#equine muscle rub

[horsentale]

Horse Owners Mother's Day Gift Cards

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HORSE OWNERS MOTHER’S DAY GIFT CARDS NOW AVAILABLE Looking for a horse owners Mother’s Day gift idea? Mother’s Day is just around the corner. Not sure what to buy? Purchase an Horse N Tale eGift card as the perfect Mother’s Day Present!!! Give the gift of Horse N Tale Topical Equine Products Natural Horse Care For Equine Athletes to the horse lovers in your life! Horse N Tale printable e-gift…

[wynndigogh]

Bring me a dream...

You stand brushing your teeth in an outdated bathroom. 

The light over the vanity appears to be from the sixties and considering the way the bulb flashes and surges every few seconds with a zz-ut-zhut sound, it may be that old as well.

The light it gives off is yellow and dull; however, you aren’t very sure you’d like a bright view of that bathroom anyway.  The tub, sink, and toilet have more rings than the Olympics logo and the faucets are pockmarked with rust.

The tiny mosaic flooring tiles are missing in random spots and the bold floral designed wallpaper, which you are sure at one time contained bright yellows, oranges and greens, is now a faded façade that is barely clinging to the walls.

You roll your eyes and spit the last of the toothpaste foam from your mouth, “Not exactly the Hilton, but a bed is a bed.”

With a sigh you exit the small washroom, opting to leave on the flickering yellow light and close the door just enough to for it to act as a nightlight.  You are single, traveling alone, and unfamiliar dark rooms are intimidating. The sliver of light from the bathroom brings you some small amount of comfort, no matter the poor quality.

You walk stiffly through the small motel room.  After two straight days of driving, with little rest, your body feels like stone.  In your overly caffeinated, yet insanely exhausted, state you are trying to remember exactly why you thought driving from Georgia to your job interview in Oregon would be a good idea.

Ah, yes, Skinwalker Ranch. 

You started watching the spooky series on the History channel months ago and have become obsessed with the thought of other-worldly portals that connect our world to places unknown.  In a misguided a-ha moment you decided to drive, instead of fly, so that you could pass through Gusher, Utah just to be close to the supposed interdimensional portals. 

You know getting on the actual ranch will be a no-go, but you want to be in the town, as close as possible to the actual ranch, just to see if anyone has tales of their own to share of extraordinary happenings in the area.

So, that is how you ended up in this rundown motel pretty much in the middle of nowhere. 

With a sigh, you pull back the old comforter on the bed, noting the dingy sheets with a shutter.  You hesitate for just a moment, contemplating if you should put leggings under your oversized tee shirt, but your tired body encourages you to tough it out.  Reluctantly, you crawl into the bed. 

Since your last coffee was only an hour ago, a desperate attempt to make it to Gusher before your heavy eyelids forced you to stop, you are a little too wired to just drift off to sleep.  So, you pull out the latest creature-feature romance novel that you’ve been reading and turn to your ear-marked page.  You will read until the caffeine-kick wears off.

The small room is quiet except for the faint zz-ut-zhut from the blinking bathroom light. 

In fact, the whole motel is as quiet as a graveyard.  You doubt any of the other rooms have occupants in them.  The parking lot was empty, and the front desk clerk seemed genuinely surprised to be checking someone into the establishment.

You twist to your left side, trying to get the aged lamp beside your bed to illuminate your book’s page.  You need to see the details clearly; the story is just getting spicy. 

The story’s heroine has been fighting a growing attraction to her Centaur field-guide, whom she hired to lead her through a dangerous forest.  A recent Trogg attack has the suppressed protagonist clinging to the Centaur’s broad equine back as he races her to safety.  The author is detailing the baritone sound of his huffs of exertion, the heated moisture coating his muscles, and how the heroine is enjoying the bouncing rhythmic friction of the chaotic ride just a little too much.

You subconsciously swallow and rub your stacked legs together out of need.  You feel a slight ache in your nether region followed by the tell-tale sign of slick starting to gather at your entrance.  You shift your position, and the bedsprings protest with a squeak and a hiss.

You flip the page in your book, and you are halfway through the first sentence at the top of the page when the thought finally registers in your tired mind, did the bed just hiss?

You lower your paperback book to scan the bed and the dimly lit room.  The fossil-age lamp beside your bed and the sliver of yellow bathroom light illuminates the area around the bed decently enough but they do little to chase away the deep shadows in the far corners of the room. 

Oh, how you hate the dark.  Ever since you were a child, you always felt like the darkness itself was watching.  Watching and waiting. 

The longer you look at the shadows of the room, the more your skin wants to crawl with goosebumps.  You know it’s silly and that it is probably just your anxiety of being alone in an unknown space, but that same feeling of being watched surfaces in the back of your mind.

However, after a moment of observation, nothing seems amiss.  With a shiver and a shake, you turn your attention back to your book.

By the middle of the page, the heroine is reaching her peak bouncing up and down on the Centaur’s back.  You are fully invested in her ride, fantasizing about riding astride the strong creature yourself.  As your mind wanders, your body reacts to the imagery.  Your nipples harden under your nightshirt and your internal temperature peaks causing you to sweat.  You throw off your covers and start to fan yourself with your book, when you hear a muted in-take of breath, like a soft gasp.

In shock and fear, you bolt into a sitting position, “Who’s there?”, you call out in panic.

Your eyes and ears strain for clues.  The only movement and sound coming from the flickering bathroom light. 

Seconds tick by, counted off by the zz-ut-zhut of the old light bulb. 

The stillness growing into an uneasy stalemate.

You shift nervously on the bed.  Preparing, waiting.  Yet, nothing happens. 

Slowly, your racing heart begins to ease.  The muscles around your eyes begin to relax as your body adjusts to burning through the last of your caffeine-high just now. 

As your eyelids grow a bit heavy, a yawn surfaces.  Your face contorts in the yawn, your eyelids shielding most of your vision.  That’s when you see it, a flash of light deep in one of the room’s shadows. 

No, that isn’t right.  It wasn’t a light, there were two.  You saw two flashes of light, almost like the blink of dual fireflies, in the corner across from you.

You quickly stifle the yawn, blinking back the reflexive tears from your eyes, and stare hard at the space.  Only, the lights don’t reappear. 

Was it your imagination?  Is your fatigued brain experiencing hallucinations? 

You focus hard on the corner, and you see something…at least, you think you do.

Is that…a shadow? 

For a moment it’s there and then, with the next blink of your eyes, it’s gone again.  Was something there?

You strain to see.  Your eyes sting with dryness and feel gritty, even as tears from your yawn leak from the corners.  You squeeze your eyes shut repeatedly, trying to lubricate them.  Surely, you’ll be able to blink away the fog that seems to be forming on your pupils, obscuring your vision.  However, no matter how many times you try, your eyes refuse to focus.  You use the heel of your free hand to rub one orbital, in a pitiful attempt to literally wipe away the opaque quality of your vision.

Deep in the corner, the shadow flickers into existence and two glowing orbs reappear.  The orbs aren’t the luminous bottoms of bugs, they are two glowing eyes staring straight at you.

For just a moment, shorter than a gasp, your heart stops.  Pausing in stillness, preparing for the surge. 

Then, with the quickness of a lightning strike, the adrenaline jolts through your system.  Your heartrate spiking, sending blood to your muscles, preparing you for fight and flight.

You instinctually shriek and fling the book in your hand at the tall form in the darkness while simultaneously rolling off the far side of the bed with a resounding thud.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”

The voice that you hear from your hiding spot beside the bed is masculine.  It has an elegant cadence with an accent you can’t place.  It sounds otherworldly, almost ethereal, and yet hollow, like it’s muffled.  The sound of a male voice inside the room with you triggers the third fear response, freeze. 

You are utterly frozen in place on the grimy carpet, your mind racing.  Who is it?  How did he get in?  What does he want?  The sound of soft footsteps interrupts the chaos storming through your mind.  The footfalls are coming closer. 

Over the lip of the mattress, you see a dark hooded figure leisurely making his way around the bed.  You just stare with wide eyes as he comes to a stop at the foot of the bed, stares down at you, and tilts his head to the side inquisitively. 

Is it panic or shock that has your back glued to the floor, your body unable to move, or is it awe?  

The man, no – that isn’t right, it can’t be right. 

The being standing over you has swirling, glowing eyes.  You watch as the color of those luminous orbs shift and twirl in tones of blue, white, violet, and gold.  They are oddly mesmerizing and unnerving at the same time.  Just as your mind starts to get those in their depths, he breaks eye contact, and you watch those shimmering rings of light trace a line down your body, lingering with interest on the peaks of your nightshirt and the exposed swatch of your lacy underwear.

After a long pause at your lacy covered apex, those shining eyes blaze white and lift to make eye contact with you, “My lady, I do believe you are in need of my assistance”.  His eloquent, ethereal voice placing emphasis on the word ‘need’. 

The bedside lamp casts enough light to reveal his face beneath the hood. His eyes aren’t just floating orbs, they are pupils set in a pair of elongated eyes, framed high and tight by steep cheek bones.  His skin, a deep velvety blue with sparkling specks that catch and reflect the light, resembling a starry night sky.  You can only see a small portion of skin around his eyes, and you understand why his voice sounds muffled, he’s wearing a mask over the lower half of his face.

You hear screaming.  It takes you a moment to realize the sound is coming from yourself.  Your voice sounds so far away, like you are having an out-of-body type of experience.

The creature…being…man, whatever he is, raises his finger to his masked mouth and issues a command, “Shhhhhhhh”.  

A glimmering tendril of some type of floating substance, ribbons out from his hand, wafting over you, and stealing your panic.  Like a drug, your body starts to feel heavy and your voice stalls in your throat.

“Allow me to help you”, his foreign accent drawls out from behind his mask.  The shapes of his swirling eyes pinching thin, in what could be a cheeky grin, as he reaches down and takes your delicate hand in his indigo colored one, pulling you to your feet, your body just obeying.

Standing toe to toe it is apparent that this being is tall, at least 6’4” because your petite frame is only reaching the top of his chest. 

You are staring up into those hypnotic eyes when you feel him grip your chin.  His fingers are tipped with dark claws, and he is careful not to stab them into the tender flesh of your face.

“Are you hurt?”, he questions behind his barrier, “Maybe I should check, eh?”

His long eyes turning cheshire-shaped from another impish grin.  You are feeling too dazed to protest when his free hand glides over your shoulders, down one of your sides, and pauses on your hip, gripping into the amp flesh.

“Who-what are you”, your words come out slow and groggy.

“Hmmmm, I am called many things by your kind, faerie, demon, Sonnaya Tuchka, Ole Lukøje, Pesochnyy chelovek, we call ourselves Zeez; however, my favorite is your tongue, what you called me when you were youngling.”

The creature pauses staring at you; your transfixed dreamy stare telling him that you were not processing his words as quickly as he is speaking.  He watches patiently as the information clicks into place in your mind, your eyes widening ever so slightly with the realization that you two have met before.

“You, my desert flower, called me The Sandman.  But, if you wish, you may call me by given name Der.”

Der’s face loses its brash flirtatiousness and takes on a more somber look, his eyes phasing more blue, as he releases your chin to run his outside of forefinger down the side of your cheek.  The action doesn’t feel intrusive or offensive, it feels more familiar…sad.

Your gaze swipes lazily across his face as your mind tries to fight through the haze clouding it.  You take in the colors and reflecting light of his skin, those enthralling eyes, and then your sight slides down to his covering.

“Why do you wear a mask?”

You watch the tall being’s shoulders shake with a huffing laugh, “Always the curious one.  You asked me the same thing when you were much smaller.” 

He lifted a claw tapping the hard mask, the sound telling you it is made of some type of hardened leather or shell of some kind, “This is the burden of my kind, if we wish to remain culturally acceptable and welcomed in our world.”

Your forehead draws together in confusion. 

Der’s eyes twinkle with mischief as he continues, “My kind’s verbalizations can be very persuasive without a filter to cushion its affects.  The other species of my world grew tired of losing partners to my kind’s talented tongues.”, he finishes with a wink.

Ah, his words are as beguiling and seductive as his eyes and the mask acts as his muzzle.  Interesting.

Maybe it’s the fact that you were nose deep in a creature-feature smut book just prior to his arrival, or the fact that you haven’t been laid in longer than you’d like to admit, but your mind betrays you.  An intrusive thought pops up out of nowhere, and your inner voice wonders just how tantalizing a sexual experience with this Zeez would be.

You feel Der’s glowing eyes on your face and, almost as if he reads your mind, the swirling vortexes of his pupils surge from a golden hue to bright white.  You watch the glowing whirlpools circle into ever deeper depths, pulling you under with their currents.

One moment you are standing in a dingey motel room with this otherworldly creature, the next you are sinking in a sea of sand.  The particles rush up your body as you sink further into the abyss.  Your nightshirt is lifted from your body and pulled away by the grit’s undertow. 

Down you slide through the bottleneck of the sandy spiral, landing carefully on a bed of dark mist.  The hooded Zeez astride above you, smiling like a cat who ate the canary, behind his thick face mask, at the sight of your topless form on display for him.

“I have waited a long time for you to ask this of me”, Der purrs in his ethereal accent.  His indigo hand reaches up and detaches the muzzle from his lower face, revealing the remainder of his deep velvet skin and a wide fanged smile framed by a delectable set of dark blue lips.

Feeling self-conscience and exposed under his blazing glare, and his smile that is barely hiding some vicious looking teeth, your arms crisscross over your breasts in a protective manner.

“I-I thought you couldn’t remove the muzzle.”

Der opens his mouth, and a tongue of sand licks the tip of one fang, "Ah, but we are not in my world, my little desert flower, we are in your inner world.  Welcome to your dreamland.”

Without his face mask filtering his essence, the full force of the Zeez’s influence slides over you making you feel heady and drunk with euphoria.  The effect steals the air right out of your lungs, causing beads of sweat to pebble across your skin, your muscles to twitch for release, and your back to arch from the cool dark mist.  With just two short sentences, his words alone have you teetering on the precipice of an orgasm. 

An unguarded moan slips past your lips causing him to chuckle.  The sound of his chuckle, much like that of sand flowing through a wooden cylinder ‘rain-stick’, is its own form of a soothing aphrodisiac.

He leans close and whispers into your ear, as your eyes flutter in ecstasy, “Hold on, my flower, I’ve waited too long for this opportunity to pluck you.”

The inner walls of your pussy twitch in rhythm to his vocal cadence.  To keep from crying out you bite hard into your bottom lip, breaking and bruising the delicate skin.

“Tsk, tsk, is that any way to treat a coveted possession?”, he growls at you in his thick accent. 

You squirm as the slick between your legs becomes so abundant that it is pushing forward, up around your clit, “You-you, sa-said that about my-my book”, you stutter as your mind’s focus splits between talking and the throbbing of the delicate nub in your apex.

Der literally purrs.  His body vibrating above yours, tickling your exposed skin, he’s so close to your ear you can feel his lips brushing the shell with each word, “I was never talking about the book, Love.”

His purring, his lips caressing your ear, along with his declaration pushes you over the edge.  Your inner walls clinch in release.  Your hands forget their mission to guard your modesty and reach out fisting his hood cowl as your body shivers in release.

Der sighs in slight disappointment.  “Next time I will need to keep the mask on until we are further along, you are delightfully sensitive.”, he chides with a salacious grin.

Your release subsides and he slides your hands from his cowl.  As you lay cool in the swirl black mist of your own dreamland, the Zeez releases the clips of his hood cloak, shedding the heavy covering and exposing a torso that you were not expecting. 

Instead of a swath of blue, speckled skin, you are shocked to see short sleek indigo fur coating his neck, the backs of his muscled arms, across his stout shoulders, and down his strong back.  The inner portions of his torso, his chiseled chest, and washboard stomach, sport that starry skin that matches his face.  A face that, now you can see, has a pair of long pointed ears on each side of its head.

Farther behind him a new astonishment swishes through the air, catching you off guard and causing you to jerk in surprise.  A long thin tail with a furry tuft at the end whips back and forth in anticipation.

You are in a state of shock and awe, staring mesmerized at the unique being above you.

“What are you?”, is what slips out of your mouth without going through your internal filter.

That same raspy chuckle of his, slides over your skin like a caress, “I am a Zeez.”

Seeing the lack of recognition, or satisfaction, on your face from his answer, he pauses a moment to rethink his approach.

“I guess your kind would most closely associate my species with your mythical Sphinxes or Manicores. We are timeless creatures with no natural end.  We originate from a cold dark desert in my world”, you watch his eyes dim a deeper hue of blue than you have noticed previously, “but that area is no longer ours.  We now live among tribes and clans of many.”

His long tail gives a sharp whip, creating a snapping sound and breaking his reverie.  Der’s eyes shift back into their golden, white tones as he stares down at you.  His fanged grin grows wide, and his purr returns tenfold.

Suddenly, you feel like a cornered mouse.  Plump and ripe for the devouring.

“You smell delicious”, he rasps out above his vibrations.

TO BE CONTINUED if you want(because it is time for me to catch some Zeez 😘)….

@thelaundrybitch @leoandraphssoulmate @kokosworld95

Author Note: There are three points to know about this story.

1. You may be surprised to learn that Der (and his species) are a MINOR character in my main book series that I'm trying to finish. I wanted a way to expand and explain more about Zeez and this story was born.

2. The book that Der's human is reading in this story will be a vehicle that I will use to introduce other MINOR characters/species from my books as well. So, yes, you will get the read the Centaur's story too, which will feature many of my own creature creations.

3. There is SOOOO much more to Der and his human's story. I am happy to tell it if anyone is interested. The amount of detail and I have created for all the characters still amazing me. (I have no life LOL).

Eh, let's throw a 4th point in here. Der's species was born from an a scene in an actual dream I had. It may not come across as well here in this story, but in further expansions of the story, it explains that humans can only see Zeez when they are tired or sleepy.

Hence the phrase...."catching Z's".

