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pepperangers · 4 months ago

Note

finally

I've found you

new follower here, and I've JUST finished Dino Charge... I'm sad

I love the series so so much and just... it's over? just like that?

dude ik ur gonna get a lot of asks about this, but... can you make more headcanons around dino charge?

thanks, Parker Quil

hii !! i absolutely LOVE dino charge its probably one of my favourite series ever so heres my gift to you in the form of everything i have in my drafts at the moment

the team loves tyler, first and foremost. he's their Red and they'd do anything he asked (and they know he'd do anything for them), but tyler has absolutely no clue. they gravitate towards him. they’d all die for him and he has no idea. they listen to everything he says and argue like kids about who his favourite is. tyler could technically rule zandar because all he’d have to do is ask phillip to do something and he wouldn't even hesitate - he’d brag to the other rangers that HE was the only one who could do this for tyler and suck it losers he’s winning. tyler is oblivious to the power he wields

despite their best efforts in learning about modern times, ivan and koda were not fit for the workplace. the cafe proved too much of a challenge, and kendall was tasked with the unfortunate job of - in the kindest way possible - firing them. instead, they chose to play to their strengths and use what they already know to be interactive staff for the museum at their respective exhibits

being a ranger team means working incredibly well together in and out of the suits. the museum cafe runs like clockwork and deliveries are unloaded and stored more efficiently than the museum has seen in years. it’s a combination of their hightened competence and abilities, and their natural need to work as a single unit. what allows this seamless teamwork? the magical bond to the energems? the Morphing Grid? the Power? who knows; but any other rangers - active or otherwise - who find themselves at the museum could spot the team from a mile away

in the search for his father, tyler got used to travelling. never staying in one place for too long and always being on the move became natural, but choosing to stay in amber beach seemed was so easy he hardly even noticed. as soon as everything died down, as soon as they were no longer needed, he stopped for a while and thought about it. it didn’t take him long to realise it wasn’t amber beach he felt bound to, but his rangers. he hadn't felt like he had a home until he met them, and he'd follow them anywhere

heckyl is intelligent - there's no denying that - but he absolutely refuses to admit that he doesn't know much about earth technology or culture. with everything that happened he never really had the time to properly learn everything, which led to an interesting altercation where he thought a toaster was some kind of dangerous explosive. koda and ivan (who are very proud at how well they’re doing in their Modern Lessons) had to explain its actual purpose. he will take this to the grave.

chase shows them all rugby. no it is not like football. zandar has a team, so world cup tournaments get pretty intense when zandar plays new zealand. ivan starts cheering for zandar with phillip, and it’s the most dramatic betrayal the cave has ever seen

kendall and chase's biggest challenge when the team first formed was teaching koda how to pronounce his dinosaur name because of how language had evolved while he was in the ice. it was a long first few battles.

during the Modern Lessons with ivan and koda, riley and kendall got too enthusiastic about catching the two up on all the modern tech and end up rambling/inventing something new. the lesson completely derailed into scientific terminology that neither were used to, and it ends in tears for one or both of the "old" ones. they went to hide in koda's cave and would only talk to keeper

riley so willingly got in the car with tyler and shelby in the first episode because some unexplainable force told him he could trust them, and that in time he'd come to care so much for them. Red and Pink are just such comforting colours, you know?

tyler sometimes forgets that ranger stuff isn’t applicable to other people and always brings up “rexie” in conversation, so most people assume he has a dog. it’s not until someone sees him talking to the t-rex skeleton at the museum that they begin to think otherwise

i feel like shelby and poisandra would be unexpected best friends in like battle scenarios (“i love your nails” while doing a backflip followed by a “thanks! pink is my favourite colour you know!” and a morpher blast). the boys are baffled by this

*(disclaimer to anyone out there!! i know they’re all intelligent characters and i don’t mean to undermine that in any way!! these are just some silly headcanons please don’t take them too seriously<3)

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dwaekkistar · 1 year ago

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Do You Even Care?

Sujin spent most of the car ride silent, trying to convince himself that Seungmin wasn't there. From the moment the omega got in the car it was as if the beta was intent on annoying the omega for a reaction. When the beta realized that Hyunjin switched places with Sujin once they were all in the car he scoffed loudly which earned him a look from Felix and Hyunjin. Chan had told Sujin while he started up the car that they were heading to a mall, which made Sujin smile, maybe he would be able to find a job there. But now he regretted the trip, as Seungmin was getting on the last nerve the omega didn't even know he had.

Hyunjin and Felix had been focused on their phone as Chan was concentrating on the road. He just knew he could feel the beta's eyes boring into the side of his face and it kinda annoyed Sujin. When he turned to look back the beta was already grimacing at him.

"Take a picture so it lasts longer." Sujin spewed out.

"Yeah like I'd want to take a picture of a repulsive-looking omega like you," Seungmin replied, his voice filled with disgust.

"SEUNGMIN!" All three alphas yelled in unison, as Hyunjin whacked his arm and Felix shot him a look.

That statement was enough to make Sujin internally see red as his eyes glistened, tears threatening to prick the corner of his eyes. He quickly and efficiently pushed his tears back though, not wanting to give Seungmin the satisfaction. He quickly hid his feelings as he started to stare out the window. If this was the game that Seungmin wanted to play then he would simply just pretend the beta didn't exist.

Eventually, they reached the mall, and it took everything in Sujin not to walk away from the alphas so that he could release the emotions brewing inside him.

" I think we should work on getting Sujin a new phone first" Chan spoke up sheepishly, " since that's the quickest task on our list at the moment."

"Okay.." Sujin mumbled not really in the mood to speak much. Chan grabbed his hands and led everyone to the phone store.

Within 30 minutes Sujin had a brand-new phone and number seeing as he didn't want any contact with his family back in New Zealand. He turned the phone on and set everything up quietly while the three alphas guided him to the next store they were thinking of. He eventually finished setting up his phone, looking up to see they had stopped in front of a store that quite honestly piqued his interest. Hyunjin took notice of this, leaving Seungmin's side and guiding the Omega into the store. Sujin was surprised as he didn't expect the alpha to suddenly bring him into the store.

He started searching random racks, picking out pieces that caught his attention the most, before bringing the few items over to Hyunjin. The alpha carefully studied the items before giving the omega his opinion on them seeing as that had to be the only reason a grown omega unmarked omega would be showing him such things.

" I think these would look great on you, you should pick out more," he said happily, " and no, we won't leave the store until you do."

Not being able to even put up a sufficient fight against it I went and picked out more clothing pieces I liked before I deemed my arms way too full. They were different color items, but most were a monochromatic black and or white. I would like to deem those my safe colors. I returned to where Hyunjin was sitting while he was texting away on the phone. When he looked up he seemed to be ecstatic at the amount of clothes I accumulated in the store.

"Would you like to try them on?" he said pointing in the direction of the fitting rooms. I shook my head in response. Due to an experience, I wasn't ready to talk about just yet, I just couldn't trust fitting rooms. I always found any way possible to avoid them even if that meant learning other methods to determine if the item fit.

"I trust that these will fit," I said with a soft smile. The alpha nodded as he began to guide me to the nearest cashier, I rested all the clothes on the counter when I felt a tap on my shoulder from behind. I looked back to be hit with an intense wave of Chris' seawater scent which happened to be mixed with a tinge of worry.

"Here you are I thought I lost you in the mall..." he said softly before looking at Hyunjin, "Why didn't you tell me you guys were heading in here?"

" I thought you saw us walk in here..." Hyunjin replied laced with slight confusion as he tilted his head to one side. The cashier told him the total and he pulled out his card immediately paying for it but Sujin couldn't help but go wide-eyed as it seemed the omega spent approximately 200 bucks in one store.

" I think that's enough shopping for one day.." the omega said as he quickly grabbed the bag of clothing, only to have Felix grab it from him. He quietly fidgeted with his hands, and even more so when he realized Seungmin was also with them and the beta was practically glaring at him worse than before.

