Coins clatter around his fingers as he counts under his breath. "And do something with those archaic machines that don't accept cards. Can you lend me 200 yen?"

Now it's your turn to dig in your pockets. You offer him money on open palm, still feeling uneasy at the thought of looking straight at him; the contact is short when he collects it but it's enough to have the same familiar shiver running under your skin. Six long months of denial are crushed right in front of you with two brushes that barely can be called touch. How pathetic of you, how pathetic of this summer for lowering your guard and tearing your resolve into shreds.

"For the amount of sugar you consume, does it really matter if you add one coke to the count?" You earn some space when he walks away for his drink, so you finally manage to grab your spirit and yank it back to its place. You get up and dust your pants off as coins rustle in the machine behind your back. A can falls with a loud thud, drink furiously sizzles as soon as it's cracked open, Kusakabe curses, sipping the turbulent drink straight from his fingers.

"Don't want diabetes to kill me before curses do." Finally, he marches into your field of vision. "Or to kill me right after I retire. That would be a waste of a perfect plan."

Even through the peak of the heatwave he's wearing trousers and shirt. At least the latter has short sleeves and is on the finer side, almost transparent thanks to its white color. It catches you off-guard when you spot a shadow underneath; it's only logical a thin white shirt would let the body hair stand out but... Kusakabe isn't hairy. Or so you always thought. And given the number of times you fucked has crossed fifty, you've been pretty confident in your knowledge about his body.

"What?" He follows your gaze, straightens the shirt with a free hand. "I got coke on me?"

"No, but your chest—" You weigh words on your tongue. It feels...inappropriate to ask so straight forward. It feels stupid in the first place, it's obvious he just must have been shaving it all off and all this time you just missed the natural windows.

"I'm not getting it all off when it's so hot." He answers the never asked question. "Tried once, I thought I was gonna peel my skin off."

Trying to avoid staring at all costs before, you just can't avert your eyes now. Kusakabe has scraped the barely scarred over wounds and rubbed salt into them with that shameless presentation. Your senses and needs are howling for an update, not only due to six months long break but in majority because his natural body and all the promising combinations your imagination is already pushing into the right places of your mind. How would it be to feel those familiar muscles when they're covered by hair? At the first glance it seems thick and soft, and you're dying for a sample, if only from stealing an accidental touch of his forearm, now as fuzzy as his torso.

You know he wouldn't mind being touched, not after all those hours spent in each other’s embrace. But you don't want him to get a wrong idea, not when you're...not sure what you want from this accidental meeting. You fell out of contact at the behest of yourself, when your comfortable workplace fuck-buddies situationship started gaining colors and drowning in the maze of complicated feelings. The break has just proven itself to be ineffective, just sharpening the problems you tried so hard to avoid.

You need space, you need time. You don't want them. You want him.

Kusakabe has always been good at reading what you couldn't put into words. He finishes his drink and gives you one last dose of space for making up your mind before he approaches and brushes invisible dust off the nape of your neck. Harsh shiver betrays your thoughts and intentions, not the first time on the bumpy road of your relationship, always an opening for question and almost certain promise of consent.

"Are you free now? Or later, tonight?" He throws casually, not even looking at you, as if it could take the weight off your shoulders. You're already feeling a different kind of heat creeping on you, and you know how it is going to influence your decisions.

"Depends? I don't want to stray around the city for a free love hotel."

"I meant something like... a picnic?" That catches you off-guard. "A nice and calm place. Hopefully cooler than here."

There's something so immature and rushed about the whole venture. Car "borrowed" from the facility, a blanket stolen from one of the guest rooms, ramune and sandwiches bought in the neighborhood konbini. It wouldn't be the first time you sneak out for an outdoor sex but the first you remember when the both of you at least try to pretend you have a different goal than catching up for those few months. 

The stiff and awkward atmosphere eased in the car, ac and music filling the silence when needed lifted your mood. You even started bickering, as if the "break up" never happened, and you were just friends or lovers on the way for a spontaneous picnic. You were ready to play this role, as long as it kept the ball rolling and led you to a promising direction. Even if you still weren't sure how exactly you want to name it.

Kusakabe drove you to one of his fishing spots, a secluded and somewhat cozy glade by the bank of a river, conveniently located in the dead telecommunication spot, free of service and thus: any possible emergency calls.

"I like it here," you sit the closest to the water possible, nibbling on your sandwich. It was better in the car, but the closeness of the river still helps with the temperature. On the other hand, it's the fatal blow for your heatwave excuse. Whatever reaction your body and mind pull on you now, you can blame it only on yourself.

You're chatting but the words are slipping past you. Instead, there's the timbre of his voice and closeness and chest hair poking out the casually unbuttoned top of his shirt. Kusakabe doesn't try to keep any distance, casually sprawled by your side, his head inches from resting in your lap. The urge to play with his hair or to pull him close is strong. The urge to run fingers through the fur on his torso is even stronger.

"You hated coke but you're chugging ramune as if there was no tomorrow," you tease when he finishes with his stash and steals one of yours.

Kusakabe pops the glass ball in, swirls it playfully before he takes a hearty sip, "Coke tastes like diabetes and disappointment. Ramune has flavor."

You finish yours too and gather the cool moisture off the bottle. Stupid impulse, the teenage atmosphere has rubbed on you in the weirdest way possible: you drag a cold hand against the back of his neck. He jerks up, surprised, but the groan he lets out has nothing to do with a protest against unpleasant sensation: it's too sharp and too feral and heads straight to the part of your mind responsible for the most stupid and horny of your decisions.

One moment your lips are pressed to the bottle neck, the other he turns to you and puts his hand at the back of your neck again, guiding you closer, until you meet mid-breath and clash against each other in the accompaniment of glass thudding against the blanket. He's harsh and insatiable, full of the sharp and sweet flavor of fruity ramune. Having you trapped between his muscular arms, he's supporting your melting into submissiveness body and feeling you through your clothes all at the same time. Your head spinning, lungs short of air, you paw at him with the same eagerness. His chest muscles tense under your ministrations, thick hair standing out under his shirt with ease and soon brushing against your palms as you finally give in to your fantasies and force your way in. Buttons almost sputter underneath your fingers, some rip out for sure, but you don't care; if only you had enough power to rip it to shreds, you would end the poor shirt's life right here and now.

"Holy shit..." You mutter between desperate drafts for air. His torso looks even better than you imagined from the teasing shadow, dark hair spills from his pecs into a thick line leading down, to his pants, and gradually thickening.

Kusakabe follows your hungry gaze, swallows audibly, perplexed, "And here I worried you might hate it—"

"Don't ever shave it again, do you hear me?"

You fumble on the blanket, trying to find the best position and peel yourselves off sweat-drenched clothes. Kusakabe's shirt and belt are first to go but soon after he pushes your hands out of the way and positions himself between your legs.

"What if somebody sees us—" There's a gleam of sanity when he gets rid of your pants and pulls your underwear down to your knees, but Kusakabe only scoffs and yanks it harder, almost ripping the frail garment at your ankles.

"I don't care." He smashes lips against yours again, rough, and feral, in no time shoving all your scruples out of your mind.

When he has a certain goal in front of him, nothing can possibly stop Kusakabe—and his lone mission now is to sate his hunger for you. You barely recognize him through groans and whimpers, once feral, once pathetic, when he kisses, licks, and gnaws on your chest. He sucks on your nipples right to the painful limit, leaves them wet and sensitive for his calloused fingers and travels further down, sinking teeth into the soft skin of your tum. He would leave harsh, dark hickeys on his way if he hadn't broken the contact earlier to moan and rush towards another spot, closer and closer to your aching cunt.

"I don't care," he repeats, his voice almost breaking. He looks up at you with eyes so dark and heavy that cold shiver runs under your heated skin. You instinctively close your legs, Kusakabe pries them open with ease and throws them over his wide shoulders, big, strong hands pulling you right into his face. He groans even before he gets the first taste, he even lingers before going straight for it, be it for the views or scent. But eventually he finds his way and buries himself deep between your folds, as if your juices were the only nectar able to sate his thirst amidst this heatwave.