[gothfoxgirlboy]

The demon stood at a monstrous 15 feet tall, more beastly than most with a bull like physique . Wielding an axe that was heavier than your average person with ease the minotaur led the battle against the angels. The Deadwoods were rife with combat.

The minotaur looked around, defeated angels all around him, and sighed at the lack of challenge. Then, the sound of a woman's laughter could be heard. Not the unsettling laughter of a psychopath, nor the smug chuckles of arrogance, it was a pure and gentle thing.

A young angel skips out of the forest into the clearing the minotaur was resting in. She couldn't have been much more than 5 feet tall and she smiled happily.

The minotaur quickly buries his axe where her head is... Or was, as she cartwheels out from the blindspot made by the axe.

"That wasn't very nice." She whines "we should at least greet each other first. I'm Joy what's your name?"

She flies up to the minotaur without fear. Pure white wings as opposed to the metallic wings most angels have, the incense her tail releases smells more floral than most. Her halo is a brilliant and blinding rainbow of colors.

The demon attempts to swat her away but she easily evades and hugs his chest.

"wow you're like totally soft."she says before letting go just in time to dodge another axe swing. She freefalls down to the ground, landing in a roll and hopping up to her feet right over the next axe swing.

The minotaur swings faster and faster, finally, a worthy foe. Except Joy never attacks. She simply dodges each swing, dancing around the axe that streaks through the air like lightning.

She cartwheels circles around the minotaur, laughing as though they were old friends. She cartwheels through his legs, under his loincloth, and gets a good look at a lot of the minotaur including his large sheath and massive balls.

She can't help but to reach out and touch it. As soon as she does the minotaur stops for a moment as intense pleasure floods his body. His equine cock starts to flare its head. It's already throbbing as the angel, who is mid handstand, rubs her foot along his half revealed cock.

Before his cock is fully erect it starts spurting out cum, the minotaur drops his axe from the unexpected pleasure. As the angel finishes her flourish just in time to get her face covered in cum.

She licks her cum covered lips before joking "that's a better greeting than the axe".

The minotaur's loincloth can't even hide his erect cock. It's bigger than her arm by a longshot, still dripping cum from the tip. He tries to grab the small angel but she easily evades his grasp, closing the distance between them.

"so soft and inviting." Joy states as she ducks under the demon's loincloth and buries her face in his balls. Her touch causes the minotaur to fall to his knees as another orgasm shakes his body. "It seems like you've never experienced this kinda joy you cute little moomoo. So sensitive that you're spurting everywhere."

The angel looks to the minotaur with a wide smile.

"should I give you true joy?" She says to the demon who's mind is fuzzy from the overwhelming pleasure. He nods gently, his hand fondling his balls.

She flies up to his face and kisses his forehead.

"now I know what to do" she exclaims. She hugs the demon's chest again. Her hands explore his furry chest before finding something cold and metallic. "Here they are"

Joy pulls on the two metal rings. The minotaur moans loudly as his cock throbs. It seems like muscle and height are changing to fat as the minotaur's shape softens up, their powerful pecs become soft tits. The thick fur becomes fluffy and smooth. She spurts out cum from an incredible pleasure, far greater than anything she's ever felt.

Milk drips from her large breasts as the angel suckles on her nipples.

"This is what you were meant to be." Joy says as she pets the cowgirl.

The thick heavy horns that weighed down her head fall to the ground. So many expectations, so much violence, so much sin. It all disappeared with this previously unimaginable joy. A warm golden light appears over the minotaur, a comfortable halo.

If you enjoy my stories please look into my Patreon. There's free stories if you don't have money and if you do choose to subscribe you get a 1k word story minimum plus access to all other premium stories.

[thebadchoicemachine]

Pauling In Blunderland

TF2 Alice in Wonderland AU

All Chapters • Ao3

Chapter 3/14 - The Jolly MannCo Chase

Pauling, once again, found herself falling. This time, instead of rushing through darkness or plunging to a splattery death, she was in a bright pale open sky. And she wasn’t alone.

All around her, helicopters and planes droned. Figures were launching themselves in and out of them, some getting shredded by the blades or bludgeoned on the hulls as they vaulted. She narrowly avoided the uprushing saw of a chopper’s rotor herself. 

A burly hand shot out as she fell past the helicopter. It crushed her wrist with a painfully firm grip and swung her inside.

She found herself being held at eye level with a giant. He was barechested, showing off inhumanly muscles, with a surly mustache and jean shorts so short Pauling at first feared he was only wearing underwear. Though the helicopter was enormous, he had to bend to fit inside. He stared intensely at her. His mouth twitched slightly in thought.

“What is that?” A flittery voice from behind the hulking mass called. 

Pauling peered to the side and locked eyes with a lanky man in a blue suit. Strangely, it took her a moment to notice his caprine horns and cow tail. Her initial attention had been instead drawn to familiar eye bags and exasperated expression. 

A moment of mutual understanding followed the assistants’ stare.

“I don’t know, Bidwell,” the giant interrupted their minuet of empathy. “That’s what you and Reddy are for!” 

Pauling cleared her throat. “Excuse me but my arm is starting to hurt. Can you put me down?”

“Yes. Please, Sir,” Bidwell came to her side.

Pauling was subsequently dropped to the ground. She landed on her feet and brushed herself off. “Thanks, Mr… Uh?” 

“HA!” The giant let out a hearty bark. “Incredible! You must be the rarest thing in the world to have never heard of—” 

Bidwell covered his ears. 

“—SAXTON HAAALLLE!”  As he shouted, Saxton struck a triumphant pose, standing to his full height and fleshing his arms over his head. His fists went straight through the roof. The blades, instead of slicing his hands off, shattered against his fists. He looked up. “Oops.” 

They seemed to hang in the air for a moment before plummeting straight down. 

 Pauling instinctively let out a yelp as she was tossed into the air. Bidwell only put a hand to his face. Saxton began laughing. He kicked off the hull and snatched Bidwell in one arm and Pauling in the other, launching all three of them into the open air just as the shuddering helicopter exploded. 

Aside from being startled, Pauling couldn't find it in herself to panic. She’d gotten so used to falling at this point that she barely reacted at all, except to glance at their landing point. 

While suspended in the air, she did notice something she hadn’t before. The figures jumping onto and out of the aircrafts were all mythical creatures. They looked like off-brand legendary animals. One glittery equine that could almost be a stereotypical unicorn—if not for the lack of fur or hair—flumped right past them. 

Without a word, Saxton flung himself around and kicked the creature so hard it burst, coating the three of them in a red splatter. Pauling spat out some blood that hit her face (although it tasted quite nice, like sweet hashbrowns).

Saxton then landed effortlessly on a plane that swooped in beneath them. “Sorry about that!” He cheerily apologized, gently letting Pauling drop from his arms and slinging Bidwell off his shoulder. “Now, down to business,” he turned to Pauling with a glint that made her step back. 

“What exactly is your business?” Pauling inquired, nervously rubbing sphynx-unicorn bits off her glasses.

“Hunting! Punching! Adventure!” Saxon boisterously answered in rapid fire.

“Well, he used to be king…” Bidwell began at the same time but trailed off.

“Uh-huh,” Pauling nodded, packing all of that away. “So, when you talk about me being ‘rare’ do you mean you’re planning on hunting me down and stuffing me like a trophy? I just want to be clear here.”

Saxton looked at her blankly, his smiling expression frozen on his face. 

“Sir, you’re not seriously still considering that, are you?” Bidwell pleaded. Saxon glanced at him, then at Pauling again. “Sir,” Bidwell said again. 

“Alright, alright,” Saxton put up his hands. “Don’t get after me like that! There’s nothing wrong with a bit of sport if the lady is up to it.” 

Pauling tilted her head, considering it for a moment, but a pointed stare and a slow headshake from Bidwell made up her mind. “Thanks, but no thanks,” she quickly replied.

“Aw.” Saxton shrunk like a mopey puppy. “You seem so fun though; you’ve got some actual fight in you! Full offense, Bidwell.”

Bidwell shrugged, unphased. 

“What if you hunted with me?” Saxton offered. 

“Sorry, I still have to pass.” 

“You could just help me round up some of these fellows. I tell you, sometimes getting them in the air is more challenging than killing them before they hit the ground. Please, Miss I-forgot-your-name-already? These animals aren’t going to drive themselves extinct!”

Pauling paused, taking a second to realize how weird it was that they were all falling through the sky right now. “That seems wildly counterproductive,” was all she could think to say.  If your goal is to kill them, why set them free? And why do it in such an inconvenient way?“ 

Saxton looked offended. “For the thrill! For the hunt! For the challenge! Any grey fool could do something efficiently. I know that look in you; don’t lie, you know exactly what kind of unbridled joys I’m talking about. I can smell the adrenaline addiction on types like you!”

Pauling felt her face flush at the accusation, but it was clear from Saxton’s face that it was meant only as an eager compliment.

She relented, “It sounds fun, really, but I’m already on a mission. Some other time though, I’d love to.”

“It's a date then!"

"No."

"Okay!"

"Oh!" Pauling jumped to attention. “But that reminds me: have either of you seen a white rabbit in a baseball cap run by?”

“Hmm.” Saxton put a hand to his chin. “Nope! I don’t pay attention to varmints like that. I’ve got my eyes locked on the good stuff!” 

As if to prove his point, an inverted hippocampus fell next to them. His hand shot out, grabbing it by the hoof and twirl-launching it into a nearby helicopter, both of which promptly exploded. 

 “It’s not much of a lodestar, but if this rabbit isn't part of the chase here then he’s probably gone somewhere down there.” Bidwell pointed upwards. 

Pauling followed his gaze. Her eyes went wide as she looked up, looking down at the ground. She whipped her head down (Up?) off the side of the plain and saw they were falling only toward the more endless sky. 

“ Wh - never mind. How do I get… there?”

“Jerry can take you,” Saxton offered.

“Who’s—”

“JERRY!” Saxton barked, interrupting her. 

From seemingly nowhere, a fourth person bolted out of the air and crashed onto the now-crowded plane top. It bolted upright, reporting to Saxton. 

The new man was alike, in many ways, to Bidwell. He was thin and of average height with dark hair. He had on a red pilot’s outfit with a matching cap and compound goggles but, instead of horns and a tail, had two sets of large insect wings protruding from his back. 

Pauling stifled a gasp as every hexagon of Jerry’s goggles blinked, registering that they weren’t goggles at all but bug-like compound eyes.

“Take this fine lady to the ground,” Saxton ordered.

Jerry froze. Pauling couldn’t tell, but she was pretty certain he was looking around nervously. “Take her down right here?” He buzzed. His voice had a drone to it as though he was speaking into a fan. 

Saxton pushed the rigid Jerry towards Pauling. “That’s what I said.” 

“B-but, sir, we’re over the War Grounds right now.”

“Yes. And?”

“Can’t Reddy do this? He’s the one qualified to be down there! Down there with them.” 

“Oh, come off it, ya pansy.” Saxton clapped Jerry roughly on the back. “The boys are fine! Besides, Reddy’s already on the ground herding the runaways back into the air for us.”

“I-but you-this-” Jerry stammered. Saxton’s face didn’t budge. Jerry sighed, defeated, “Okay.” He flew up behind Pauling. “Pardon me,” he apologized as he stuck his arms under her armpits and lifted her up. 

“Oh! Uh, okay then. Bye!” She called to Bidwell and Saxton as she was swiftly carried upwards to the ground. 

“Bye, Miss!” Bidwell called back. “Good luck!”

“I’ll see you on our date!” Saxton yelled. 

Pauling was suddenly very glad to be flying away at top speeds. 

 Jerry skillfully weaved between mythical creatures, debris, and vehicles alike. He was quiet the whole way down, something Pauling didn’t mind after hanging out with Saxton Hale. 

Despite how long they seemed to have been falling, the ride to the ground went by very fast. It was only a few seconds before Pauling could make out the topography through the cirrus clouds; it was a large grey and black forest, utterly devoid of leaves or greenery. Smoke and fire seemed to make up the only splashes of color in the massive landscape. 

Jerry began shaking as they approached. 

Other senses were observable now. Remote shakings and shuddering of the earth, distant laughter, explosions, and even a trace of a waltz or piccolo reached Pauling’s ears. She could smell the sweet stench of gunpowder and fuel. Adrenaline tantalized her twitching muscles, ready to run and fight. 

An explosion much closer than any before shattered the air. 

Pauling swore for a second she saw a man go flying past her, but it was probably just a trick of her eye from when Jerry screamed, dropped her, and bolted back into the animal-filled sky. 

[mordenheim]

Fictober 2022 07: Check that again, are you sure?

Prompt number: 7. “Check that again, are you sure?”

Fandom: MLP

Rating: E

Warnings/Tags: Destruction, Chaos

—

Dave groaned as he looked at the newest “toy” the higher ups had sent down to the matter generation lab. He leaned back from the screen rubbing his eyes as he rolled his chair across the floor to where Bob was loading the machine itself with a lump of unrefined transformium. “Hey, Bob. Are they really sure they want to waste a lump of TF on, well, this?”

The wire frame preview on the computer screen seemed to turn to face Dave, a scowl forming on its equine face.

Bob rolled his eyes and slammed the hatch shut, sealing it, “Yes, Dave. This is exactly what they asked for.”

“Check that again, are you sure? I mean, the LIMBS don’t even match. It’s like some weird animal-fantasy Frankenstein.” “Frankenstein’s MONSTER, you mean.” Bob pushed his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose with a finger, “And yes, for the last time, it’s exactly what they wanted. Nothing’s been altered, the specs are precise.”

“Alright then. So long as we don’t end up with some kind of disaster like last year.” As Dave turned back tot he computer screen the wire frame was back to a neutral expression but was posed differently. “Huh. That’s weird.” “Oh, just starts the machine, will you?” Entering in the final password, Dave hits the enter key to start the process. All seems to go perfectly well until the heavy vault-like door to the creation chamber turns into what looks to be a giant chocolate chip cookie and falls tot he floor as the strange creature they created steps out in a cloud of mist. First a tan colored goat leg, followed by a green reptilian leg covered in scales. A long, slender snake-like body covered in brown fur. On powerfully muscled arm much like a lion’s foreleg and a thin, dangerous looking arm ending in a talon like a bird of prey. A long, red dragon-like tail ending in a tuft of white fur trailed behind. A beige equine head with one sharp tooth jutting between the lips, a deer antler and a blue, rumpled goat horn topped off the odd creature. Dave looks from the cookie on the floor to the creature in front of his eyes and shakes his head, “This doesn’t make any sense!” The room itself began to transform around them. Tables animated and galloped away, glass beakers turned into puddles of water, the black tile floor became a dizzying warped checkerboard design. Bob and Dave stepped back as the creature responded in a deep, smooth voice with a bit of a harsh edge to it, “What fun is there in making sense?” “Hey Bob?” “Yeah, Dave?” “Think they’re gonna blame us for this one too?” “Yep.” “Fired, aren’t we?” “Absolutely.”

[rideeverystride1]

Horse Blankets Decoded: A Comprehensive Guide to Equine Outerwear

Introduction: In the realm of equestrianism, choosing the right horse blanket is akin to selecting the perfect attire for a cherished friend. These blankets serve as more than mere protective coverings; they are symbols of our commitment to our equine companions' comfort and well-being. In this definitive guide, we embark on a journey through the diverse landscape of equine outerwear, unraveling the complexities of each type of blanket and empowering equestrians to make informed decisions for their beloved horses.

Types of Horse Blankets:

Turnout Blankets: Designed to Withstand the Elements

Turnout blankets are a cornerstone of equine outdoor protection, designed to shield horses from nature's fury in any weather condition. Crafted using durable materials such as ballistic nylon or ripstop polyester, these blankets are known for their resilience against tears and abrasions. The innovative construction techniques used in turnout blankets make them the perfect companions for horses facing blustery winds, torrential downpours, and other environmental challenges.

Materials and Construction:

Renowned for their ability to withstand the rigors of outdoor use, these blankets often feature reinforced stitching and double-layered panels, ensuring maximum durability and longevity. The outer shell is sometimes treated with a waterproof coating or membrane, providing horses with protection against rain, snow, and wind. Additionally, turnout blankets may include adjustable surcingles, leg straps, and shoulder gussets for a secure and comfortable fit, allowing horses to move freely while remaining snug and warm.

2. Stable Blankets: Luxurious Comfort for Indoor Retreats

stable supplies offer horses a cozy retreat from the elements, providing luxurious comfort during rest periods in the barn. Crafted from soft fleece, nylon, wool, or moisture-wicking fabrics, these blankets cocoon horses in warmth without causing overheating. The lightweight design and generous padding of stable blankets ensure optimal comfort for horses while stabled, allowing them to relax and unwind after a day of activity.

Materials and Construction:

These blankets often feature moisture-wicking linings to prevent sweat buildup and regulate temperature, ensuring horses remain comfortable and dry while stabled. Additionally, stable blankets may include nylon linings to prevent rub marks and static buildup, and faux sheepskin wither padding to further enhance a horses' comfort and well-being.

3. Cooler Blankets: Expedited Drying and Muscle Recovery Cooler blankets play a crucial role in aiding horses' gradual drying after exercise or bathing, preventing chilling and promoting muscle recovery. Crafted from specialized moisture-wicking fabrics such as polar fleece or moisture-wicking polyester blends, these blankets expedite the drying process while ensuring horses remain comfortable and dry. They can also be made of luxurious materials like Melton wool, known for its excellent moisture-wicking properties and durability.

Materials and Construction:

Cooler blankets are designed with thoughtful details such as front closure straps or buckles and belly straps or surcingle’s. These blankets not only provide essential drying and comfort for your horse but also serve as a canvas to showcase your barn family and, at times, your competition achievements, as they are occasionally awarded.

4. Rain Sheet: Reliable Protection Against Inclement Weather Rain sheets are essential for shielding horses from inclement weather, ensuring they stay dry and comfortable despite rain, snow, or sleet. Crafted from waterproof materials, and sometimes having a protective coating or membrane, these blankets offer unparalleled defense against moisture. Seam-sealed stitching and breathable linings are common features, preventing condensation buildup and maintaining horse comfort during prolonged exposure to rain.

