#granite soil

[clipstone]

Casa de Mouraz

Casa de Mouraz Dão Branco Dão, Portugal 2022 Malvasia-Fina, Encruzado, Bical

A distinctive dry, natural white made from over 20 local grape varieties. These grapes grow in sandy granitic soils and enjoy an unique microclimate between two mountain ranges.

Dão Branco spends eight months on its lees with batonnage in stainless steel tanks which creates a creamy, full bodied texture. A crisp green-fruited start with a satisfying finish.

Deliciously textured, aromatic and moreish. High acidity, no oak, a light, mouthwatering alternative to Chardonnay.

Tasting notes: green apple, apricot, lemon

Pairing: baked fish, pesto pasta, pork, cheeses

Similar to: Chardonnay

[fashiontrends111]

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[tenth-sentence]

Essentially it's just what the name suggests, grey stone, a form of granite, some of it crushed to 1 centimetre (half an inch) in size, most of it smaller.

"Soil: The incredible story of what keeps the earth, and us, healthy" - Matthew Evans

[ninety-two-bees]

geologist remus AU in which he has the largest rock collection known to man but it’s all granite and sandstone and other rocks that no one else thinks look cool

he has his rock hammer and his hard hat and he spends his days in stupid rural areas just looking through soil and in rivers for things he can break open or put under a microscope, and he takes samples home in his pockets even though it means there’s dirt and sand everywhere

queue sirius, who knows nothing about rocks but knows that some minerals are shiny, and he has a great time fidgeting with the pretty minerals that remus thinks are “too boring”

bonus points for remus doing a taste test on his rocks to determine what kind of minerals they are (because yes, that is a genuine way of determining mineral type)

[cu7ie]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀૮ • ﻌ • ა ain't nothin' but a hound dog!

cw; hybrid!characters, mentions of knotting & rut cycles. scent kink. panty/underwear things. some genital specific hcs.

Hound!Baji was easy enough to share a roof with, but as he adjusts to being the only hybrid in the house, he gets a little too big for his britches & forgoes his respect for you, not honoring the space as something you two share - but that he allows you to exist in. Now he’s stubborn to share - never mind a room; and especially not a bed.

And when he realizes you don’t have it in to argue with him, he stakes his claim on most things in the house. He's become aggressively territorial to the point you don't even have to be actively threatening his space for him to bully you.

He doesn't have a problem with mounting you to remind you who's the alpha in this house. His cock presses into you with the intention to make you submit, since you so often forget your place.

penis'd

establishing a hierarchy is paramount because Baji will feel actively threatened with you in the house after a point. He'll expect several things of you from that point forward; and no, he doesn't care if it's humiliating, or 'not something humans ought to do' - as the only member of his pack, (nevermind it's your fucking house, he is the pack leader) as soon as you're in the house he's trying to stick his dick in your ass, get all that earthen 'outside' smell off of you. Constant scenting, constant marking (he does it with his cum because he's fucking de-gen-er-ate), and your coworkers start complaining about how you and your office smell like cock & cum.

Hybrid trainers and recommended routines don't work on that dog. He's just hellbent on being bad to the bone, rearranging your guts til you send him to the pound.

pussy'd

he is too up his own own ass to think you threaten his status, (wait until he finds out about your strap,) and as a result you can slink about your house without much issue beyond Baji getting a little in his ways, in his feelings and cornering you between your granite counter top; get you better acquainted with his knot since he always imagined rounding you out with pups some time..

And he will, eventually. You've got this fat little pussy that drives him mad, pheromones don't work on you but they are all he can smell and he won't be satisfied until he can sniff out himself pouring off of you in waves - the litter of pups growing inside you cementing you as his for the rest of your natural lives.

Dog!Hanma is always hiding. But he's more playful than Baji, he's hiding to surprise you of course; though more often than not he's not the most honest. Sometimes he'll stay hiding when he shouldn't be looking.

Maybe he came into the closet to try and spook you, but he quickly forgot and ended up aimless and in the dark with nothing to do; but when he tries to leave,

You're passed out on the bed. At least that's what it looks like, but as he swings it open and he slinks out without a sound, that's when he hears you moan.

His ears snap up at attention, his head nearly bashed against your bedpost as he tries to angle himself to -

"Fuuuuck." you growl as you cum on your fingers for the second time tonight , agitated with the feeling of your own flesh, clawing at the sheet as you toss it over yourself and turn off the light. The scent sticks to his nose like blood to a hound and he's just … dogged about ya.

He starts stealing your underwear and other garments sometimes just so he can smell you all over again, soiling the cloth with his seed before the end of the night. He just hopes you don't notice how often your favorite pairs go missing.

Wolf!Taiju doesn't live close to people on purpose, so when you stumble into his neck of the woods, he's annoyed. He can smell your campfires and your food and you and he thinks he hates all of it,

Until he sees your sleeping face, screwed up in discomfort as you shudder from the cold. You look like an experienced hiker, the kind that usually goes missing this far north. 

Courtesy of him of course. Self-aggrandizing aside, Taiju takes a liking to something about you. You two meet formally when you get targeted by another feral & he doesn't hesitate to come to your rescue, and as per your irritating human custom, you demand to help him. Pay his kindness forward.

You have the audacity to look shocked when he tears your shorts to shreds, his breath hot on your ear as he raises your hips and uses you to get off,

his rut making coherent decision-making rather difficult.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 59

part 1 | part 58 | ao3

cw: canon-typical horror/gore (like for real this time), emetophobia, reference to minor character death. ty to @thisapplepielife for indulging my weirdly specific research about headstones

Steve tries to follow her — gets shot down before he even gets within speaking range, Max shouting at him to give her a minute the second she spots him coming over the hill. He backs off, hands raised in surrender, and then…

Well, then he’s already out of the car.

Well then his feet know where to take him.

His dad’s grave isn’t far. Maybe a football field away, close enough that he’ll be able to hear it if Max calls for help. He moves toward it without thought, his legs carrying him past simple overgrown markers in the oldest part of the park — crumbling remnants of civil war soldiers, farmers and shopkeepers and factory workers, people who worked the mines, people who died before his grandfather was born. People who might have been loved once, before time and moss and water stripped their names off of the stones.

Up the next slope, the markers get more elaborate, shift from bronze to granite to marble, to monuments and mausoleums and a fucking obelisk; ostentatious displays of the town’s oldest money. The coal barons, the oil tycoons. Rotten bastards, Wayne might say.

The Harringtons aren't that rich. They're further down the hill in a neatly manicured row of Indiana limestone; fresh flowers on each grave, the weeds plucked, the grass trimmed.

Dad's buried right next to Grandpa Otis.

It almost looks nice.

Crisp, clean, dry. Nothing to suggest the messy wet red of his father's demise. Steve shoves his hands in his front pockets and steps up to his dad's plot, toes the edge of it, the rounded lump of earth, sparse grass and loose soil where his father's bones are laid. The ground gives a little under his weight, the dirt compacting. Could he dig this up with just his hands? Could he claw through until he reached the bottom, pry open the box and peer inside? Unbidden, the image forms in his mind: worm food and rot, half a man left inside, somehow still frowning in disappointment with his jaw bone shining clean.

Steve's stomach turns. A sick shiver runs through him, saliva flooding his mouth, sweat beading at his hair line.

This isn't right.

Something's not right.

There's a sudden chill in the air, frigid wind carrying a smell like roadkill in the summer — heat wafting from the pavement, death clogging up his throat. Steve covers his nose and wills his shoulders down from his ears; tries to mutter words of comfort to himself under his breath. “Just a graveyard, Steve. Just a totally… normal…”

Ice on the back of his neck. Steve tenses every muscle, turns his good ear toward the sound of whatever's creeping up on him; something taller than him, something slithering and wet, its rasping rattles of frozen breath sending goosebumps down Steve's arms. His hands twitch inside his pockets.

Then, a voice — a voice that isn’t his, that can’t be anyone’s, because the man it belonged to is dead. “That Munson boy was right about you."

Steve can't fucking breathe. Dark clouds roll in around him, violent as a blooming bruise, and that voice behind him echoes — distorted, vicious; hungry.

"You are a black hole."

Steve grabs two fistfuls of his own hair and tugs; wills the pain to dispel the nightmare, his eyes swimming from the sting.

The thing behind him laughs. "Look how you ruined your mother," it snarls. "Look how you tore her apart.”

"Shut up!" Steve barks with his hands over his ears.

“Steve…” The voice deepens, beckons, thick with malice and rot. Steve slowly turns to face it, trembling all over, pulse thudding in his ears, and his shoes squelch in the dirt, and when he looks down he sees that the dirt has turned to mud that now turns to oozing red, a viscous river beneath his feet, flowing up over his ankles, pouring from his father's grave. And there, in front of him, a mangled remnant stands. The ruined corpse of Richard Harrington, his skin shriveled and gray, the torn parts of him held together by his clothes. There’s a hole in his torso where the exposed ribs glint like knives.

Steve throws up on himself.

The ground gives way beneath him, goes spongy like rotting meat, and the thing wearing his dad's face cackles as Steve sinks into the earth, the grave swallowing him whole, up to his calves, his knees, his thighs. "Join me," it offers, lipless smile full of teeth.

The glamor peels back to reveal a monster underneath, its scarred skin crawling in mucus-coated vines; naked, long-limbed, stitched together with burnt flesh.

Steve screams as he scrambles for purchase, up to his hips now in the muck, his feet on the lid of his dad's casket. He claws blindly at the loose ground but it’s all thick and wet with red, and the air itself is red; blood in the sky, in his eyes, in his lungs. He's going to die here. The voice tells him so. It's in his head now, a bellowing echo as the monster draws near, one hideous hand outstretched, an all-consuming join me, join me, JOIN ME—

“HEY!!!”

Max shouts directly in his face, shaking him hard by both shoulders where they're crouched on the cool ground, Kate Bush leaking from the headphones slung around her neck. Steve gives a startled shout and jerks back out of her grip, falling hard on his ass, landing harder on his elbows.

The world shifts back to blue. To dry, clean grass. To breathable air.

Steve pants up at the sky. His shirt clings to him where he's soaked it through with sweat. When Max offers him a hand, he stands on shaky legs, looks at the ground beneath his feet and screams again, scurrying back until his ass hits a stranger's headstone.

There’s a dent in the earth where he was standing. A smudge of packed dirt where he really did sink in. Steve stares at it; feels it reaching out for him, the dark patch thudding like a heart beat, spreading out like snaking vines.

He clutches at his heaving chest. Max’s eyes are huge on him.