Six long months away from his divine head game. What a fool and masochist you were, running away from the bliss he got you addicted to. Not your hands, none of the toys you purchased to replace him, nothing could compare to how madly he eats you out. It's not just his mouth, he rubs his whole face against you, his nose time and again grazing your clit. He moans when buried in your hole, takes deep breaths of your scent whenever he pulls away for more air, teases the most sensitive crevices of your sex with the strong, nimble tip of his tongue. In no time he has you leaking; obscene, sloshing sounds replace the moans you desperately try to hide behind your hand.

"Hey. Stop that." Kusakabe yanks your hips up, looks up at you over your mound, his face wet and messy with your juices. "Lemme hear you. Told ya I don't care if anyone catches us."

He doesn't wait for your answer, he's already back to reaching his goal, determined to forcefully drag your sweet sounds out of you, if he has to. But you follow his advice, on the verge of suffocating yourself against what your body naturally craves. You could swear he's smirked against your folds when you finally snap and sing for him, with the whole capacity your lungs have.

"F-fuck, Atsuya—" Your eyes almost roll back when he closes lips around your clit and sucks on it. Hand previously plastered to your mouth grabs a fistful of his hair, pulls him closer until he nearly has no place left to breathe. The groan of appreciation vibrates through your sex and alone almost has you flying; if he hasn't yanked his head away for air, you surely would come all over him right there.

"I'm not gonna stop after that." Kusakabe bites at your thigh as he humps the blanket, three sharp and desperate spasms of hips. "No matter how many times you'll come from my mouth, I'm not gonna stop. Fuck— I waited too long. Beg me, curse me, do whatever you want, I'm not going to stop until you cum around my cock."

Keeping you open with his wide frame, he sneaks one of his hands between your legs, traces your wet, tortured lips before he slides two fingers in.

"So tight..." His eyes beam with awe and face reddens but his hold on you doesn't falter, he keeps you in place almost forcefully when you try to buck your hips for more stretching and friction. " Shit, you haven't had anyone all this time?"

"Only... Only a t-toy..." Several toys, even, none of them able to sate your needs.

"A toy? When could you have me any time you wanted?" He scoffs and looks away from your face to focus on your cunt again. Scissoring his fingers, he stretches you a little more, until he's certain he can fit a third one. "Silly bunny..."

Kusakabe hasn't forgotten the map of your body. He knows what he's looking for and aims for it with surgical precision. Before the strongest so far wave of pleasure washes over you, you catch an almost mean smirk on his flushed face at the sight of the expected reaction. He lets your hips rest flat on the blanket so he can hold on them better and pulls you towards his mouth again. With fingers mercilessly sparking your nerves from the inside, he sucks on your clit with fervor, with little to no care of your writhing and spasming in his arms.

You try to say his name, instead your voice breaks and turns into a feral whine. The sensation is so intense it's almost too much, he's turned you into a tense knot, one that's threatening to explode at the slightest touch and yet—is being relentlessly teased. The last coherent thought left your mind a while ago, now your head is full of him—of him and the pleasure he gives you relentlessly, as if catching up for all the lost months at once.

"—ya..." You try calling him again. Orgasm catches you midst exhale, washes over you gentler than anticipated but still strong enough to have your thighs spasm over his shoulders, unable to close around his head. Kusakabe doesn't let it fade, prolonging the sweet sensation with gentler but all the same precise teasing, until your writhing grows sharper and your mewls carry the shade of uncomfortable overstimulation.

Kusakabe lets your legs rest, then lies comfortably between them, head against your thigh, close to the groin. His heavy, hot breath grazes your sensitive pussy, soothing and teasing; with eyes half-closed you watch his shoulders and back heave. He's warm, sweaty and heavy, and mere minutes after a long orgasm you're already longing the strain in your legs, hips and cunt he's always been giving you with his aggressive pounding.

You two just couldn't take it easy when your bodies clashed. Couldn't through hasty love hotel moments, sneaked in between missions. Couldn't during weekends at yours or his place when you almost didn't leave the bed. Couldn't in the back alleys behind night clubs and izakayas, couldn't in the car parked on the side of an empty road, couldn't in the dusty and forgotten rooms of Jujutsu Tech Facility. His hand at the back of your neck was like a curse, draining you both off sanity and any other emotions than blind lust.

You rest yours against his now, at first shyly tracing beads of sweat pearling right under his hairline, then allowing yourself to put a distinctive pressure to your touch. Kusakabe answers you with a content groan, reciprocates the caress against the inner side of your thigh, his fingertips mindlessly tracing the mark his teeth left.

"This is not over," he warns, but the timbre of his voice is softer than the words he chose.

"Good."

He lifts himself on elbows, then sits up and takes care of his pants. You could help—or at least do something with the disarray you left after the first, chaotic clash—but you just watch him, as lazy as excited. You like the way his chest is still heaving hard after eating you out relentlessly for so long, like the impatient trembling of his big, hairy hands, and a distinctive wet spot on the front of his boxers. You may be the one on your back, your thoughts still blurry after orgasm, but desperation is his domain now—and you can't help but bask in it. You love being wanted like this, on the verge of madness, having him equally feral and pathetic.

"You're still on—" Kusakabe reaches for his wallet, starts pulling a condom out of it, grins when you confirm you're protected and taps it back in its place. Wallet is thrown to the side, soon followed by the underwear, and your lover already advances on you again, fitting suit between your open and welcoming legs.

He slowly runs hands up them, feeling your moist skin, the last tender touch before madness overpowers him again. You're offhandedly pulled closer, your ass resting against his strong, hairy thighs. His hard and throbbing cock rests against your cunt and Kusakabe closes his eyes as he steals a few, shallow thrusts along your slit. You mewl and jerk your hips up when he teases your overly sensitive clit, just to have his hands clasp on your hips almost painfully; his fingers dig dip in your skin, surely bruising it. His chest heaves heavier, sweat dripping down the sides of his face, and his cock twitches even harder, hard enough to slightly bob over your soon-to-be union.

"Give me a moment," he whispers, words shaking, and holds on your hips even tighter. Muscles of his jaw tense, he inhales through clenched teeth, struggling against the sensation that's about to tear him into shreds. "Sorry if I— Too early— Fuck, I need you so bad..."

Kusakabe risks another shallow thrust, then finally re-positions himself and guides his cock directly at your slick. You do your best to not budge for even an inch, the hardest battle you fought for a while with feral need blowing you apart as soon as you feel his tip probing at your entrance. But you persevere with it, for him and for the pleasure awaiting once he nestles himself inside and finds the right rhythm.

"Tight..." Kusakabe's voice breaks on the verge of a whine, he shifts on his heels, retracts himself almost all the way out before pushing again, under a better angle. It takes him a few tries and stops before he finally bottoms out and stills, eyes closed so desperately that his eyelids twitch.

You're doing no better, fighting for breath, overwhelmed by him, merciless heat and the fire burning your groin, as sensitive as starved for more. You're both at the limit, hypnotized by each other’s presence. Kusakabe's figure stands against the blue sky, his hairy torso and arms glistens with sweat, its beads trailing down toned, tense muscles, begging to be trailed, begging to be ignored under a threat of exploding as soon as you touch or kiss them. You clench both hands on the blanket underneath, fighting the urge, praying he notices and spares you the ordeal. He only groans when your cunt flutters around him, risks a very slow but deep thrust.

And finally, as if sensing the sparks he's caused by grazing you with his pubic hair, something clicks in Kusakabe and in seconds he's turned from pathetic and overwhelmed into a beast. He yanks your legs up, ankles against his shoulders, and presses forwards until he meets resistance—and keeping you in place with his weight only, he pounds into you relentlessly, fast, rough, desperate.