"Aww but the fun just started," Felix blurted out, it seemed he had more for the day planned than he had let on back in the omega's room.

"But you guys have already spent enough on me collectively..." the omega softly mumbled, just loud enough for the 3 alphas to catch.

That's when Chris followed the omega's gaze through his peripheral view and caught Seungmin glaring at the younger. He pulled Sujin away from the others deeper into the store before turning to speak to the omega.

"Okay, so I can see that Seungmin is making you feel uncomfortable," he said with a tinge of worry in his eyes, "But Felix seems to want to spend more time with you here at the mall... so I'm giving you two choices, we can go to the food court and then go home, or you can stay here with Felix and Hyunjin and I take Seungmin home."

"I mean wouldn't the second choice make Seungmin hate me more?" sujin replied slightly panicked.

"He doesn't hate you.." Chan replied almost a bit too quickly. "He's just having a hard time at the moment."

"Yeah... because it's normal for someone who doesn't hate you to tell you that you are the most repulsive omega he's laid eyes on," Sujin replied sarcastically as he rolled his eyes.

"We'll talk more about that later." Chan said with a tinge of sadness in his voice, "As for right now I think the second choice is better for you. So I'll take Seungmin home."

The omega sighed softly to himself as Chris grabbed his hand and walked him back over to where Felix and Hyunjin were. He knew he wasn't going to be able to get out of this. The head alpha whispered in the other 2's ears before walking over to Seungmin and leading him out of the store by an arm.

Felix and Hyunjin then proceeded to take Sujin to various stores as they got to learn more about the omega. They learned that he loved the concept of crop tops and bought as many as humanely possible in the mall. They also got the omega plethora of retro 1's and boots seeing as he seemed to like his Doc Martens. They helped the omega even get clothing items he thought he'd never have the money to buy thus broadening his wardrobe and fashion style while sticking to a color scheme they knew he was comfortable with. By the time they were done, they ended up in front of a jewelry accessories store.

"Seeing as we now know a lot more about sujin maybe we should check this store out?" Hyunjin excitedly spilled out as he tilted his head towards the store.

When Sujin turned to look at the store he laid eyes on a choker that he knew he really wanted. He just couldn't tear his eyes away from the velvet black material that was adorned with a silver moon and sun pendant. He lifted his fingers and immediately pointed at it, both alphas following his fingers immediately caught a glimpse of the choker.

"Why does that actually fit him?" Felix blurted out, making the omega smile.

"Let's go get it cutie!" Hyun-jin said softly, as he grabbed Sujin's hand with his available one as both Felix and Hyunjin were carrying most of them. For some odd reason, the alpha calling Sujin cute sent this warm feeling throughout his body and made the omega very giddy. They all quickly shuffled into the store buying the choker for the omega. Sujin eventually became hungry so Felix offered to take them to the food court before going home.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Chan and Changbin had pulled Seungmin into the second alpha's room to talk.

"Seungmin what's your issue?" Changbin sternly asked wanting to get to the bottom of things. Ever since Sujin came into the picture the older beta has changed into a completely different person. Changbin had to admit that it was becoming pretty bothersome. It made bonding with both him and the omega in the same room uncomfortable and almost impossible with the way he kept flinging insults the omega's way.

"Nothing." the beta retorted," Nothing is my issue... I don't even know why you guys are making this omega such a big deal..."

" Because he is a big deal," Chan replied. "it's been years since we had someone close to an omega in our pack and you know that... and the moment we start courting an actual one you become an asshole?"

"I'm not gonna just move on from him," Seungmin retorted once more, " It's like you're trying to make me forget him for the sake of Sujin? So that he can just up and take over the entire relationship. WE WERE DOING PERFECTLY FINE WITHOUT AN OMEGA!"

"Are we really Seungmin?" Chan replied calmly.

"Seungmin you have to move on for crying out loud—" Changbin spewed out, " Woojin literally told us he wants nothing to do with the pack and doesn't want to be mentioned with anything involving us. You're doing more damage to yourself by staying stuck on someone who doesn't want anything to do with you or the rest of us."

The beta sighed as he rested his face in his hands trying to come to terms with what he was just told. Was he really making things worse? Or were they just saying that to manipulate him into forgetting their former lover they all seemed to have long forgotten?

"Do you even care about how much you've probably hurt Sujin with your comment today?" Chan added.

"We don't even know if he's actually an omega—" Seungmin replies before he is cut off by Changbin.

"HE LITERALLY WENT INTO SUBSPACE SEUNGMIN—"

" BETA'S CAN DO THE SAME THING—," the beta said yelling back, "You can't tell me someone who looks that chiseled and fit is an omega Binnie!"

"Unless they're a Luna..." Chan added. " an omega wouldn't look that fit unless they're a Luna."

"It would be highly unlikely that we lucked out through a stupid program and got a Luna Chan," Seungmin replied rhetorically. "Wouldn't that be something he'd have mentioned by now?"

"Unless he doesn't know.." changbin added as he went deep into thought. "When Chan and I looked at Sujin's application on the site there was a secret note from him added to it a week later... saying that his family pack filled out the application on his behalf and they were doing it to get rid of him because he was an unwanted pup..."

"What if he doesn't know because his family pack never bothered to delve deeper into his sub-gender..." the Raven-haired alpha added. " which if we're being real, could honestly lead to years of body image issues."

"That would explain why he almost cried in the car..." Chan mumbled hoping nobody would catch his words.

"What are you talking about ?" Changbin asked softly, his voice sounding as if he was on the verge of getting angry again.

"Seungmin here was glaring at Sujin the entire car ride to the mall, and when the cutie finally retaliated, he called him a repulsive-looking omega..." Chan said slowly and softly, "If our theory about body image is correct, Seungmin may have just made it worse. The minute he gets back home and is left alone with his brain long enough he will surely start to nitpick every last part of his body."

The minute that Chan finished his sentence, Seungmin finally realized the damage he caused and he wanted to fix it.

"So why don't we take him to the doctor and figure out if he's actually a Luna or not," he said solemnly, " and even if he isn't I'll find a way to make up for what I did."

Chan and Changbin nodded softly in response.

"I should probably go upstairs before he gets home then, I don't want him to feel worse the minute he walks through the door." The beta added with a sigh.

Seungmin quietly made his way to his room and decided he'd probably read for the rest of the evening.

The Pack Omega Masterlist | Other Work |

If you want to be added to a tag list going into the future for updates please just DM me it makes it easier to keep track of. Taglist; | @missrandomheart

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thirdlotusprince3 · 11 months ago

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New Zealand: *looking under the furniture*

Sealand: *climbing on top of the wardrobe*

America: *getting into the fireplace*

Wy: [in a pair of bunny ears] Well, one of the more fun things we can do in the complex is the annual Easter egg hunt.

Canada: [looking around as the others search] Britain and France hid the eggs, and I have to say, they did an exceptional job this year.

Canada: I’ve been searching for 25 minutes, and I haven’t found a single egg.

Britain: [off to the side] Oh yeah…

France: Wait Britain, did you? *gestures wildly*

Britain: Crap! I knew I forgot to do something.