Materials and Construction:

Crafted from robust materials such as nylon or polyester with a waterproof coating or membrane, rain sheets boast fully seam-sealed stitching to prevent leaks and provide optimal protection against adverse weather conditions. They can be designed large enough to fit over a saddle, and often feature loops to go over a horse's ears, ensuring coverage of the entire neck up to the poll. Breathable linings are also incorporated to prevent moisture buildup, allowing for maximum airflow and ensuring horses stay dry and comfortable in any weather.

5. Fly Sheet / Scrim Sheets: Comprehensive Protection Against Insects, UV Rays, and Dust Scrim sheets offer horses comprehensive protection against biting insects, harmful UV rays, and dust, ensuring they remain comfortable and relaxed in warm weather. These blankets combine lightweight mesh fabric for breathability with strategically placed reinforcements for added protection against insects, UV rays, and dust.

Materials and Construction:

Scrim sheets are crafted from lightweight and breathable mesh fabric, allowing for maximum airflow to keep horses cool and comfortable in warm weather. The blankets may feature double-lined shoulders for added protection against rubs and reinforced stitching for durability. Leather or buckle front closures and belly straps ensure a secure fit and added convenience.

6.Exercise and Quarter Sheets: Versatile Essentials for Training Sessions

Exercise and quarter sheets are versatile pieces of equestrian outerwear designed to keep your horse comfortable and warm during training sessions in cold weather. Whether you're schooling in the arena or hacking out on the trails, these essential accessories provide added warmth while allowing freedom of movement. Exercise sheets are ideal for keeping your horse warm and dry during warm-up and cool-down sessions, while quarter sheets, covering the horse's hindquarters, offer targeted warmth to key muscle groups. This makes them particularly beneficial for horses with clipped coats or those prone to stiffness in cold weather. Additionally, both types of sheets can be used to showcase your stable colors or branding during training sessions or at competitions.

Materials and Construction:

Exercise sheets and quarter sheets are typically crafted from durable and insulating materials such as fleece, wool, or water-resistant fabrics. Fleece and wool options offer excellent warmth and moisture-wicking properties, while water-resistant fabrics provide protection against light rain and snow. These sheets often feature tail cords or straps to secure them in place during exercise.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Horse Blanket:

Purpose and Use: Consider the intended use of the blanket. Are you looking for outdoor protection, stable comfort, or post-exercise recovery? Each type of blanket serves a specific purpose, so it's essential to match the blanket's features with your horse's needs.

Materials and Construction: Pay attention to the materials and construction of the blanket. Turnout blankets should be made from durable materials like ballistic nylon or ripstop polyester to withstand outdoor conditions. Stable blankets, on the other hand, prioritize softness and comfort with fleece, wool, or moisture-wicking fabrics. Cooler blankets often use specialized moisture-wicking fabrics like polar fleece or Melton wool for expedited drying and muscle recovery.

Fit and Sizing: Ensure the blanket fits your horse correctly. A well-fitted blanket should cover the horse's body without restricting movement or causing discomfort. Look for adjustable features such as surcingle’s, leg straps, and shoulder gussets to achieve the perfect fit.

4. Weather Protection: Consider the weather conditions in your area. Turnout blankets should provide reliable protection against rain, snow, and wind, with waterproof coatings or membranes. Rain sheets are specifically designed for wet weather, while fly sheets offer protection against insects, UV rays, and dust in warm weather.

5. Breathability and Comfort: Prioritize breathability and comfort, especially for blankets worn for extended periods. Look for blankets with breathable linings to prevent moisture buildup and allow airflow, keeping your horse dry and comfortable in any weather.

6. Customization Options: Explore customization options to add a personal touch to your horse's blanket. Many blankets offer options for embroidery or engraving, allowing you to add your horse's name, your stable logo, or your preferred colors.

7. Durability and Maintenance: Invest in a high-quality blanket that will withstand daily wear and tear. Check the stitching, reinforcements, and overall construction for durability. Additionally, consider the maintenance requirements of the blanket, such as machine-washable materials or easy-to-clean surfaces.

8.Budget Considerations: Finally, consider your budget when choosing a horse blanket. While quality blankets may come with a higher price tag, they often offer better durability, fit, and features, providing long-term value for your investment.

Conclusion: Now is the opportune time to equip your equine companion with the perfect blanket ensemble. Whether your horse is a seasoned competitor or a beloved companion, Ride Every Stride Inc. stands ready to meet your every need. Our customizable blankets, adorned with names, logos, and colors of your choosing, epitomize the pinnacle of craftsmanship and innovation.

Unlock the gateway to equine excellence with Ride Every Stride's customizable horse blankets. Explore our exquisite collection and visit our website today to discover the perfect blanket for your horse's needs.

For further questions or assistance, please contact us. We are always happy to help.

Source URL- https://www.rideeverystride.com/blogs/news/title-horse-blankets-decoded-a-comprehensive-guide-to-equine-outerwear

[ironwitchpainter]

Star Trek: Planetary Perception and Pursuit, Episode 15: The Light of Harmony

"What Greco-Roman animal is in the engine room?" Kirk's question echoes through the intercom, a peculiar inquiry that piques the curiosity of the crew. Scotty, his hands deep in the engine's guts, pauses for a moment, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Ah, Captain, ye're thinkin' of the mighty centaur, are ye?" His Scottish accent rings through the speakers. "The centaur, a creature of legend, half man, half horse, symbolizes the perfect blend of wisdom and strength. In the engine room, it's not unlike the fusion core that powers the Enterprise. It's the heart of our ship, a blend of science and technology that allows us to traverse the stars." He wipes his forehead with a greasy cloth, the engine's hum a comforting backdrop. "But, Captain, if ye're lookin' for an actual animal, I'd say the closest we've got is a tribble. They're always poppin' up where they're not supposed to, aye?" The crew shares a laugh, the tension of the recent events momentarily lifted. Kirk's message is clear: the diversity of their experiences, much like the mythological creatures and pests they encounter, only serves to enrich their journey. The Heart of Unity orchid, once a source of discord, has become a symbol of their collective strength and adaptability. Their mission, now reaffirmed, is to explore the galaxy with open hearts and minds, to seek out new life and new civilizations, and to boldly go where no one has gone before.

As the Enterprise sails through the cosmos, a peculiar event unfolds. Scotty, in the midst of his usual rounds in the engine room, pauses as his gaze falls upon an unexpected sight. There, amidst the maze of glowing consoles and humming machinery, stands a creature of mythological proportions - a centaur. The creature, a blend of human and horse, moves with an uncanny grace, its muscles rippling with power and intellect. The room seems to still around it, the very air charged with an ancient wisdom that seems to resonate with the ship's systems. Scotty blinks, rubs his eyes, and looks again, it's still there.

Still slightly out of breath from his rush to the bridge "Captain, ye've got to see this. In the engine room, there's... there's a centaur. I'm not jestin'!" Kirk's eyebrow arches in disbelief, but Scotty's earnest tone leaves no room for doubt. The captain's curiosity piqued, he follows the engineer back to the engine room, the rest of the senior staff in tow.

Looking at the centaur, his eyes wide with wonder "Scotty, are you sure you're not seeing things?"

"Aye, Captain. I know what I've seen. And I'd wager my reputation as Chief Engineer that this creature is as real as the dilithium in our warp core."

The centaur, a majestic creature with the torso of a man and the lower body of a horse, stands proudly amidst the gleaming consoles and whirring machinery of the engine room. Its human eyes, filled with ancient wisdom, meet Kirk's gaze, and it speaks in a voice that resonates with the very fabric of the ship. "Greetings, Captain Kirk, and esteemed members of the USS Enterprise. I am Chiron, a centaur of old, sent to impart a message of unity and balance in these tumultuous times." The creature's deep, sonorous voice fills the space, and the crew exchanges astonished glances.

"Fascinating. Chiron, the centaur from Greek mythology, was known for his intelligence and his ability to teach heroes, including Achilles."

"Welcome, Chiron," Kirk says, his voice steady despite his surprise. "But what is the meaning of your presence on my ship?"

Chiron, the centaur, steps forward with a regal grace that seems to command the very air of the engine room. His equine half is a sleek, dappled gray, and his human torso is muscular and adorned with a simple, yet elegant, tunic. His eyes, filled with the wisdom of the ancients, bore into Kirk's own. "Captain, I am here as a manifestation of Our realms have intertwined, and has brought me to you to deliver a message of profound importance."

Chiron delivers his message with the solemnity of an oracle. His words, steeped in the lore of the ancients, resonate through the engine room. "You, Captain Kirk, and your crew, have faced a trial that tested the very essence of your hearts and your bonds. The challenge you have just faced has taught you that love and duty are not opposing forces but rather two sides of the same coin. In balancing the two, you have proven yourselves worthy of the title 'explorers of the cosmos.' The time has come for you to carry this wisdom forth, to be beacons of unity in a galaxy that often knows only division."

Chiron, the mythical centaur, presents Captain Kirk and his crew with a mission. He speaks of an impending cosmic event, a rare convergence of stars and planets that will disrupt the balance of the galaxy. This event, known as the Eclipse of Harmony, threatens to disrupt peaceful relationships between species and could lead to widespread chaos. As a symbol of unity and understanding, the Enterprise is chosen to embark on a quest to restore equilibrium.

Chiron, the embodiment of ancient wisdom, acknowledges their incredulity. "You speak of controlling the movements of celestial bodies, Captain. Indeed, that is a task beyond your current grasp. But fear not, for your mission is not to manipulate the cosmos, but to guide the hearts and minds of those it affects. The Eclipse of Harmony is not a physical event but a metaphorical one. It represents the alignment of diverse interests and the challenge of maintaining peace amidst change. By fostering unity and empathy, you can be the stewards of balance that the galaxy requires."

The problem at hand, as Chiron elucidates, is that the Eclipse of Harmony is moving conflicting cultures into proximity with one another. "Imagine, Captain, a planet whose very essence requires the warmth of a star's embrace to flourish, yet another planet, dependent on the cooler shadows for its survival, now finds itself in the path of the same star's light. The delicate balance of existence is disrupted, and it is your duty to mediate, to guide these worlds to a harmonious coexistence." The centaur's gaze lingers on Kirk, emphasizing the gravity of their task. "One planet may not flourish in the light, while another withers in darkness, unable to receive the photons it requires for sustenance. Your challenge is to navigate these relationships with the same finesse and understanding you've displayed in your recent trials."

As the crew processes the weight of Chiron's words, the practicalities of his presence onboard begin to dawn on them. The question of guest quarters for a creature of his size and nature brings a touch of reality to the mythic encounter. Yet, Kirk, ever the innovator, suggests an alternative. "Perhaps the arboretum could serve as his temporary sanctuary," he muses. "It's spacious enough to accommodate him comfortably and maintains a connection to the natural world, which seems to be in line with his origins." The idea is met with nods of agreement, and Chiron seems content with the solution. His equine form blending with the flora and fauna, he accepts the offer gracefully. "The Heart of Unity orchid will have company," he notes with a knowing smile. "Let us proceed to this place of peace and contemplation."

With the centaur's guidance, the Enterprise sets a course for the epicenter of the Eclipse of Harmony's disruptions. The stars align as if leading them to the exact location where the chaos is most pronounced. The ship's sensors flicker with unprecedented readings, and the bridge crew exchanges anxious glances. Kirk's hand rests firmly on the captain's chair, his gaze unwavering as he addresses the centaur. "Chiron, we are ready to face whatever challenges await us in the name of unity and peace. Lead us to where your wisdom indicates the greatest conflict is occurring." The centaur nods solemnly, his eyes reflecting the stars outside the viewscreen. The Enterprise leaps into warp, cutting through space-time with a grace that mirrors the creature standing before them. The journey ahead is fraught with unknowns, but with the Heart of Unity orchid's gentle glow and Chiron's ancient wisdom, the crew is filled with a newfound sense of purpose and unity. They are the guardians of peace in a galaxy poised on the brink of discord, and their mission is clear: to restore balance, one heart and one world at a time.

Upon reaching the designated coordinates, the Enterprise discovers two neighboring planets, Helios and Umbra, locked in a perilous dance of survival. Helios, a verdant world basking in the life-giving embrace of its sun, is desperately trying to maintain its orbit to avoid the encroaching shadow of its neighbor. Meanwhile, Umbra, a world of eternal twilight, is slowly being scorched by the very light it once craved in moderation. The inhabitants of both planets are in a state of panic and anger, their once harmonious existence now a distant memory as they wage war over the very essence of their lives: light and shadow. It's a cosmic balancing act that Chiron had foretold, and the stakes are higher than anyone could have imagined. The crews of the Enterprise, their hearts swelling with the lessons of the Heart of Unity orchid, now face the challenge of convincing these two worlds that their very survival depends on each other. The Eclipse of Harmony is not just a celestial phenomenon but a metaphor for the delicate interdependence of all life in the galaxy. Kirk's voice, steady and firm, resonates with the gravity of their mission. "We must act swiftly, my friends. The fate of these worlds rests in our hands, and it is our duty to show them that together, they can overcome the forces that threaten to tear them apart." The crew nods in determination, their diverse backgrounds and experiences coalescing into a formidable force of diplomacy, ingenuity, and compassion. They stand ready to become the embodiment of the unity that Chiron has foretold, bridging the gap between light and shadow to restore peace to the galaxy.

Gathered in the briefing room, Kirk, Spock, McCoy, and the senior staff ponder over the PADDs displaying the scientific data of the Eclipse of Harmony. Ideas are tossed around, each one more ambitious than the last. The tension is palpable as they seek a solution that respects the natural order of the cosmos while safeguarding the lives of the inhabitants of Helios and Umbra. It is Scotty who proposes a daring plan, his eyes alight with the spark of innovation. "What if we build a station, Captain? A veritable light cannon that could intercept the sun's rays before they reach Umbra and redirect them around the planet, straight to Helios." The room falls silent as the implications of such a feat sink in. The engineering challenge is immense, yet the concept resonates with the essence of their mission. A structure that embodies the very essence of unity and balance, bridging the gap between opposing forces. Kirk's gaze sharpens, and he turns to Spock. "How feasible is this, Mr. Spock? Could we construct such a station without further destabilizing the delicate balance of these worlds?" Spock's fingers tap thoughtfully on the console before him. "Theoretically, it is possible, Captain. The technology required would be substantial, but with the resources of the Federation we may stand a chance." McCoy, ever the pragmatist, interjects, "But the timeframe, Spock. Can we pull this off before the eclipse causes irreparable damage?" Spock raises an eyebrow. "Doctors, it would be... challenging. But with the combined efforts of our crew and the goodwill of the inhabitants of both planets, we may yet achieve a solution that satisfies both the demands of physics and the imperatives of peace." The room buzzes with excitement as the crew brainstorms the logistics of such an endeavor. The light cannon is more than a mere engineering project; it is a symbol of their collective commitment to unity and their belief in the power of love and friendship to conquer the darkest shadows. As they break into teams to begin the monumental task, the Heart of Unity orchid seems to glow brighter, as if in anticipation of the unity that will soon be forged from the very fabric of space itself.

Kirk initiates communication with the leaders of Helios, presenting their audacious plan for the light cannon station. The Heliosians, a proud and fiercely independent people, are initially skeptical. They view the proposal as an intrusion into their age-old conflict with Umbra, whose very existence they blame for their plight. "We do not need your interference, Kirk of the Enterprise," the Heliosian Prime Minister retorts, his features tight with anger. "We have survived for millennia by adapting to the whims of the cosmos. We will find our own way to survive this eclipse." Kirk's voice remains calm, his Midwest charm a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. "We offer not interference, but cooperation. The Eclipse of Harmony is a testament to the interconnectedness of all things. We must stand together to preserve the balance that sustains us all." But the Heliosians remain steadfast in their refusal, their hearts blinded by resentment. It is clear that the road ahead will be fraught with diplomatic challenges as significant as the engineering marvel they must construct. Yet, Kirk remains undeterred. "We will not force our aid upon you, but we stand ready to help when you are willing to see that your survival is linked to that of your neighbor." The silence on the other end of the transmission is heavy with unspoken accusations and unresolved anger. The fate of the two worlds hangs in the balance, and it is up to the crew of the Enterprise to find a way to shine the light of understanding into the darkest corners of this cosmic impasse.

With the proposal laid before the people of Helios, Kirk and his senior staff turn their attention to the shadowy world of Umbra. They contact the Umbran High Council, their message one of peace and unity. To their surprise, the Ubrans agree to the construction of the station. However, their response is tinged with resignation. "We have no choice but to allow this," the High Councilor states, her voice weary. "Our entire civilization is mobilized for war. We cannot spare a single hand to aid in your endeavor." The room on the Enterprise bridge is filled with a mix of disappointment and understanding. They know that the hearts of the Umbran people are as bound by the conflict as their own planet is to the eclipse. Kirk nods solemnly. "We will not ask for your help in this endeavor. But we do ask for your trust and cooperation. Together, we can forge a future where Helios and Umbra live in harmony." The Councilor's gaze hardens. "We shall grant you the land for your station, but we cannot offer you our aid. Our resources are stretched thin, and our people are desperate. We must prioritize our survival." Kirk acknowledges her words with a nod, his mind already racing with the complexities of building a bridge between worlds without the support of one of its pillars. Yet, he knows that the light of hope must come from within, and it is their duty to be the catalyst that ignites the fires of peace. "We will proceed with the construction of the station, and we will do so with the hope that our actions may illuminate a path to reconciliation between your people and those of Helios." The transmission ends, and the crew of the Enterprise is left to grapple with the monumental task ahead. They are the architects of peace in a cosmic conflict that has endured for eons, and it is their unity and the wisdom of Chiron that must now guide their every move.