"Okay, what the fuck?" she begs.

"What the fuck yourself!"

No heat behind the words, but they burn him, anyway, pushed out on a weak gasp. Is this what she was talking about? Is this what she calls nothing?

This doesn't feel like fucking nothing.

“Shit," she says, and her eyes go even wider. Steve can see the veins in them. "Shit, Steve, your nose…”

He swipes his arm across his face.

It comes back red.

—

part 60

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

[peachesofteal]

Dad!John Price/female reader The Ocean anthology Note: The orcas mentioned in this series are based on a real population. Coolest things on this planet.

The strait is quiet. 

Fog rolls across glass, painting grey sea smoke on top of clear, hyaline waters, mirror images cast from horizon to cliff. It’s a prehistoric stillness, the kind that’s sung low in the belly of this passage for millions of years, volcanos and glaciers all doing their worst, their best, to shape and carve this land to be as it’s known now. 

Granitic wall looms above and below, plummeting into the earth beneath you until the water is too deep to see where it ends and hell begins, water and plants and light refracting into a teal green color. painting the pitch something most only see in magazines. It stretches tall too, forms the base of the islands, of all the land that flanks the strait, and you have to crane your neck to see where rock ends and soil begins. 

It’s a marvel onto itself, but you’re not here for the geology. 

Where are they? 

Your paddle dips, pushes, forging a path through the quiet, preternatural stillness, wrists to ribs moving with hypnotic pace. Left, right, left, right. Dig. Dip. Your lungs burn, muscles ache, and still you paddle, up and down the coast, maintaining your determined pace in the face of exhaustion, forcing yourself past the brink of logic and reason, as always, in the pursuit of passion. You focus on your breath, on the cold, settling it in your bones, falling into the beautiful rhythm that is paddling, cold sea spray dripping down to your gloves.

It’s easy to get lost in the quiet of the water. The fog and the cliffs crowd inwards, silent watchers of a sacred place, protectors of a balance long disturbed and derailed everywhere else in this world. Your paddle strokes in perfect time, kayak cutting through the eerie mists and propelling you forward, focus fixed on the horizon, looking, listening. Waiting. You simmer in the silence, straining to hear the telltale blow of air, the signal of surfacing.

Nothing comes.

Where are they?

Salmon jump in front of the kayak, shattering the serenity in their wriggling flight.

The residents elude you. You say good morning to an otter, a sea lion the size of two men, some curious Dall’s porpoise, but are left bereaved at the noticeable absence of the pods. 

It’s the first day. It’s okay, it’s only the first day. 

The alarm on your watch goes off, just as the lighthouse, affectionately named Little Rock, looms ahead, faded and chipped green paint calling you back to the cove, a glacial breeze whipping under your goretex and neoprene, cutting to the quick, right down to flesh and bone. 

Time’s up. 

“Did you see them?!” Aly bounces on her toes at the edge of the dock, running alongside the pace of your paddling. 

“No.” Your tone is light, but you don’t hide the disappointment, and she smiles sadly, sympathetically. What a smart kid.

“I’m sorry.” 

“That’s okay.” 

“Are you coming in now?” You nod, motioning to the beach, and she skips ahead, running down the steps onto where millions of little pearled rocks give way under her feet, echoing the same as you run the fiberglass bottom of your kayak aground, popping your legs out on either side. 

“I know you wanted to see them.” Her eyes are wide and a little fearful. You frown. 

“I’ve got all year, I’ll see them. Don’t worry.” The assurance is tepid, but present, and she shrugs. 

“You should ask my dad. He knows where they are a lot.” 

“Oh yeah?” You could try. She nods, excited, shiny dark braids gleaming in the mid-morning sun. You glance around, looking for an adult, or someone who accompanied here down here, but there’s no one, and you chew on it, pulling your boat higher up than the tide will reach today. “Shouldn’t you like, be in school or something?” 

“I do school online.” She rolls her eyes, gap tooth grin stretched across her face. “It’s for gifted kids but I always finish early.” 

“Does your dad know you’re running around this place unsupervised?” She shakes her head, and then sobers, glancing towards the woods. 

“I’m not unsupervised.” What? You look the same direction, but all you see is the shadow of the forest, darkness so thick you’re not sure you could see your way in broad daylight. 

A chill traces your spine, ice cold and cautious, slow in its discovery, pressing against your skin like it’s moving under your clothes. You gasp, whirling and- 

There’s nothing. Only the lapping of the tide, the gentle waves that rake through the shore. Your beached boat. Remnants of the morning’s mists. 

Must’ve been the wind. 

The Ranger’s daughter giggles. You raise an eyebrow, and then motion up the hill. 

“Want to head back with me then?”

“Aly!” The Ranger’s voice reaches you, even a hundred meters away. She sprints ahead of you, and your stomach twists, iced over fear spreading through your veins. 

He’s going to freak. He already hates you and now he’s going to think you kidnapped his kid or something. 

“Where have you been?” 

“Down at the water.” She kicks a rock, beaming. One of his too wide palms sweeps over her forehead, moustache and lips kicking to the side with a sigh. 

“Not supposed to be down there on your own, remember?” 

“I wasn’t.” She stands tall with her insistence, and proudly points at you. “I was with her.”

John straightens. He stares at you with a scrutiny that you’ve never felt, an intense pressure building behind your eyes, in your thighs, incinerating all the muscle in your body until you’re sure to explode. 

The silence is painful, and Aly hops from one foot to another. 

“You find ‘em?” There’s no softness in his eyes for you, only a hard edge, hand coming to rest on his daughter’s shoulder. 

“No.” You think he’ll turn away then, drift away in the wake of this encounter, but he holds you steady there, caught between him and the earth, crushing weights on either side. It’s unnerving, this stranger, this Ranger, a moon to a tide, and you swallow when he finally speaks, it’s with that rich timbre, the accent that twists you up in boundless knots.

“They make you earn it.”

“You should sleep with your window open.” Aly pipes up, and John’s mouth twitches.

“You can hear them in the cove, in the middle of the night.” He explains. “They hunt and play in the shallow off the beach pretty often. Though it’s too cold to be sleeping with your window open.” The last piece is serious, like a warning, but you’re already vibrating with anticipation, attention fixed through the trees, like you can see down the hill to the harbor.

When you turn back, John is watching you. Hard muscle and tone turned dulcet, there’s less shadow in his eyes, replaced by something wild, willful.

There for a second. Gone in the next.

“Well I’ve… work to do.” Paltry effort. It sticks in your mouth the way this man has stuck to your mind, lurking and wandering, leaving you wondering what he's doing on the other side of your bedroom wall, your living room. Wondering what he’s like, what he’s really like, under the clipped and caustic words, the churlish airs swirling around him whenever he lays eyes on you. He’s the definition of surly, and the reluctance to interact with you stings, even though you shove it down. Secrets lay beneath his ribs, you have no doubt, protected by his thick coat and wide frame, a mass of tenured muscle and strength visible under the heaviest wool.

He nods.

You turn your back.

"Leave a note, when you're goin' out." He's got Aly in hand, halfway up his side of the porch, breath fogging in the space between your bodies. "Shouldn't be out alone, without anyone knowing, alright?"

Leave a note.

"Alright."

[houseofpurplestars]

On April 11th, 2019, Israel sends a space probe to the moon. It explodes on impact.

BORN of Holy Space, she is sister

to stone. knows each smooth defense

littering occupied Ground. Holy

Ground. she whispers stories of how we built

our homes / laying stone gentle atop one another

dabke hard on soil

sending stories of how children see if stones,

too, float in the dead sea.

israel sends a space probe to the moon & it explodes on impact.

LISTEN. the moon is pro-Palestine.

moon remembers when she was part of the earth / remembers when land was one / craters filled with water waiting to be named holy / a people knowing what it always was, tending to orchards with twisted roots older than sea level / sung prayers tucked into breakfasts of bread and cheese / throats uneroded / calling on our daughters / ya ‘amar ya ‘amar ya banat al ‘amar / asking of us beauty / strength

holy earth sends stories of children / gripping rocks so hard their life lines become granite rings.

Children scratching at empire / criminalized. what is a blemish to an empire? man-made death machines plummet into the surface of the moon / scratch for conquest.

o holy Ground. those who separated us will not be forgiven.

there is no blemish to her light. in eulogy of the Children who have joined the stars

she fights back

[naturalharmonicas]

Digging

Digging

Unearthing

Reaching for the soul

The root

The heart

Scraping and scraping

Soil and granite and grain

And if Mother Earth doesn't accept me

Then who will?

[ohtobeleah]

Chronos // Robert Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob told you that Chronos carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

Warnings: Bob Floyd x Pregnant F!reader. F-18 accident. Medical inaccuracies. Birth. Bob Whump, ANGST. Major character death.

Word Count: 6.1k

Author Note: Today is Monday, for most of you it’s Sunday: Please enjoy this oneshot that’s been a work in progress since the 28th of March. ~ Last minute title name change. I’m posting this at 4am my time so blow this up.

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he and his front seater, Natasha Phoenix Trance, fell through the sky in a tin bird designed by man, for man to destroy other men….

That it wouldn't give two shits about them either. 

“Extinguishing right engine!” There were far too many sounds coming from every system possible as Phoenix tried to regain control of the F-18 that seemed impossible to wrangle. All Bob could think about in those utterly terrifying moments was you. 

He’d always made it a promise to come home to you. He knew how much you worried about him, how much the thought of being left behind ping ponged around in your brain. How sometimes you'd stay up all hours of the night hoping that wherever he was and whatever ocean he flew across that he was okay. That he was safe and that he;d come home to you. 

Robert Floyd had made you a promise he had every intention of keeping, but he wasn't so sure he could. 

“Phoenix, Bob! Punch out! Punch out!” Maverick shouted through the comms as he chased the rogue fighter jet down. Bob looked around at all the warnings flashing in his face, there was nothing left to save except themselves. 

“Phoenix there’s warning lights everywhere, we’re in hydraulic failure!” All Bob prayed for in those terrifying moments as his colleagues watched on in pure shock horror from the ground below was that he’d get a chance to tell you he loved you again. 

He always told you that he’d come home, that there wasn’t a chance in hell that he wouldn’t. You knew better than to believe Government Property though, Bob knew you knew that there was always a chance. So he promised in the event of his untimely demise that he’d come back to you and wiggle your earlobe. To let you know he made it safe and sound. That you need not worry about him anymore. 

You promised him the same thing, because working from home was just as terrifying as flying a multimillion dollar fighter jet. 