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the-monkey-ruler · 1 year ago

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The New Legends of Monkey (2018) 新猴王传奇

Director: Gérard Johnstone / Craig Owen / Peter Andkidis Screenwriter: Craig Owen / Jacqueline Peach / Christiaan Van Vuuren Starring: Chai Henson / Lucian Buchanan / Josh Thomson / Emily Cockrell / Josh McKenzie / Jordan Mooney / Jared Blakiston / Fasitua Amosa / Michelle Hong / Jim Cawthorn / Samson Chan-Boon Genre: Fantasy / Action / Comedy / Adventure Country/Region of Production: Australia / New Zealand Language: English Date: 2018-01-28 (Australia) Number of seasons: 2 Number of episodes: 20 Single episode length: 25 minutes Also known as: Legend of the Monkey King / Journey to the West / 新美猴王传奇 / 猴王传奇 / 西方西游记 IMDb: tt6807662 Type: Reimanging

Summary:

The Monkey King was imprisoned under a mountain 500 years ago by his enemies in Heaven. Five hundred years later, the Earthly realm is overrun, and its humans oppressed, by demons. The gods and immortals are in hiding or oppressed by demons as well. A scholar secretly concocts a plan to bring together a few warriors and a monk, named Tripitaka, to undertake a quest to resurrect the Monkey King and find the Heavenly scrolls that were stolen by Monkey 500 years ago and hidden away secretly on earth. Anyone who finds the scrolls would gain unlimited power. However, the night the group is about to start on their quest, a demon attacks the scholar's home and kills everyone inside except for the scholar's adopted daughter, taking the golden crown necessary to revive the Monkey King. In his last moments, the scholar entrusts his daughter with the quest. She takes on the identity of Tripitaka and ventures out into the world, narrowly escaping death herself.

In a town she gives charity to a monk and ends up forced to work for a tavern owner, thus gaining a job and a room to sleep in. When the same demon that killed her adoptive father shows up, she secretly steals the magical crown and makes a run for it. When demons begin searching the town for her and the magic crown, she is disguised as a monk by the same monk she helped and successfully makes her way out of the city. In an opening along the side of a mountain, she finds the stony visage of the Monkey King's face, and puts the crown on his head. Finally, the Monkey King is free but he soon discovers that the crown is repressing most of his godly abilities. The pair return to the town and join up with Pigsy and Sandy, who are also gods, and the four of them begin their quest of finding the lost scrolls and gaining enough power to overthrow all the demons.

Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Legends_of_Monkey

Link: https://bflix.sx/tv/watch-the-new-legends-of-monkey-36307

#jttw media #The New Legends of Monkey #新猴王传奇 #jttw television #television #live action #reimagining #alternative universe #sun wukong #monkey king #tang sanzang #monk tripitaka #zhu bajie #pigsy #sha wujing #sandy

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spaceumbredoggos · 3 months ago

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Hello. Please help me.

I am a trans 19 year old living in Southern California. I am getting ready to have my visa ready so that I can move safely to New Zealand.

I need at least 30,000 to successfully move safely. Every bit counts. Even after I reach my goal, I still need enough for rent for at least a month. I am going to search for remote jobs to get me on my feet at first.

I will be hard at work over the next few months until I can make it safely. I will be opening commissions for art on Redbubble and fully setting up my patreon. I will make my TikTok about it tomorrow. I will contact everyone I can to get this out.

Link:

https://gofund.me/6018d319

EVERY BIT HELPS!!!!

I need enough for plane tickets to visit to start out.

#help me #trans #US Elections #help a trans kid out #gofundme #fuck Trump #fuck MAGA

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 2 years ago

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Red Stains 💋

Pairings: Jon Moxley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18, oral sex, marking kink, dirty talk.

A/N: Huge shout out to @theworldofotps for helping my Libra ass making a choice and also for the blood reference. Love you, Crystal 💋 Also I haven’t wrote this bad boy in a while..god I missed him 🥰

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @baysexuality , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl

His blue eyes were used to seeing his skin covered in red stains, they always traveled down his body like a crimson lake, coating his porcelain skin in a scarlet hue. Only this time, the carmine shades were shaped like lips.

His skin felt hot to the touch, a soft blush adorned his plump cheeks, and the blue in his eyes held the unspoken pleas he refused to say out loud. Sweat already began to pool between his eyebrows, as an attempt of keeping the words inside his mouth and his body in place. Mox did a good job at that as of now, but quite frankly, he didn’t know for how long he was going to be able to keep it that way.

“You’re being so good to me, baby” Your warm breath caressed his wet tip as you spoke. Looking down Mox could see the red lipstick stains all over his torso, thighs, and shaft. Your partially open red lips clashed against his sensitive crown and the thick side vein on his shaft every time you spoke to him.

“This shade of red looks so much better on you than the usual blood, don’t you think?” The teasing tone in your voice was easily picked up by his ears, and Mox couldn’t hold back his smirk.

“C’mon, I wanna hear you, puppy” You teased again, only this time he chuckled back “Oh, this is definitely way better than the blood” The usual raspiness of his voice sounded harsher due to the intense pleasure. His eyes searched for yours, and a silent plea could be read upon the baby blue orbs.

“Use your words, big boy” You encouraged him, as you left behind a perfectly printed red lipstick stain on top of his pulsing vein.

“Fuck, kitty. You’re gonna kill me like that” Mox mumbled, while his head hit the pillow quite forcefully.

“What’s the matter, Jon? I thought you were a man who didn’t struggle with your words” You mocked, as your lips covered his sensitive tip in a crimson shade.

Mox indeed never struggled with his words, but he was also a man who never begged for anything, ever. It was a matter of pride to him, he never begs anything from anyone, so this new power dynamic was something he never saw himself in before.

It was a struggle to get him to agree to this little play because he simply didn't want to hand the control over to someone else. He needs it and craves it like a drug, but you were different. You have a way with your words that he always knew was dangerous. Your persuasion power lies not only in your words but also in your touch, in your body, in your mouth, and even more in your pussy. No woman has ever held such power over him like this, it only took you one word, one look, one touch, and the simple feeling of your body against his to have him do anything you want in the bat of an eye.

“You already know what I want” Mox groaned when your tongue gave soft licks on his slit “So why should I tell you if you already know?”

“Humor me” You smirked before leaning down and sucking one of his balls in your mouth. The unexpected action caused Mox’s hips to jerk upward “Fuck, oh my fucking God, you’re not playing fair on me, kitty.” His eyes dared to travel down his body to get a glimpse of your face, and he never regretted something so instantly. A thick string of spit still connected you to his ball sack, but your eyes were fixed on him as your hand moved up and down his length. Your red lipstick was smudged, and your lips were glistening with the moisture of the spit. With such a sight, Mox had to hold himself from cumming on the spot.

Your eyes caught the despair on his face and you smiled widely “You wanna take a picture of me like this, baby? Face covered in spit, lipstick smudged, laid down between your thighs, worshiping your cock for all the wonderful things it does to my pussy”.

Mox’s jaw tightened at your words “Oh, that mouth…that fucking dirty mouth, kitten” He bit his knuckles as you slowly spat on his tip.

“Say it, Jon. Tell me what I wanna hear, baby”. You leaned upwards on his body, kissing his chest as your hard nipple brushed under his shaft.

“I didn’t know you could be this mean” He teased with a moan

“Oh I can be way much worse, bad guy” You chuckled before your tongue licked his nipple.

You felt Mox’s cock throb against your breast and a faint “Fuck it” left his lips.

He looked down into your eyes and whispered “Suck my cock. Please, I beg you. Make me cum in your mouth then ride me. I need you, kitty, please”.

A winning smile took over your lips as you whispered back “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it?”

He looked down into your eyes and whispered “Suck my cock. Please, I beg you. Make me cum in your mouth then ride me. I need you, kitty, please”.

A winning smile took over your lips as you whispered back “See? It wasn’t that hard, was it?”

#jon moxley imagine #jon moxley x reader #jon moxley smut #jon moxley fanfiction #jon moxley #masochist writes

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rocksaltandmountainash · 5 months ago

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Waking up in Beacon Hills - pt. 30

Chapter summary: kara and peter get closer, with unexpected results, and kara finds a case! set between Teen Wolf seasons 3b and 4, and Supernatural seasons 7 and season 8

Series masterlist: can be found here.

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings/notes: swearing, canon (TW and SPN) typical violence, alcohol use, smoking, smut (in person and phone). Gif sources: One | Two | Three | Four

Washington:

After days of Peter’s antics and with your side still hurting, Chicago seems an impossible distance. Once he deemed you healed enough, he’d certainly made up for his neglect; railing you for hours on end, antagonizing the shit out of you in the gaps between. You decide to head for Seattle instead - good markets, lots of coffee, and the birthplace of grunge? An easy call.