The construction of the light cannon station begins on the shadowy surface of Umbra. The crew of the Enterprise, driven by the urgency of their mission, toils tirelessly under the watchful eyes of the centaur. However, the task is Herculean. The eclipse looms closer, and the timeframe for completion seems insurmountable. Kirk, ever the strategist, contacts Starfleet Command to request additional resources and ships to aid in the construction. The response is swift and positive, a testament to the urgency of their quest. Starfleet vessels begin to arrive, their crews joining the Enterprise's in the shadowy craters of Umbra. Yet, the Umbran people, accustomed to the soft glow of their twilight world, are adamant in their refusal to allow artificial light to pierce the veil of darkness that shrouds their planet. The challenge is clear: they must build the station in near-darkness, their eyes straining to make out the details of their work. The air is thick with tension as the crews from various worlds labor side by side, united in their struggle against time and the relentless march of the eclipse. Despite the darkness, the Heart of Unity orchid's light seems to reach them, a beacon of hope and reminder of the bond that ties them all together. They are the embodiment of the unity that Chiron has foretold, and it is through this unity that they will conquer the shadows that threaten to engulf Helios and Umbra. The light cannon station, a gleaming bastion of cooperation, rises from the shadowy lands, each beam and pylon a silent promise of peace and a testament to the unyielding spirit of the Enterprise crew.

Meanwhile, the engineering team, under Scotty's steadfast leadership, starts replicating night vision goggles for the workers who are eager to contribute their labor to the construction. The replicators hum with the urgency of their mission, churning out the necessary components. However, the demand for materials is high, and the priority is clear: the station must come first. The goggles are distributed as quickly as possible, but the pace is slow, hindered by the overwhelming need to construct the light cannon before the eclipse. The replicators are pushed to their limits, the crew working in shifts to ensure that the parts for the station are produced with the utmost speed. Despite the challenges, the crew remains undeterred. They understand that the night vision goggles are a symbol of their willingness to adapt and include all in their quest for unity. The goggles, though simple in design, represent the shared vision that will soon illuminate the path to peace. Each pair handed out is met with a quiet nod of thanks from the workers, their faces a map of determination. The light cannon station grows steadily, a bastion of hope in the face of impending darkness, and the crew knows that their collective effort is the key to unlocking the hearts of both Helios and Umbra.

As the Enterprise and its allied Starfleet vessels continue their work on the light cannon station, the Heliosian fleet approaches, their ships bristling with weaponry. The Heliosians accuse Starfleet of aiding Umbra in their war effort, mistaking the construction for a military installation. The air is charged with accusation and suspicion as Kirk tries to explain the true nature of their mission. His words, though earnest, fall on deaf ears as the Heliosian Prime Minister declares, "Your actions are a declaration of war, Kirk!" Kirk's jaw tightens as he responds, his voice a mix of steel and compassion. "We are here to build a bridge between your worlds, not to fuel a conflict that has no winners. We offer you a chance to share the light, to live in harmony. The station is for the benefit of both Helios and Umbra, a beacon of peace and unity." The Heliosian ships hover ominously, their intentions unclear. The tension is palpable, the fate of two worlds hanging in the balance. It is a critical moment that tests the very essence of their mission: to bring light to the shadows of misunderstanding and fear, and to show that even in the face of ancient enmity, love and friendship can prevail. The Enterprise's crew, united by the Heart of Unity orchid's light, stand firm in their conviction that peace is the only path forward. They continue their work, their hearts heavy with the burden of accusation, but their spirits unbroken by the knowledge that they are the vanguard of a new era, one where the cosmic dance of light and shadow is a celebration of life's interdependence, rather than a battleground of bitterness and strife.

Despite Kirk's pleas for peace, the Heliosian fleet, blinded by anger and suspicion, opens fire on the Starfleet vessels and the construction site. The chaos is sudden and shocking, a stark contrast to the unity that had been building. The light cannon, a symbol of their hope, is struck by the relentless barrage, its gleaming structures now marred by the scars of conflict. The damage is severe, and the crew's hearts sink as they realize the grim truth: the station may not be completed in time. The once orderly lines of construction are now a battleground, with sparks flying and metal groaning under the onslaught. Yet, amidst the turmoil, the crew's resolve does not falter. They know that the eclipse is approaching, and with it, the fate of two worlds hangs precariously. The light cannon is not just a tool but a symbol of their collective will to overcome the shadows of the past. As the Heliosian ships continue their attack, Kirk's voice rings out over the comms. "This is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise. We are not your enemy. We are here to help. Stop your assault, and let us show you the light of unity!" The words hang in the air, a desperate plea for sanity amidst the madness. The Heliosians do not relent, and the crew of the Enterprise is forced to defend themselves while simultaneously attempting to complete their mission. The stakes are higher than ever before, and the crew must now find a way to restore peace not just between Helios and Umbra, but within the very hearts of those who would destroy the very symbol of their salvation.

The Enterprise fires back, not in anger but in defense of their noble endeavor. Yet, even as phasers fly and shields flare, Kirk and his senior staff are already formulating a new strategy. The decision is made swiftly and decisively: they will link the shields of the Starfleet vessels with those of the Enterprise, creating a unified front that not only protects the light cannon's construction but also sends a clear message to the Heliosians. The shields of the various starships interlock, their energy signatures merging into a single, resplendent barrier that arches over the shadowy surface of Umbra. It is a powerful symbol of their unity, a declaration that they stand as one in the face of adversity. their combined strength a beacon of hope that pierces the darkness. The crew, now more determined than ever, works feverishly to complete the station, knowing that each second could mean the difference between a future of harmony or one of endless night. The air is thick with the scent of ozone and the sound of clanging metal, a cacophony of war and peace intertwined. Yet, amidst the chaos, the light cannon remains a bastion of hope, a testament to the power of friendship and unity. Kirk's voice, strong and clear, echoes through the ship. "Hold the line, everyone. We are the guardians of peace. Let us show the universe that love and understanding can conquer the darkest of shadows." The crew responds with a resounding cheer, their spirits bolstered by their captain's unwavering belief in their mission. They know that together, they can overcome any obstacle, and that the light they bring to Helios and Umbra will shine as a beacon for all civilizations, proving that even in the face of the most dire circumstances, unity can prevail.

With the Heliosian fleet's unexpected assault, the crew of the Enterprise and their allies scramble to repair the damaged light cannon. Top engineers, donned with night vision goggles, crawl over the sprawling structure, their eyes piercing the gloom to locate and fix the most critical systems. The urgency of their task is matched only by the ferocity of the battle raging around them. The once-bustling construction site is now a scene of chaos, with the clang of metal and the hiss of plasma bolts punctuating the air. The engineers, driven by the knowledge that time is running out, prioritize the most vital repairs. They move with the precision of a well-oiled machine, each action a testament to their unbreakable bond. Meanwhile, the ships are left with skeleton crews, their consoles manned by those who can operate the vessels with the barest of attention, their eyes and thoughts fixed on the battle below. The others have descended to Umbra, working tirelessly to ensure that the light cannon's beam will shine forth when the eclipse is at its peak. The night vision goggles become a symbol of their shared purpose, allowing them to see through the darkness of misunderstanding and fear to the light of unity that lies just beyond. The goggles, once a simple tool, now represent the unflagging resolve of a crew that refuses to be daunted by the shadows of the past. They work together, each one a cog in the great wheel of peace, their movements synchronized by the rhythm of their shared hope. The light cannon, though scarred, remains steadfast, a silent sentinel in the night, a promise that love and friendship can conquer even the most ancient of feuds.

As the chaos of battle rages on, the Enterprise's crew continues their work on the light cannon, a stark contrast to the mindless aggression of the Heliosian fleet. Each member of the team operates with a clarity of purpose that belies the tumult around them. The night vision goggles, once a practical tool, have become a metaphor for their collective vision, allowing them to see beyond the immediate danger to the greater good that lies ahead. They move with the grace of dancers, each step and gesture a silent declaration of unity in the face of adversity. Their eyes, protected by the goggles, remain focused on the task at hand, while their hearts hold the hope that their labor will not be in vain. The light cannon, a monument to their belief in the power of unity, stands tall amidst the wreckage, a beacon of hope in the shadowy craters of Umbra. Each weld, each bolt tightened, is a declaration of their intent to stand firm in the face of those who would destroy their dream. The goggles may obscure their vision of the stars, but they do not obscure their view of the ultimate goal: to bring the warmth of the sun's embrace back to Helios and to illuminate the path to peace between two long-estranged worlds. The rhythm of their work is a silent symphony, a testament to the unbreakable bond they share and the unity they seek to forge. They are not mere drones, blindly following orders; they are the architects of destiny, crafting a future where the light of understanding shines on all.

"Cease fire! This is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise!" Kirk's voice booms over the comms, his patience wearing thin. He knows that the schematics of the light cannon, displayed on the viewscreen, reveal no military secrets, only the intricate web of technology and hope that is their peace offering. "We are not constructing a weapon, nor

Captain Kirk, his voice strained with urgency, halts the barrage of phasers for a brief, tense moment. "This is Captain James T. Kirk of the USS Enterprise!" he calls out over the comms, his words a desperate bridge thrown across the void of misunderstanding. "I implore you, the leaders of Helios, to cease your attack and look upon what we are building here!"

On the viewscreen, the schematics of the light cannon are displayed in stark detail. The design is elegant, a marriage of form and function that speaks not of war, but of unity and shared purpose. "This is not a military installation," Kirk continues, his voice a steady beacon in the storm of conflict. "This is a beacon of hope, a tool to restore balance to your worlds. We are constructing a light cannon to save Helios from the shadow that threatens to engulf it. The station is for the good of both your people and those of Umbra. It is a symbol of peace, not war!"

The screen flickers with the incoming response, the Heliosian Prime Minister's visage contorted with disbelief and anger. "You expect us to trust you, Kirk?" he snarls. "You stand with our enemies!"

Kirk's eyes never leave the screen, his gaze steady and unwavering. "We stand with those who seek peace," he counters, his voice firm with conviction. "love and friendship can conquer any darkness. We are not your adversaries, but your allies in this quest for balance. We ask that you join us, that together we may bring light to the shadowed corners of your hearts and to your worlds."

The Heliosian ships hover, their weapons powered down but their intentions still unclear. Kirk's hand clenches the armrest of his chair, his knuckles white with the tension of the moment. The silence stretches, thick with the weight of their decision. "Look at what we're creating," Kirk urges, gesturing to the images of the light cannon on the viewscreen. "It is not a fortress, but a bridge. A bridge that can connect your worlds once more, allowing you to share the light that is your birthright."

The Heliosian Prime Minister's expression falters, his eyes darting to the schematics and then back to Kirk. For a heartbeat, the room holds its breath, the fate of Helios and Umbra poised on the edge of a knife. Then, with a heavy sigh, the Prime Minister nods. "We will hold our fire," he says slowly. "But we will be watching. If what you say is true, Kirk, then perhaps there is hope for your kind yet."

The comms fall silent, and the bridge crew exhale in unison. The light cannon, scarred by the battle, remains a silent sentinel, a symbol of the peace they fight for. Kirk nods to his officers, his eyes never leaving the viewscreen. "Let's show them what we're made of," he murmurs. "Let's build that bridge."

The order is given, and the Enterprise's phasers cease their fire. The Heliosian fleet, their ships still menacing but their weapons silent, hover in the shadow of the eclipse's shadow. On the surface of Umbra, the crew of the Enterprise and their allies double their efforts, the light of the night vision goggles piercing the gloom as they work to complete the light cannon. The air is charged with anticipation and hope, the very ess

"This is Captain Kirk of the USS Enterprise. We have secured a temporary ceasefire with the Heliosians. I urge you, the leaders of Umbra, to set aside your war efforts and focus on the construction of the light cannon." Kirk's voice is a beacon of hope amidst the chaos of the battle-torn sky. "This station is not a weapon, but a gift from the stars, a testament to the unity and peace we wish to foster between your world and Helios."

The viewscreen flickers with the image of the light cannon, a gleaming bastion of hope amidst the shadowy craters of Umbra. "Together, we can harness the power of the eclipse, turning it from a harbinger of doom into a herald of a new era. One where the light of the sun is shared, not hoarded, and where the shadow of fear no longer divides you. as we work side by side, united in purpose."

The Umbran leader, his face a mask of skepticism, finally speaks. "And what guarantee do we have that this 'light cannon' will not be used against us?"

Kirk's response is swift and resolute. "Only the guarantee of our friendship, and the knowledge that the very essence of this mission is to restore balance and harmony. The Heliosians have agreed to stand down, if only to witness the power of unity in action."

The screen falls silent as the Umbran leader considers Kirk's words. The crew of the Enterprise, their eyes gleaming with determination behind their night vision goggles, watches with bated breath. The light cannon looms in the background, a silent sentinel to their shared dream of peace. Kirk leans forward, his hand resting on the comms console. "I understand your fear, but we are offering you a chance to choose a different path. A path of cooperation, of unity, that can lead to a future where your people and the Heliosians live in harmony."

Finally, the Umbran leader nods. "We will stand down," he says slowly, his voice echoing over the comms. "Let us see if your words hold truth, Kirk. If your light cannon brings peace, then perhaps there is a place for us all under the same sun."

The comms go quiet, and the battlefield holds its breath. Kirk turns to his senior staff, his gaze fiery with determination. "We've bought ourselves some time," he says. "Let's not waste it. Finish the light cannon, and let the power of unity be our shield and sword in the face of darkness."

As the Heliosian fleet holds their fire, the tension on the surface of Umbra is palpable. The crew of the Enterprise watches the viewscreen, their eyes flickering with hope as Kirk extends his hand to the Umbran leaders. "Your people have borne the brunt of the eclipse's shadow for too long," Kirk says, his voice a gentle reminder of their shared plight. "We are here to offer you a way out of the darkness. Will you stand with us?"

The Umbran High Councilor regards the captain with a mix of skepticism and curiosity. "Our trust in outsiders is not easily won," she says, her voice cool and measured. "But the desperation of our people is great. We have heard the legend of the Eclipse of Harmony, and the light cannon you speak of intrigues us."

Kirk nods solemnly. "We understand your hesitation, but we assure you, our intentions are pure. The light cannon is a symbol of our commitment to unity and peace. We need your help to complete it, to show the Heliosians that together, we can overcome the shadows of the past."

The Councilor exchanges a look with her advisors before speaking again. "We will send a contingent of engineers to assist in the construction," she says finally. "But be warned, Kirk. If this is a ruse, if you seek to use our worlds as pawns in some cosmic game, we will not stand idly by."

The captain's smile is one of relief and gratitude. "Thank you," he says simply. "Your help is invaluable."

The comms crackle with the arrival of the Umbran engineers, their wide eyes gleaming in the dim light. They join the frenetic work on the light cannon, their movements precise and efficient. The sight of the two groups, once sworn enemies, working in tandem is a powerful symbol of the change that Kirk and his crew are striving to bring about. The air is thick with anticipation as the light cannon nears completion, its gleaming structure a beacon of hope in the shadowy landscape.

As the sun's fiery embrace draws ever closer to the Umbran tree-city, threatening to scorch it to ash, the light cannon stands tall and ready. The combined efforts of the Enterprise crew, the Heliosians, and the Umbrans have brought it to life, a gleaming bastion of unity in the face of the eclipse's fury. Kirk's voice is a command that cuts through the air, "Fire the light cannon!"

The cannon hums to life, its power building, a symphony of energy that resonates with the beating hearts of all present. The beam shoots forth, a pillar of pure light that pierces the shadowy veil that has separated Helios and Umbra for millennia. It arcs through the sky, a bridge of brilliance that connects the two worlds as it reaches out to the sun. The Heliosian fleet, their weapons still, watch in awe as the light cannon's beam touches the solar surface, drawing forth a gentle embrace of warmth and light that cascades over the shadowed lands below.

The sun's deadly embrace falters, the light cannon's power growing stronger with each passing second. The tree-city is bathed in darkness, the once-threatening heat now a lifeline that revitalizes the ancient structures and the spirits of the Heliosian people. The shadow retreats, revealing a world that has known only darkness, now basking in the light of friendship and peace.

On the surface, the crew of the Enterprise watches in wonder as the light cannon performs its miracle, their hearts swelling with pride and hope. The Heliosians, their eyes filled with tears, realize the truth in Kirk's words. The light cannon is not a weapon, but a bridge, a bridge built on the foundation of love and unity that can conquer even the darkest of shadows.

The eclipse reaches its zenith, and the light cannon's beam reaches its peak, a shimmering arch that spans the void between worlds. As the sun's light is blocked out over the tree-city, the Enterprise crew feels a collective sigh of relief. They have done it. They have turned the tide of fate, bringing the warmth of friendship to the cold embrace of the eclipse.

The Heliosian Prime Minister's voice crackles over the comms, filled with a newfound respect. "We see the light, Kirk. The light of peace and understanding. We stand with you, and we stand with the people of Umbra."

The Umbran Councilor, her voice trembling with emotion, echoes his sentiment. "We are one," she says. "Let us work together to ensure that this eclipse marks not the end of our worlds, but the dawn of a new era of unity and shared prosperity."

The two worlds, once bound by hatred and fear, now bound by the light of friendship and hope, stand united under the balanced embrace of the eclipse. The Heart of Unity orchid on the Enterprise pulses in response, its light growing stronger, a living testament to the power of unity in the face of adversity. Kirk looks out at the gleaming arch that now connects Helios and Umbra and knows that they have not only completed their mission but also set in motion a chain of events that will resonate throughout the galaxy, a beacon of hope for all those who dare to dream of a brighter future.

As the light cannon's beam reaches its zenith, the figure of Chiron, the mythological centaur, stands in the arboretum, his form bathed in the warm glow of the restored sunlight. His eyes, filled with wisdom and understanding, survey the scene below. "Well done, Kirk," he says, his voice resonating through the ship. "You and your crew have shown that love and friendship can conquer even the darkest of shadows."

Kirk, his eyes never leaving the viewscreen, nods solemnly. "We are merely the instruments of peace," he responds. "It is the unity of Helios and Umbra that has truly brought about this change."