With knees right by your chest, his cock drilling you deep, you can't do much but mewling his name. You try to hold on his back, then hips, but your hands just slip off sweaty skin; you hold on to the blanket instead, as if it could ease the spasms in your legs and delicious yet overwhelming fire in your pussy. He goes right for the point he tortured before, rather unawares now, in this feral haze, but as effectively as when he was being precise and having you spasm under him even harder than before. Apologizing for a possibility of coming too early? You wouldn't even notice it now, your mind gone in seconds, filled with the white noise of immense pleasure and the familiar feel of a tight, almost painful, knot forming in your abdomen. Squeezed and roughed and pounded you're carried on raging waves of ecstasy, constantly at the edge of orgasm but not quite there, not until he re-adjusts the slippery grasp and slams his fat tip right at the most sensitive spot.

When you cream around his cock, Kusakabe's moves stutter, he pulls you closer, arms sneaking under your back, and pushes his head at the crook of your neck. He whines, almost cries, stumbles over his tongue as he tries to speak what you wouldn't decipher amidst this haze. For you, it's just the strained, guttural timbre of his voice, heavy and hot breath against your sweaty neck, teeth nipping your skin—and his throbbing dick, nestled deep, with no energy to thrust fast anymore.

"I'm... gonna—" Kusakabe tries to warn but you find some power to sink nails in his ass and pull him closer as soon as you feel him trying to slip out—so he caves in, pressing your legs for the last time before he cums.

He lets your legs fall by his sides and lies flat on top of you, lifeless but the heavy, sobbing breath and weak, almost automatic, spasms of his hips. You have no power—nor desire—to have him roll off you, even if the heat between your sweaty bodies is unbearable and you barely have any air for yourself. Not until this moment of bliss you realized how much you missed this, missed him and the union of your bodies and minds. When you bring yourself to touch, then trace his back, your touch is almost apologetic, for the unfair treatment and months of enforced fasting, even though you don't know if he remained without a single lay like you. 

Kusakabe twitches under your fingertips, sensitive and ticklish, finally decides to break the status quo and frees you of his weight. He kisses your forehead when you mewl in protest, slips out of you, and falls to his side. He's still close but doesn't pull you into him, rightfully deciding you both have enough heat. You would need to cover yourselves from the sun too but the thought of putting anything on all this mess and sweat is awful in mutual agreement. You just rest on your sides, gazing at each other tenderly, and let the shy gust of wind cool you down.

"Don't you ever run away from me again." Kusakabe finally breathes out, as if shaking a great weight off his chest, and finds your lips with a sweet and weak yet possessive kiss.

You want to answer anything, even the simplest "I'm sorry", but nothing that comes to your mind feels right and acceptable for the gamut of feelings swirling around in your chest. He reads what's needed from your eyes, brushes wet strands of your hair off your forehead, then reaches behind you to fish tissues out of the piles of your clothes.

"Maybe we should have gone to that damned hotel," he grumbles as he patiently wipes the wet parts of you, then cleans the mess between your legs. "I could kill for a shower. I must smell like a goat."

"You smell good." You don't lie for the sake of a good vibe. You do mean it. Something about his natural musk just...feels right and comforting. It suits him, suits your naked bodies sprawled by the bank of the river, all natural and free.

"So do you." Kusakabe tosses dirty tissues away, then scoots closer, takes a deep whiff of your scent from your neck, before he peppers a line of soft kisses from it to your lips. "But still. Shower."

You dress yourselves up deliberately, gather your trash, finish your sandwiches and ramune. You linger with getting up, stretched on the blanket with eyes half-closed, face turned towards the river.

"I dread sitting in a stolen car now." You're not quite sure if you mean sweat and your mixed comes—or soreness already creeping up on your groin and overworked thighs.

"First: not stolen. Borrowed. Second, I'll get it cleaned." Kusakabe frowns and reconsiders. "Tomorrow."

You chuckle and scoot to the side so he can lie beside you again. He closes his hand around yours, the first time ever he does so. You tense, expecting the same surge of lust that comes whenever he touches your neck—but the warm feelings that wash over you have nothing to do with the feral needs.

"Your place or mine?" You whisper your confession of love when he brings your palm to his mouth and kisses it tenderly.

"Yours." Kusakabe answers with his, short on breath. "You have AC."

[screamingcrows]

Kisses. 🎲🫶

Kisses 🤝

You rolled 6! That's one gentle peck (not from a bird, I promise)

"We're leaving."

"We're wha- hey Zandik!"

You winced at how every student in the House of Daena turned towards you, their stares unforgiving in silent condemnation of the careless disturbance. Zandik merely huffed, light blue curls bouncing with the shake of his head; unbothered by the countless eyes on him.

How did he, loudly criticised at every gruelling step forward, carry himself with such an air of confidence?

Too late did you realise that the source of this contemplation stemmed from observing his gait, hips swaying lightly and shoulders pressed back as he walked away. Away from you. Right.

It was hardly satisfactory conduct in the opinions of your peers, too loudly shutting your books and stuffing everything haphazardly into a bag. It didn't matter, dew under the sun. They would talk regardless of what you did and how, such was the price for befriending an outlier.

Not that it mattered, not when Zandik's eyes lit up, drowning the stars in a crimson ocean while wild theories spilled from his sculpted lips. You caught up halfway to his preferred exit.

"What was that about? I wasn't done studying," you did your best to sound angry, ignoring the warm feeling of your palm against his shoulder, the uniform soft against your skin.

No doubt he was softer still underneath.

"And yet, you clearly have no qualms leaving prematurely, tagging along like a lost puppy" he sounded just a little smug, a tone you knew well enough to leave the bait alone.

"You specifically said that *we* were leaving."

"And you did as I said like..."

He raised his eyebrows, flashing you a sharp smile that had your heart fluttering. If there was one indisputable truth in this world, it would be how this man would one day be the death of you, of that you were certain. And as such, a scowl settled on your features, rolling your eyes before reluctantly completing his sentence.

"...a dog"

He chuckled slightly, relishing in another victory. It was comfortable, days spent attending classes, discussing what you'd each learned whenever your schedules would allow. Nothing was truly unattainable as long as he was by your side, your combined strengths blending seamlessly to form a reassuring net, always prepared to catch and cradle whoever should stumble along the way.

A brief brush of his lips against your forehead was enough to pull you back to the physical plane. The gesture set your veins ablaze, the stares burning into your back paling in comparison. He'd never done anything remarkably comparable in the presence of others. It tingled.

With his hand adorning your wrist, he led you outside in the direction of his dormitory.

"I had noticed you were beginning to lose focus anyway. And I have exciting news to share," his breathing came a little faster, "I will show you the details in my room. But I have made a breakthrough in my tinkering."

Without hesitation, your pace quickened to match his, hand shifting to allow your fingers to entangle. Was he not so reliant on time ever moving forward, a prayer to relive this uncomplicated moment forever would've already left your lips.

[thedevillovesflowers]

Angels +Plot 🪽🪽🪽

Call of Duty AU

In this AU, there are many beasts but angels are the ultimate prize to capture or hunt.

Angels are not the heavenly beings you read about in bibles but rather they are a type of humanoid with the capability of flight, long lifespans, and the believed healing powers.

Angels are extremely rare creatures to spot. They are known to live solitary lives, however it has been documented they might live with exception of small families/groups.

Angels are omnivores. And can see in the dark. Most prefer to fly at night so they won’t be seen by humans.

Angels can come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. Their wingspans vary depending on their height. There are also subspecies of angels.

Angels wing colours/patterns vary on the regions they reside in (think of owls and other birds of prey). For vanity, some angels will paint the tips of their wings to attract a mate.

Feathers are apparent on various parts of their bodies, legs, arms, chest, face etc. Braiding, preening, beads in the hair are comfort acts angels do, and to also show affection for one another.

Facial feathers are small, usually appearing on the forehead, cheeks, nose and chin.

Angels are either described as beautiful creatures, or terrifying ones, depending on who you ask.

Kingdoms would hire mercenaries to hunt down rare beasts to hang up for display, profit, or for pets.

But no one has ever captured an angel. Not yet. But then, a powerful king (Shepard) put together a campaign to capture one, he hired the 141 along with his own general, Graves (and his shadow company) to do the task. What the 141 doesn’t know, is that the king is dying of old age, he believes that capturing and killing an angel and using their blood will grant him long life and youth.