As you pass Goldendale, a loud rattle interrupts the quiet drive. You ignore it as long as possible but the clunk clunk grows louder, forcing you to pull off at the next exit. The sight of an auto stop a few minutes from the main intersection feels like a stroke of divine intervention and a smile forms as you read the sign - ‘Bonnie & Clyde’s Muffler Center’.

Grabbing your wallet, and preparing to grovel, your hopes fall as the woman behind the counter glances up with an apologetic look - they’re fully booked for the afternoon. But she offers a lifeline: leave your car, and they’ll try to squeeze it in tomorrow. You promptly accept, handing over your number, and a verbal stream of gratitude. Gathering your valuables from the car, you find a spot to wait for an Uber.

After checking in and taking a nap, you shower, and inspect your dressings - thankfully everything is still intact. Ready to explore, you plug in your earphones and crank up the volume, letting the music energize you. The evening air nips at your cheeks as you meander through the few blocks leading to the downtown area, thoughts of a decent meal and an early night pushing your steps.

The town - Yakima - is just the right size - the kind of place you could see yourself settling in someday. Small enough to feel cozy without neighbors prying into your life, but not so big that you’d lose yourself in the crowd.

Idly, you wonder what might come next if you and Samandriel don’t succeed. How long before you can admit that Dean isn’t coming back? How much more can you endure, chasing one pointless or dead-end lead, after another? The thought of carrying on without Sam or Dean, no one to guide you, is daunting. Beacon Hills was the only place you’d spent any chunk of time, but the idea of returning there feels hollow, leaves you cold. These thoughts cling to the edges of your mind like cobwebs, gathering dust. You shake them off, refusing to let them settle in.

Spotting a liquor store, you decide to search for the wine Peter liked at dinner. He liked the taste, despite it having no effect on him. You’d tasted it yourself, crinkled your nose in disgust, then handed him your glass. With a smirk, he’d called you a heathen.

“It’s from New Zealand, Kara.”

“It’s still gross, Peter.”

You’re smiling with the memory as two men exit the store, one of them glancing back to hold the door for you and you jog to take advantage of his chivalry.

“Thanks, man!” you call, ducking past him.

Inside, you stand in front of an expansive fridge, bright lights flickering overhead. It takes a moment for the faint smell to hit you—sulfur.

Rushing back outside, you scan the street, spotting the men dodging traffic as they slip into an alley. You hesitate a second before booking it through a gap in the cars, silencing your phone as you trail them.

The alley turns out to be a driveway leading to the large parking lot of a club with a line snaking out the door. Just two demons you can handle, but if this place is packed?

You force yourself to stop, heart still racing. Be smarter, safer—don’t repeat the mistakes of your last job. With a sigh, you turn back. Inside the store, you grab a pack of smokes and two extra-large cups of coffee, preparing for a long night of watchful waiting.

****

Inhaling the last puff of your cigarette and finishing the dregs of your second cup, you’re about to call it a night. Your eyelids are heavy, gritty, and the early morning chill only intensifies your need to pee. Finally, you see the woman you’ve been waiting for - tall, blonde, striking - stepping out a side door.

“Excuse me?” You flash a badge briefly in her direction. “Can we talk?”

She freezes like a deer caught in headlights. Even startled, she’s beautiful. If you were even a little less straight, you’d be just like all the other fools inside, throwing your money away and swearing she was really into you.

“No trouble. I just need to ask about some of your customers.”

She nods, small and worried, tugging her coat tighter around herself, clearly colder and more tired than you are. At least you’ve been able to chug coffee all night and haven’t had to fend off rowdy assholes with no manners and grabby hands.

“You like waffles?” you offer.

She smiles through her suspicion and nods again.

“I’m Kara.”

“Ella.”

“Alright, Ella, tell me—best breakfast in town?”

Peter’s in the motel lot when he realizes your car is missing. His texts about being close had gone unanswered, and a pang of irritation sharpens his mood. You better be here, or—well, he probably wouldn’t do anything, but he’d be pissy about it. When you finally answer the door with a smile, his annoyance dissipates instantly.

“Hi,” he greets, dropping his bag and pulling you in for a kiss. “Where’s your car?”

“In the shop,” you grumble, turning in his grip to lock the door. His arms stay wrapped around your waist, lips on your neck. “You’re early.”

“I texted,” he murmurs.

“Ah, sorry. I was busy.”

“Hmm.” He’s not really listening, already pressing himself against you and trying to slide a hand into your jeans.

“Stop, I’ve got to make a call.”

Peter groans, needy and impatient and nibbling lightly at your earlobe. “No, you’re done for the day.”

“I’m not,” you laugh, tapping his nose and ducking out of his arms. “Give me one second, and then I’m all yours.”

With another quick kiss, you shoo him away and grab your phone. Peter watches, torn between the urge to punish you for making him wait or just taking you fast and rough.

All yours. He grins at the thought, shrugging off his jacket. You dial the number, distracted as you catch Peter pulling his t-shirt off in the corner of your vision.

”Hey Rick, not sure if you remember me…” Lowering your voice, an automatic but useless instinct, you continue, “My name’s Kara. I’m a friend of Chris Argents?”

You sense the air shift around you, like daggers made of ice are being sent in your direction as you ask about the gear you need—trackers, small as possible. The tapping of Rick’s keyboard sounds distant compared to the rustling of fabric behind you, where Peter is undressing further.

“Any chance you can ship them? I won’t be back your way for a while.” You purposefully avoid looking at Peter.

“Thanks Rick, appreciate it.” You finish the call before rooting around in your duffel. Peter approaches and stands behind you as you pull notes from a wad of cash and put them in an envelope, setting aside the few hundred bucks Rick had quoted you. You tense, waiting for his usual caustic remarks that follow any mention of Chris.

“Hunting pays well,” he comments, determined to ignore all talk of Argent, wash away any interruption he might cause, as he pushes his hands up under your shirt.

You scoff. “This isn’t from hunting.”

“Rob a bank?” he spins you round and when you spot a smile curling over his lips, you’re calmed.

“I know it’s a foreign concept to you, but I used to have a job,” you quip.

Peter raises a brow, intrigued. “A real job? What did you do?”

You rake your fingers through his hair, short strands tickling your palm, and feel a tiny flip in your belly at how he tilts into your touch.

“You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t,” he seems uncharacteristically sincere, his gaze flitting across your nose, your mouth, as he tugs at your zipper, starts shoving your jeans down, “Promise.”

“I worked in IT.”

He tries to contain it but can’t stop it. The laugh bursts out of him, and you swat his chest.

“Peter!” you scold, but he catches your wrist, pulling you closer with a firm, yet gentle grip.

“Sorry, sorry, doll,” he chuckles before kneeling, pulling your jeans to your ankles, and stays there with knuckles skimming your inner thigh. A shiver runs across your skin, and you smile as he looks up at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Let me make it up to you?”

“Deal.” you grin.

You were on your elbows and knees beneath him, head down on the pillows, hands fisting the covers. The friction between your bodies is electric as you grind back against him.

Peter’s not sure what caused it. Whether it was the way your back curved under his hand, or how your hair fell over your shoulder, mostly hiding your face save for the glimpses of your teeth biting into the plush pillow of your lower lip.

Maybe it was your body responding to him as you pushed up on your hands to meet his thrusts harder, the sound of your hips knocking life into each other echoing throughout the room, or the vacuum of your cunt clenching around him, impatient and needy as ever.

Or the light glinting off the all too fresh, jagged scar snaking down and out from your left shoulder blade to wrap around your side. He grunts and strokes alongside the puffed up skin, wishing he could make it fade.

All he knows is one minute he’s looking at where he’s pounding into you, thinking Washington isn’t all that bad. The next his claws pop out, embedding into the soft flesh of your hips, five small indents on each side, marking you.

Gasping at the sharp sting, you crane your neck, curious, as Peter realizes what he’s done and makes to pull out, pull away.