“I can’t control it!” But as the ground grew closer and closer, Bob knew he wasn’t ready to die, he wasn’t ready to leave you behind and he certainly wasn’t ready to not meet his unborn child. 

“We’re going down, Phoenix! We’re going in! We’re going in!” He wasn’t ready to wiggle your ear. 

“You can’t save it! eject, eject!” Maverick shouted again, he was watching on like he’d been sucked into some kind of timeloop. He’d seen this happen before. Only he lost his best friend when to this day he thought it should have been him. 

“Eject! Eject! Eject!” Were the last three words Bob heard escape from Phoenix’s mouth before he was reaching between his legs to pull at the emergency yellow and black striped handle that sent him flying out of the cockpit. He’d been taught how to handle a situation like this, they all had. Every single naval aviator currently on active duty had been taught what to do when they needed to eject. 

But when Bob's head hit the top of the cockpit? He didn’t care for procedures and protocol and what he should or shouldn’t have done in the moment, all he cared about was you and holding on to whatever consciousness he had left as he tumbled through the sky at a rapid pace. Reaching for his parachute in just the nic of time. 

Knowing if he hit the ground where the land had shook and cracked and rose till it spiked the sky that it wouldn’t have given a shit. It wouldn’t have been all that forgiving and it certainly wouldn’t have mourned his untimely demise. 

So Bob faught until he hit the ground with a not so graceful thud, he hit the ground hard—with an almighty groan as his ribs popped and his head throbbed inside his helmet. 

“Ahhh!” He gasped as he clutched at his stomach, forgetting how to breathe as the darkness of tunnel vision claimed its next victim. Unconsciousness overcoming its latest casualty: 

Bob Floyd.��

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

Bob had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. When you had chuckled out a soft no as his lips trailed up your neck and his slightly calloused hands roamed your body like they knew every inch, Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while someone by the name of Pete Mitchell told you over the phone that your husband had been involved in a training accident….

Well—you felt as if you'd fallen straight into it.

You felt like you'd fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. You tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. You descended into a world where Bob Floyd wasn’t around. 

“Your husband was involved in an accident during a training exercise this afternoon—“. 

At the sound of Pete Maverick Mitchell’s voice explaining that there had been an accident on base during an exercise—you begun to crack, you started slipping further and further into the unknown because Bob had always said he’d never leave and if he did you’d feel him tugging on your earlobe to let you know he got there safe and sound. 

There was no one tugging on your earlobe though, no soul that had passed on or ghostly figure watching over you. What there was though, was a radiating warmth between your legs. A wetness that shouldn't have been there. 

Had your water just broken? 

“Oh—oh god.” You gasped as you looked down, gripping the side of the kitchen island as you groaned out a prolonged, primal moan. You were in labour there was no doubt about it. “Ahh.” 

“Mrs Floyd? Are you alright?” The voice on the other end of the line asked with a confused undertone as you watched the seconds tick past on the ongoing call. 

“I uh—“ You tried to speak, tried to make sense of what you were hearing, what you were experiencing. Pain in every aspect both physically, emotionally and mentally. “I think my water just broke.” 

“Oh—“ Maverick couldn’t suppress his shock nor could he disguise his sudden state of disbelief. “Oh okay, I’ll uh—I'll have an ambulance come by right away.” You replied with a sharp groan. Doubling over as you felt how hard your stomach had truly become. This was happening, everything was happening all at once and you had lost focus in the pain of both worrying about the state your husband was currently in and the fact your baby was on their way. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there very soon, I’m gonna stay on the line with you until they arrive.” 

“I need Bob—“ You’d begun to cry as you kneeled on the kitchen floor before you decided that sitting up against the cabinet with your legs outstretched felt a hell of a lot more comfortable. “I need my husband, I can't do this without him.” You felt warm tears streaming down your cheeks as your bottom lip quivered and another painful contraction rippled through your body. Every fibre of your being ignited in a fireball. “Ahhh—I won’t do this without my husband!” 

On the other side of the phone call that had taken a rather drastic turn, Mav looked to Phoenix who was being wheeled into the awaiting ambulance on the tarmac. Bob was next, Pete didn’t have the heart to tell the Weapons Systems Officer that had just escaped death that his wife, who he hadn’t mentioned to a soul beside Phoenix, that his wife’s water had just broken. 

“Phoenix, hey—“ Pete stopped the medics briefly, they looked at Pete like he was risking her life by wasting valuable time. But this was just as important. “What’s Bob's wife’s name?” Pete wanted to know so he could be a little more personal. 

The truth was Natasha didn’t even know, she’d seen the picture of you in Bob's wallet that he’d shown her, but Bob had only ever called you by your nickname. Bob's beloved term of endearment. 

Peach. 

“He’s only ever called her Peach, I don’t even know her name.” Phoenix cried. She was still trying to process what had happened—she felt like the blame was all her own to bear. She’d damn near killed her back seater and she didn’t even know his wife’s real name or that you were pregnant. “I nearly killed him and I don’t even know his wife’s name—“ 

“Hey hey hey.” Mav tried to soothe the clearly shocked pilot. “It wasn’t your fault, it could’ve happened to anyone, Phoenix.” Mav smiled softly as he held the phone back to his ear, he was still yet to call Phoenix's emergency contact, her sister Lily. It wasn’t inherently Mavericks' job to call the emergency contacts listed in Bob and Phoenix’s files, but it was his duty, his responsibility. 

He was going to as soon as he’d informed you, however, Pete wasn’t expecting this call to take the turn it had. “Peach, you there?” 

There was no answer, Simply whimpers. When you’d doubled over in pain in the kitchen you’d left your phone on the island bench top. It was far too out of reach now as you sat trying to breathe through the latest contraction that bodied you. 

“Peach—“ Mav started, but as he did so saw the medics wheeling Bob closer and closer to the ambulance waiting on the tarmac. He couldn’t say anything, not when Bob was still fighting to stay conscious. “Mrs Floyd, someone will be there as soon as they can, I promise.” 

“Bbboooooobb—!” You cried out. “I can’t do this!” It was all too much for you to handle, the immense pressure, the anxiety, the fear of losing your husband. “I can’t fucking do this!” You never thought in your wildest dreams you’d have to do this alone. Bob always said he’d be right with you every single step of the way. And up until right now he had been. 

“Someone’s coming Peach.” Maverick knew you couldn’t hear him, but he couldn’t bring himself to put the phone down. He looked at Bob being wheeled into the back of the ambulance on a stretcher, wondering if his decision to not say anything as of right now was a bad decision. He seemed to always be full of those. 

“Someone’s coming—“

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

By the time Bob was brought back to the North Island Base Hospital, he was very aware that someone would need to call his emergency contact about what had happened. Someone was going to need to call you, he thought it would be best if he was the one who called. 

With a throbbing headache and a few cuts and gashes, Bob let the nurses and doctors tend to his aid without much of a fight. He knew he needed the care, knew it was for the best if he just let everyone do their jobs. He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and if he put up a fight they would only keep him admitted for longer. 

“You got a partner Robert? A wife or husband that we need to call?” Doctor Austin asked as he shined a light into Bob's eyes, watching carefully as he followed the light side to side. 

“I have a wife–” Bob mumbled, his head hurt from when he’d hit the ground not so gracefully but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle as he sat up on the hospital bed with his legs hanging off the side. Phoenix was laying with an ice pack over her eyes on the other bed. “She’s um, she's pregnant, could go any day now.” Doctor Austin chuckled as he clicked his pen light off and placed it into his top pocket. Sending Bob an all knowing look. 

“And you thought it was a good idea to fall outta the sky?” Bob's ribs hurt when he laughed softly, cupping at his side as he did so, laughing with the doctor who had cleared him and Natasha of any serious injury. “My good man, I can't say that's a good mix.” But there were still observations that needed to be made and a few more tests just to be sure. He wasn't out of the woods. 

“Yeah I think you might be right doc—“ Bob smiled softly. “But can I be the one to call her? She’ll probably take the news a little better if she heard it from me.” 

“I’ll see what I can do Lieutenant.” Doctor Austin nodded as he picked up his charts and headed out of the room, leaving Phoenix and Bob in the heavy silence of the aftermath of their near death experience. 

“What’s her name?” Phoenix mumbled from behind the ice pack she kept over her eyes. 

“Y/n—“ Bob replied softly as he played with the wedding band that was strung through his dog tags. “We’ve been together since high school.” 

“Why do you call her Peach?” 

“Because she’s as sweet as the peaches from the orchard my grandma used to own.” Bob couldn’t stop himself from bashfully blushing, a hume all consuming crept across the apples of his cheeks whenever he spoke about you. “We’re about to have a baby, the detachment was meant to be my last before I could access my paternity leave entitlements.” 

“Rough last assignment—“ Phoenix chuckled as she shook her head in disbelief. Bob agreed silently, it was a rough last assignment. “You don’t talk about her an awful lot do you?” 

“I would—“ Bob pressed his lips together. “Just no one really asked.” It was then that Phoenix realised that she didn’t know an awful lot about the man who had gone down with her. The man who sat behind her and had her back in the sky. Her WSO. “And I guess we’re not here for all that long anyway so I just kept her to myself, she’s a nice reminder that even after the rough days we’ve been having I get to go home, safe and in one piece to the woman I love.” 

“Do you guys know what your having?” Phoenix didn't mean to pry, but she felt an overwhelming pressure to get to know the person she had been flying with since being requested for this detachment. Bob shook his head in response. 

“Nah, we wanted to keep it a surprise.” Just as Bob was finishing his sentences Doctor Austin returned, his face looked all kinds of pale and worry was written in the deep lines across his forehead. 

“Lieutenant Floyd it looks as if your wife was just admitted into the maternity ward—“ Bob's heart stopped beating inside his chest as he listened to Doctor Austin. “It appears that she was contacted earlier about your accident and the shock sent her into labour—“ 

“I uh—I need to see her.” Bob mumbled as he slid off the exam bed and nearly fell to the floor. His knees were so weak from the shock and adrenaline from the accident and now the realisation that he was about to be a first time dad. “I need to see my wife, where is she?” 

“Lieutenant, I know this must be a stressful situation for you but I really advise against leaving until we’ve finished with your own test. We still need to get you in for—“ 

“I won’t miss the birth of my baby.” Bob shook his head in defiance. “No, I won’t leave her to do that alone, she needs me—I know she does because I know how scared she is about doing this alone.” 