141 has slain/captured many beasts in their careers, so getting an angel was a challenge they were willing to take. I know this seems cruel of them, but in this AU they start off as thinking their helping people out by getting rid of beasts, but they’ll soon learn that what they’re doing is actually harmful.

The reader is an angel, living with their family in the mountains and caves.

One night, the reader set out to retrieve food, until she was shot down by a net the 141 cast, severely damaging her wing. And her family had to flee, leaving the reader behind sadly.

While graves and his men hung back, price, Gaz, soap and ghost went ahead to investigate.

Ghost went first, sword drawn, slowly rounding to the forest’s opening to where you laid. Rope held tightly over your body, one of your wings was cut and broken. You were unconscious, facing away from him. There was feathers strewn about everywhere, and as ghost came closer and walked around to see you clearly, he suddenly halted dead in his tracks, a terrible feeling pinched in his stomach….

You were the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

(This is just an idea for now, I might draw this.)

[live-love-be-unique]

I Am No Bird; And No Net Ensnares Me

Summary: Ghost finds himself starting an informal book club with the newest addition to the taskforce.

#22. Ghost and Reader are in a book club for @glitterypirateduck Ghost Challenge.

Parings: Ghost x f reader

Warnings: angst, death and an unconfessed love

You’d been reading your book, when you looked up noticing him staring “you can borrow it if you want? Price says we’ll be sitting tight for a while”

You weren’t kidding, three days later and the exfil still hadn’t shown up. Ghost devoured your book in the meantime, it was actually pretty good, a story about two sisters that had been separated during German-occupied, war-torn France. A little too heartbreaking for his liking but still a good read. One quote amongst the many you had underlined in gray lead pencil had stuck with him: “if I have learned anything in this long life of mine, it is this: in love we find out who we want to be; in war we find out who we are."

Days later you’d been sitting on the break room sofa, talking with another female soldier and as he passed he dropped a novel onto your lap. Not a fiction story like you preferred, this one was a memoir of a retired Navy SEAL who was also a Guinness world record holder and an ultramarathon runner. He’d met the man once, respected the hell out of him, for an American. “Thought you’d enjoy this” he offered to your questioning glance as he passed.

It quickly become a habit between the two of you, packing a novel in amongst your supplies for missions to swap during to periods of waiting. Almost like a little unofficial book club. Sometimes, you’d find yourselves together in the break room decompressing after a long mission discussing the books you’d read over cups of tea. He’d learnt you preferred fantasy, dark romance and mystery while he enjoyed thriller, true crime and the odd biography.

He also learnt that you weren’t above the odd prank either, during one particular downtime, he was reading the book you’d brought along and, as he was invested in a pretty graphic sex scene involving a gun, Soap had spotted the book’s title, it also didn’t help that he had been imagining it was you underneath him in that same position. Once Gaz had caught onto what was happening he knew he’d been hearing about it for weeks. He caught sight of you giggling away behind his copy of the historical non-fiction he’d lent you about America's first considered serial killer.

He retaliated by bringing what he imagined you’d think was the most boring book in his collection, all 411 pages of a nautical historical fiction about a young naval lieutenant newly promoted to master and commander. He was right, you’d read the entire thing, under sufferance of course.

He found himself watching you as you read, the way you chewed on your lip as you concentrated, the way you smiled when you read something you enjoyed and frowned when you didn’t. He even learned to love the little notes and quips you left in the margins of his books when at first it annoyed him. He’d watch you, hoping to catch you glancing over at him, above the pages of your book, sending a soft smile his way.

The last mission had been a mistake, anything that could have gone wrong did, and you had born the brunt of it. You’d been raced to the medbay unconscious and barely breathing, they’d had to intubate you immediately and had moved you to a hospital off base for treatment. He hadn’t left your side since.

He spent his time devouring any medical textbooks he could find on your condition, so much so that Gaz was convinced, if allowed, he could perform your surgery.

Price had visited a few days later, citing mission reports as the reason for his delay, bringing with him a box of your belongings, “some comforts from home” he’d muttered. At the bottom of the box, buried underneath a well-worn sweatshirt and a teddy bear that was signed by friends and family from back home, his hands brushed against a small paperback.

The cover was tattered and pages dogeared and a little note on the inside cover from someone he could only guess at being your grandmother telling you how this was her favorite story as a young girl and how she hopes you love it as much as she did. It was clear that you loved it as much as she had hoped as his eyes trailed over sections you had underlined and the little notations you’d made in the margins, it was like a window into your soul as he found the first page a started to read aloud to you in that quite hospital room.

“There was no possibility of taking a walk that day. We had been wandering, indeed, in the leafless shrubbery an hour in the morning; but since dinner (Mrs. Reed, when there was no company, dined early) the cold winter wind had brought with it clouds so sombre, and a rain so penetrating, that further out-door exercise was now out of the question.” His voice thick with exhaustion and emotion as he read. He read to you throughout the night and into the next day.

Your heart monitor flatlined just as the story ended and Jane and Mr Rochester were reunited. Even though the doctors and nurses said you probably hadn’t heard anything, he liked to think you’d held on long enough to hear him finally finish your favourite book.

Days later Ghost found himself standing at the front of the large crowd of mourners, surrounded by colleagues and friends alike as they lowered your coffin into the ground. He couldn’t move as the others dispersed, your younger brother clapping him on the shoulder as he passed by. Price had stayed with him, Gaz and Soap stood close behind, giving them a moment.

“Did you tell her?” Price had asked him.

“Tell her what?” He muttered, watching as they filled in your grave.

“That you loved her” Price murmured, chewing on the end of his cigar.

“No” he shook his head. “Didn’t get the chance”

“She knew, lad, she knew” Price sighed, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.

She does now, he thought as he absentmindedly scratched at his chest. The sandiderm covering the fresh tattoo itched like crazy underneath his suit. The simple line-work done immediately after your passing, your favourite quote, directly over his heart: "I am no bird; and no net ensnares me”

List of books mentioned:

The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah

Can’t Hurt Me by David Goggins

Haunting Adeline by H. D Carlton

Devil In The White City by Erik Larson

Master and Commander by Patrick O’Brian

Jane Eyre by Charlotte Brontë

[not-available-for-comment]

As Twitter finishes burning to the ground, I'm going to take a minute to plug one of the artisans I've been following there. The person behind OiShiny is disabled and queer, and he makes really lovely wire-wrapped pendants for very reasonable prices. I have a few of his egg nest pendants and one wire-wrapped, and its my goal to someday get one of his tentacled labradorite pendants (or see if I can commission him to make one of carnelian, which I had my eye on during the pandemic but couldn't afford to get).

He doesn't know I'm doing this plug, but I'm sure having Twitter disappear is scary for him and he's a lovely and talented person. Link and a few example images below.

One of his full-size tentacled pendants in labradorite

A selection of "treat-sized" small net-wrapped pendant in various shades of laboradite, ranging from pale green through amethyst, dark blue, and blue-gold

One of my bird's nest pendants

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 6)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Peeta is down by the river, camouflaged in the rocks after Cato slashed his leg and left him for dead.

“Ah ha ha,” Chaff smiles when he spots Haymitch with an entire pitcher of rum. “So this is how the Capitol treats it’s favorites.”

“Had to steal it off the cart.” Haymitch chuckles allowing his friend to slip in between him and Y/N.

“Steady now.” Y/N teases, a hand to his back until he’s seated.

Chaff knocks her shoulder with his own, “what’s the matter, baby?”

Y/N has nothing but love for her husband’s best friend. However they are two peas in a pod and when they get together…there goes all the liquor. Back home in twelve, Haymitch has been known to have a drink or two, still able to enjoy his wife and children. This place brings it all back, the horrible things he’s done, everything he failed to do. If he wasn’t drunk, he’d surely lose his mind.

“I wanna send Peeta medicine,” Y/N explains.

“Sponsors leaving you high and dry? Never thought I’d see the day.”

“Not the sponsors, Haymitch made him a deal.”

“Who am I to disrespect this poor boy’s dying wish?” Haymitch quirks a brow.

“And his wish is to-”

“No parachutes. Save Katniss.”

“Katniss,” Chaff drawls.