The captain watches as the Heart of Unity orchid responds to the successful completion of the light cannon, its petals unfurling in a cascade of light that mirrors the beam connecting the two worlds. The orchid's light spreads, filling the room with a warm, golden glow that seems to seep into the very fabric of the ship, a reminder of the power of unity that has brought them this far.

"The Eclipse of Harmony is upon us," Chiron continues, his gaze on the shimmering arch that now links Helios and Umbra. "Let this be a symbol of the harmony you have restored, a reminder that even in the darkest of times, the light of friendship can shine through."

The crew of the Enterprise, their hearts swelling with pride and hope, watch as the eclipse reaches its peak. The light cannon's beam, a bridge of peace, stands firm, a testament to their collective strength and the bonds they have forged. They know that the true victory lies not in the technology they have built, but in the hearts and minds of the people they have brought together.

The light cannon's power diminishes as the eclipse passes, the two worlds once again. The Heliosians and Umbrans, their eyes still filled with wonder, begin to rebuild their shattered worlds, united in their newfound friendship. The Enterprise, its mission accomplished, prepares to depart, leaving behind a legacy of peace and a promise of a brighter future.

Chiron, his eyes filled with warmth and satisfaction, turns to Kirk. "I have grown quite fond of your arboretum," he says with a gentle smile. "The peace and harmony that resonate within its walls are a balm to my ancient soul. I wish to make it my eternal home, a sanctuary where the spirits of unity and balance may always dwell."

The ship's arboretum, once a place of contemplation and respite, now holds the spirit of a mythological guardian, a living embodiment of the unity the crew has worked so hard to achieve. The light cannon, now a monument to peace, stands as a silent sentinel, a reminder that even the most ancient of feuds can be healed by the warmth of love and the light of friendship.

As the Enterprise departs, the light cannon's beam dims, leaving behind a gentle, pulsing glow that links Helios and Umbra. The eclipse fades into memory, and the orchid's light remains, a beacon in the night, a symbol of the enduring unity that now connects two worlds once lost in shadow. Kirk, his gaze lingering on the dwindling light, knows that their mission has only just begun. The cosmos is vast, and there are countless more worlds yearning for the warmth of unity's embrace.

Their journey continues, a testament to the power of friendship and the indomitable spirit of Starfleet. As they set a course for the stars, the light of the Heart of Unity orchid guides them, a promise of peace and understanding that will light their way through the darkest of nights.

Kirk turns to Chiron, his expression a mix of awe and uncertainty. "Your presence here is a profound gift," he says slowly. "But I'm not sure Starfleet is prepared to host a mythological being on one of its ships." He runs a hand through his hair, his mind racing with the implications. "And as for how you came to be here, we're still trying to piece that together."

Chiron's smile is knowing. "Fear not, Captain," he assures Kirk. "I am bound

to the orchid now, and it to me. We shall remain as guardians of the balance you have wrought. The light cannon is but a symbol; the true bridge between your worlds is the bond you have forged."

The captain nods, understanding the gravity of the situation. "Very well," he says, his voice firm. "But we'll need to report this to Starfleet Command. They'll want to know about our... new passenger."

As the Enterprise streaks away from the eclipse, leaving the now-harmonious worlds of Helios and Umbra behind, the Heart of Unity orchid continues to pulse with a gentle glow. Chiron's presence is felt throughout the ship, a silent companion to the crew that has come to represent the very essence of their mission. Kirk knows that this is not the end of their story, but the beginning of a new chapter, one where the light of friendship shines brightly, guiding them through the vast expanse of space and the trials that await them.

The crew gathers in the arboretum, their faces reflecting the soft light of the orchid. They share a moment of quiet contemplation, each one lost in their own thoughts about the profound change they have brought to the galaxy. As they gaze upon the Heart of Unity, they are reminded that their bonds, forged in the crucible of adversity, are the true engines of peace.

[egittae]

[drabble] occurrimus iterum

tw for mention of animal death. Current day, Garreg Mach Monastery

It was after much training that he was finally allowed to have his own mount, and Lambert was excited about it. There was something in him that felt attached to those animals, and when he was able to ride a couple laps around with his new mount it felt as if he had been doing that for years- the way he handled his balance, the reins, the subtle commands to the horse were almost automatic to the point he barely even felt like he needed to think to do it. It just happened, like that.

I suppose I was a fairly good rider back then, he thought to himself. At last! His own horse.

With a low whistle, Lambert looked up at the animal, who was busy with a mouthful of hay. “Now this is one beast of a horse, is it not?” A shire stallion, entirely black save for the feathers framing its hooves and a single mark on its face, in white. At the shoulder, he stood at 185 cm- easily towering over most equines inside the other stalls. “And he looks strong too, those legs are no joke.” Pure muscle, head to hoof.

And yet, the stallion was a docile little thing. He happily ate hay, every now and then trying to reach Lambert with its nose to sniff him but never trying to bite. The truest form of a giant gentle.

“I thought those horses were draft animals, for pulling carriages and weight. But I suppose it makes sense to ride one into battle…the enemy probably will not expect a horse the size of a wall bulldozing the frontlines, hahaha!” The mental image was definitely horrifying, but to Lambert it was great. Intimidation was key in battle. He ran one hand up and down the horse’s face, gently caressing him as he munched on hay.

“Do you have any ideas for a name?”

“What?” Lambert finally turned around to face the individual that had been there alongside him the entire time- the guy who managed the monastery’s stalls. He…might have forgotten that the guy was there, having been too focused on the horse, but oh well. “A name? Huh…not really, not yet. Thank you for reminding me, now give me a minute...”

A name for his mount…naming living beings was so very difficult, so much so that he felt a headache coming through- earning a bothered hum from the teacher. “...Löwen!” He blurted out suddenly, though the horse remained unfazed. The stall manager on the other hand began writing down the name on a document.

“-Dauphin Spaghetti.”

The manager paused, then stared at Lambert. 

“What?”

“Spaghetti?”

“Yes, any problem with it?”

The poor man was stunned beyond belief. It wasn’t uncommon for students and faculty to add multiple names to their mounts- nor for them to add some names that were puns or inside jokes, but that was…unexpected at best, a little ridiculous at worst. “I mean, sir…you are naming your horse Spaghetti of all things…are you sure?”

“Very much so. Besides, that is only the last name. I shall still call him Löwen.” Lambert didn’t seem bothered in the slightest at the manager’s reaction to the name he picked. Löwen Dauphin Spaghetti. He knew it sounded ridiculous, he wasn’t naive. “End of the story.”

“...yes, professor. Noted.” Looking a bit defeated and…almost as if trying to hold back a laugh, the manager wrote down the mount’s name on the document and left. 

“Besides, you do not seem like the type to get angry over those things anyway, am I right Löwen?” Lambert scoffed slightly, still rubbing the stallion’s face as he quietly talked to him. In response, the horse huffed, slightly angling his head so Lambert could scratch a spot he liked. “...so you do like scratches, do you not? Goofy thing!” The man laughed, happily indulging the animal in scratches.

It felt nice, almost nostalgic- though the fog remained ever so strong.

In the end, the stallion’s name was coined Löwen Dauphin Spaghetti.

—

Imperial year 1148, Garreg Mach Monastery

“You need to pick a good name for it, Your Highness!” A student urged the prince- who seemed rather aloof to it all. Lambert had just gotten his first horse at the Academy after much training, and he was excited to finally be able to advance on his riding classes. That horse had been given to him from the royal stables in Faerghus, so it was really his horse.

A gray Zangersheide, slightly dappled. Not enormous, but a fast, sporty and bold stallion. Perfect for quick maneuvers with a lance- perfect for Lambert, bred and trained exactly to fit his tastes. He was absolutely delighted with the animal, who ate hay in his stall- but every now and then tried to get a bite or two out of the prince’s blond hair. He didn’t mind it at all, though. Found it funny, even.

He just needed a name for the horse now.

“What kind of name do you suggest, Thilo?” The prince asked his classmate, who shook his head in return- flustered.

“Your Highness, please! I can’t suggest it for you…it’s your personal mount, you should name it yourself.” Because Thilo was from a lower ranked noble house in the kingdom, he often acted submissive towards the prince. Lambert wasn’t a fan of it- he wanted to be seen and interacted with as a fellow classmate, but there were times he just wouldn’t bother trying to correct the other. The blond prince sighed, rolling his eyes. “Fine, boring…you know I’m not good with names though.”

He leaned against the stall’s door, tapping his finger on the wood. 

“What if I name him Spinnin’ Spaghetti?”

“H-HUH?!” Thilo exclaimed louder than he should, but Lambert only broke into a laugh. “You can’t do that, Your Highness! That name is- it’s-”

“You said I had to name him whatever I wanted, right? What if I want to name him that?” Lambert crossed his arms, looking at his classmate with a true little shit smirk. “Will you tell me no?”

Thilo stood there in shock, mouth opening and closing as he wasn’t sure what to say, before he dropped his shoulders in defeat. “Your Highness….you can’t be serious…”

The prince looked over to the stallion, who was still busy eating but his ears were clearly focused on their conversation. “I am very serious! Besides, there is strategic value in a silly name.” One glance at his classmate and Lambert knew the point didn’t go through. “Just think, Thilo. Which name, if exclaimed on the battlefield, do you think the enemy will remember more accurately? Sir Drakengard the Second or Spaghetti Doe?”

Thilo frowned. “Both…?”

“Maybe, but Sphaguetti’s so ridiculous that it’ll catch their attention more. And as the Commander, I want to make my mark. I want the enemy to lock on me and remember my face and my name as well as the name of my horse.” Lambert placed his hands on his hips. “Some call it Croc Cattling- serving as bait for the enemy so the others have a better chance at surviving. But to me, it’s my duty. I command, I go first, I’m the one who has beef with the enemy’s lead.”

He stepped forward, poking Thilo’s forehead. “And I should be the one burned into their memory, first and foremost, so that if they have any vengeance later- they direct it to me, not you. Got it?”

The boy nodded, after a pause. Lambert, however, laughed. “Besides, imagine what it does to an army’s morale if they get defeated by a horse named Spaghetti of all things!”

In the end, the stallion’s name was coined Duke Diffanhae Spaghetti.

—

Imperial year 1176, Fhirdiad  Ongoing report on the death toll of the Duscur Ambush

Several animals have been reported slain or lost. A list of individual equines that have been identified so far is as follows. Velacena Tygo R.S. Nantonos Bannuo Argiris Cyllea Galatia K. Storm Vanderblit Danyka Kie L. Thorunn Astrid Bella Twirre The king’s personal mount by the name of "Duke Diffanhae S." was reported dead at the scene as well.

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[rotworld]

2: Centaur

it’s said that only pure virgin maidens can call a unicorn, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

->explicit. contains horse genitalia, weird sex magic to enable human-to-horse genitalia compatibility, dubcon/noncon, semi-public sex, implications of mind-altering magic, gore, murder, kidnapping.

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You’ve never seen anything so beautiful.

The meadow is in full bloom, a sea of brilliance. Here, a profusion of daisies. There, a carpet of poppies. Asters and yarrow and little clovers, flowers you’ve never heard of, colors you didn’t know existed, bloom as far as the eye can see. There are starbursts, blue as the sea, that smell of salt and sand, and cones of pink blossoms that glitter in the light. Petals dance in a gentle breeze like prismic rain, carrying a soft, sweet scent. It feels like a dream. You’re knee-deep in flowers beneath a cloudless sky.

“This is impossible,” you say softly, afraid to disturb the peace. Your fingers graze a curving stem, heavy with bluebells. “It’s autumn. The leaves should be turning. How is everything so green?” 

The king’s men sigh tiredly, looking uncomfortable and terribly out of place in their clanking armor. “Unicorn,” they say, the only word they seem to know. Why are the winds so gentle here, spring-sweet and warm? Unicorn. Why is the water crystal clear and sparkling, the perfect temperature for both a quenching drink and a quick rinse of your dirtied hands? Unicorn. Why couldn’t you see the meadow until you crossed the river and passed a certain willow tree? Unicorn, obviously. They shake their heads at you like you don’t know anything.

“Sit here,” one of them tells you, pointing to a spot among the daffodils. 

Another one stops you just as you’re kneeling in the grass. “No, no, wait, over there is better. There are lilies. Lilies are a symbol of virginity.”

“I think the roses would be best,” a third chimes in. “Seems very maiden-like, doesn’t it? That’s what a maiden would pick, I think, if a maiden were out here, picking flowers.” The other knights nod sagely. “Then it’s decided. Over there by the roses, please. Here, sit with your legs folded like this…”

You roll your eyes. You can’t believe how seriously they’re taking the stupid little details. This whole expedition is a lost cause. It doesn’t matter how much they pretty you up, dressing you in this flowing gown and making you wander barefoot among the flowers. You’re a sheepherder, not a waifish little girl. A unicorn can tell the difference. But the king must really be desperate, because the knights are insistent as they correct your posture, smooth out your hair, and inspect you from every angle.

“Good. Perfect,” one of them says, nodding at his handiwork. “We’ll get into position. Do,” he pauses, waving his hand vaguely, “maiden things. Sing songs. Braid your hair. Whatever it is maidens do.” You watch them clang and clatter away to the treeline, hiding poorly among the rocks and flower bushes. You relish in the space and freedom, flopping on your back in the grass. You couldn’t care less if a unicorn comes or not. The fields are yellowed and prickly at home, nothing like the beautiful softness of this meadow. Your cousin agreed to watch your sheep for the day, so you don’t have a care in the world. You close your eyes and let eternal spring wash over you. 

You open your eyes to darkness.

You sit up slowly, groaning and groggy. You must’ve drifted off. Petals fall from your gown as you yawn and rub your eyes. Snoring drifts from the trees; the knights fast asleep. You stand up to stretch, only to find a new, fantastic landscape stretched before you. The meadow is tinged silvery blue in moonlight. New flowers, unopened buds just hours ago, bloom with a faint glow. A river of stars shines overhead. This must be the dream, you think, or maybe you’ve been dreaming since you crossed the river. Everything about the meadow is otherworldly, a place of beauty and gentleness unlike anything you’ve ever known.

And then you hear it. Softly at first and indistinct, but nearing, gradually louder. A rhythmic gait, too heavy for a human, too pronounced for fleshy feet. Hoofbeats. Your breath catches in your throat. You scramble to your feet and look around. Auroras shimmer above you, rippling ribbons of green. Night breeze blows across the meadow and the grass whispers at your ankles. You see him, trotting across the meadow. You see him and there are tears in your eyes. You realize you’ve never known beauty until this moment.

The unicorn is the color of night, black and deepest blue. His mane shimmers, woven with gemstones and glittering flower buds, and his horn shines like polished onyx. He is a man from the waist up, silver eyed and handsome. There are scars along his broad shoulders, puckered skin that healed a lighter gray. Beneath the waist, muscle twists and transforms into long equine legs. His gait is leisurely, a smile tugging at his lips. 

“My oh my, what do we have here?” he says. His voice is velvety smooth and alluring. Your apprehension melts away even as he stops before you, his front legs bending so you’re face to face. A heavy, coat-like fabric rests across the back of his horse body, royal purple and delicately embroidered with intricate floral patterns. He reaches for you, slender fingers curling along your jaw. You’re sure of it now. This is all just a dream. The unicorn chuckles, a warm and rumbling sound that fills you with heat. “You’re wide awake, little one.”

“You can read my thoughts?” 

“I can read more than that.” His smile widens and he stands to his full height. You fidget nervously as he walks in a slow circle around you, a hand beneath his chin. His hooves kick up petals and glittering pollen with every step. “Hmm, let’s see...a shepherd! How precious. What gentle hands. Ah, but a solitary life. You’ve not known a lover’s touch in quite some time.” Your face heats in embarrassment. His palm trails across your back as he passes behind you, squeezing your shoulder. 

“I thought unicorns only came to pure maidens,” you say. His every touch sends sparks across your skin. You can feel his warmth through the flimsy, thin fabric of your gown. At that, his smile gains a sharp edge, almost predatory. It’s gone as quickly as it came.

“What a delight you are,” he murmurs. “Coming all this way was worthwhile after all.” He begins to walk and you follow without being asked. There are flowers all around you but you pay them no mind now, too entranced by the beautiful creature beside you. You don’t know if you go far or not, time and distance rendered meaningless in the dreamlike embrace of the meadow. He leads you to a large, mossy rock formation, the stone sheared away to leave an unnaturally flat surface. You look back over your shoulder, remembering the knights. Did they sleep through all of this? Should you say something? The unicorn’s hand cups your chin, dragging your gaze back to him. His breathtaking smile obliterates all thoughts of anything else. 

“The stories are an exaggeration,” he tells you. He guides you gently, hands on your shoulders, to sit on the stone. His legs fold beneath him and he sits, his hands carding through your hair. The affection and desire in every touch, every gentle scratch of his fingers against your scalp, makes you hotter. “We appear to whomever we wish to appear to. But I confess, some of us do have a soft spot for virgins.” He presses a sharp kiss to your lips, nipping at you. “We enjoy teaching them pleasure,” he hisses, and pushes you suddenly onto your back. The gown is pulled from your body, discarded in the grass. Night air caresses your bare skin and you squirm beneath his wandering gaze.

Somehow, it only occurs to you now what his intentions are. The gentle caresses, the sensual touches and the heat in his gaze didn’t feel real. They still don’t, but now, naked and at the mercy of his hungry eyes, you understand. “You...you want me?” you say, your voice small in embarrassment. When you say it out loud, it sounds even more ridiculous, but there’s no mistaking this. He rests his arms across your abdomen, gazing up at you with fondness and longing. 

“I do,” he says. “Very, very much. Would you let me have you?” 

You bite your lip, your body trembling as he slips a hand between your legs and just grazes your sex with his fingertips. The touch is teasing, too fleeting, and leaves you aching for more. You nod shakily and he hums, pleased at your acquiescence. “What’s your name?”