“Robert—“

“No no you have to listen to me. I can't let her do this alone because I’ve heard her cry about it in the middle of the night.” Phoenix's heart shattered into a million pieces as she watched Bob plead with the doctor and the nurses that had come in to try and subdue him. “She’s scared I won’t come back one day and today was almost that day and now she’s giving birth to our baby alone after I promised I’d be here for her—“ 

“We can’t let you go, it would be against all my medical advice.” Doctor Austin tried to explain. “I understand the difficulty of the situation Mr Floyd but your health and wellbeing is our number one priority.”

“But you have to let me!! That’s my wife! She needs me! Please—“ You needed your husband, things weren’t travelling all that well in the delivery room. You weren’t ready to have this baby—not if Bob wasn’t there with you. Not if Bob had left you behind, he was too young to die. He couldn’t leave you here by yourself to raise a baby, his baby, on your own. He promised he wouldn’t. 

“Mrs Floyd, you are going to have this baby.” 

“Aahhhhhh! I’m not doing this without my husband!” You groaned out. You were covered in sweat and crying your heart out as one of the labour and delivery nurses held your hand and placed a cool washcloth to your forehead. “I won’t have this baby without him, do you understand me!” 

“Someone needs to contact her husband—“ Everyone from the King of England to the Hounds of Hell could hear you screaming. It had been a rather quiet day for the L&D department. Until the ambulance had brought you in. 

“We can’t reach him, but I’ll try again.” One of the intern labour and delivery nurses replied as she rushed out of the room, she sprinted towards the nurses station in a hurry. So fast she almost went straight past it, she came to a halt with a flustered sigh.“I need you to try contacting Mr Floyd again, his wife won’t cooperate—she’s refusing to give birth to this baby without him.” 

“She knows how having a baby works doesn’t she?” One of the older nurses sitting at the desk rolled her eyes. “That baby, no matter the circumstances, isn’t going to wait for anyone.”

“I’ll let the L&D ward know you’re here as a patient but that’s the best I can do at this stage Lieutenant, I can’t in good conscience let you leave this ward without having run through all the proper medical procedures to make sure you’re fit to return to work.” Doctor Austin wasn’t trying to be the bay guy, if anything he wanted nothing more than to send Bob on his way—but he couldn’t, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at night knowing he didn’t do his job to the best of his ability. “My primary priority is you and Miss Trance here.” 

“You don’t understand!” Bob ran his hands through his hair as his bottom lip quivered. He was holding back tears as he looked up to the ceiling—begging whatever God up there that saved him this morning to work just a little more magic. “She won’t have this baby without me, that was the deal—I needed to be there and now that I’m not—“

“She can’t not have the baby Robert.” Doctor Austin sighed, that was the moment Bob knew he needed out. He needed to get to you, he needed to be there by your side and whisper how beautiful and strong and amazing you are for being a whole person into this world. Because if there was one thing you were, it was strong willed, and you weren't going to have this baby without him. That was a promise. “I’ll go talk with L&D and I’ll be right back.” 

“Tell my wife I’m here!” Bob shouted as Doctor Austin left the room, Bob felt like he couldn’t breathe. There was a pressure mounting inside his chest, like an elephant was perched upon his chest. “I’m—I’m here.” He broke. Tears streamed down his grazed cheeks as Phoenix hobbled over. She’d done a little damage to herself but nothing a little rest and recovery couldn’t fix. 

They were lucky—oh so lucky. 

“She's gonna be okay.” Natasha tried her best to comfort the Weapons System Officer she hardly knew, but Bob was long gone. He’d fallen deep into that hole, the one that the Greek God Chronos had created to separate this life from the next one. He was falling through a helpless paradox of anxiety and fear. You were about to give birth and he was going to miss it. As he crouched down as a whale of pain escaped his parted lips, Bob wished for nothing more than to reverse time.

Because if he could just simply reserve time then he wouldn’t have gone into work this morning. And none of this would be happening. 

***~***~***~****~***~****~****~***

“Desmond, she’s not doing well, at all.” Lily, one of your delivery nurses, pleaded with Bob's doctor to just let him come to your aid. “She thinks he’s dead, something about an accident he was in this morning.” 

“F-18 ejection, he hit the ground pretty hard.” Doctors Austin looked in at you on the bed, in the middle of active labour, fighting every urge you had to push. You weren’t having this baby, not without Bob, the love of your life, your best friend, your husband. “He’s fine, but he’s in for observation overnight and I’m still waiting for his result to come back from his MRI.” 

“If she doesn’t see her husband soon she’s going to need an emergency c-section and I for one am not about to place a panicked mother to be under the knife unless it’s critical.” Lily was your voice of reason. You couldn’t plead with Doctor Austin to let your husband go yourself so she did it for you. “If your patient can walk, hold his wife’s hand while she delivers their child and can sign a waiver saying he waved all medical advice then send him down here before she loses this baby.” 

“You L&D ladies think you know everything—“ 

“Just bring me her damn husband before it’s too late.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Bob felt like he’d been condemned to some eternal hell, time froze as the walls of the hospital room he sat in with Phoenix grew closer and closer. He felt claustrophobic for the first time in a long time. 

“How did the two of you meet?” Phoenix tried to keep Bob's mind from going to places too dark to fathom. He needed a distraction from the fact he was here with her and you were delivering his child. All alone. 

“I was never good at history, she was my partner for this assessment we had in ancient history class once, everyone was doing their research on Pompeii but not Peach.” Bob chuckled to himself at the memory. “No she wanted to do Herculaneum and it turned out to be the only project I ever got an A on for that class.” You were just it for Bob. There was something special about your aura. Your ability to draw him close like a moth entranced by a flame. You took his breath away every time you told him you loved him. 

Your love sent Bob's heart clear out of this world. 

“We kinda just never left each other's side since then.” Bob explained as he sat against the wall on the floor with his elbows on his knees. “She’s always been so supportive of what I do even though I know it scares her more than anything to see me walk out that door every morning and she worries endlessly whenever I’m deployed.” 

“Becoming she loves you.” Phoenix wished she knew a love like Bobs, but her time hadn’t come yet. Bob nodded along as he twirled his wedding band around his finger as it hung from his dog tags. 

“Because she loves me.” 

“Floyd—“ Doctor Austin made his presence known as he chucked Bob a blue hospital gown and cap. “Put those on, sign this form that says you're going against my professional medical advice and follow me, you’re needed in labour and delivery.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Push! Y/n dear you need to push—!” Lily tried to persuade you to push when your next contraction hit but you were too far gone. You weren’t ready to be a mother, not without Bob there to be a father. 

“No! No, I'm not having this baby!” It was the hardest thing to hear as Bob came racing down the hall, his entire body ached from bruises, his head felt heavy on his shoulders from his concussion. But he was okay, he was alive. “I’m not! I won’t! I can’t do this without him!” You cried out in pain as you fought the urge to push, you swore your teeth were about to crush under the force of you clenching. A scream so heartbreaking and primal ripped through you as your body began to betray you. You were fighting nature's course and it wasn’t going well.

“She needs to push—she’s losing too much blood.” One of the nurses stated as a matter of factly just as Bob made it to the door. He froze at the sight of you, how could you look so beautiful in so much pain? He thought he was going to pass out as he took steady, slow steps into the room. 

“I’m here—“ Bob cooed as he came up to your beside. “I’m here Peach I’m here.”

“Bob?” You turned in a delirious state to where your husband's voice had come from. “No no I thought you—“

“I’m okay.” He smiled as he bent over to kiss your forehead and splay his hand on top of your head to push your hair away from your face. “I’m here, I told you I’d be here didn’t I?” 

“I thought you died, I thought you were in an accident?” You could barely focus, you felt so light headed that the world felt like it was spinning. “I thought—“

“Hey, hey you need to push alright? You can push now baby because I’m here and I’m with you and I’m fine.” Bob reassured you as you sobbed and nodded as he kissed your lips softly and held your hand. “You’re so strong, you’re so brave, and I love you so much, please push mama.” 

“This baby is coming whether you're ready or not Mrs Floyd so I’m gonna need you to focus so we can get this baby out.” Lily rounded the bed as she positioned herself between your legs. Bob felt you tighten your grip around his head and everything stopped. Time stood still, your screams were all but drowned out by the excitement and fear in Bob's heart. 

“Yes, Y/n good job. I can see bubs head you’re doing so well! Oh your next contraction I need you to push until I tell you to stop.” Lily smiled as you let your head fall back against the bed. 

“You’ve been telling me to push and now you don’t want me to push!?” You hissed. Bob couldn’t help but to chuckle. He was so amazed by your strength. 

“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m telling you.” Lily chuckled. She knew you were close, barreling towards another contraction. She could see it. “Alright this is the one mama, big push for me and bubs will be here in no time.” 

“Bob! It hurts! Make it stop!” You cried out, Bob wished he could take all your pain and experience it himself. He never wanted to see you in such a state, but your baby was coming, the baby you’d made together. You’d created together late one night or in the early hours of the morning he wasn’t too sure. But what he was sure of was that you could do this. “It hurts!!” 

“Push Mrs Floyd!” Lily shouted. 

“Come on peach push! push!” Bob willed you on as you did. You shouted  and cried and squeezed your husband’s hand so hard he thought you were about to break his damn hand. But this was it. Your baby was coming. 

“Okay okay the heads out stop!” Lily guided you as you let your head fall back against the bed in pure exhaustion. You were dehydrated, covered in sweat and ready to give up. “So I lied before, you’re gonna give me one smaller push to help bubs out Y/n and that it’s—you're done.” 

“I can’t.” 

“No peach you can.” Bob cooed. “You can because you’ve come this far.” 

“I’m not even sure if you're here or not.” You sobbed as you reached out to caress Bob's cheek. “I’m not even sure if you're here with me or if I’m seeing things.”

“I’m here, I’m real.” Bob whispered in your ear. “And we’re having our baby Peach, just one more little push and it’s gonna be you and me and our little one against the world.” You nodded softly and you shut your eyes and groaned. “You can do it.” 

“Alright let’s have this baby! One more small push!” Lily announced as another contraction tour through your exhausted body. 

“Ahhhhhh!!” You shouted and Bob swore you bust his eardrum, but it was a small sacrifice as the cries of the world’s newest human echoed off the walls. 

“Congratulations Mr and Mrs Floyd you have a little baby girl.” Lily handed you your daughter the second she was born. Placing her on your chest within seconds of her arrival. 

“Oh Peach, she's so beautiful.” Bob cried as tears streamed down his cheeks. He swore he’d never be able to love someone more than he loved you. But as you held your newborn daughter on your chest he kinda thought he’d been wrong. He could love someone just as much as he loved you. Your daughter. 