Two of their tributes have formed an alliance. Rue and Katniss hatching a plan to blow up the career’s stash; lightning fires to draw them away.

“This green stuff is gonna smoke like crazy, as soon as it’s lit, move on to the next one.” The girl on fire warns.

“Ok,” Rue agrees, “we need some kind of signal; in case one of us gets held up.”

“Like what?”

“Here, watch this.” Rue lets out a tiny melody, which the birds rings back.

“Mockingjays.” Katniss realizes, “that’s brilliant.”

“We use them back home to signal the time.” Rue says, shifting the backpack on her shoulder. “If we hear that, it means we’re ok and we’ll be back real soon.”

“We’re gonna be ok,” Katniss pulls her in for a hug, running a hand over her hair. “Hey, I’ll see you for supper.”

————————————————————————

For once in her life Y/N is grateful for the Capitol broadcasting the action only, in the viewing room. A split screen between Rue lighting the fires, the careers chasing smoke and Katniss making her way to the cornucopia.

Clove and the others leave a single boy behind to keep watch. As the red haired tribute from five lily pads around explosives to steal food, the watchman catches her in his peripheral. Taking off after her into the woods.

Katniss lines up her shot, missing the corner of the apple net by just a hair. She takes a step closer, a few calming breathes later the tip of her arrow pierces the bag and out tumble all of the apples.

She’s blown back by the force of it.

“Oooh,” Chaff winces.

After a moment Katniss gets her bearings, heading back to Rue.

The boy keeping watch pays the price, Cato snaps his neck before giving him a chance to explain.

Rue is well on her way to light the last fire when she hears the explosion. Katniss did it. Then the trap set by the careers falls, she tripped the wire, a weighted net.

“Shit.” Y/N covers her mouth. Katniss…please hurry.

“Come on, Rue,” Chaff says, under his breath. “Work your way out.” He coaches, as if she can hear him. She does try, just like he taught her, but the net is too heavy.

When Katniss finds the final fire unlit, she whistles their signal.

“Get her out.” Haymitch rocks back slightly in his seat.

“Get her out.”

“Get her out.

“Get her out!”

The people of the viewing room echo. Y/N turns her head as the room builds to a collective chant.

“Get her out. Get her out. Get her out.”

It isn’t unheard of for spectators to voice their call to action. Though they are more concerned with the entertainment value than the life of the child.

When Katniss gets no response, she races toward the pile of sticks and leaves meant to start the last fire. Still no Rue.

“Katniss! Katniss, help.” Rue calls from beneath the net.

Katniss cuts her loose, Rue safe in her arms. “I’m here, you’re safe.”

The viewing room cheers are short lived. Marvel sends his spear flying, only to be met with Katniss’ arrow. When the cameras pan back to Rue…the damage is clear and irreversible.

Y/N excuses herself. She cannot watch, she cannot pretend, she cannot breathe. Scrambling into the nearest private room with the curtains drawn. Pushing them back with little care before realizing that it is occupied.

“You look ill, dear.” The Capitol woman gasps. “Come, sit down.”

“I’m so sorry to barge in like this.” Y/N apologizes, it’s not anyone she knows.

“Never you mind that, the pleasure is mine. Let me get you a drink.” The woman begins waving down a waiter.

Y/N grabs the ice bucket, “can I throw up in here?” Doesn’t matter, it’s coming up.

“Oh my stars, you poor thing.” She fans the victor as best she can, while continuing to wave one hand out of the privacy curtain. “Must be something you ate.”

“What can I get for you?” The waiter asks.

“Some water, to start and a fresh ice bucket.”

“Yes, right away.”

The woman takes great pleasure in ‘nursing’ Y/N back to health. With water and something close to a bland cracker.

These people are not inherently bad, Y/N realized that years ago. Conditioned in their belief and out of touch, but they are not evil. I don’t hate them…I hate what they do.

It’s not long before Haymitch is tearing back curtains to find her. Letting out a sigh of relief when he does.

“Haymitch, what a pleasure.” The woman holds out a hand.

“Great to meet you, love the dress.” He kisses the top of her hand, using it to guide her toward the exit, “give us a minute, will you?”

“But of course.” The woman is awestruck. The victors of district twelve, in her private room! Hailing over everyone who is anyone. Mouthing, “they’re in there,” motioning toward the fabric that separates them.

“I need you to listen to me.” Haymitch whispers, kneeling in front of Y/N. Wiping away any remnants of vomit and tears.

Y/N nods.

“Katniss gave that little girl a proper send off, you know as well as I do, the gamemakers and Snow aren’t happy about it.” She created a martyr.

Again she nods.

“I’m gonna talk to Crane, see what I can do for damage control.” Keep Katniss alive.

“Ok." Don’t let them kill Katniss.

“We’re gonna get you a mint and then I need you to walk out of here like nothing is wrong. Can you do that?” He tips her chin up, holding her gaze.

There is worry in his eyes, guilt and sadness. Her husband is afraid and he needs her. “Yes.”

“Good,” Haymitch gives her a reassuring smile, taking her into his arms.

————————————————————————

Katniss receives a parachute of bread a while later. After the silence is louder than the cannons and the artificial sun has set.

Haymitch is still negotiating, Y/N figures he must’ve sent it. Until she sees the note attached, from district eleven.

Y/N makes her way over to Seeder, sitting alone in the opposite corner.

“It was for Rue,” she older woman explains before Y/N can get a word out. “My district spent days scrounging up the money, the sponsors finally came through. We had enough to send some for Thresh too.”

“You could’ve sent him both.”

“My people wanted Katniss to have it.” Seeder informs her.

“I know she…appreciates their generosity very much.”

The answer is dry, rehearsed. Y/N is young and still does not understand. “I knew a girl once, she was kind and brave. She played the games and never let them play her. For the first time, I thought there might not be a victor. Because she was lying there, bleeding out and her partner was there, bleeding out…nobody was killing anybody,” she pauses. “Haymitch had to fight like hell to get you out of that one, they wanted your family-”

Dead. “I know,” Y/N stares down at her hands.

“I saw something that day, and I see it in her.” Seeder motions toward Katniss on the screen. “A good, genuine person with heart. They tried to snuff it out of you, beat it out of you; but I still see you. You hold onto your heart and you never let anyone take it from you.”

“Thank you,” Y/N blinks back tears.

“Attention, tributes, attention. The previous rules allowing only a single victor have been…suspended. Two victors may be crowned, so long as they both originate from the same district.”

All hope is not lost.

Part 7

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @officialjellydoughnut @whoreforfictionalpeople @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme

[kedreeva]

Hi! I went through your FAQ and didn't see a direct answer this this, but how do you go about actually obtaining a peafowl? How much do they usually cost per bird?

Up front, I can only speak to USA practices, so if you live elsewhere the answer may not be the same.

I'll answer the second part first since it's "easier," or maybe I should say, slightly more concrete, and the answer is: it depends on what you want, and how capable you are of caring for it. I have seen day old blues from backyard breeders go for as little as $15, but unless you really have a handle on what to expect and how to care for them, you will almost certainly be responsible for the death of a day old peachick and waste the money. I have watched an online auction for an ultramarine yearling go for $6,800, but that's because that was a newly imported color from Europe that no one else had. A green - a true, pure green, not an American green that's actually a high green blood hybrid - will run you $5-10k depending on where you import from or who you're buying from that's imported themselves and tracked lineage. An American green will still run you a couple thousand, but more like $2k than $6k. Your average adult blue will run $80-200, but I've watched blue hens go for $400 at auction. Color/pattern mutations will run $150-800 typically, for "common" colors, depending on their quality and whether they're a nice looking hybrid (blue + green species), but I've seen nice morphs go for $35 at auction. I say this because auctions can be great on some days and terrible on others and you would need to know average prices for the color and/or pattern you want, to know if you're getting a deal or getting hosed.