Seeing the blood trickling down, your eyes go wide, pupils completely blown out when you lock gazes with him. Screaming his name, your body tightens around him, pulling him deeper. His glowing blue eyes, his change, the intensity—it pushes you over the edge.

Peter’s growl fills the room as he slams into you one last time, his claws still sunk into your skin as you convulse around him. He fights for control, breath heavy, before he scrambles down to gently kiss the pierced skin he’s left behind.

You made him transform. It made you come.

Later, when you’re laying naked except for bandaids, Peter sits tense at the edge of the bed, lighting a cigarette for you to share. He frowns, his tone suspicious when he asks; “How’d you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything,” you blow smoke into the air, a little defensive against what sounds like an accusation, “Has that happened before?”

“Once or twice… with other…” He trails off, unwilling to finish the sentence, not liking to remind you of the differences between you.

“I’ve heard of this.”

You tap the ash and look at him seriously as you offer up the cigarette. He takes a long drag, lets smoke reach deep in his lungs while he waits for you to explain,

“Magical vagina.”

Peter blinks in surprise, “Wh - oh, fuck off,” he mutters, but his shoulders relax, the corner of his mouth twitching.

You dissolve into giggles and swim in the sheets as he stubs the cigarette out, returns the ashtray to the table and pours himself another wine.

“That’s it isn’t it?” wrapping an arm around him when he returns to bed, you whisper “I’m so fuckin’ good at sex, I changed you.”

Impossible to stay mad when you’re like this, giddy and sweet and crawling to sit astride his pelvis. He’s only grateful you’re not trying to hide yourself any longer, that you disrobe at the sight of him and stay bare for days on end, only covering up when you drag him out to eat at another of your favoured, shitty diners.

“You know it’s okay, right?”

Running your hands over the breadth of his chest, you trace down his ribs, trying to erase the furrow in his brow. He flinches slightly, still not fully acclimated to the soft touches you bestow on him.

“I mean, I know what you are.”

He laces his fingers through yours, to hold you still and make you look at him, “Does it worry you?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cos, I also know who you are.”

Peter is up before you, already moving about the room by six, searching for his clothes in the half-light. It’s earlier than he usually leaves and with the extra time in Oregon, he could only stay for one night.

“I know where to get wolfsbane - just saying.” you whine, yanking the covers over your head as he crashes around.

He ignores you, chuckling softly as you peek out from beneath the blankets, watching him as he moves—shirtless above a pair of well fitting trousers, his lean muscles flexing with every motion. You groan internally. When Peter looks like that—effortlessly handsome, threading his belt deftly with that quiet, sexy, confidence—it gives you ideas. Ideas about being more than just friends. Need to cut that shit out right now.

“Like the view, doll?”

“Shut up.”

You stay looking. Propped up against the pillows and sipping the coffee he brought you earlier as he pulls on a crisp white shirt, leaving it unbuttoned as he grabs cufflinks from a tiny blue box.

“Do you get your clothes tailored?”

Peter smirks, “Sweetheart, I get my clothes made.”

You scoff like he’s ridiculous, but holy shit if it isn’t money well spent. Every inch is perfect, elegant, and cut precisely enough to only hint at his build beneath, rather than showing off his assets like his typical slutty v-necks.

““So…. you’re like rich rich?”

“I do okay.”

“Oh my god, that’s such a rich person thing to say.”

He grins, but doesn’t elaborate and you feel a small flutter at just how little you actually know about him - so many pieces he keeps tucked away.

“What about you? Where do you get your clothes?”

You look down at your current ‘outfit’ - a pair of Beacon Hills High socks you pinched from Stiles one night you crashed at his house, no jeans because what’s the point when Peter’s here, and a t-shirt that probably once belonged to one of the Winchesters. Stretching out on the bed, you assess the length, guessing it must have been Sam’s given how far down your legs it reaches.

“Boutiques, obviously.”

Peter raises a skeptical brow. “Right. Straight off the runway?”

“Absolutely,” you deadpan, getting up to help him with the last cufflink he’s struggling with. As you slide the tiny piece into place, your fingers brush against his wrist, and for a brief moment, you feel the tension between you. It’s always there, simmering below the teasing, the question - what is this? What are we doing? You shake your head as you adjust the cuffs of his shirt.

“Why are you all dressed up anyways? Court date?” you joke.

Peter chuckles and pulls you into his warm embrace. You sigh sleepily and consider dragging him back for a few more hours of shut eye or more fun, “Actually….why are we even up?”

“I have an appointment back home,” he tells you, explaining the suit, and when he catches the way you’re ogling him, adds, “I can’t miss my flight.”

You frown, suddenly more awake. “You’re not driving?”

“How do you think I get to you every weekend?”

It just tumbled out. Another night of you has turned him slow, stupid.

“Wait, you fly to see me?”

Peter moves to the mirror to check his reflection, turning away so you won’t see his unease. You had never quite put the pieces together, and he gladly let the misunderstanding lie. Didn’t want you to get the wrong idea - that this is more than it is, that it’s something. It isn’t.

It isn’t, Peter reminds himself inwardly,

Mind still foggy with sleep, you only now realize that it makes total sense. You hadn’t really thought about the logistics before, about how he manages to be wherever you are with little notice, showing up at random motels or cities like it’s no big deal.

“But… sometimes I only tell you where I am the day before,” you say, confused.

He nods nonchalantly, “Mmm.” he murmurs and checks his jacket isn’t creased. Not like this place has a concierge if it needs a press.

“It must cost a fortune,” you think out loud, your mind now spiraling to images of him in airports, in crawling lines, renting cars just to see you.

Peter shrugs it off, but you won’t let it go. Panic crests inside of him, that if you think too much about this you might stop texting. Sure, he could always lean on Stiles to find out where you are, but the boy isn’t totally dense, will figure it out eventually if he asks too often, shows too much interest. Derek’s been watching him more closely since your accident.

So he answers without thinking, and in his haste to assuage your concerns, says too much, “It’s not that bad. I use a private plane.”

It triggers an awkward giggle out of you and he snaps his jaw shut because it’s exactly the wrong thing to say if he wants to continue the charade that this is still a no-strings, low-stakes, just-because-you’re-around type of thing.

“Peter!” you exclaim. He faces you, and for the briefest of seconds, looks almost timid. So unlike him. You take a few steps forward, but then he’s back to his typical aloofness.

“You’re…that’s…” The nicest thing I’ve ever heard? More than I deserve?

Stuck in front of him, you absorb that he’s putting in more effort than you had ever considered - he spends his free time and money to see you, to be with you. That creeping feeling inside, the one you’ve been pushing down, advances and makes your heart skip a beat.

“That’s insane,” you laugh, not intending to be mean, but simply don’t know what else to say - it’s a lot. His smile fades before you reach out and loop an arm around his neck, fingernail running under the small chain he wears, using it to draw him closer.

“Sorry. Just…you don’t have to do all that.”

“I know.”

Peter’s thought - I want to, don’t make me stop - stays trapped in his throat. He won’t look you in the eye, his jaw clenched as he tries to paste over his slip-up. You search his face, but it’s a mask of practiced indifference. The weight of his revelations makes your head spin, threatening to topple the careful balance you’ve maintained.

You take a deep breath, deciding on a calculated honesty, “I’m glad you do.”

Peter looks at you, something shifting in his gaze—surprise, maybe, or relief. He doesn’t respond right away, but you see the hesitant smile tug at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah?”

That tiny crack in his facade is all you need. You lean in, kissing him long and deep, your fingers skimming down his pecs. As you feel him relax into your touch, you know you’ve successfully steered the moment back to safer territory - casual, just sex - silently reinforcing the lines of yours and Peter’s thing.

You keep your eyes with his as you move lower and slip your hand into his trousers. He curses under his breathe as you expertly, slowly pump him. When you raise up on tiptoes to suck along the hollow of his throat, he moans and his eyes fall to a close.