“She's perfect, hi b-baby.” Your voice was all but a whisper as your head lulled to the side. You felt dizzy, lightheaded as your daughters cried softened. “I love you.” 

“Y/n? Sweetheart are you alright?” You didn’t reply but you looked up at your husband with a dazed expression, a tunnel had begun to form, edges of a dark black hole crept its way into your mind.

Chronos hole—the one between this world and the next. 

“Peach?” Alarms rang out as Lily removed your crying newborn just minutes earth side from your chest as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “No no no no what’s wrong what’s happening to her?” Bob asked as he tapped your cheek softly. “Hey, Peach, no stay with me, stay with me.” 

“Her blood pressure is dropping, she’s haemorrhaging.” Lily explained as she and a bunch of other nurses worked around you. “We need to get her into surgery, Mr Floyd.” 

“Sir, step back—“ An older nurse asked as she placed a hand on Bob's shoulder. He did as he watched Lily take a sample of your blood. 

“I’ll head directly to the lab to drop off the sample.” 

“Just make sure her surgeon has o-negative on the ready.” The only nurse replied as Bob stood there, watching as they wheeled you out on the same bed you'd just given birth in. He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, he didn't get a chance to tell you how much he loved you. 

“Uh, do I go with her or?” Bob didn’t know what to do, his whole world had been turned upside down and on its head already today, and again it had just flipped once more. There was one nurse left, he didn’t know her name, but she smiled politely at him. 

“No, you should stay here with your daughter, she needs her daddy now.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

First there was a storm of carbon and molten rock which begat granite and soil. Then, the land shook and it cracked and it rose till it spiked the sky. Forest grew and died and grew a hundred times again. And then people grew and died and grew and died a hundred times again. There were storms and seasons and fences and blood. Wonder and vengeance and a whole lot of regret….

And through every grievance, every war, the land and the sky didn't give two shits about any of it. Bob Floyd knew that as he sat with his newborn daughter in the maternity room of the Miramar Base Hospital designed by man, for man to help other men with westernised medical procedures and treatments…

That it wouldn't give two shits about you either. 

“Hey..” A gruff voice came from the doorway, it took Bob all his light and all his remaining energy to look up from his daughter. The light and life of you. “I uh, I just thought I’d come check in on you and Phoenix.” Mav crossed his arms over his chest as he moved into the room. “How’s your wife doing?” 

“I don’t know.” Bob explained as he rocked his little girl, skin to skin was important so he’d stripped off what he could. “She’s still in surgery.” Pete could see the worry written in the lines of Bob's face. But the little girl who cried against his shoulder had him mesmerised. “Sorry darlin, I got you, daddy’s here.” 

“She’s a little beauty isn’t she?” Mav sat down beside the WSO who’d had a longer day then most. “You get a chance to name her yet? Before—?” Mav didn’t have to say before you went into shock. Your body had been through a lot and the nurses believed if you hadn’t held on so long, held back against what your body was telling you it needed to do then there was a possibility that it could have been a rather smooth delivery. Bob took that personally, the only reason you were holding back was because he wasn't here for you when you needed him the most. 

“No, but we’ll name her after, for now she’s baby Peach.” 

“Your wife’s nickname.” Mav replied softly as he looked up. He knew then and there what was about to happen. 

Bob knew there was a Doctor standing in the doorway. He didn’t dare look up. He knew if he looked up he’d be told the worst news of his life. 

Bob remembered that had asked you once when you were wrapped up in his arms in the dead of the night, listening to the storm raging on outside if you knew anything at all about a Greek God called Chronos. He remembered that you had chuckled out a soft no as he trailed his lips up your neck. Bob told you that he carried a sickle, that he used it to cut a hole, a tear in the cosmos between heaven and earth. Chronos did that to separate this world from the next, to separate the known from the unknown.

And while a Doctor by the name of Henry Nardella told him that you didn’t make it through the surgery, that you'd left him and your daughter behind, in a world where nothing made sense without you in it. 

Well—Robert Floyd felt as if he’d fallen straight into it. 

“No, please don't leave me here.” Bob felt like he’d fallen into the cosmic existence between now and soon to come, plummeting into a realm where time didn’t exist and light didn’t reach. He felt like he had tumbled into a parallel dimension where nothing made sense, nothing seemed tangible or real. He’d descended into a world where you weren't around. “No Peach, no.” 

But at the touch of his earlobe, a slight pressure formed at the lobe. So warm and comforting. Bob knew as your baby girl settled in against his chest at the lub dub of his heart beating for you–he knew you were safe on the other side. 

Because you had tugged on his earlobe, just like you promised you would. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

[jules-writes-stories]

I've always questioned the ethics of Feyre "wearing" Illyrian wings (particularly for aesthetic or sexual purposes). This post stayed with me, and inspired this little story. CW for mention of wing clipping/brief mention of violence/Rhys and Feyre critical

below or on AO3

Valkyrie

For every Emerie who has ever held the door open for another. Your wings are perfect.

Illyria, The Night Court

She woke at dawn and stretched her arms, rubbing at the aches of her shoulders and lower back that came from holding up the deadweight of her wings. If they had not been clipped, these wings would have the muscle and strength to hold their own. 

If they had not been clipped, she would spend hours in flight. They would stay aloft or tuck neatly between her shoulders in a symmetrical resting position, as the Mother intended.

(cw below)

But instead, at the age of fourteen, after her first bleed, she was held down as the village healer sliced through the central tendons of each one. Five incisions in a starburst pattern. These made certain no rapid healing occurred.

No second chances for female flight. 

She dressed in the simple shift and rubbed ointment along the jagged silver scars, like rivulets running down the maroon membrane. The morning was crisp, the sky blue as a Siphon and Ramiel gleamed granite in the distance. 

Nodding to the camp mothers, she found her work site, cauldron already bubbling, laundry in the basket waiting to be boiled, scrubbed and rinsed. This was her lot. The brown skin of her hands and wrists was calloused and streaked with several more scars from the boiling water and caustic herbs used to remove blood stains and treat Illyrian fighting leathers. She healed quickly, but not perfectly. Nothing about her was perfect anymore. 

She lifted the heavy basket with a grunt, shifting it to her hip for better support and dumped the soiled clothes into the pot. Stirring, she hummed low and watched as the young males trained on the western steppes. 

In a few weeks, the young females would be offered a chance to train, but only those who were not bleeding, and only those who had finished all their chores, and only those whose fathers and brothers allowed. And only those who were brave enough to weather the names, and the looks, and the cold shoulders…

Sometimes, on slow days, when there wasn’t too much laundry, she let herself imagine that her wings were whole. That she could climb the cliff sides and leap from the heights. In free fall, the air and wind would propel her body, and at the last minute, right before she crashed upon the steppes, her wings would snap out to their fullest and she would coast along the wild grasses, their blades grazing her face. Or maybe she would take off from the peaks and pass straight up through the clouds, tasting rain and smelling ether. She laughed at herself then, but the sound held no music. 

“It will be your skin when the çamaşır shrinks, Asli.” A camp mother called out from the next fire. Damn. She’d let the laundry boil for too long. The Illyrian used the long wooden paddle and pulled the steaming clothes from the cauldron, praying it was not too late. Her skin already blistering as the water splashed her legs and forearms, burning her hands. 

A shadow dappled the sky above. A peal of laughter followed. She looked up. And there, leaping from a cliff’s edge, to the east, was a young female with golden brown hair and moon white skin. She was not Illyrian, yet she possessed Illyrian wings. They were enormous, unclipped, and perfect.

And for a heartbeat, the laundress wished on every star that ever graced the Night Court sky that she could have those wings. No, she did not even need those wings. She would be content with the ones on her back. Before she was held down. Before they were taken from her. 

The female leapt from the cliffside and with a wild whoop, her wings caught the wind and she banked, one with the current and the sky. How free, how magical it must be. There was a male flying beside her. Not any male. This was the High Lord and his High Lady. They continued to fly off into the horizon until they were mere specks in the vast sky. 

And the injustice of it coiled like a snake and struck. Its venom coursed through her veins. This twenty year old High Fae who shape shifted wings on a whim, taking pleasure in a birthright not her own. The Illyrian's rage was a living thing. For this was her sky. The wind was a song thrumming in her blood. 

The High Lord had made it illegal to cut a female’s wings, but he did not enforce it. He tried to help females learn to fight, but did not enforce it. Most powerful in history, but not powerful enough to stop an Illyrian farmer or soldier from tying a fourteen year old to a chair and breaking her body. From stopping a mob of warriors from throwing rocks at mothers who wished to learn how to block a blow.

How could the High Lady take such joy in flight and not defend the very females whose wings were still being clipped, when she knew firsthand the pleasure and power, the joy and freedom, that was being denied them? Instead, she blithely coasted above those whose wings would never extend to their full span or feel the wind catching so perfectly. Did she not see how hurtful it was, how harmful, to overlook the suffering of the very fae race she was impersonating? 

The laundress lay the clothes on the rocks and furiously beat out the blood stains. Her back ached and her hands were on fire as she watched her daughter, Banou, collect firewood at the edge of camp. Her little velveteen wings were still uncut, youthful talons still rounded. Her body was unbowed and unbroken, for now. The laundress had a thought. What if she got her daughter out before she could be bowed, broken, and clipped? And what if other younglings, they too, could get out? For if their High Lord truly could not protect them from the blades and rocks and fists that would inevitably come their way, then they would have to save themselves. 

What if Banou could one day leap from a cliffside, her perfect laughter pealing from the skies? Why should joy only be free for the rich and the powerful? The sky and stars should be the birthright of every Illyrian. And now, the laundress wanted this more than anything. Tonight, she would walk the mountain pass and seek out the one whose name was Emerie. The Valkyrie. 

She continued to scrub the blood stains from white linen, and this time, when she laughed, there was music. 

[clipstone]

A.A. Badenhorst

A.A.Badenhorst KilpKop Swartland, South Africa 2022 Chenin Blanc

What makes South Africa unique is its warm climate paired with some of the most ancient soils on earth - granite soils (over 600 million year old) - which results in bold red and white wines with high aromatic intensity.

A.A. Badenhorst work in Paardeberg, Swartland with low-yielding old vines on shallow granite soils that are handpicked with stems and sit on lees for 16 months. Kilp Kop means 'rock head' and refers to the original site of granite rocks on which the grapes are grown. The wine is deeply concentrated with aromas of pear, stone fruits and stem ginger. In the mouth, it is creamy, mineral and has exceptional length.