But regardless of a $15 chick or an $800 silver pied platinum Spalding, the expense on them actually comes mainly from the cage- the minimum (and I do mean minimum literally not pretty owners of YouTube outrageous claim of minimum), flight pen size is 500 square feet with no side shorter than 12 feet long (to accommodate trains and allow the birds past you without injuring themselves, and 8 feet tall to allow for a 5-6 perch the males can get on to clean their trains. Every bird must also have 150sq/ft, so 500 will hold 3, but not 4, you'd need 600 for 4. But with peafowl, bigger is better- the more space they have to move around (and thus away from you) the closer they are willing to come to you, because they feel like they can safely get away again. The minimum size is also not optional if you want to maintain healthy birds- they're extremely susceptible to parasites and bacteria often found in raw soil, and even to just... Getting dirt in their face and getting infected sinuses. Minimizing their ability to access dirt by growing in grass and cover crop plants like clover is the single greatest step you can take to protect their health. And this doesn't even include the coop, which is minimum 8x8x6 to protect them and their trains. With the price of lumber, wire, and netting, this will easily run you a few thousand, but it's by far the safest way to keep them, especially the hens, who otherwise tend to get eaten by predators when they set a nest while free ranging. It's also the only way to ensure they don't just leave, because they are game fowl like pheasants, not like chickens, and you can't just toss them in the yard and expect they'll stay. Occasionally they do, but largely they don't.

To answer your first question... It depends on where you live. Most USA states have livestock auctions and bird swap meets- your best bet to acquire local birds is to find those but how to find them... Well. You kind of just have to luck upon them or hope a web search turns them up, if they're even advertised online, on publicly accessible places. There are bigger breeders around the USA that will ship birds if you're looking for something specific you can't find locally, but you'll be looking at a $350+ shipping bill. You can join peafowl groups on Facebook and try to find locals, or contact the UPA (United peafowl association) to get a breeder directory but that's only people who have paid to be in the club, which honestly doesn't do much anymore. You can also, if you know of one breeder, ask if they know other breeders. A good breeder should at least be able to say 'if I don't have what you're looking for, you can try this other person/people.' alternately there's ebay and craigslist, although I wouldn't trust the former because you can only sell eggs, and peafowl hatching eggs are a big fucking waste of money, typically speaking. They're extremely finicky eggs to hatch and most people prefer to let broodies hatch when they can, because they don't hatch well in incubators.

[burningvelvet]

Just realized that today was the 176th birthday of Charlotte Brontë's novel Jane Eyre (1847)! Here are some of it's best quotes to celebrate:

"I need not sell my soul to buy bliss. I have an inward treasure born with me, which can keep me alive if all extraneous delights should be withheld, or offered only at a price I cannot afford to give.”

“I am no bird; and no net ensnares me: I am a free human being with an independent will.”

“Even for me life had its gleams of sunshine.”

“I remembered that the real world was wide, and that a varied field of hopes and fears, of sensations and excitments, awaited those who had the courage to go forth into it's expanse, to seek real knowledge of life amidst it's perils.” 

“Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.”

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

The Proverbs of Solomon

1 The wise sayings of Solomon, the son of David, king of Israel. 2 To have knowledge of wise teaching; to be clear about the words of reason: 3 To be trained in the ways of wisdom, in righteousness and judging truly and straight behaviour: 4 To make the simple-minded sharp, and to give the young man knowledge, and serious purpose: 5 (The wise man, hearing, will get greater learning, and the acts of the man of good sense will be wisely guided:) 6 To get the sense of wise sayings and secrets, and of the words of the wise and their dark sayings. 7 The fear of the Lord is the start of knowledge: but the foolish have no use for wisdom and teaching.

Advice to a Son

8 My son, give ear to the training of your father, and do not give up the teaching of your mother: 9 For they will be a crown of grace for your head, and chain-ornaments about your neck. 10 My son, if sinners would take you out of the right way, do not go with them. 11 If they say, Come with us; let us make designs against the good, waiting secretly for the upright, without cause; 12 Let us overcome them living, like the underworld, and in their strength, as those who go down to death; 13 Goods of great price will be ours, our houses will be full of wealth; 14 Take your chance with us, and we will all have one money-bag: 15 My son, do not go with them; keep your feet from their ways: 16 For their feet are running after evil, and they are quick to take a man's life. 17 Truly, to no purpose is the net stretched out before the eyes of the bird: 18 And they are secretly waiting for their blood and making ready destruction for themselves. 19 Such is the fate of everyone who goes in search of profit; it takes away the life of its owners.

The Good Woman—Wisdom

20 Wisdom is crying out in the street; her voice is loud in the open places; 21 Her words are sounding in the meeting-places, and in the doorways of the town: 22 How long, you simple ones, will foolish things be dear to you? and pride a delight to the haters of authority? how long will the foolish go on hating knowledge? 23 Be turned again by my sharp words: see, I will send the flow of my spirit on you, and make my words clear to you. 24 Because your ears were shut to my voice; no one gave attention to my out-stretched hand; 25 You were not controlled by my guiding, and would have nothing to do with my sharp words: 26 So in the day of your trouble I will be laughing; I will make sport of your fear; 27 When your fear comes on you like a storm, and your trouble like a rushing wind; when pain and sorrow come on you. 28 Then I will give no answer to their cries; searching for me early, they will not see me: 29 For they were haters of knowledge, and did not give their hearts to the fear of the Lord: 30 They had no desire for my teaching, and my words of protest were as nothing to them. 31 So the fruit of their way will be their food, and with the designs of their hearts they will be made full. 32 For the turning back of the simple from teaching will be the cause of their death, and the peace of the foolish will be their destruction. 33 But whoever gives ear to me will take his rest safely, living in peace without fear of evil. — Proverbs 1 | Bible in Basic English (BBE) The Bible in Basic English is in the public domain. Cross References: Genesis 41:42; Numbers 12:8; Deuteronomy 4:6; Deuteronomy 21:18; Deuteronomy 28:63; 1 Samuel 19:10; 1 Kings 4:32; Job 4:8; Job 21:14; Job 27:9; Psalm 1:1; Psalm 10:8; Psalm 25:12-13; Psalm 28:1; Psalm 81:11; Psalm 116:6; Proverbs 2:1; Proverbs 4:1; Proverbs 5:12; Proverbs 5:22; Proverbs 8:1; Proverbs 9:9; Proverbs 15:27; Proverbs 16:19; Luke 7:30; John 7:39; Romans 2:5; Romans 10:21; Ephesians 5:11; James 4:3

[eptodaytommorowforever]

Events In The History And Of The Life Of Elvis Presley Today On The 29th Of July In 1976.

Elvis Presley The Civic Center, Springfield, Mass July 29, 1976

By Sam Hoffman Springfield Daily News July 29th, 1976

Elvis Presley is still the entertainer of the century. The singing monarch strode into Springfield Civic Center tonight and spent better than am hour on stage, entertaining his subjects and making just about everyone there happy with a bag of his oldies, goodies and Goldies, as well as his latest hit single I'm Hurt, which ought to net the King a few more riches... and deservingly so. It was a paunchy looking Elvis Presley this year and even a large belt failed to hide the fact that even the King probably can't say 'No' to a second helping at the dinner table. Musically, The Elvis Presley Show was a smasheroo. The one disappointment - a big one in our books - was his failure to include that beautiful ballad Love Me Tender on the program. Aside from that note, Elvis Presley did his thing and the audience showed its pleasure with screams and cries of 'Elvis Presley's hand-clapping, foot-stomping, and those who could whistle, did. There aren't many performers today who can hold audience attention from start to finish. Elvis Presley is one who does it every time and anywhere he appears. Last the audience was under their King's spell of song, charm, chatter and a toss of a scarf. The latter is a fixture in a Elvis Presley performance and some of the lucky persons who grabbed off scarves had to pay with a kiss. The Civic Center may have been in semi-darkness but the moment Elvis Presley stepped on stage, an endless barrage of camera flashes made night look like day.

Elvis may have slowed down his pelvis gyrations some but his program of song was right on target. From opener C.C. Rider the singing monarch moved quickly into Is It All Right? and Amen, a couple of hand-clappers. The bag of songs included Please Love Me, If You Love Me, Give Me a Mountain and Help Me. There were also some older Goldies such as I'm All Shook Up, Don't Be Cruel, Jailhouse Rock, You Ain't Nothing But a Hound Dog and Only Fools Rush In. Unlike most Presley concerts this one was minus a religious flavor. There were several religious songs on the program but they were delivered by a gospel group which preceded the King.