“I really have to go,” Peters attempts to sound stern and in control fail when your thumb swipes over his head and you both feel the buck of his hips. Removing your hand from his pants, you drop to your knees, working open his belt.

“What’s your personal pilot gonna do?” your voice teeming with sarcasm as you lick your lips, “Leave without you?”

****

Peter texts you once he’s landed in California. His message is simple, just a quick confirmation that he’s arrived safely, but you know him well enough to recognize the subtext. He’s thinking about you, probably more than he wants to admit.

You respond with a series of photos that make him cut his meeting short and speed home. He calls you as soon as he’s through the door, “You’re a menace.”

“I don’t know what you’re referring to?” you reply innocently, and Peter can hear the cheeky grin on your face.

You snuggle deeper into the bed you’ve remained in since he left, doing research nestled under the covers. Not thinking about how his goodbyes are starting to sting, how they’re taking longer. Absolutely not.

“Christ. Don’t play with me right now,” he growls, putting you on speaker. With one hand he flicks through the pictures, the other pulling his zip down to wrap around his cock.

“Thought you liked playing?”

Moving your laptop off the bed, you stretch out, a familiar stirring coming to life between your legs, your body responding to his low tone that promises so much.

“Not when I have to leave early for a meeting - which, by the way, you disrupted,” he strokes himself, “I wasn’t done with you.”

“Mmm, so unfair huh?” you coo sympathetically and dip a hand beneath the waistband of your underwear.

Peter groans at the rustling of sheets, “Tragic” he agrees.

“Tell me,” you whisper, desperation threaded through your voice, going straight to his body.

“Yeah?” He’s done with the pictures now, only needs your honey tones coming through the phone, the breathless rasp making him throb harder.

“Please…tell me…what you’d do.”

Your plea has him leaking, and he spreads it over his head, letting himself drift back to the morning. Floating along to the memory feel of you, your tongue, his hands in your hair as he fucked into your mouth.

Peter’s breath comes out ragged, and he talks you through. Neither of you is patient, and your keening sounds hit his ear and have him shaking and spilling over his fist in a matter of minutes. When he hears the shuffle of movement, followed by the telltale click of a lighter, he asks, “Did you come?”

“Definitely,” you reply, giggling as you exhale smoke into the air, “You?”

“Yes,” he wanders to his bathroom to clean up, phone tucked between his collar and shoulder, “What do you use?”

“Just…you know…my hand.”

“Ah, the sneaky old fashioned.”

You laugh, “Well, your voice too.”

He feels a bolt of pride at that.

It’s easier now. Not only the horrendously dirty things that you find slipping out during, but the chats before and after. Maybe because nothing you’ve suggested has ever seemed to throw him. He’s never judged you, instead, he curiously asks questions, gradually uncovering your fantasies.

“How was your very important meeting?”

Peter starts unpacking, tossing his clothes in the laundry basket, he’ll need to send his now ruined suit to the dry cleaners,

“Very boring. Are you staying in Washington?”

“Yeah, for a bit.”

“See you on Friday?”

“Sounds good.”

He leans in to turn the shower on, waiting.

Feels like everything is back to normal. You’ve stumbled on a case to keep you busy and Peter is in Beacon Hills, returned to his teasing, easy, self. Firmly ensconced in the friends with benefits basket.

You grin, “Bye Daddy.”

#wakingupinbeaconhills #supernatural x teen wolf fic #peter hale smut #peter hale fanfiction #teen wolf #supernatural #peter hale

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almostarchaeology · 2 months ago

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‘The riddle of the past’: on Tolkien’s archaeological trail

By Adrián Maldonado

When I was a teenager reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time, a weird thing started happening. Whenever I had to walk any distance, I began to imagine I was embarking upon a great journey across Middle-earth. I remember when sitting around waiting for the bus one rainy afternoon, I saw a clump of bushes with a trickle of water streaming out to the gutter, and I thought, that looks exactly like the map of Fangorn and the Entwash.

I wish I could say then I got on the bus, realized I was being a dork and grew out of it. With apologies to Childish Gambino, I never got off that bus. I still haven’t.

A lifetime later, I realize I’m not alone in looking for Middle-earth everywhere. It’s not hard to find a ‘Tolkien Trail’ of some description near you, wherever you live. There’s a wild one that starts in Lancashire, where Tolkien spent a month once, and ends up in New Zealand by way of Tenerife. I’m surprised they didn’t include the North Pole, which Tolkien at least wrote stories about.

The North Pole: not on the Tolkien trail yet (source)

But I’m here to say I don’t blame anyone for flying kites about exactly which places they think inspired JRR Tolkien. Comparing someplace to The Shire is a proven strategy of getting me to go there. Just don’t expect me to believe that Tolkien really, truly based this or that chapter on your favourite country lane. The gravy train of finding Tolkien's influences very easily goes off the rails.

That’s why one of the most-used books on my Tolkien shelves is John Garth’s The Worlds of J.R.R. Tolkien (2020). After writing one of the best biographies of Tolkien, Garth has combed through the whole legendarium and then some, diving into the unpublished archive to put forward the most definitive cases for (and sometimes against) the places that really inspired Middle-earth.

New job title: auteur du blog

Recently, I had the life-changing opportunity to visit some of the real-world archaeological (and geological) inspirations as part of a new documentary film (now streaming, only in Europe so far). First of all, I agree with you, it is bonkers that I got this opportunity, and you can tell from the dumb grin on my face at every stop that I’m having the time of my life. But more importantly, going to see these places for myself, to vibe not just with the ancient past but with Tolkien’s imagination itself, reopened some questions for me. Spoiler: the questions are about archaeology.

Previously on Almost Archaeology

A blogging resumé for anyone new here: a decade ago in some of the earliest posts on this page, I jokingly referred to Gandalf as an ‘almost archaeologist’ for the research that first led him to correctly identify Bilbo’s magic ring. While working on a follow-up about Saruman, I uncovered some shocking evidence that ol' Sharkey had actually carried out legit fieldwork long before Gandalf stumbled into the library of Gondor.

Can we burn candles any closer to the ancient scrolls (source)

This productive period of avoiding essay-marking coincided with the release of the (mostly tragic) Hobbit film trilogy, and I had a great time cataloguing the archaeological themes in a trilogy of posts.

Throughout all this happy procrastination, it slowly dawned on me that Tolkien and other early fantasy writers were busy inventing new approaches to worldbuilding just as archaeologists like V. Gordon Childe were writing their own sweeping European prehistories. Studying Tolkien is actually helping me study archaeology. But can the study of archaeology help us understand Tolkien?

Chasing Tolkien

Tolkien fans have always been fascinated by the hints of the real-world sites, texts and ideas he used as inspiration, just as he always bristled at their attempts to pin him down. But I think the search encourages close reading and travel, surely no bad thing overall.

Pub pilgrimage (source)

Most Tolkien fans, if given the chance, will try and visit Oxford some time in their life, maybe have a pint at the Eagle and Child if at all possible. For us it is more than fandom, but a pilgrimage, an act of paying respect, bearing witness, and maybe also, in some ineffable way, entering the story. Searching for his real-world inspirations is no less valid than literary scholars scouring his writings for allusions to ancient texts and medieval poetry. We don’t realize we’re doing it, but collectively, Tolkien scholars and fans alike are building a new canon: the definitive set of works, things and places which provide prophetic insight into the legendarium, a sort of Tolkien Old Testament, works that, if studied and pondered, may lead to a greater understanding of the ‘sacred’ texts.

But this is, by and large, a literary pursuit. How does Garth’s Worlds of Tolkien, dealing in earthly locales, fit in with this project? It presents the authoritative argument for the way that Tolkien’s travels in the material world shaped his vision of a mythical past as much as ancient texts. It shows that inspiration is only very rarely one-to-one, but a layering of experiences, including of real-world objects and places. There’s even a chapter specifically about archaeological inspirations, but Garth, as much as I idolise him, is not an archaeologist, and there's more to build on here. As Dimitra Fimi’s work has shown, and I explored in my worldbuilding post, there is still plenty to excavate from Tolkien’s relationship to the discipline of archaeology, as both were in their formative years at the start of the last century.