He looks rather charmed that you asked, warmth filling his gaze. “I am Myurva,” he says. You give him your name in return and the way he says it back to you, the lascivious purr, makes you squirm. The unicorn rests his hands on your knees, gently but firmly easing them apart. “Spread your legs for me, lovely. I want to see you.” 

Myurva’s seduction is slow and patient even as you writhe and beg him for more. He opens you on his fingers, soothing your frenzied whimpers with sweet nothings and loving whispers of your name. You’ve never been treated with such devotion, such smothering lust and affection. He touches you like the love of his life, kisses tenderly and messily, drags his hand along your side and savors the way you move for him. “So very worth it,” he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. He has two fingers inside you, caressing your walls and curling just right to reach the spot that makes you shriek. “How fortunate I am to have found you, lovely. I want to keep you. I want to spoil you each and every night.” 

You’re keening for him, sobbing with need, when he flips you onto your stomach. You hardly notice. You spread your legs when you feel his hands on you, kneading your ass. Everything is hot and electrifying, hazy with pleasure. Then his front hooves land heavily in the grass near your head and something enormous rubs against you. “Wait,” you say shakily. You hear a chuckle above you. The fleshy end of Myurva’s cock slides against your ass, smearing precum along your spine. Your heart skips a beat feeling the sheer size of it against you. There’s no way. It’s impossible. You try to push yourself up on your elbows and one of his hooves stamps dangerously near your head. 

“I thought you wanted me, lovely,” he says. He thrusts again, the length of him slipping between your thighs and grinding against your sex. “If you move, I’ll have to chase you. You won’t get far.” 

“You won’t fit,” you tell him, voice pitched in desperation. Trying to squirm just makes him rest his weight against you, crushing you between the stone and the bulk of his body. “You’re going to break me!”

“I’ll go slow,” Myurva purrs. He demonstrates with a slow grind, a gradual roll of his hips. His heated flesh feels so good against you. “I’ll be so, so careful with you. Don’t you remember the stories? I enjoy virgins. I haven’t harmed a single one. They wander the woods in search of me, begging to feel my cock again.” You hear his back hooves shifting, repositioning behind you. He lines himself up and his cock prods against your opening. “Let me show you,” he urges. “Let me bring you pleasure you’ve never known.” He grinds against you again, hot pressure building as he begins to push inside. You gasp his name, beg him to wait, to go slow, to give you a moment to collect yourself, but he chuckles and presses harder.

Your nails rake against the stone and your vision whites out. The burn of the stretch becomes a tingling sensation, numb at first and then blindly pleasurable, lighting sparks in your belly. It shouldn’t be possible but you feel the head inside of you. The pain is a dull ache but every movement chases it away, pleasure washing over you. He rocks his hips and the steady, shallow thrusts push him deeper. True to his word, he fucks into you agonizingly slowly, panting and moaning

“How do you feel, lovely?” he asks, his voice strained. He’s holding back, you realize, his hooves stomping restlessly as he makes small, unconscious thrusts to feel you wrapped around him. “Let me in deeper. Let me fuck you properly. You won’t regret it.”

You don’t think he can get deeper. You try to tell him as much, but a hard thrust knocks the breath out of you. The fullness makes your head spin. You feel yourself pushing back against him despite all of the sensations, the ache inside of you, the impossibility of the whole situation in the back of your mind. He makes a breathy, choked sound and then laughs, fucking you harder. “Ohhh, that’s it. Just like that. I knew you’d love this.” You can hear his cock slamming into your body, can feel the weight of his heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust. You feel like a cocksleeve, a snug toy for him to fuck. The force of his thrusts drags you back and forth over the stone, scraping up your chest, but the pain is nothing compared to the pleasure he gives you. 

Someone is screaming, crying Myurva’s name into the night. You barely recognize your own voice, the needy pitch, the tremor in every word. You’re so full, so unbearably stuffed with cock, no longer trying to meet his thrusts but letting him move you, ruining you for any human partner. Your knees bruise on the stone. Your toes curl. Your cries build to a frenzied crescendo and you cum impaled on his enormous cock, shaking, panting his name.

“Lovely,” he moans, an obscene sound leaving his lips as your inner muscles clamp down on his cock. “Gods above, darling, I’m going to fill you.” He fucks you wildly, no rhythm, no caution, his whole cock slamming into you as hard and deep as he can get. You can’t move. The whole world turns white-hot and blinding. You go limp, gasping weakly as Myurva begins to grunt, his cock pulsing, his whole length crammed inside you.

You thought you were full already, but then he cums. You feel him straining on top of you, his whole weight thrown forward as he fucks ropes of thick cum into your body. It foams up around his length and makes obscene, slick sounds. You feel it overflowing, trickling down your thighs. It feels like it goes on forever, his moans, his deep, straining thrusts, his cock pouring more and more cum into your body until his balls empty and he finally, with a satisfied sigh, pulls out. 

You make an undignified sound at the sudden emptiness, and the rush of cum that follows. You’re grateful for the stone beneath you, cool against your sweat-soaked skin. Your legs are jelly. You don’t know if you’ll ever walk again. Myurva’s front hooves lift, stepping back from the stone. His human hand caresses your cheek. “You’re truly something, lovely,” he says quietly. “I spoke in jest of keeping you, but now...it’s difficult to resist the temptation.” 

You try to speak but only manage an incoherent murmur of noise. He chuckles and strokes your hair. Distantly, you’re aware of other noises than the two of you. Shouting. Footeps. Clattering steel. You remember suddenly that you aren’t alone out here, arms struggling to lift you. The knights. How could you forget? Shame heats your face. How long have they been awake? How much did they see? How much did they hear? Myurva shushes your protests, pressing a gentle hand on the small of your back. “Rest,” he says. You don’t think you’re capable of doing much else, anyway.

You hear a commotion behind you. The knights, shouting in outrage, drawing swords. Are they going to hurt Myurva? Your eyes widen and you try again, uselessly, to lift yourself and see what’s happening. The unicorn gives you one last gentle caress and leaves you, his hoofbeats stopping somewhere between you and the knights.

“At last, you show yourself!” the knights exclaim. You manage to roll onto your side, craning your neck to see them surrounding Myurva, but he doesn’t look concerned. He glances around, examining each of the men. 

“Let’s see,” he murmurs. “Subjects of King Cornelius. And you want…” The corner of his lips twitch in amusement. “A hostage? Is that right? Your people have no claim over our mountains. A hostage will not change this. My king does not negotiate.” His words are ignored. The knights are wary but they do not back down. You feel like a fool. Why didn’t you ask them what they wanted the unicorn for? You assumed it was something trivial, a silly princess who wanted a pet. Nothing like this. 

Myurva glances back at you. His silver eyes catch the moonlight and glint dangerously. Those are a predator’s eyes, you realize. A thing that hunts and stalks the night. “You worry for me, lovely?” he purrs. “Your every emotion is so tender. I really must keep you. But, alas,” he chuckles, turning back to the knights, “business first, my sweet.”

You hadn’t looked all that carefully at the fabric across the back of his body. You hadn’t noticed the sword sheaths hanging there, hidden beneath the drapes and tassels. You hear steel scraping steel as he unsheathes twin blades, long and curved, as strikingly silver as his eyes. One of the knights tries to say something. “Come quietly,” or some other meaningless thing. He never finishes speaking. You hardly see Myruva move. A flash of silver, a rush of air; that’s all it takes. The knight’s head falls from his shoulders, and his body sinks to the ground soon after. The others begin to scream and scatter, but they’ll never get away. There’s no outrunning a unicorn. 

Laying there upon the stone, you see everything. Prey fleeing and predator giving chase. Swords clashing. Flesh pierced and mangled. Myurva tramples one of them, snaps the man’s ribs with glee in his shining eyes. Their armor does nothing but trap them in slow, awkward shells, easy prey to catch and dismantle. The unicorn moves like a whirlwind across the meadow, death his shadow. Blood soaks the soil and splatters the flowers, almost black in the night. 

You’re on your knees when it’s over, hunched over the stone with your legs in the grass. You can’t stand. You can’t run. You can’t do anything but turn and see Myurva standing there, fresh blood dripping from his swords. He smiles at the sight of you, the shivers wracking your body. “You didn’t know,” he assures you. “I can read you, remember?” He wipes the blood from his blades, sheathing them at his side once again. You flinch when he comes closer, sitting in the grass beside you. You smell the carnage on him. The fingers that tuck your hair behind your ear are wet and warm. “Pleased to meet you,” he purrs. “I’m Myurva, the royal spymaster. And you are the loveliest little human I’ve ever seen.”

You protest weakly when he scoops you up in his arms, standing suddenly. You’re vaguely aware of moving, of being carried somewhere. You fight to cling to consciousness, but it’s slowly slipping out of your grasp. “Hush,” Myurva coos, kissing your forehead. “We’ve a long ways to go and you’re in no condition to ride me just yet. But, eventually…” He chuckles, one of his hands cupping your backside. “Eventually, we’ll have all the time in the world to do whatever we like, won’t we?”

[sweetpickolwarrior]

The Three Times You Didn’t Want Them To Hear You, The One Time You Did (Part 3)

Established fic

Small!Brown!Female!Reader

Not too apparent but just letting you know in case.

Fic summary: You have been travelling with geralt and Jaskier for quite some time, you had always been told that your voice would take you places before you had no choice but to abandon your previous life. You still loved it though. This fic explores the times you let go and let yourself sing. We also explore your backstory and the developing relationship with your older and protective companions :)

PART 1 HERE PART 2 HERE

Chapter summary: Bit of a filler chapter, the wait was more so to plan out the rest of the story clearly. Y/N wants to repay geralt for his kindness and show Jaskier that she does not hate him, but has trouble with words and such. Further apologies for the wait... enjoy!

The fact that you had not been sober enough to truly appreciate the room that Geralt had decided to treat you with left you with a pang of guilt, but a wavering reluctance to bring up anything about that night lest he unnecessarily recall the sound of your voice. You don’t suppose he cared much, as far as you could pick out from that night, it wasn't something that mattered very much to him… but then why the room? The situation slightly baffled you. You much preferred going from contract to contract, tavern to tavern, losing yourself in the endeavours of your companions. You roamed the streets of this new, unusually pleasant town, the bustle of the morning bubbling through. Your mind turned to the small sack you had swaddled at the very bottom of your pack buried beneath your myriad of gatherings from your travels. A small, worn leather sack with a drawstring through the top, wrapped in an old sock that had outlived its original duty a few winters ago sat almost full, the weight of the coin inside at most an apple or two. You had kept it for emergencies, a few loaves of bread and some meat if rations had become sparse, a promise payment for a healer or mage, should one or more of you fall incapacitated while coin was low, an emergency room should the cold threaten to settle in someones bones too cosily, and should you feel the need to express gratitude to a generous but stoic witcher, apparently.

You wandered past a bakers stall, sweet pastries dusted with sugar beckoned, small honey dipped loaves with specks of lavender peeking through the golden slopes glinted in the morning light, puffy buns that had been baked with a clever twist in the top to result in a soft swirl sat in a neat row identical to the sweet fresh bread Jaskier had pressed into your palm earlier. You cringed at the thought of leaving so abruptly and didn't like all this coaxing going on, and hoped he would drop the subject so you could shove the topic down your tunic and carry on your simple shenanigans with the bard.