Elvis Presley usually sings them himself. He did offer up a neat version of America the Beautiful, a big vocal and musical sound. There was no question the audience showed their affection to the man. They did it in so many ways - with flowers and a variety of gifts which somehow made their way on stage.

There were sings hoisted aloft telling Elvis Presley he was loved and some parents who brought their youngsters edged close to the stage and held their offspring up high to get a closer look at the singing monarch. We asked a few people in the audience if they felt it was worth plunking down the price of a ticket to see Elvis Presley and the chorus was unanimously 'Yes'. Our sentiments exactly.

Rare Live Candid Elvis Presley Photo's Wearing Here The Two Piece White And Blue Egyptian Bird Jumpsuit And The Matching Belt Captured Here By Reporter Journalist Springfield News Sam Hoffman. Who Attendd This Show Performance Concert.

[moonshinemusings]

General John "Soap" MacTavish headcanons (Pt.1)

Warnings: slight mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of PTSD, anxiety and sensory issues

A/N: My head is full with so many dumb ideas but I kept it mostly serious here lol

• He flirts with everyone when he's drunk, and yes, that includes his teammates (once Price wanted to count how many times he hit on Ghost during the night, but eventually gave up)

• His favorite color is green

• Would totally own a motorcycle that he takes good care of. He has a knack for mechanical stuff and often repairs vehicles they use on missions

• Has a sweet tooth and others often tease him about it. If they let him, he could probably eat a whole cake by himself (and whine how bad his stomach hurts afterwards)

• Most of the time he's dealing well and he keeps himself together, but sometimes his emotions break through the surface. He rarely cries, but when a wave of PTSD or lethargy hits him, the tears flow without resistance. He powers through his emotions though, and he knows his teammates are always there to support him if he needs them

• His anxiety isn't as bad as some others, but from time to time he struggles with staying calm and rational. These incidents usually happen when he overthinks missions or panics when someone gets injured, but someone is always there to help him calm down

• Most likely he has some sensory issues too, but only with very specific things that he fortunately doesn't often counter every day

• Often takes pictures while working out. Mirror selfies are his go-to, but videos of him doing push ups or lifting weights is also in order

• He was never that good at school, that's partly why he chose to serve in the military

• His music taste is really inconsistent. He listens to rock most of the time, but then he suddenly switches to pop songs and country out of nowhere. The worst part? He knows a bunch of country songs and will sing along loudly. Ghost thinks it's atrocious, especially with his accent

• Hug lover, an enthusiast if you will. He's a touchy-feely guy to begin with, but he loves hugs more than any other kind of touching (bet he has the warmest and most comfy ones)

• He's afraid of spiders. He likes to say he's not afraid of mundane things like animals, but spiders send shivers down his spine (once Price had to take one out from his bag because he was too afraid to touch it. No, they don't talk about it.)

• In his younger years he experimented with different hairstyles and colors. For a while he rocked a mullet, then came the idea of the mohawk that stayed ever since. He's had green, red and blue hair once, but never kept them longer than a few weeks

• As much as he acts like it annoys him, he likes dad jokes and those really bad ones Ghost usually comes up with

• No musical talent whatsoever, but that won't stop him from singing when he's drunk or when his favourite songs come up

• Has thought about getting more tattoos, but couldn't decide what to ask for so he never got them

• His favourite meal of the day is breakfast. Don't know why, don't ask, I just feel like he would be a breakfast "I stuff my face with calories in the morning" type of guy

• A morning bird, which used to annoy the shit out of Ghost because he was too cheery for someone who was awake at like 5 AM

• He's a deep sleeper, once he's safe and asleep even a bomb won't wake him up. He can fall asleep anywhere too. Once he conked out on the plane on the way to a checkpoint and Ghost has never let him live it down ever since

• We know that he used to play football, but he was also good at every other sport (except maybe gymnastics). He loved basketball, but he was always teased about being too short to reach the nets. That didn't stop him from scoring though

• He used to go to a lot of concerts with his friends. He's totally the type of guy to have a girl on his shoulders so she can see better

• He's not a womanizer by any means; he's only ever had one serious relationship and that didn't last too long either. He had a few one night stands, but he doesn't really seek any relations outside of his work related ones

• As a kid he used to have those sticky glow in the dark stars on his ceiling/wall

• He can't keep plants alive for the life of him

• His favourite season is spring because he's not too cold but not too hot either. The weather is perfect for his morning jogs

• He might seem egotistical sometimes, but in reality he just loves basking in the attention he gets. And he knows he looks good, so why wouldn't he talk about it

• It's not easy to rile him up and he's good at keeping his cool, but when he's frustrated or downright angry you better hope he doesn't attempt to fix the situation with fists instead of words

• Others might tease him for being stupid sometimes, but he's actually smart. Not academically smart, but street-smart if you know what I'm talking about

• In the future, he wants to have children of his own. In the present he focuses on his job and takes it very seriously, since it's the most important in his life next to his family. But he doesn't shy away from the thoughts of retiring and settling down with his children and a wife

• He enjoys cartoons in some situations. He knows they are dumb and not even funny, but after difficult missions he likes to have them as a background noise or something that can take his mind off the things that happened

• He has two older sisters, so has a lot of experience living with women. Once they waxed his arms as a joke, but he kind of liked it. They settled on an agreement after that: whenever they were all home and had the time, they would do it for him again if he wanted

• Also, because of that his room is also one of the cleanest out of everyone. He keeps everything organized and tidy, and doesn't like when his stuff is out of order

[lal-ffxiv]

Prompt #12: Quarry

The young lady approached the Keepers of the Moon with a proposal of work in dispatching some vilekin, and it would be easy enough to just take the money in a confidence trick. However, she made claims of hidden treasures in the abandon city of Gelmorra.

"... I do not mean be babbling on about history of Twelveswood to you, but it is quite interesting. Don't you believe?"

"It will believe it if have any proof on where to find these treasures."

"Well, of course. I came across this map in my grandfather's library. He is so old. He might as well be one of the first that came out from the underground, and see here this is marked as sacred place, so I believe any relics would be stored there. I plan to make a collection of the relics as I am sure I am not the only one to be fascinated by the citystate's origins. Unfortunately, my father not one of those people. He refuses to lend his men for my expedition. As a business man, he can only understand the words of money. I tell him he is inviting the wrath of The Elementals upon himself by logging. Although, without his sacrilegious lumber mill then I would not have this opportunity. It is with my allowance from him that I fund this venture, which is just enough for two guards. Are you interested?"

Epokhan's head spun by time the long-winded maiden had stopped talking. He was afraid of giving her an answer as it would allow her to start talking again.

Luc was quick on her feet and tongue. While tedious in her speech, the young lady was trusting and optimistic, so a perfect pigeon. Since Luc loved birds, she made the choice on the deal. "This sounds like a very meaningful venture, and we would please to undertake it, but sounds much to dangerous for you come along. My partner and I have to insist on half payment now, and the rest once we have returned with your relics."

"And due to danger, we will need to double the price." Epokhan added.

The girl took her head violently like a child throwing a tantrum. "No, no, no! First, I am not paying you to stand prettily while I search. I need to be able discern the relics of value. I want none of gaudy relics of any precious metals or jewels. Second, I need to see the place were my people toiled for my kind's survival under the harsh rule of The Elementals. I must go to the underground city myself. I will pay the higher price, but I can not be denied this wish."

She had more than just earnesty. She had a fire in her eye that Luc would not argue with. Instead Luc looked to her partner. If the treasure were true then they could make more profit with her along, if they weren't the couple could still rob her and leave her in underbelly of the earth on their merry way.

"Alright. We'll take the venture."

"Excellent! I am so excited! Truly I did not believe I would find a pair so brave as yourselves. Father also warned me about ... that is end of that. I will meet you both at Camp Emerald Moss on the morrow then." The young lady beamed, and sadly walked away with her full coin purse as Epokan's and Luc's stomach growled.