Tasting notes: pear, stone fruits, ginger, creamy, fennel, quince, dried herbs

Pairing: seafood, spicy food, lean fish, soft cheese

[thebekerslegecy]

👑 MEDIEVAL MODS + CC | The BEKER LEGECY

I am currently playing Morbid’s ULTIMATE Decades Challenge. Below is a list of all of the Mods + CC I am using in my game🐝

🍯 MODS: Wicked Whims (+18) MC Command Center MC Woohoo More Traits in CAS Royalty Mod Medieval Interactions Ye Olde Cookbook + Stoves +Fires Require Wood  + Hunting & Foraging Mod Home Region +Townie Demographics by Kuttoe Fashion Authority 2 by Lot51 Functional Broom Functional Loom Functional Pottery Wheel Archery Skill Blacksmithing Skill Historical Simolean Override - English Shillings Children/Toddlers Can Die of Anything Playable Harp + Lute Functional Horses & Carriages, No Helmet Create Campfire Bonfire Anywhere Arranged Marriages Custom Farm Animals Purchase Custom Animals Zero’s Historical Mods (pickpocket, disease, etc.) Phone to Notebook Replacement Sippy Cup + Toys Default Replacements Stuff for Pets Natural Knitting Stuff PreTeen LittleMsSam Mods ( Pick what you want) Sims4me

🐝 CC:

🍯Build:

TSR Ye Medieval - Ligna Windows Set TSR Ye Medieval - Timber Frame Walls TSR Ye Medieval - Framework Walls TSR - Broken Wood Door TSR Ye Medieval - Soil Terrain TSR Ye Medieval - Hay Ground Terrain

🐝Objects:

Lili’s Palace - Folklore Set No. 1 Linzlu’s Frontier Items TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 1 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 2 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 3 TSR Ye Medieval - Peasant Homelife 4 TRS Ye Medieval - Tristan Bathroom TSR Ye Medieval - Tavern Part 1 TSR Ye Medieval - Candle Holder TSR - Skara Stool TSR - The Old Garden Boat TSR - The Old Garden Quay Fish Market Decor Fish Rack Fish Crate V1 Fish Crate V2 Bohrium Vegetables I Old Rustic Well (“Eco Living” version) Stable Set by Moriel Rustic Animal Shed Rustic Chicken Coop Rustic Bee Box Bassinet + Infant Crib SimsHistoricalfinds tumblr (directory) SIMS 4 MEDIEVAL CC TheSenseMedieval Allhistorical cc tumblr Medieval & Fantasy Mods List | Notion Kosmic Hippie's CC Finds — 👑 MEDIEVAL MODS + CC | The Sims 4 antiquated plumbobs : Directory CC Finds Navigation

🍯CAS:

TheSimsResource (Ye Medieval) TheSimsResource (Sifix) Simverses  Melancholy Maiden | creating Historical Sims 4 CC | Patreon satterlly | creating The Sims 4 CC | Patreon

🐝 SAVE FILE:

Srsly’s Blank Save Map Replacement Medieval Windenburg Medieval Map Replacement

🍯MY SIMS 4 MEDIEVAL WORLDS:

How to change sims4 world names (for existing save) How to change sims4 world names ( for new save)

Kingdom of France – Willow Creek’ Mali Empire – Oasis Springs’ Kingdom of Norway – Newcrest’ Inca Empire – Granite Falls’ Holy Roman Empire – Windenburg’ Kingdom of Denmark– Magnolia Promenade’ Republic of Genoa – San Myshuno’ Kingdom of Hungary – Forgotten Hollow’ Grand Duchy of Lithuania – Brindleton Bay’ Aztec Empire – Selvadorada’ Kingdom of Sicily – Del Sol Valley’ Ottoman Empire – StrangerVille’ Hawai’i – Sulani’ Kingdom of Scotland- Glimmerbrook’ Duchy of Milan – Brightchester’ Maya city-states – Evergreen Harbor’ Tatooine– Batuu’ Goryeo– Mt. Komorebi’ Kingdom of England – Henford-on-Bagley’ Republic of Venice– Tartosa’ Duchy of Burgundy – Moonwood Mill’ Kingdom of Aragon – Copperdale’ Mongol Empire – San Sequoia’ Mamluk Sultanate – Chestnut Ridge’ Kingdom of Ayutthaya – Tomarang’ Kingdom of Castile - Ciudad Enamorada

[chiroptophobiawrites]

Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)

Context: reader is a hero sorta and on the same team as Damian and a couple other heroes, and they all go to school together. This is kinda in the middle of a larger story so it might be a bit confusing but hopefully not. (there is also a line in there about hair products written with a curly haired reader in mind but anyone can read it! <3)

a/n: Mentions of hooking up, some cursing, and allusions to something physical that happened between Damian and reader. also the reader (and damian) are implied to be an upperclassman in either high school or college, your choice.

Your crossed feet thunked against the wooden cabinets underneath the smooth granite counter you sat on as you swung them back and forth. Your soiled shirt draped over the side of one of those sinks that look like a glass bowl resting on the counter. Your head leaned back against the long mirror that stretched the length of the entire wall. It was cool against the back of your head and you hoped the products you'd put in your hair this morning before leaving for school wouldn't leave a mark on your friend's parent's rich person mirror.

You were already regretting coming here and it had been less that an hour since you had gotten here. A party on a Friday night was an okay idea you guessed, but not tonight. Some people used this kind of thing to decompress, and you could sometimes; but most times, like right now, it was more overwhelming than anything. Which is why you were hiding in this oversized and oddly decorated guest bathroom on the third floor.

If it hadn't been Cynthia and Connor's house you probably would have gotten lost, but you had been here before a couple of times. The third floor was off limits to most people at the party as it lead to the bedrooms, and despite Connor loving to show off his house, he didn't want people hooking up in his bedroom. You had passed his room on the way to the bathroom, his door was ajar so you could see the ninja turtles sheets on his bed. His behavior was always a little saddening to you, putting himself and others into situations meant to make them look cool and grown, like this party, but still just being a kid. oh well, freshman are weird like that. You closed the door and kept your thoughts to yourself.

The reason you were here in the bathroom in the first place lie almost forgotten soaking in the sink, as you got lost in your thoughts a bit. The booming music coming from the massive speakers downstairs reminded you of the gaggle of people embarrassingly gyrating in pretty much every area of the first two levels of the house. When you had first arrived you'd tried dancing a bit with the friends you came with. This was quickly ruined by the obnoxious tall guy in your English class slamming into your back and slinging his arm over your shoulder to start a conversation with you and another one of your friends in that class. However with all his slinging around he'd spilled like half of his mystery drink on your shirt.

In response to your surprise at having liquid spilled down the entire right half of your shirt, he'd made a horrible joke about you just needing to ask if you wanted some and went to hold his cup to your lips. You'd pushed away from him and scoffed before hustling away towards the nearest bathroom. You could hear the calls of some of your friends fading under the loud music, but Cynthia caught up to you.

"Not these." She gestured towards the bathroom door by the two of you. "You can go upstairs babe, and stay as long as you need to. I had hoped that this would make you feel a little better but," She trailed off, looking at you a bit guiltily.

You sighed, "It's fine." You patted her shoulder and started to head in the opposite direction towards the stairs, "If I find any stragglers up there I'll send them down."

"Thanks!" She called out after you, dragging out the word in a singsong way.

So now you are here in the bathroom without your shirt with party rock anthem blaring through the door. You stare up at the lights above the mirror until a knock on the door breaks you out of your trance. No one else should be up here but it could be Cynthia, or Connor, or someone who just really needs to pee and can't wait downstairs for people to stop making out in the bathrooms. You figured if it was someone who needed to go you would let them and then send them back downstairs. You found yourself wishing that you had grabbed a replacement shirt from Cynthia or Connor's rooms when a voice called through the door.

"I know you are in there (y/n)." Aside from being really creepy it also came from the person you wanted to see the least tonight, Damian. He called out your name again, and you felt the doorknob jiggle under your hand. "Could you open the door? We need to talk."

Honestly nothing sounded worse right now. There was a reason you had been avoiding him since Wednesday, but this morning he had caught you off guard. You weren't ready for a repeat of that.

"Third floor is off limits, didn't you see the caution tape?" You voice came off far less solid than you intended and you cursed it for making you seem so unsure.

It was a silent for a minute before his voice cut through the muffled music again, "Just open the door, I'm not running in circles with you anymore." He sounded really agitated and the thought quickly turned your stress into anger.

How dare he be annoyed when he was the one in the wrong, you were the only one with the right to be angry in this situation. After he'd laughed in your face in response to even the slightest insinuation of there being something between the two of you. It had happened on Wednesday night, you had gotten off of work and since your guardian was using the car it meant you needed a ride. You'd known this early in the day and asked Damian during lunch if he could could come get you, promising to pay him in goodies from your work place. He had side eyed you and did that little teeth sound he always did before making a jab about you always needing a ride to something. But he hadn't disagreed so you knew it meant he was coming; besides you knew that he loved driving, especially at night, and wouldn't pass up the opportunity to drag you along with him.

You had known him long enough to settle into a routine with him at this point, so it didn't feel like you were burdening him by asking. Regardless of how much he complained about basically anything you ever asked him to do, he would always do it.

So on Wednesday night he showed up 15 minutes early and waited inside until your shift was over. You said goodbyes to your coworkers after deflecting questions for the past 15 minutes about Damian being your boyfriend, and joined him to walk to his car. You sat down in the passengers seat and his hand quickly found its way to rest on your leg. It wasn't at all new for him to do this but it always made you feel a bit odd. It wasn't like you weren't okay with it, but maybe that was what bothered you so much. This kind of thing felt like something friends don't really do, you tried to excuse it by saying that Damian didn't like to have a lot of friends, but was super close with the ones he did have. But you had never once seen him do this to Jon or Maya or Maps or Colin, and you would always get that weird feeling in your stomach again.

Once you got going on the way home you chattered about what had happened during that shift and he listened, nodding and interjecting where he had thoughts. His hand still burned on your thigh and you fought the urge to shift around. You were almost to your house, and almost at the point in your story when he had shown up and your co-workers had both teased and applauded you for having such a 'dedicated and attentive boyfriend'. He pulled in front of his house and you went to unbuckle your seatbelt but he kept his hand on your leg, anchoring you to the seat.

"uh, we're here" you tried to laugh but it came out awkwardly.

"You didn't finish your story." he didn't break eye contact and just waited patiently for you to start talking again.

You hesitated but started talking again so that you could get rid of the warmth from his hand on your thigh and stop thinking about all the things it could mean, as soon as possible. "yeah uh, well then you came in and Tracy kept calling you my boyfriend so then the other two came over and they all started teasing me. I guess the only time Tracy and Lori get along is when they are going after someone else." You laughed softly.