The 'Dragon Hill' beneath the Uffington White Horse (own work)

One example is the fortress of Amon Sûl or Weathertop. Garth explores the possible inspiration for this particular place at the Dragon Hill ‘fort’ beneath the Uffington White Horse which he certainly visited many times. This was a bit of a reach for me, and now having been there, I am less convinced. While the site is certainly striking, it does not dominate the horizon the way I imagine Weathertop, as White Horse Hill looms right behind it. Nor does it have the look of an old, ruined castle. If anything, the older and bigger Uffington Castle, the Iron Age hillfort soaring above them both, would be a better candidate, but neither ring true for me.

Not to worry though, because this is ironically where Garth’s book shines. One of the things it does best is showing how it doesn’t really matter that there is not a one-to-one connection between places Tolkien visited and locations in Middle-earth.

In the ‘Ancient Imprints’ chapter, and in an appendix dismissing any connections to the Vyne Ring, Garth discusses the relationship between Tolkien and the prominent archaeologist Sir Mortimer Wheeler. Sure, Tolkien famously wrote a note on the god Nodens for the Wheelers' excavations at Lydney, Gloucestershire, but it is not clear that they ever met, much less that Tolkien ever visited the site. (It remains very cool that the site was known as the ‘Dwarf’s Hill’ and had Roman-era mine tunnels, but still.)

Action-packed archaeology: Sir Mortimer Wheeler (source)

Garth discusses the popular, action-packed accounts that Wheeler published in British newspapers during his excavations at Maiden Castle, Dorset Iron Age hillfort in the 1930s. It is one thing to assume Tolkien ‘must have’ read these, but Garth has the receipts (140, n. 35). He uses this to connect the Maiden Castle burial pits to the Barrow-wights, but to me, Maiden Castle, with its tales of monumental but forgotten wars, is probably more relevant to Tolkien's description of Weathertop, even if they look nothing alike. (Actually, if you really asked me, I’d say there’s nothing more Weathertop-y than Castell Dinas Brân in North Wales, even if there’s nothing connecting it with Tolkien I know of.)

Weathertop is best explained as a mix of different touchpoints ranging from Iron Age forts to medieval castles that would have bumped around in Tolkien's mind as he wrote. But if you asked him directly, he would surely dissemble – would he even be able to isolate these diffuse inspirations himself if asked?

Another important lesson from Garth’s book is that the stories grew in the telling. The way Tolkien understood Middle-earth at the outset of the Lord of the Rings writing process in 1938 changed dramatically by the time of its publication in 1954. Sticking with the example of Weathertop, Garth shows how this changed from the largely atmospheric, anonymous ‘old castles with an evil look’ seen by Bilbo in The Hobbit, to the very specific Second-Age stronghold of Amon Sûl as described by Aragorn (FotR 1, ch 9).

Tolkien’s archaeological travels

It was with Garth’s book in hand that the film crew for Tolkien: The True Story of the Rings came up with a list of key places in England, France and Switzerland to visit, and Garth is of course a prominent voice in the final film. I’m more in the role of audience surrogate, tagging along for the England leg of the journey, and I can tell you, it was a life-changer. We went to some of the places with the clearest analogues in the books, places where you can pretty much read a description on a single page, look up and see what he’s describing.

But only very few of these did Tolkien ever explicitly acknowledge. For instance, after the Battle of the Hornburg, Gimli describes in poetic detail the Glittering Caves (or Aglarond) he saw beneath Helm’s Deep.

Here they have one of the marvels of the Northern World, and what do they say of it? Caves, they say! Caves! Holes to fly in time of war, to store fodder in! My good Legolas, do you know that the caverns of Helm’s Deep are vast and beautiful? There would be an endless pilgrimage of Dwarves, merely to gaze at them, if such things were known to be. Aye indeed, they would pay pure gold for a brief glance! (TT 3, ch 8)

Tolkien’s letter 321 confirms it was the caves of Cheddar Gorge he was describing, which he had visited several times, including a heavily-freighted moment, while on honeymoon with Edith in the spring of 1916 – mere months before he marched to the Battle of the Somme.

Caves, they say! Cox's Cave, Cheddar (own work)

In most other places, the influence is not so direct. The joy of visiting these is to commune with past visitors, up to and including Tolkien, to try and feel what they felt. More often than not, that feeling is not about what you can see, but what you cannot. Visiting ancient monuments is the search for the uncanny, of seeing and touching something that has cheated time by surviving this long, and equally ruminating on how much has been lost to time’s bastard axe. For some, reflecting on past lives can create a sincere yearning to fill in those gaps by any means necessary – by consulting the archives where they exist, or by archaeological investigation where they don’t.

Wayland's Smithy, Oxfordshire (own work)

This is kind of how Tolkien felt when he read ancient poetry – it was a single enigmatic mention of ‘Éarendel’ in an Old English poem that arguably sparked the entire legendarium. But it is less well-appreciated that he got this feeling from places with evocative names and legends attached to them. Dimitra Fimi, also featured prominently in the documentary, has spotted this in Tolkien’s early academic works. In a brief stint as reviewer for scholarly journal The Year's Work in English Studies, we can see how the layering of languages in place-names fired his yearning for the ancient past. He ends his 1926 review with the potential for an “alliance of Philologia and Archaeologia.” He connects the discovery of Roman mosaics at Fawler, Oxfordshire with the origins of its place-name in the Old English fāg flōr, tessellated floor, meaning early English speakers came to this ruined villa and were struck by its multi-coloured pavement. This example immediately rung bells in his mind, as the poem Beowulf uses the phrase on fāgne flōr to describe the pavement of the mead-hall of Heorot. Tolkien would later go on to describe the king’s hall of Meduseld at Edoras as having a floor “paved with stones of many hues” (TT 3, ch. 6), creatively marrying archaeological and linguistic inspirations with allusions to medieval literature.

The Rollright Stones, Cotswolds (own work)

The ancient monuments we visited for the film, including the Rollright Stones and Wayland’s Smithy, fascinated Tolkien not just because they were ancient remnants, but also because they had acquired names and legends thousands of years after they were built. The names we still use for them derive from the early medieval period, when people reimagined them in the same way as they coined the name Fawler. Maybe he wasn’t an archaeologist, but Tolkien was able to excavate these layers of meaning from a variety of source materials from Old English literature to place-names. Tolkien's Hobbits, he imagined, were something like the Anglo-Saxons, enchanted by the spirits that still inhabited these ancient megaliths.

Tolkien the Professor

But Tolkien was not content merely to leave us wondering about these ancient monuments. A big reason for writing the Ring cycle was the chance to explore – even excavate? – in the world he had conjured to life. In a brilliant article on the archaeology of Tolkien’s world, Deborah Sabo showed how “encounters with ruins—or, to choose a more inclusive term, archaeological places—contribute to the successful evocation of a sense of history in Middle-earth” (2007, 91). The Hobbits stand in for the readers, being taken on a walking tour of Middle-earth. When Bilbo and his Party find ancient swords in the Trollshaws, they go ask Elrond how old they are and who made them, and we get our first glimpses of the antiquity of these lands. Years later when Frodo and his party find themselves at one of Bilbo’s ‘old castles’, Aragorn is there to expound on its historical significance.

We are conditioned to expect that Middle-earth has an epic history, but one that is precariously on the edge of being forgotten. This is not dissimilar to the rural England of Tolkien’s youth, with the search for British prehistory a very recent development at that point. But he was on a different kind of mission. His interest in place-names as artefacts all added to what he called in his 1926 review “the allurement of the riddle of the past” and this work as “the recapturing of fitful and tantalizing glimpses in the dark” (65). As Sabo points out, in LotR,

almost every encounter with an archaeological place springs a mnemonic trigger that brings to some character's mind a connection to the past, and a context for learning, either a deepening sense of his own heritage and identity, or sympathy for that of another…encounters with ruins and archaeological places in The Lord of the Rings always lead to personal growth. (2007, 108-9)

It is striking to go back to the big book of Tolkien’s Letters with this in mind. One of the earliest (number 7) is the cover letter he wrote to the University of Oxford when he applied to the Rawlinson and Bosworth Professorship of Anglo-Saxon in 1925, at the age of 33. He ends it with his sincere wish to continue “the encouragement of philological enthusiasm among the young.”