You strolled through, eyes on the dry dirt of the worn path through the centre, ladies walking with shawls wrapped tight around their shoulders gave you curt, tight-lipped greeting smiles as you passed through looking thoroughly disheveled. You had given up on dresses, petticoats, stockings and other such extraneous garments when tripping up on hems or sweating through layers upon layers had become more trouble than your chagrin had been worth. A tunic and breeches were sported now, along with unkempt, thick jet black hair. You tended to forget what a sight you would be to normal folks, constantly surrounded by the bard in his gaudy and intricate clothing (you still didn't know how he survived on the path) and a burly witcher clad almost always in armour and under that, similar garments to yourself. you supposed the three of you stuck out like an arrow between the eyes. Your mind flashed to what your mother may have said should she see you like this. It confused you for a moment, these memories suddenly deciding they were welcome in your conscious thoughts over the past few days. you stuffed the sudden pang of guilt and shame back into oblivion as your hands moved to your tangled mop, carding roughly through so you may find some semblance of being put together.

~~~~~~~~~~~

You tried hard not to cast your eyes down to your fingers, out of practice as they were. You tried to feel the sections, pick up more as you went, comb through soft with your fingers lest the ends get tangled, keep hold of the ribbon. Roach was being very patient with you. The fire warmed your back as you sat on your knees, tending to a horse who had decided to sit for you. You didn't know much of equine tendencies, but had heard that horses do not sit save for when it was going to rain. Your mind moved to days where your little troop had no choice but to trudge through hail, rain and thunder. She did not object and kept on wonderfully through these times and was rewarded with kisses and slips of dried fruit from you later on.

She had decided to understand what coaxing her to the floor with a brushing, soft words and rubs on her neck had meant that night and folded her legs, coming down with an impressive and somehow graceful thud. You supposed you couldn't know everything about everything and the clearest answer was that she’s just a very good girl. You relaxed as your fingers fell into a rhythm - right strand, left strand, ribbon, taking care to adjust the material so the nicer side was showing. “Expensive.” Geralt stated simply from behind. He was checking through his own pack, counting off vials of witcher potions and such. “Yes, well - an extra room must have cost.. and the food I didn’t touch” you focused on your hands, knowing Geralt was probably trying to avoid eye contact, too. After hearing a somewhat soft “hmm”, your attention returned to your fingers, having now grown a mind of their own. Roach’s auburn mane turned a dark coal in your minds eye, her soft huffs to small complaints of tugging too hard “hush now, or it won’t look nice” you barely whispered as her head jerked, it was an impossible task to try tie the hair of any child into a neat row, your sisters no exception. Your breath slowed as your mothers lullaby sat in between your lips, you tried to grasp the first note of the soft song.

Sisters? Here?

Your knees were cold and sore, kneeling on the ground so long, knobs of grass settling aches into your muscles; your hair unkempt and hastily scraped back, with a small leather tie, bumps hilling over your scalp that you had no care of. Your hands were dirty, grubby from foraging scraps of dry wood to keep warm through the night. Calloused from the past few years of plucking the string of your bow with arrows that reminded you with every swift hit that death was something permanent, immediate, inescapable. These hands were not the same ones that softly put braids in your sisters’ hair. These calluses were not the same ones that came from making music.

The first note of that bloody lullaby froze on your toungue.Best to stop trying to live in the past. Not that you were, trying that is. You wanted nothing more than those memories to keep sitting in the little box in your mind where they were meant to be. Happy, silent, unbothering. Instead they kept feeling the need to rise up, to pester you and drag you away, remind you that those days would never come back, that your whole life had vanished.

Well, this was your life now and different as it was, you needed to live in it. You pushed away the offending memories for the second time that day, focusing on finishing Roach’s mane.

Impeccable timing as always, Jaskier came strolling through after having washed everyone’s clothes in a nearby stream, no doubt a vein of the river you had found yourself in those few days ago. “Honestly, why do I bother? They're bound by fate to stink of ash and dirt anyway- I know! I could write a shanty about the smoked Witcher’s shirt - a real pub sway! Sometimes he smells of heroics and adventure! The whiff of a lady’s perfume often, but will always return to the ash of a trusty campfire” he leaned to put the folded pile down neatly. You were in awe of how these thoughts came running from your musical friend, you were convinced that he could write a song about watching clothes dry and still make it magnificent.

Ah. Exactly.

A dramatic gasp came from the bard, no doubt with a soft hand upon his chest. Your fingers tensed as you pat roach and tried to seem as nonchalant as possible.

"Now! Which one of you has been able to tie a bow so pretty all this time?”

You had laced the ribbon, as careful as you could to not disturb the strings, behind where they were pulled taut to the tuning pegs of Jaskier's lute, taking care that the tails would not brush against the front or impair his hands while playing. The ribbon you had bought was a soft lavender colour, embroidered with a deep violet, floral and feathery motifs weaving through the sleek fabric. You turned to see Jaskier caressing the fine fabric “I shall have to have an outfit made to go with this! Oh what a look that could be for the bardic competition this autumn! Simply revolutionary, a great stride forward in musical fashion! Bows woven through lutes, gods-” a theatrical palm to the forehead “How had I not thought of this before- and Roach! Oh! Exquisite, Y/N,” it seemed he had finally clocked onto the fact that this was your doing, both you and Geralt huffing amusedly as he was practically flying with excitement “I daresay Roach could be a fine show horse! Beautifully healthy and muscular, a shining coat, those deep glistening eyes- “She’s not a show horse” Geralt grumbled "I said could or rather might've been, had the twines of fate been wound a little looser.." You chuckled softly as your trusty bard rambled on into the night about how he knew a thing or two about show horses (being one in a past life, most likely) and you prepared your bedroll, smoothed it out with your hands and checked how close your damp clothes were to drying. When you reflected on Jaskier's words, you thought about how the warm and bitter smell of ash and smoke and fire made from Witcher magic was comforting to you. As you settled, you tried to smell other things, maybe someday you could smell half as well as a witcher if you trained hard enough. Ash, smoke.. the small burnt remnants of a meagre fish dinner, the distinctly horsey smell of Roach, the faintest traces of lavender lingering in your hair. You supposed you could try to hone in your hearing, too. You got comfortable, wriggling a little further in, catching a glimpse of the fine ribbon you had bought before closing your eyes...it was nice to see the splashes of the bright colour woven through your little group. You could first hear Jaskier mumbling on, the scratch of his quill onto the notebook he carried, the pops and snaps of the fire, the wind breathing contentedly through the leaves above, the last clinks of Geralt's potion bottles, then the slight crunch of careful steps in leather boots, his hands patting roach and hushed, almost inaudible whispers of him calling Roach his "pretty girl".

A/N : Hello, dears! I hope you've all been well and taking care of yourselves - I know it has been a tremendous wait. i've been planning the rest of the story out (i'm rly annoyingly particular about it) and lots of things have been a bit crazy the past two months. I hope this chapter isnt dissapointing given the wait but get ready for big angst, hurt/comfort and further progression of the story and characters in the next two chapters. I feel this filler was needed to transition into the next part of the story. I might change the description some as this story is not only about the fact that Y/N can sing, but also focuses on the way that changes her relationship with the boys.

More on the interactions of this night for the boys' POV in the next chapter probably x

I'm hoping the story is well fleshed out and flowing, and that its clear that singing is a great comfort and big part of Y/N's character. I hope its easy to immerse yourself and such. Again, its such a pleasure to receive likes and comments, and i'm very grateful to anyone who has read so far... be ready for great developments! As always, constructive criticism is welcome xxx Thanks gang!

Also yall thank my lil sister for helping me write this, she doesnt have an tumblr account so I cant tag her or anything but she super cool and rambling to her rly helps me organise my writing.

stay blessed!

tagged people:

@ladylizzieofdarbyshire i cannot find @sihxm i did try xxx

[the-pontiac-bandit]

Tobe + fist (if your still doing that tortall thing) the kalasin thing was AMAZING!!!

i’m SO glad you liked the kalasin story!! here’s one about tobe to thank you for the compliment!

Tobe whistled as he meandered down the long aisle in the center of the pages’ stables, horses perking their ears up or neighing quietly in greeting as he passed. He’d lived at the palace for nearly a month and had found--to the surprise of no one except himself--that it quite suited him. He’d known that Peachblossom, Hoshi, Magewhisper, and the rest were well-bred and well-trained, but even after Lady Kel had described the palace in detail, he still hadn’t been prepared for the sheer number of perfect horses, living stall after stall for what felt like miles of stables. Their coats shone, muscles rippling beneath as they responded to the lightest touch of his knee against their sides. It was like magic.

Stefan and Daine, meanwhile, were teaching him to control his actual magic, spending hours meditating with him and instructing him on the best ways to listen. He marveled for a moment as he walked at how much clearer the voices around him sounded, even compared to only a few weeks before, when he spent most of the ride south translating Peachblossom’s complaints about the mud for Lady Kel’s benefit. He’d spent time admiring and trading wry jokes with Loey’s shaggy ponies in the Riders’ stables and spent most afternoons practicing with his bow on their standing targets while they were busy on horseback, but that was a decision for next year. For now, he was more than content to enjoy the marvel of newly discovered magic and the heady sensation of his newly earned freedom.

He was distracted as he wandered through the stables, making his way towards the hay lofts at the far end, where he’d left some tack that needed mending. He was reveling in the sounds—although really, Daine had explained last week, they weren’t sounds as he understood them—of the horses’ idle gossip. Equine gossip was always so much more interesting than two-legger gossip, Hoshi had insisted time and again when he came to her and Peachblossom with a tidbit about one of his two-legger friends, and Tobe found that he had to agree.

He didn’t notice at first when the tones changed, but suddenly, he was aware that the genial chatter he’d been so enjoying had turned tense and quiet. Some of the more skittish warhorses had backed up to the corners of their stalls, pawing at the floor with hooves the size of the plates in the mess hall while the whites of their eyes shone in the dim light. Similarly, some of the more skittish pages had fled their horses’ stalls, eager to avoid broken toes or bruised ribs.

He knew what his job was now. He was to go find Stefan as fast as his legs could carry him and warn him that a fight was brewing. Then, Stefan would wander through the stables in the casual, quietly purposeful manner he had perfected, silently reminding the pages that they’d best groom their horses properly and pick fights on their own time. He’d witnessed it twice since he’d started as a groom, and he was eager to emulate the walk himself one day.

He’d already turned to go when a sample of the words drifted towards him over the quiet scuffles of pages fleeing the scene, eager to avoid the punishment work that they’d surely earn if they were caught brawling in the stables.

“A stupid trollop…no better than you ought to be…”

Tobe’s blood boiled at the sound of the words, ones he’d heard more times than he could count, from the mouths of new refugees or fellow soldiers at Mastiff, always out of his Lady’s earshot. Before he’d even made a conscious decision to do so, he was spinning on one heel and stalking back down the aisle. As he strode towards the corner stall, where the horses seemed most nervous, he drew himself up to the fullest of his fourteen-year-old height, thanking the gods for his recent growth spurt. He’d put on more muscle, too, as his voice deepened. He spared a moment to warn the horse—a particular favorite of his nicknamed Bonney by her rider—not to intervene, and then shifted his hearing to his ears to better hear the two-leggers, picking up more of the argument as he drew nearer.

“You shouldn’t do this, Halleburn,” Bonney’s rider’s voice was cold, her tone firm. Tobe was sure she must be angry. After all, his own mind was seething with rage. Instead, though, she sounded ice-cold.

“You shouldn’t be doing any of this, my lady,” Brennard of Halleburn replied. Tobe was still new to the manners of the nobility, but even he could tell that lady here was an insult, not an honorific.

“You’re just embarrassed that I beat you. If you spent as much time practicing as you do whining when you lose, you might have more luck next time.” Tobe was tempted to whistle quietly at her bold retort, but he was distracted by the sound of a scuffle, and by Bonney’s insistent Hurry in his head.

He rounded the gate into the open stall, his fist already drawn back like Lady Kel had taught him years ago in the town square of New Hope. Before he’d had time to consider attempting to resolve the situation peacefully, he was feeling the surprisingly satisfying crack of breaking bone beneath his fingers.

Both pages’ jaws dropped, blood dripping into Halleburn’s open mouth as he sputtered indignantly. He spared not a word for Tobe, instead spitting blood in his general direction as he sprinted out of the stall and down the aisle. Tobe was sure he was bound for Lord Padraig’s rooms, but he could hardly bring himself to care. His blood was pounding in his ears, his heart racing in his chest, as he seethed over the page’s words.

He took one deep breath, then another, fighting to control his emotions and his shaking hands. It was as the anger cleared that he recalled he was not alone in Bonney’s stall. The female page was staring at him, mouth still open in shock. Belatedly, he remembered his manners, bowing deeply in the manner Stefan had drilled him on as he stuttered.

“I apologize—I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to disrespect—Page…” and then he trailed off. While he was intimately familiar with the details of the page’s riding skills—well beyond her fourteen years, according to Bonney—Bonney had never thought to mention her rider’s name—or how pretty she was.

“Marinie,” she replied. She finally closed her still-open mouth, but her eyes were still flashing with anger. “Marinie of Shaila.”

“Page Marinie,” Tobe filled in, finding words as he calmed. “I do apologize for my outburst. It was not my place. I hope you can forgive my rudeness.”

She brushed past his formal apology with an impatient shake of her dark braid. He noticed her hair—longer than both Lady Kel’s and the Lioness’ but braided tight against her head. After a day’s worth of hard work, shorter pieces in the front had fallen out, some framing her face while others curled out from her head. One lock fell in her eyes with the shake of her head, but she brushed it away absentmindedly as she replied, “He’s going for the Training Master, you know.”

Tobe shrugged. “Stefan’ll be disappointed, but Daine’ll think it’s funny.” He’d discovered quickly that Daine always thought such misbehavior was worth a laugh. Numair said it was because she lacked discipline, but there was laughter in his eyes as she elbowed him in response.

Marinie smiled quickly at that, her demeanor shifting from frustrated to friendly in a breath. “She probably will. In one of our lessons on horse care, she told Carlin of Irenroha his horse would bite his nose if he kept sitting like a lazy sack of flour at the trot. When Carlin tried to complain to Lord Padraig, m’lord just told him Daine was right.”

“That sounds like her,” Tobe replied. He wasn’t sure if he should go before Lord Padraig returned to chastise him or stay to clean the blood off the floor of Bonney’s stall. Now that the adrenaline was leaving his body, he could feel his fist hurting where it had made contact with Brennard of Halleburn’s face. He shook it out as he turned to leave the stall for the tack room, where sponges and brushes for scrubbing could be found.  

“Why’d you do it?” Marinie asked. She was surprisingly direct, for a noble, and he found the corners of his mouth twitching at her lack of inhibition.  

He stopped, one foot out the gate of the stall, to answer. “I worked four years for the Lady Knight Keladry, and—”

He’d meant to continue to explain, about all of the muttered insults and unfair accusations and his disappointment that such things were said even in King Jonathan’s palace, but Marinie had already cut him off.

“You know Lady Knight Keladry?” Her face lit up at the information, a smile breaking across her freckled cheeks. “What’s she like? Is she as good with her glaive as they say? What about the lance? I didn’t get to see her joust on Progress—my mother said I was too young, even though I wasn’t, and—”

She cut herself off, her cheeks reddening slightly as she scraped a well-worn boot against the stable floor. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to say.”

Tobe grinned properly at that. “She’s even better. You should see her joust against Lord Raoul—that’s a real match. She hasn’t beat him yet, but she sits in the saddle all firm, and her horse is all muscle and speed. She rides him like something out of legend, and he can bite something fierce. He’s too big for pretty much everyone, but they manage well, and he’s got a beautiful strawberry coat—”

“You’re talking about her horse,” she interrupted him again.

“Right,” he caught himself. He rubbed his hand again. It was properly throbbing by then, his first two knuckles already beginning to swell. Lady Kel hadn’t mentioned how much punching someone hurt—he’d have to tell her when he next wrote.

Page Marinie eyed his fist, a knowing look in her dark eyes. “You should come to my rooms. I have bruise balm that’ll help loads with that. You won’t be able to use that hand tomorrow otherwise.”

“I shouldn’t,” he replied, a bit uncertain. “I really should be cleaning this mess. That’s what’ll get me with Stefan later, if Bonney here tells him she’s been smelling blood all evening.”

She shrugged. “Meet me back here at the second bell after supper, and I’ll help. I finished my punishment work in the armory two days ago, so I have the time.” His heart skipped a beat at the invitation, and he could feel his cheeks redden just a bit.

He started to protest, but she was already interrupting him again. “If you hadn’t done it, I probably would’ve. He deserved it. And if you really want to thank me, you can tell me stories about Lady Kel—not her horse—on the way.”

[jaces-senseless-fuckery]

Model Mishap

///A story idea I thought up and took me longer than I care to admit to write. I hope you guys like it///

"At Indigo's suggestion, she and Kairi head into the Emerald Forest for a photoshoot. Kairi then strips into a bikini and puts on a pair of cut-off blue denim shorts and starts to show off her toned body for some pictures. When Kairi takes the shorts off for some shots while she's posing on her motorcycle's seat, Indigo sits on the ground to get a good angle. Neither of them saw the Nightmare approach from behind the trees, but by the end of the day, they wouldn't complain one bit."

Word Count: 1,582

Kairi held her claymore over her shoulder with one hand, the thumb of her other in the waistband of her shorts. She made her eyes glow with electricity and she smirked confidently as Indigo snapped a picture of her as she leaned against Prowler, her motorcycle. She was wearing a simple blue bikini with a pair of very short denim shorts, and she wore her normal boots to complete her outfit. She then took her top off, exposing her nipples to the gentle breeze that flowed through the area, and she covered them with the flat of Auralash while she sat on Prowler and crossed her legs. Again, Indigo snapped a good picture of her, always a happy grin on her face. She loved seeing her girlfriend like this all the time, and loved it even more that so many people most likely took pleasure in looking at her girlfriend in such exposing pictures.

After the last picture had been taken, Kairi sheathed her sword in the sheath on the front of Prowler and she reviewed the shots on the camera. "Damn, you got some nice shots!"

Indigo grinned. "The lighting here is perfect at this time of day with how the sunlight is filtering through the leaves. Plus any picture of your body is amazing anyway."

"You my dear fox are such a flirt when you want to be~" Kairi said and smirked once more, "Anymore shots we can do?"

"Hmmm there could be a few more with you bent over Prowler maybe, then we can pick the best ones when we get back."

"Sounds good to me!"

From there, Kairi began to do a few more poses. For one, she stood next to her motorcycle with Auralash held out to her side, her back turned to Indigo as she glanced back at the camera. When she heard the snap of the camera, she sheathed her blade in its sheath and she began to take her shorts off. She unbuttoned them and let them fall to her ankles, then she kicked them off and bent over the gas tank, her bikini bottoms barely covering her ass at all. Indigo snapped another good picture of her, and Kairi did another few poses that she thought would be good for the shoot.

Eventually, Kairi mounted her motorcycle and held onto the handlebars, and she arched her back as she bent her right leg at the knee. "Oh, hold that pose, Kai. I have the perfect position in mind for a shot of that."

Indigo sat on the ground behind Prowler and to the right a bit, and then she aimed the camera. Indigo looked through it and grinned. It absolutely was the perfect shot, and the Faunus took it. And when she noticed Kairi begin to stare back at her from under her body, she took another picture. But, the two were very distracted. Too distracted to notice a Nightmare that was approaching past the trees behind them. The large equine Grimm had heard them both and came to investigate rather than straight out attack, being an older Nightmare that it was. But when it caught sight of Kairi's ass, a switch kicked in its mind and it's cock started to become erect and grow to it's full, massive size. A wild urge filled the Grimm's mind and it quickly acted on it, and it charged out of the trees.

The girls still didn't realize it was there until it was literally right on them. Indigo watched it's shadow loom over her as it raised its front legs up and planted them across the handlebars of Prowler, and immediately forced its cock into her pussy. Her bikini bottoms snapped and the Nightmare's cock had free access to her, and Kairi let out a scream when it began to stretch her open far past what she had been before.

Kairi's eyes were wide as the Nightmare just started to fuck her cunt extremely rough, rocking her and her motorcycle back and forth. Kairi put her hands on the gas tank and tried to get a good handhold for her to do something, but the Nightmare's powerful thrusts didn't allow her to have any space for it. She continued to scream from the pain of the huge shaft that started to ruin her pussy and hammer against the entrance of her womb, and she glanced back to look at Indigo to see if she was okay.

Indigo was turned the fuck on, and the faunus had no idea how to react to that. The Nightmare had come completely out of nowhere and was now fucking her girlfriend harder than she had ever seen Kairi fucked before, and it was by a Grimm of all things. She had the perfect view to watch as the Nightmare reshaped Kairi's cunt, and she had the perfect view of its muscles moving under the skin of its legs and especially its huge balls swaying back and forth above her. Soon, her body began to react for her and she slowly slid her hand down her pants, and she started to gently rub her pussy. Her mind was slow to process what she was doing and she couldn't believe that she was finding this so hot.

"F-fuck!" Kairi exclaimed, her hands gripping the gas tank of Prowler before she looked back to see where Indigo was, and she was taken aback by the sight of her playing with herself, "Indigo! A-are you s-seriously-FUCK~!"