He hummed in agreement but didn't move his hand off of your leg. He just kept staring at you. You started to feel a little self conscious under his gaze and once again fought the urge to squirm in your seat. You were at least comforted by his lack of reaction to people mistaking him as your boyfriend, though you weren't all that surprised. People commonly mistook you for a couple in public. It had gotten so common that Damian had just started going with it, and you decided to follow suit.

All of this had gotten you thinking and you stopped averting your gaze and looked Damian right in the eyes. "Hey I-" You started with confidence and then he squeezed your leg, making you falter.

"Yeah?" He tried to urge.

"- What. Um. What are we Damian? Like are we dating or," You blurted out and tried to read the emotion in his eyes. "Or I am I reading way too much into this? Cause I mean I just, well we do stuff like this and going out to like date spots, just the two of us, and also that one time after, well you know what I'm talking about and-"

"Are you serious?" He cut you off abruptly, and did this odd sort of scoff/huff/laugh thing he always did when annoyed. He studied your face for a second and then looked like he was realizing something. He all but yanked his hand away from you and his expression dropped with the feeling in your stomach. You'd done something wrong, really wrong.

You felt sick, and even sicker as he started to laugh, hunching himself over the steering wheel. "You really-" He looked back over at you and started laughing even more. He stopped suddenly while looking at you and you wanted so badly to cry. "Get out of my car." He said quietly, but you were frozen in your seat. "Now." He demanded, much louder than before.

You scrambled for the door handle and rushed out into the cold night air outside side of the car. You shut the door behind you without turning around and hustled to your door without turning back once. But you could hear his car start and rush off the moment the door shut. Once you got inside your house you let yourself cry, kicking off your shoes and going to collapse in your bed.

After a couple of minutes of wallowing in your own misery face down on your bed, your phone dinged with a message. You thought maybe it was from your guardian reminding you to turn off the hallway light so that it didn’t drive the electric bill up, so you picked your phone up to respond. It was from Damian and you quickly regretted giving everyone the same text tone instead of the personal ones they had on your last phone.

The text read simply: We will talk about this in the morning when I pick you up.

It felt like how things were when you first met Damian and every little thing about what he said or did set you off in annoyance. In particular his phrasing made you angry even though you knew he meant nothing by it, he just says things directly. But it felt like he was your dad and you were about to wake up to a huge lecture, so you left it for a couple of minutes. Eventually, after a bit more wallowing, you decided that you didn’t wanna see him at all. If he was gonna laugh at you like that, then what was the point at all.

You texted him back: No that’s okay, Cyn said she wanted to give me a ride since she hasn’t in a while. Then quickly switched over to facetime Cynthia and beg her to give you a ride to school by explaining the situation.

Fine. First class then. He texted back, but you didn’t respond.

So the next morning you loaded into Cynthia’s Jeep and sat sandwiched between way too many of Cynthia’s friends that you barely liked, starting to remember why you started asking Damian for rides in the first place. When your first class arrived you luckily didn’t have to talk to Damian as the activity in class kept you pretty busy. And so for the rest of the day you successfully avoided him, opting to eat lunch with Cynthia’s friends instead of your usual table, and ignoring his gaze on you at all times.

Once you got home, you had gotten a couple of texts from Jon about you ditching them at lunch today, full of emojis. You laughed about them and texted him back assuring that you weren’t ditching them and that you’d be back tomorrow. You felt a little bad so you decided that you’d get over yourself and not go to such extreme lengths to avoid Damian. You still weren’t gonna talk to him though, except for one little bit.

You had a text from him that said: You are avoiding me. So you let your pettiness get the better of you and sent back: duh.

You had figured that from that he would get the hint and not come to pick you up the next morning. Besides it was Friday so your guardian had off of work, which meant that you could use the car. But when you came down the stairs earlier this morning, there was Damian, standing in your kitchen and listening politely to your guardian. You had assumed the smell of food coming upstairs had meant that your guardian was cooking something since it was their off day, but from the looks of it Damian had come early today to make you breakfast. It made you feel uneasy, and a little bit guilty, but then angry at your guilt. You shouldn’t feel bad for ignoring him the way you had been, he had laughed at you and kicked you out of his car, you kept reminding yourself.

Your guardian seemed pleased as they were won over easily by food, the traitor, but you were not so easily bought. You sat at the table and glared at Damian when he slid a plate of food toward you.

Your guardian hummed and made a face at you, “Be nice.” they said softly, and then raised their voice to address both of you, “Well now that Damian is here, he can drive you to school and I can run those errands I needed to. Isn’t that great!” You stiffened and Damian nodded in agreement.

Your guardian got up and grabbed their stuff to start walking to the door and you got up to follow after. “ Wait but I-“ you panted rushing after them. The swirled around to face you and set their face seriously, “Work out whatever is going on with the two of you, it’s for the best.” They leaned over to kiss your forehead and then called out loud enough for Damian to hear “Don’t be late now, bye.” and then closed the door.

You stood there frustrated but grabbed your things and decided to just ignore Damian. This proved to be especially hard once you were in the car together and there was a distinct lack of warmth from his hand on your thigh. The two of you spent most of the ride in silence, with Damian constantly glancing between you and the road and looking increasingly frustrated each time, and you glaring out the window. When you finally arrived at school you basically jumped out of the car once he had parked and rushed into the building but could hear him calling after you. This time for the rest of the day he stopped trying to talk to you, and was absent at lunch so you had figured that he had given up. But now with him calling to you from the other side of the door you guessed he hadn’t.

The song downstairs transitioned into something a bit calmer and you felt like it might be best to just resolve this now so you didn’t ruin your weekend by stressing the whole time. A small part of you held onto the hope that it was all a misunderstanding and a consequence of Damian’s somewhat harsh communication style.

“fine” you huffed and moved to open the door just a crack so that you could stick your head out to talk to him but use the door to cover up your state of undress. But of course cause nothing is easy with him, the moment you unlocked the door he pushed it all the way open. He stood in the doorway for a second with slightly wide eyes, and you were sure if you could see yourself you would have mirrored his expression.

You both snapped back into yourselves at about the same moment with him quickly stepping into the bathroom fully and closing the door behind him. You however panicked at the same time and hissed out “Turn around! Damian oh my god! Did you just lock it!?” and turned yourself around to face the wall as if that would stop him from seeing you.

He followed your instruction and turned around to face the opposite way from you. You thought you were safe for a while as the room was filled only with the sounds of breathing from both of you and beat from the music downstairs.

After a couple moments of this Damian murmured out so quietly you could barely hear it, “This mirror is fucking huge.” You felt your skin immediately heat and prickle and swirled around to make direct eye contact with Damian through the mirror.

“Swap!” you immediately cried out and the two of you rushed to switch places so that he was facing the wall and you were facing the mirror. You stared at the reflection of his back as all sorts of thoughts swam around in your mind, threatening to spill out through your mouth. You needed him to go first so that you didn’t say something you would regret, again. Luckily he started to speak again quickly.

“What happened on Wednesday. I,” He paused for a second to consider how to phrase the next statement, and it made your heart squeeze a little bit because he was trying to say it right and not offend you. Usually he said things as they came to him, not worrying a too much about how it affects others, but with you he always chose carefully. Not because he thought you were sensitive, but because he cares about what you think of him. “ Reacted badly. I was surprised and,” he paused again made his little tt noise in frustration and embarrassment, “ a bit hurt. I guess.”

You watched his posture tighten as he said it and your eyes widened in response. His vulnerability was not entirely uncommon to you but it still wasn’t something you encountered frequently. It was typically reserved for late nights sitting on a roof somewhere when everything had just been all too much. You moved past your surprise as his vulnerability and found yourself more confused than anything at his statement. He was hurt? Why was he hurt? He had laughed at you, not the other way around. The song from outside transitioned again, this time into that one Katy Perry song, last Friday night or something.

Before you could help it, the thought came barreling out of your mouth, “You? How were you offended?” you scoffed. A part of your brain screamed at you to stop. Usually you had far more tact, especially when Damian was open with you like this. You didn’t know what had gotten into you, he was rubbing off on you, you guessed.

You watched through the mirror as he bristled even further and whipped around to face you. You did so as well, disregarding your lack of shirt in favor of not backing down. He stepped closer to you and stood in place, digging your hands down onto the edge of the counter. Now face to face he studied your face and it felt the moment in the car again, you hoped your expression was telling him the right thing this time. His stern expression broke into one of genuine worry and stress.

“Do you really not- How do you- what,” He took a step back and began to run one hand through his hair. You had never seen him act like this and it was only serving to confuse you even more. He look back at you again and stopped his movement. “ Really?” he asked.

“What?”

“You asked me if we were dating.”

“yeah-“

“you-“

“why is that such a bad thing, huh. Is the idea of dating me just that upsetting to you?”

“Wha- No it’s not. (y/n) that’s just the thing, you asked me if we are dating. We are. And we have been since your birthday. Or at least i’ve been dating you for that long. It seems like for you-“

“Wait what.” You interrupted him. The mention of your birthday made your skin heat up again. You had noticed that things between you had been different since then but figured that was just because of what happened. But you suppose in a way this still is. The thought of what happened between you that night threatened to overwhelm you so you pushed it down for the time being. “So you weren’t laughing cause you thought the idea of us dating was ridiculous, you were laughing cause you thought I was asking the obvious?” You realized out loud.

“Yes, obviously.” He stepped closer to you again.

“So we are dating.” You said and couldn’t help the smile that you felt spreading over your face.

“Yes. We are dating.” A smile started to form on his face. One of the rare stupid looking ones where his cheeks dimple and his eyes crinkle, that he always reserved just for you.

You sort of lunged forward at him to wrap your arms around his body and tug him closer to you. He wrapped his arms around to tighten the embrace and you were quickly reminded of your lack of shirt and pushed back away from him. He seemed confused until you turned around to fiddle with you shirt in the sink to see if it was wearable. When he saw that he laughed a bit which only increased how flustered you felt.

You could hear his hoodie being unzipped and panicked a bit, being reminded of what happened on your birthday. But when you turned around he simply held it out to you and you took it from him with a soft thank you. The tension and stress in the room were making you think weird thoughts and honestly now that things with Damian had been cleared up you really didn’t feel any reason to stay at the party. You pulled on the hoodie and zipped it up all the way before turning around again to ring out your shirt again and collect in a way that wouldn’t drip everywhere.