He of course got the job, and held that professorship for twenty years. But he'd be encouraging the youth for generations to come.

It is then no surprise the Tolkien readers are all susceptible to seeing Middle-earth everywhere. Tolkien himself trained us to peel back the layers of stories we love, and ground ourselves with roots in our own epic pasts, wherever we are.

And some of us grow up to be archaeologists.

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wildshona · 4 months ago

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Being a Sex Addict

Ok so a very nice man from New Zealand was asking what it felt like to be a sex addict and other people have really enjoyed taking advantage of it so here is a bit of a Shona style informational.

How do you become a sex addict?

Well there are some differences between men and women and for some it is about poor coping strategies but really it is about power and a need to overcome past trauma caused by sexual or physical abuse or loneliness caused by emotional neglect. well if u have been following my longer blogs rather than just looking at the pictures u must have picked up that i spent years being sexually abused as did my sister although she has not become a sex addict cos our circumstances were different not least she gort emotional support and i got emotional abuse as well as being fucked all the time.

What are the signs?

obsessive sexual thought - u gotta believe it unless i'm doing something that occupies my mind and activity then i will be thinking about sex, chatting and fantasising on tumblr or whatever.

excessive time spent on sexual activity - yeah i tick this box, excessive masturbation you bet and i dont wear knickers around the flat and even when i go out so that i can get at myself, watching lots of porn - not particularly but sometimes, excessive search for sexual encounters - well uve been reading my blog and u know the electrician is just one of many and ive just finished sucking off my husband before writing this to send him on his way to a meeting happy

feeling shame or depression - yeah well i dont talk about that too much but when you spent years being told ur a worthless whore only good as a cum receptacle it gets to ur mental health just a bit.

cheating on partners - fortunately dont need to cos Chris likes me fucking what he tries to do is keep it safe - not a lot of luck there but he does his best

engaging in increasingly risky and inappropriate behaviours - honestly if u go to a club and then go back to a flat with three strange men a s i did a couple of weeks ago that can turn really bad. it dodnt for me that time i just got all my holes occupied til i was dripping fluid from everywhere but i have been raped enough that i should know better but thats an addiction for you.

committing criminal sex offences - i suppose fucking in club toilets and alleyways covers that and lets not forget i met chris cos i offered him a blow job for a tenner

you can't stop regardless of negative consequences - yeah i can't stop and ive cum three times this morning already.

Can you be cured? Apparently recovery takes two to five years as long as you have consistent therapy. i think im on the five year journey and sometimes im not even sure i want to recover cos i fucking love fucking. but i know it is dangerous and i know i could end up dead in a ditch or selling myself so...

so now u know.

What does it feel like - an overpowering need to be a body that is used. even though it sometimes feeds the worse behaviours of the men and women who use as i experience with a lot of men on here

#free use slvt

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here-have-some-stories · 5 months ago

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Massacre Masquerade Chapter 10

Chapter 1 Chapter 9

It wasn’t too much later when Bailey started to regret her decision to help out. Glancing at Deacon and Leon, she saw that they were bored of searching as well. They were getting suspicious glances from the other people, obviously wondering why they were looking around. It was also getting tiring.

“Well I don’t think we’re going to find anything,” Deacon said, “We might as well just stop looking.”

“It’s been ten minutes,” Bailey pointed out.

“Yes,” Deacon agreed, “ten minutes of hard, incredible searching, but to no avail.” He spoke in an overly dramatic voice that made Leon grin. “Let’s just leave it to those fancy detective people, it’s their job anyway.”

“What are we going to do then?” Leon asked.

Deacon shrugged in reply. “Just go back to what we were doing before. Sitting down and getting bored to death.”

“Sounds so exciting,” Bailey said sarcastically. Despite her reply, the group agreed with Deacon and walked back to their favourite corner. Leon pointed out that they could still help by keeping a look out, they just didn’t have to move.

They had barely been sitting there for three minutes when Deacon said, “I’m bored again.”

“You’re sitting here doing nothing,” Leon said, “what did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” Deacon admitted, “some sitting down and doing nothing that was more fun than this. Perhaps even more action packed.”

“It was your idea to come here,” Bailey put in blankly.

“Yeah, but I thought we would at least talk, not just sit here in disappointing silence.” Deacon crossed his arms across his chest and put on a fake pouting expression so he was looking like the child he was acting like.

“You said that you wanted to go back to what we were doing before,” Leon said, “this is what we were doing before.”

“We can change it up a little bit,” Deacon mumbled.

“By doing what?”

“By talking!”

“About what?” Leon was grinning now even though he was asking a genuine question. He had to admit that everything would be much more entertaining if they conversed, and he wanted to get to know Deacon a bit more. Or a lot more. He just liked to have small silly arguments sometimes. It really did help pass the time.

“I don’t know. The weather, our favourite types of birds, anything!”

“Alright then, what’s your favourite type of bird?” Deacon looked a tiny bit surprised at the question, a little taken aback by the fact that Leon actually took one of his stupid suggestions.

“Um, sparrows. It’s pretty basic but they’re cute,” Deacon replied. He was happy to find that there wasn’t any kind of small judgement from Leon. It was a stupid thing to be embarrassed by but whenever he said sparrows were his favourite bird he would be called basic and boring. “What’s yours?”

“Birds of paradise,” Leon said. “They’re pretty and cool and do funny little dances.”

“I’ve seen them before, not in person but in a documentary. It was the only David Attenborugh documentary that I wasn’t bored by. What about you Bailey?”

“What?” Bailey replied. She blinked at Deacon as if she had just come out of zoning out, which she had. She had completely missed everything Deacon and Leon had been talking about.

“What’s your favourite type of bird?”

“Oh, um, kiwi’s. You know, the New Zealand birds.”

“Oh yeah those are really cute,” Deacon agreed.

None of them said anything for a while and just when Leon was about to ask another question to his new friend when they were all alerted by a creaking noise coming from the ceiling. Simultaneously, they all looked up at the roof in the direction of where they heard the noise. Deacon was the first to look away, losing interest pretty quickly. It could have just been some random noises that buildings make. Leon wasn’t so sure. The creak sounded different from anything else he had heard. It sounded like the noise you’d hear from a tree branch just before it was about to fall down. He squinted his eyes a little closer at the ceiling and was surprised to spot a small crack, running in a perfectly straight line for about two metres before his eyes lost sight of it. Weird. But Leon shrugged. It was probably just some part of the building, nothing too odd. And that creaking noise was probably just something unimportant.

Leon was ready to turn back to his friend when all three of them jumped at the sudden sound of something snapping loudly, followed by a loud crash. A large portion of the ceiling had fallen down.

Leon looked in horror as he realised that the section that had fallen was exactly where he had seen the crack, and where they had all heard the creak. His horror increased as he remembered that there was a group of people who were sitting right underneath that section of ceiling and were nowhere to be seen. All ten of them.

I was excited to include kiwi's in the story. As a fellow kiwi, I was very happy to put in my native bird. Anyways, sorry this took so long to the one person who probably only reads it, but the new chapter is here and ngl I kinda don't like how I did the actual tension part of the ceiling falling but I really can't be bothered to change it The next chapter will take ages I promise you that. Once again if you have any questions of comments or feedback or just wanna talk do not be afraid I welcome very very much. And if you have any requests for fictional stories then I will give em to you depending jut read the rules I have on my pinned post most of the information for requested shit is there Anyways hope you liked it and bye y'all.

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