Kairi screamed out as a particularly harder thrust knocked her into a daze, making her lose her grip on her motorcycle. She failed to find that grip again as the Nightmare continued to fuck her cunt at a rough  and harsh pace. She couldn't believe that Indigo was getting off on her getting fucked like this by a creature of Grimm. Eventually, Kairi's screams and grunts of pain bled into moans of pleasure, and she didn't even know when the moans started or when she started to feel good from this. And that thought threw her for a loop. This monster with it's massive horse cock was making her feel good.

And Indigo was just letting it happen.

"Y-you dirty slut…" Kairi said and shook her head, biting her lip from the pleasure the Nightmare was giving her, "G-getting off on seeing m-me be ruined by a Grimm~"

"Th-this one doesn't know wh-what came over her~" Indigo replied through her moans, "Sh-she's sorry, Kai~"

"Fuck~! Fuck~! fuuuck~!" Kairi screamed loudly as she soon began to cum from the Nightmare pounding her cunt, and then she felt the tip of its cock break through the entrance to her womb and hit the deepest parts of her, "FUUUUUUCK~!"

Feeling that it's cock was deeper inside of the huntress-in-training, the Nightmare let out a devilish neighing noise and began to fuck her even harder. Indigo could see the obscene bulge in her girlfriend's stomach from the huge shaft, and gods the sight of it was just so hot. Several minutes went by as the Nightmare plowed Kairi on her motorcycle, and Indigo finally started to cum herself, her pussy squeezing around her fingers. Her moans died down moments later and she took her hand from her pants, and she started to suck her fingers clean while watching the show above her.

The Nightmare was close. Kairi could feel its cock throbbing so much inside her and it made her grip the sides of Prowler tighter. It started snorting loudly and constantly with each thrust of its powerful hips, and then it finally slammed its cock as far as it could inside of her and started to unleash its load into her. Kairi quickly felt her womb begin to flood with the Grimm's thick, hot seed and she let out a long, loud moan as it continued to fill her to the brim. Her stomach began to bloat out a few moments later and by the Nightmare was finished cumming, Kairi's stomach looked as large as a kickball.

She felt its cock start to pull out after it finished cumming, and then the tip popped from her pussy. The spunk that flooded her baby chamber pushed out following the Grimm's cock and shot out, a good amount of it hitting Indigo's stomach and chest before it just started leaking over the seat of Prowler. The Nightmare hopped off of Kairi and the motorcycle, and then Indigo watched as it walked off into the forest, leaving them alone.

Indigo laid on her back and stared up into the leaves of the tree above them, and she closed her eyes listening to the sounds of Kairi's heavy breathing and light moans. Moments ticked by as Indigo stayed on the ground until she heard some shuffling from Prowler, and a second or so later her eyes snapped open when Kairi sat on her face, her knees on either side of her head. Indigo felt the warm cum of the Nightmare ooze onto her lips and she stared up into Kairi's glowing lightning-blue eyes.

"You're gonna stay right there and eat this cum from my pussy," Kairi said to Indigo, smirking widely, "It's your punishment for being such a slut~"

Indigo was in no position to protest, and the smell of the cum was already starting to make her mind go blank. So, Indigo just did what she was compelled to do, and that was do what Kairi told her to do and start licking.

[bode-leone]

hearing the horses laugh

gen fic, team as family, 1251 words.

author’s note: i literally wrote this in like an hour and a half so if it’s bad, it’s bad. however, i like it and wanted to put it out.

EDIT: posted on ao3

“You know I don’t like horses.”

Andy snorted, still scrolling Google for any local riding centres that offered trail rides.

“I know you do, Nicky, we all know of your grudge against horses that’s three times as old as Booker.”

Nile has never been around horses much in her life, outside of sometimes interacting with the black cowboys and their horses in Chicago when she was younger. She’s never ridden or gotten lessons on riding, never had the inclination nor the time for it, but somehow she knows there’s something odd about the way Nicky is interacting with the horse he’s been assigned for the trail ride that Andy had demanded they all go on as a family relationship building activity.

(“You just want to ride horses, Andy,” Nicky complained in that ancient accent and tone yet somehow sounding like her brother when he was seven and didn’t want to eat his vegetables. “You know I don’t like horses.”

Andy snorted, still scrolling Google for any local riding centres that offered trail rides. 

“I know you do, Nicky, we all know of your grudge against horses that’s three times as old as Booker. But I also know you go pat the horses in the paddock down the back when you think no one's gonna notice,” she smirked and Nicky had flushed bright red across his pale face. 

She was watching this like a tennis match, back and forth, watching the subtle emotions run across each of their faces. 

Nicky composed himself enough to defend himself against the slight raised against him. 

“Sometimes you have to meet your enemy halfway,” he said primly with a sniff, and Joe and Booker’s laughter flowed in from the next room.

“‘Meet your enemy halfway’, Nicolò? You were whispering to them and picking grass for them!” Joe hollers, delightedly and the flush across Nicky’s face deepens even further.)

Nicky had been assigned a big, lumbering animal (“It’s a draft horse cross breed,” Booker says helpfully when she looks at the massive animal, mouth hanging open a bit, just a bit, “built for far work.”) named Bob and had visually balked at it, blanching a bit, after which the horse had proceeded to rub his massive head up and down Nicky. Joe was given a horse named Zorro that even she could recognise as a thoroughbred, long limbed and a bit lanky, but otherwise solid and a tiny bit fat. Andy was put on a short Icelandic horse named Oskar, looking disturbingly gleeful as she spoke with the manager of the centre who had sent them off to groom and saddle their animals. She and Booker were put on horses she had been excitedly informed by Booker were Norwegian Fjord horses, their manes cropped with distinctive colouring (“The black hair is midtstol, and the light hair are guard hairs,” he says helpfully with a small smile.) and both of the horses were smaller than the others barring Andy’s mount. 

Booker helped her groom her horse, named Fred which had made her pause for a moment at the mundanity of it, and saddle him, while also doing the same with his own mount, Deedee. He The others all had centuries of equine knowledge and practice, even Booker, despite the dramatic changes in tack and even riding itself.

The kindly centre manager had asked them all to line up and come close to a mounting block to get on, which none of the others had needed help with other than her. She held the reins and the stirrup for Nile to put her booted foot through and swing her legs over and sit on Fred. It was surprisingly comfortable, which was good. 

The manager then went through the basics of holding the reins (“Through the gap between the ring and the pinkie fingers, rolled softly closed but not clenched. Thumbs facing upward, you’re not playing a piano!”) and some basic commands like gentle squeezing on the reins to stop before tugging gently if need be, squeezing her calf muscles and moving her centre of mass to get them to move quicker (the manager had said this was mainly for changing gaits but she didn’t feel very comfortable with that, and told her so, and the manager said it was fine) and how to use her centre of mass overall to make the animal stop. 

Nile grasps the reins as they form a single file line, the manager at the front, followed by Joe and Nicky, then herself and Booker, with Andy coming up the rear. Nile had filed away the prompts and commands, stuck to trying to keep her heels down and her hands up and looked around where they were riding through. The temperate deciduous forest was still lush and green as it was spring, and the sounds were nice. The air and sky was clear and the sun was warm on her skin. 

Fred huffed and his mane swayed side to side as he marched forward, ears twitching this way and that. He bobbed his head a few times, chewing on the bit.

She looked at Nicky ahead of her and he leaned over, petting the gargantuan animal he was on who was plodding at a snail's pace. He was murmuring in Italian, which she hadn’t picked up yet, and she looked back at Booker who was smirking at her. She looked back ahead of her, staring pointedly at Nicky’s back.

Of course the big bastard didn’t hate horses. 

They ride through the mountain valley, following an interesting trail that took them through a thick part of the forest, across a cool stream which they stopped and let their horses drink from which caused a bit of a ruckus as Deedee shoved her face in and splashed about some. Booker was laughing, as was everyone. They continued up the hills and around before finally heading back towards where they came from, somehow hours having passed like nothing at all. They take their tack off and hose their horses down, as it was a particularly warm day even for Europe. 

They lead them back to their paddocks for the manager, with a final pat goodbye, and then head back to the SUV to wait for Andy to pay the manager. 

Nile is silent exactly until they drive out the gates of the centre before she bursts. 

“Hating horses, huh, Nicky? Sure.” 

Nicky, who is sitting on her left in the back seat of the car groans and covers his face. 

“I do hate them! Some are simply easier to deal with than others, like how Booker is French but he is easier to deal with than French people!” Nicky says loudly. 

She simply looks at him. She can see Andy shaking slightly in laughter and beside her in the passenger seat Booker lets out an offended “hey!” and Joe is giggling next to her, the vibrations running through her side from his deep, affectionate laugh.

“Give it up, Nicolò! She’s caught you out! There’s no coming back from this!” Joe chirps, still laughing deeply and melodically. 

Even Nile is having trouble keeping the smile off her face and the laughter from breaking through her ribs. 

“You only ‘hate’ horses because you tried so hard to become friends with Andy’s mare, which she told you didn’t like men,” Joe says and chuckles less loudly. “She bit you because you tried to saddle her when you shouldn’t have and you’ve been hurt by that for nine hundred years, you sensitive, sensitive man. You just can’t let that hurt go.”

Nicky huffs, muttering under his breath, laughing a bit, at himself and the hilarity of the situation. 

Nile puts a solemn hand on his shoulder. 

“If nothing else, Bob loves you.”

[hoodoo12]

Festival (25/30)

@beejiesbitch @turtlepated @clairjohnson @memedemonhours @monsterlovinghours @yankyo @edosunshine @saucymangos

@go-commander-kim @beetlebitchywitch

Trembling over Carmen, Beej panted despite the lack of need for breath, trying to gather his thoughts as his cock finally ceased its twitching. As he came back to himself, he realized that she was still pressed to the ground, and immediately he held her tight and floated upward, turning them to keep her lounging in his lap. His cock shortened as he brought her closer, keeping her plugged full with his tip.

Hands held her firmly at her hips, keeping her ass to his pelvis and thighs even as the hands that had groped at her chest and held her shoulders stroked along her lower stomach possessively. Tipping himself so that she leaned back against his chest and stomach, he kissed along the side of her neck and over her shoulder, nuzzling along the edges of the indentations his teeth had left in her skin.

"There we go babes," he murmured softly as he folded his legs, effectively cradling her with his body. Floating a bit closer to the hookah, a hose raised up in offering to her as he buried his face in her neck, breathing her in and listening intently to her, paying close attention for any signs of injury or discomfort. When he looked up to see the other ghost with his tongue pressed between his tiny lover's legs, he gave a soft hum of contentment.

"How're you feelin' babes?" he asked beneath her ear, producing a handkerchief and a bottle of water for her that floated alongside the hose. "Need anythin' love?"

Feeling a bit disoriented and weak, Carmen did not resist being lifted, shifted, and held securely. Being spooned against him was achingly familiar and made her sigh in Pavlovian response. Before she opened her eyes, she ran a hand over her front, briefly squeezing the tops of his hands laced over her belly as if he was insulating his come inside her. Her hand continued on, to her pussy, the entrance still filled by the tip of his cock. She slipped her fingers around him, feeling their union, and shuddered at the residual pleasure it gave her.

Finally opening her eyes, she shook her head at the hookah but took the water and handkerchief to wipe her face. Her skin felt tacky from drying tears and she found drool under her chin. She honestly didn’t know if she could take much more, but couldn’t seem to help gently rolling her hips against him. She gave a deeper shudder at that. The sight in the corner of her eye, of the other ghost and his small lover enjoying themselves kept her arousal up too. “You’ve fucked me out, Beej,” she admitted. Then, in more of a groan, “but I can’t seem to get enough of you. You’re so fucking sexy and perfect--I love you so much--” She glanced down as if to see her groin. Something seemed to flutter there, but then she was distracted with a little squeak of surprised laughter. “Oh my god, I’m covered in dirt and grass stains! Look at my boobs all smeared with dirt!”

⁂

Jessie arched her back at the feeling of his tongue growing inside her, filling her more efficiently and prolonging the wave of bliss that throttled her conscious mind. She cried out, bucking her hips as she gushed over his tongue, unable to resist when he rubbed the cool muscle against her clit.

The sound of his voice, so desperate and telling her he was going to come pulled her mind back from the numbing haze of pleasure he'd placed her in. She was glad, happy that he could feel so good with her even when she was so small. When he spoke again, asking her if she wanted him to wait and fill her pussy, she froze and tensed, sitting up in his hand with sudden urgency.

"W-wait?" The tone was half pleading and half inquiring, and greedy as she felt for wanting him to hold off she couldn't stop herself from responding to that offer. "Wait, baby . . . i-if it's not too late . . . I want it, baby. I want your come inside me . . . if you can wait, I promise I'll take every drop and thank you for it, please . . . "

Her words came out quicker as she spoke, kneeling in his palm and leaning toward him with her brows raised.

His hand, his hips, and most definitely his cock did not want to stop, but he had asked and Jessie decided, and with an open-mouthed groan, BJ pulled his hand away from his cock. It throbbed dangerously, but the eminent threat of going too far abated. Eyes closed, he nodded. “Okay baby, okay--I can’t wait to stuff myself back into that hot cunt of yours--I’m gonna come so hard--” He felt her press kisses to his face and he smiled. Then there was that butterfly touch on his cock again. BJ frowned and glanced down. Several winged fey--he didn’t think they were pixies, because their skin wasn’t rainbow hued and their teeth looked much sharper--had congregated around his groin. One had a grip on the tip of his cock and was lapping the pre-come that leaked from his slit; the others were doing their best to muscle in for a taste too. They were almost too light-touched to be felt, like vampire bats. “No!” Jessie said, pulling his attention back to her.

Another winged fey was trying to get her attention, and had the audacity to land on his hand as well. He couldn’t shake it away without dislodging her, but she took care of it herself, pushing the creature off his hand. It fluttered near her, looking despondent. Like if he looked pitiful enough, she’d let him back to fuck or suck her. “Fuck off, imp!” she insisted, and BJ chuckled. At least now he knew what was hanging around begging for scraps. He guessed as things were winding down, every little last bit of come or pussy juice was worth it, even a ghost’s like his.

He swatted the pests away from his cock. They fluttered up in alarm, but then hung close as if to wait for the opportunity to lick his cock again. With a glance over at Beej and Carmen, wrapped up tightly with each other, he warned, “You’ve got company too. Imps.”

⁂

Pink quivered at the gentle exploration of Kadus' fingers inside her, clenching tightly around them when he curled them and the pressure sent her head spinning. His words spoken so softly and so very intimately to her would have set her heart to pounding in her chest, had she only a beating heart to speak of. She was vaguely aware of the witches around him growing interested in something, but the fact that his cock once again had swelled escaped her, lost as she was in the pleasure of his touch and his focused attention.

Each compliment caused another smattering of small flowers to bloom in her hair and encouraged the small, delicate vines to extend and swirl in ever more intricate patterns through her locks. She gasped sharply as he grabbed her hips and lifted them, pulling her slit upward toward his face. As he had guessed, she wasn't perturbed by the sudden change, merely floating in place as though she were filled with helium rather than his thick come.

The soft moss and pink flowers surrounding her pussy smelled of earth and honeysuckle, the slick between her lips perfumed in much the same way. The flavor of her, while still combined with the flavor of his own spend, was similarly sweet. Rather than flailing or responding to the movement with surprise, Pink dropped one hand into his hair and pulled him closer, pressing her pussy against his mouth with a soft,

"Yes, please . . . "

Even as his tongue slipped between her folds, a more greenery bloomed. It was overwhelming--did she know the nature of centaurs, of the equine’s need of grasses to feed upon? It was all he could do not to be rough in an attempt to take all over in. Kadus’s fingers tightened, holding Pink close, wanting nothing more than to taste her as intimately as possible. He nudged his tongue into her, and the combination of her sweetness and his own salty spend filled his mouth, complimenting each other. He moaned. Trying to counter each buck of her hips against him, he pushed his tongue in further, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted more for her. She’d already taken his cock; his fingers wouldn’t compare but it was *something--*at the next breath he took Kadus looked up her body, intent on asking if it would be all right, but the sight of her stole his thoughts. Vines wound through her hair. There were patches of soft moss, mostly in her pubic hair, had grown. Tiny pink florets had sprouted like a crown over her head. “Persephone embodied,” the centaur whispered reverently. That she deigned to come to him made him feel both small and special, and silently he vowed that she would receive nothing but pleasure from him. With that unspoken oath he did not ask if he could use his fingers on her. He simply released the supportive hold he had on one side of her ass and moved his hand to her pussy.

He slipped two into the soft opening of her cunt, watching for her reaction. He couldn’t help dipping his mouth back to her; he felt intoxicated by the aroma of earth, honeysuckle, and the specific but undefinable base note of *her* under it all. This time the tip of his tongue found her clit, and he lapped at it.

Pink wasn't familiar with the mythology of Hades and Persephone, though the implication that her beauty was once again being praised was more than enough to make her pleasure swell and crest as Kadus filled her squeezing cunt with two fingers.

Her head tipped back as her mouth dropped open into an 'o' of bliss- her body trembled at his touch, and the slick walls that enveloped his digits gripped at them greedily. She gave a broken moan, breathless and shuddering with the pleasure that radiated through her from his touch. His eyes held no revulsion, and he had been so very kind to her- those things alone would have been enough normally to make her weak in the knees.

As it stood, with his fingers inside her cunt and his tongue lapping over the stiffened bundle of her clit, Pink felt her mind become dazed with the intensity of the pleasure he caused to erupt inside her.

"Oh . . . Kadus . . . " she whimpered, pressing the fingers of both hands into his hair to hold him close. She rocked her hips, grinding herself against his hand and his tongue as she grew closer to the precipice of pleasure that threatened to overwhelm her.

The tip of his tongue sent searing, wicked pleasure rolling through her guts that reached her throat and caused a choked whine of bliss. Her grip tightened and the pink blossoms that crowned her and decorated her body grew larger, gleaming and slightly luminescent as she pressed herself against his mouth and came.

Her cool walls clung to his digits as she rocked her hips through her climax, grinding her throbbing clit against his tongue persistently as a rush of cool, sweet wet drenched his mouth and hand, dripping down his wrist as she panted despite no need for breath and floated almost dreamily before him. Making no move to pull away from him, trying not to be the cause of the contact between them ceasing, Pink stroked through his hair with shaking hands, the words thank you murmured repeatedly through soft, breathless moans.

He liked that she gave herself to pleasure so freely. Her tremble, her fingers tugging at his hair, the sounds she made . . . all of that, plus her cunt tightening around his fingers and the burst of wet that flooded into his palm and on his lips made him moan with her. Since she didn’t move away he continued to lightly drag his tongue through her folds, reveling in the taste of her. He was much more delicate at her clit, and waited until the muscles in her pussy relaxed before gently removing his fingers from her. He still swirled his tongue into her, when his hand was gone, to savor her.

Pink seemed to be drifting in a haze of euphoria, and he let her take her time.

⁂

Beej trembled slightly as Carmen touched her pussy, the light friction just below the head of his cock still surrounded by her heat making his cock twitch in response. He gave a low sigh of contentment, barely aware beyond the comfortable exhaustion and contentment of having filled her so entirely with both the mimicked cock and the amount of come he'd filled her with.

He nuzzled against the back of her neck as she accepted the water and the handkerchief, holding her firmly against his body as her warmth continued to seep into him. Her words made him chuckle, and he would have flirtatiously asked if she was absolutely sure...

The sudden squeal and giggle and the accompanying tightness around his tip caused him to shudder from head to toe, though two extra arms reached around them both, cupping her tits as the water bottle sprinkled over them. He kneaded at her skin, rubbing away the dirt as the water--which seemed to continue to flow even after the bottle should have been emptied--drizzled over her.

When he had massaged away the dirt, or so he hoped, as he was far too comfortable this way to keep, he became aware of the soft fluttering near their groins as well. The other ghost's warning made sense of the odd sensation, and with a low chuckle, Beej waved away the little creatures with his additional limbs. They were persistent and numerous enough that after a few waves of his arms, he shifted those added limbs until they were far more flexible, nothing more than tendrils of flesh that waved and swatted at the little creatures to keep them off of his lover.

"Mmm . . . love ya too babes. These little things botherin' ya?" he asked, voice thick with contentment as he continued attempting to ward off the tiny flying fey.

Water splashing over her was unexpected, and Carmen yelped. That turned into laughter as Beej dragged his hands over her, wiping away the dirt that had smeared on her front. Now that she wasn’t surprised by it, the water felt pleasant on her skin, countering the bonfire’s heat.

Moaning lightly when his fingers seemed a little more interested in playing with her nipples than cleaning her off, she gradually became aware of the audience that had gathered near their groins.

“A couple hung around me before. They’re like gnats!” she agreed, and although Beej was doing a fine job of keeping them off the two of them, it was automatic to put her hand back down between her legs to cover her pussy. The tendrils that her lover had conjured parted so she could put her hand there, but she should have left well enough alone; her fingers slipping over her pussy again, to his thick cock still a little inside her made her groan deep in her throat. Her pussy physically ached--she hadn’t lied about being fucked out--but a more primal ache begged for more. With extreme effort Carmen moved the hand that wanted to rub her swollen clit for just a little more pleasure off herself.

“I’m okay,” she finally told him.

tbc . . .