You turned back to Damian and he stared at you in his hoodie, seemingly in awe. You giggled at his face and held your hand out toward him, “Wanna get out of here?”

He smirked back at you and laced his fingers with yours. “Gladly.”

The two of you left the bathroom and walked towards the stairs so that you could go down and leave. You sent Cynthia a text so that she would know you left safely with Damian. You heard Damian scoff and looked away from your phone to turn your eyes towards what he was looking at. The door to Connor’s room was slightly open again and through the crack you see a couple making out on his turtle sheets.

“Should we?” You asked.

“Nah. Serves him right for forcing all of us to come to his lame ass parties.” He said as he tugged you away.

“Oh my god, why are you like this.”

“Come on, you love it.” He looked back up at you from his spot down the stairs in front of you.

You ran your thumb over his knuckles and thought to yourself. He wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. Were you perfect for each other? you didn’t know. You hoped so. But in the back of your mind you knew, the best things are never perfect from the start. So you just laughed back at him.

“Maybe I do.”

[strangelittlestories]

The City of Statues had been burning for days.

The smoke wisped up past the faces of granite gods and marble monsters; by rights, their eyes should have watered from the ash (if not from grief). But they shed no tears, just stood in silent judgement as they always had.

The air was thick with the tension of violence that had not yet reached its peak. It clung to people’s skin like a heatwave. It lingered in the ear like a symphony layered with the quiet screams of strings and woodwind, while the percussion and brass waited with breath baited by thunder.

Three days ago, the Followers of the Lady Who Smiles Daggers had carved their demands into the doors of the Palace of the Son of Progress. 

(Those priests who guarded the Palace - it was, after all, built into the stone belly of their god - had tried to resist.)

The night before last, Those Who Dwell in the Shadow of Tomorrow had gone looking for these dissidents in the foundations that spread like roots beneath the city.

(They had kept at the hunt past the warning bells and many were lost in the rush as the statues pulled their faith-nutrients from the soil that was the city sewers.)

Yesterday morning, the Cult of the Crying Trickster Child had become involved, pouring literal and metaphorical oil upon the flames.

It seemed that the whole city would be tinder in the coming conflagration, leaving just a charred ruin of silent soot-stained stony deities behind.

On the day the heavens were ready to open, riots spread through the town’s arterial streets like septic blood. Militias clashed in a steady violent heartbeat. Priests of different stripes stood on high monuments and chanted and made both roofs and pavements tremble.

Everyone waited for the crescendo. The thunder. The cracking cardiac event of a body made of stone.

But when the rain fell, the sky did not break nor the walls fall nor the ground rupture.

It fell gently. Softly. Quietly.

The heat of flame and summer and anger had performed some strange alchemy to the atmosphere. It had thickened, not to burst, but to transform.

As the rain fell across the great monuments that were the divinities of the City of Statues … they opened their eyes.

They stared down at their home and saw its pain and tears joined the raindrops on their time-worn faces.

People would wonder, afterwards, what could have caused this. What could have undone the old curse the Star Basilisk had laid down on the city’s titanic founders?

They may never know. But I will reveal the secret to you. All that tension, the heat and flame and smoke, the malevolence and vitriol and pain that had burned in the city below - it did something quite unpredictable above.

What do you get when you burn up all your rage? You reveal the care that lies beneath.

The rainfall was simply all the anger that had simmered in the city, coming back down as the compassion it had once been.

[cryptidclaw]

Cryptidclaw's WC Prefixes List!

Yall said you were interested in seeing it so here it is! 

This is a collection of mostly Flora, Fauna, Rocks, and other such things that can be found in Britain since that’s where the books take place! 

I also have other Prefixes that have to do with pelt colors and patterns as well!

Here’s a link to the doc if you dont want to expand a 650 word list on your Tumblr feed lol! the doc is also in my drive linked in my pined post!

below is the actual list! If there are any names you think I should add plz tell me!

EDIT: I will update the doc with new names as I come up with them or have them suggested to me, but I wont update the list on this post! Plz visit my doc for a more updated version!

Animals

Mammal

Badger

Bat

Bear

Beaver

Bison

Boar

Buck

Calf

Cow

Deer

Elk

Fawn

Ferret

Fox

Goat

Hare

Horse

Lamb

Lynx

Marten

Mole

Mouse

Otter

Rabbit

Rat

Seal

Sheep

Shrew

Squirrel

Stoat

Vole

Weasel

Wolf

Wolverine

Amphibians

Frog

Newt

Toad

Reptiles

Scale

Adder

Lizard

Snake

Turtle

Shell

Birds

Bird

Down

Feather

Albatross

Bittern

Buzzard

Chaffinch

Chick

Chicken

Coot

Cormorant

Corvid

Crane

Crow

Curlew

Dove

Duck

Dunlin

Eagle

Egret

Falcon

Finch

Gannet

Goose

Grouse

Gull

Hawk

Hen

Heron

Ibis

Jackdaw

Jay

Kestrel

Kite

Lark

Magpie

Mallard

Merlin

Mockingbird

Murrelet

Nightingale

Osprey

Owl

Partridge

Pelican

Peregrine

Petrel

Pheasant

Pigeon

Plover

Puffin

Quail

Raven

Robin

Rook

Rooster

Ruff

Shrike

Snipe

Sparrow

Starling

Stork

Swallow

Swan

Swift

Tern

Thrasher

Thrush

Vulture

Warbler

Whimbrel

Wren

Freshwater Fish 

Fish

Bass

Bream 

Carp

Dace

Eel

Lamprey

Loach

Minnow

Perch

Pike

Rudd

Salmon

Sterlet

Tench

Trout

Roach

Saltwater fish and other Sea creatures (would cats be able to find some of these? Probably not, I don't care tho)

Alge

Barnacle

Bass (Saltwater version)

Bream (Saltwater version)

Brill

Clam

Cod

Crab

Dolphin

Eel (Saltwater version)

Flounder

Garfish

Halibut

Kelp

Lobster

Mackerel

Mollusk

Orca

Prawn

Ray

Seal

Shark

Shrimp

Starfish

Sting

Urchin

Whale

Insects and Arachnids

Honey

Insect

Web

Ant

Bee

Beetle

Bug

Butterfly

Caterpillar

Cricket

Damselfly

Dragonfly

Fly

Grasshopper

Grub

Hornet

Maggot

Moth

Spider

Wasp

Worm

Trees

Acorn

Bark

Branch

Forest

Hollow

Log

Root

Stump

Timber

Tree

Twig

Wood

Alder

Apple

Ash

Aspen

Beech

Birch

Cedar

Cherry

Chestnut

Cypress

Elm

Fir

Hawthorn

Hazel

Hemlock

Linden

Maple

Oak

Pear

Poplar

Rowan

Redwood

Spruce

Willow

Yew

Flowers, Shrubs and Other plants

Berry

Blossom

Briar

Field

Flower

Leaf

Meadow

Needle

Petal

Shrub

Stem

Thicket

Thorn

Vine

Anemone 

Apricot

Barley 

Bellflower

Bluebell

Borage

Bracken

Bramble

Briar

Burnet

Buttercup

Campion

Chamomile

Chanterelle

Chicory

Clover

Cornflower

Daffodil

Daisy

Dandelion

Dogwood

Fallow

Fennel

Fern

Flax

Foxglove

Furze

Garlic

Ginger

Gorse

Grass

Hay

Heather

Holly

Honeysuckle

Hop

Hyacinth

Iris

Ivy

Juniper

Lavender

Lichen

Lilac

Lilly

Mallow

Marigold

Mint

Mistletoe

Moss

Moss

Mushroom

Nettle

Nightshade

Oat

Olive

Orchid

Parsley

Periwinkle

Pine

Poppy

Primrose

Privet

Raspberry

Reed

Reedmace

Rose

Rush

Rye

Saffron

Sage

Sedge

Seed

Snowdrop

Spindle

Strawberry

Tangerine

Tansy

Teasel

Thistle

Thrift

Thyme

Violet

Weed

Wheat

Woodruff

Yarrow

Rocks and earth

Agate

Amber

Amethyst

Arch

Basalt

Bounder

Cave

Chalk

Coal

Copper

Dirt

Dust

Flint

Garnet

Gold

Granite

Hill

Iron

Jagged

Jet

Mountain

Mud

Peak

Pebble

Pinnacle

Pit

Quartz

Ridge

Rock

Rubble

Ruby

Rust(y)

Sand

Sapphire

Sediment

Silt

Silver

Slate

Soil

Spire

Stone

Trench

Zircon

Water Formations

Bay

Cove

Creek

Delta

Lake

Marsh

Ocean

Pool

Puddle

River

Sea

Water

Weather and such

Autumn

Avalanche

Balmy

Blaze

Blizzard

Breeze

Burnt

Chill

Cinder

Cloud

Cold

Dew

Drift

Drizzle

Drought

Dry

Ember

Fall

Fire

Flame

Flood

Fog

Freeze

Frost

Frozen

Gale

Gust

Hail

Ice

Icicle

Lightening

Mist

Muggy

Rain 

Scorch

Singe

Sky

Sleet

Sloe

Smoke

Snow

Snowflake

Soot

Sorrel

Spark

Spring

Steam

Storm

Summer

Sun

Thunder

Water

Wave

Wet

Wind

Winter

Celestial??

Comet

Dawn

Dusk

Evening 

Midnight

Moon

Morning

Night

Noon

Twilight

Cat Features, Traits, and Misc. 

Azure

Beige

Big

Black

Blonde

Blotch(ed)

Blue

Bounce

Bright 

Brindle

Broken

Bronze

Brown

Bumble

Burgundy

Call

Carmine

Claw

Cobalt

Cream

Crimson

Cry

Curl(y)

Dapple

Dark

Dot(ted)

Dusky

Ebony

Echo

Fallen

Fleck(ed)

Fluffy

Freckle

Ginger

Golden

Gray

Green

Heavy

Kink

Knot(ted)

Light

Little

Lost

Loud

Marbled

Mew

Milk

Mottle

Mumble

Ochre

Odd

One

Orange

Pale

Patch(ed)

Pounce 

Prickle

Ragged

Red

Ripple

Rough

Rugged

Russet

Scarlet

Shade

Shaggy

Sharp

Shimmer

Shining

Small

Smudge

Soft

Song

Speckle

Spike

Splash

Spot(ted)

Streak

Stripe(d)

Strong

Stump(y)

Sweet

Tall

Talon

Tangle

Tatter(ed)

Tawny

Tiny

Tough

Tumble

Twist

Violet

Whisker

Whisper

White

Wild

Wooly

Yellow