Epohkan, a well-learned hunter, would blame the hunger on addling his mind. No other reason would he walked into such an obvious trap.

As soon as the trio entered the underground, they were overrun. Not by seedkin or vilekin, but by duskwight bandits.

Luc held the line while he cut his way from the net. He would have thought their client lost in the confrontation as he became Luc's sole concern aside from her own life. From his hovering position though he could see maiden go from green to grey, and raided the bandit's stores appearing as bandit herself. Epokhan fell from the net, and lost sight of her. For now.

He is a trained tracker too after all. Side by side the two of them made a quick show of incapacitating the bandits to chase their quarry.

The arrow scraped the tip of her nose. It would have gone straight through her head, if the arrow had been aimed for it. She took the hint and walked backwards to face her attackers.

"What have I done to deserve this greeting?" Asked the duskwight from the keepers.

"Drop the act. We know its you." Epokhan said as Luc let another arrow fly towards the elezen.

"Oh caught on to me and my tricks did ya." A wave of the hand and in front of them was young lady over the bandit.

"Leading us to our death was the whole plan was it?"

"I haven't killed anyone, nor do I plan to. Only I thought a mob of bandits would distract you longer while I got farther away from here is all."

"Like how we were meant to distract the bandits while you stole from them."

"It it really stealing when you take from a rob-"Luc fired an ice core tipped arrow with the idea of freezing her mouth shut for good. It would be well worth the tipped arrow as to never hear the elezen's voice again.

Instead the sprite core reacted to the active glamour prism. Then, a Seeker of the Sun stood before them.

Ri'anni Tia felt naked without a glamour over her, even worse than that. She was being perceived wrongly in this very moment. After a lifetime of that, she wasn't going to take another second of it.

Arianni dropped the item she sought to activate another glamour. Then, faced her attackers anew. "That was more embarrassing than being caught in my smallclothes, so let forget about it."

The Keepers of the Moon were stunned though. Luc had lowered her bow, and Epokhan stood mouth wide.

"Why disguse yourself was a woman?" Epokhan asked

"You sound like my mother." Arianni groaned. "Because I like to, why else?"

"How does it work? Can you show us?" Luc asked.

The skill every criminal should hone is being able to find the object a person wants and promising it to them.

"Oh is dressing in eachother's clothes not fooling the amount of people you want?" Arianni found the thing that might save her life from the Keeper with the bow and arrow.

"I learned from some imps, but I can only teach you if you have the talent." She offered and waited.

The Keepers shared a look between themselves. Arianni was quite jealous of the intimacy the two shared. To know eachother's thoughts without words, that was something she could never have with another.

"We'll considered forgiving you if you teach us the way to be disguised." Epokhan started

"As if you weren't planning on leaving me there for dead either." Arianni interrupted. Luc lifted the bow again. Arianni sewed her mouth shut quick.

"But your debt is separate, and for that we will go along with to where you'll be fencing that." Luc pointed at the trinket Arianni had dropped in her desperation. Split three way the reward for retrieving the noble's personal property was going to be small, but living another day is worth more.

"Then, you will stay right by us until we've learned." Luc finished.

"Fine, but then we never speak another word to each other after."

Arianni crossed her hands to shake each one theirs, so the three shook hands on the deal.

[live-love-be-unique]

Casey’s masterlist

Who I currently write for: Eddie Munson (Stranger Things), Steve Harrington (Stranger Things), other Stranger Things characters, Carmy Berzatto (The Bear), Chef Luca (The Bear), Ritchie Jerimovich (The Bear), CoD

Stranger Things masterlist:

Eddie Munson:

Saturday Movie Night

Eyes (ft. Steve Harrington) Part 1, Part 2

My submission for @lesservillain Strange & Spooky Stories prompts

There's A Fine Line Between Love And Hate: 1

But it’s Home To Me

Steve Harrington:

Put Your Sweet Lips On My Lips

Headcanons

Eddie and Wayne

Gremlin Boyfriend Eddie

The Seasons

The Bear masterlist:

Carmy Berzatto:

• Let Me Fix It

Chef Luca:

• Dance With Me

Ritchie Jerimovich:

• The Honey Bee - coming soon

CoD masterlist:

John Price:

• Oh Darlin’ come to bed

• The Mrs

• Captain Price Gave You An Order

My submission to @deadbranch 50 word challenge •Crossing All The Lines

part of @glitterypirateduck O,Captain! challenge

Ghost:

• Misery’s your master

• I Am No Bird; And No Net Ensnares Me

My submission to @glitterypirateduck Ghost Challenge

Soap:

• And I’ll buy you the world

• Weekend Away

My submission to @glitterypirateduck CoDVacationMode challenge

Gaz:

• Admiring from afar

• Roscoe

• One More Time

Alex Keller:

• Boss

Other Things:

•Love-Struck playlist for @translatemunson story Love-Struck

• The Witch At The Edge Of The Woods inspired by one of @ghouljams oc’s

• Sandalwood and Smoke

My submission to @the-californicationist nameless challenge

• 911, What’s Your Damage? Playlist for @translatemunson story The Tortured Firefighters Department

• Man vs Bear

My submission to @ghouljams King Killer challenge

[dianeramic]

Something I've been working on in my spare time is converting a lot of the art I did for TTRPGs into batches of VTT tokens and portraits made for Roll20 (a website that lets you play tabletop roleplaying games online)!

I now have bundles available at a discounted price as well, for my black and white ink illustrations and for my RPG birds digital watercolor set. Come check it out! https://marketplace.roll20.net/browse/publisher/2385/diantimony-designs

[japanesepenguin]

+ Garden update~

+ This is a plum tree; after several flowers at the end of winter, he's finally decided to start growing some leaves; I let the clover grow in the pot because I have very little mulch and even less dried leaves to use as cover

+ Rosemary finally has some sun, looking good

+ Snapdragons finally dying off, but the pots contain chive seedlings and lots of cilantro (needs thinning)

+ Basil; this was store-bought at a sale price, but doing okay

+ Seed trays!

+ Shiso/ooba (Japanese perilla), big tomatoes, cherry tomatoes, blackberries (an experiment, nothing has sprouted), shishito (peppers), chervil, parsley, more cilantro, dill, broccoli, kale, lettuce, gooseberry (all sprouted!!), a few ice plants that I'm hoping will take off with warmer weather, snow peas...

+ The plants at the top of the image are all wildflowers from a packet of seeds from my mom

+ Bird netting around the blueberry bushes; the king and queen (Samson and Suksuk) are now accompanied by Starya and Sootakson; the netting is not well-done, it was a mid-workday emergency job since the birds started going for the flower blossoms...

+ Suksuk already blossomed and, I believe, got pollinated by something; at least, it's looking like it's supposed to... the petals turned purple and fell off, and the bottom bit looks like it should

+ Flowers outside Akina's window: lantana and saxifrage plus lavender; the plant is okra, I figured it would grow better with Akina watching over it; the lavender lacks flowers in the photo because I've harvested the first batch and am currently drying them (for making London Fog)

+ This is iyokan, a Japanese citrus; like any citrus, its flowers smell amazing...

+ A Japanese bell pepper, eggplant, and three corn... like, regular corn; The eggplant is not doing well, not sure what's wrong

+ Oh! The persimmon "tree" is still alive! He's been making leaves, which is incredible, because when I transplanted it, it had no healthy roots and was just a dead stick; trees are great

+ The side plot... radishes (about ready to harvest), beets, a small amount of spinach, carrots, and edamame (soy beans); the scraps on the right are there drying out to be used in compost

+ Snow peas from a seed pack from my mom

+ Edamame (soy beans) from our landlord... He asked how many I wanted, I told him 12, he told me to take 20, I told him I don't have room for 20, he told me to take 15, I took 15... But three of them have died so now I have 12

+ They are growing surprisingly fast...

+ I have started a more proper composting area

+ Finally, the strawberries! We have gotten six tiny little berries so far from a set of four plants; the berries were small but very sweet

+ But the bigger berries on the bigger plants are starting to come in and most of the other plants have lots of flowers...

+ This concludes your garden update