#place of herons press

[basicallyanotherwitchesthing]

Alma Luz Villanueva - Life Span - Place of Herons Press - 1985

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / prev here

‘C’mon, you never want to go out.” 

You rub your temples, eyes closed in exasperation. “I’m broke, Case.” 

“I’ll spot you. Come on, it’s Friday. I’ll get us into The Rook.” She pleads and pushes, tugging away your excuses and defenses until you’re backed into a corner with nowhere to run. Finally, you opt for a different tactic, lamely. 

“Doesn’t that place have a waiting list?”   

“Oh yeah, miles long. But the owner likes me.” The owner. How does she even know the owner of The Rook? 

“I don’t know…” you linger, still bent over your tiny kitchen table, back bowed and tired, “isn’t it like, dangerous?” 

“The Rook is neutral ground or something, I don’t know. It’s perfectly fine, I’ve been dozens of times.” A litany of stories exists about the speakeasy, from its origins to the current clientele, each as unbelievable as the next, and you’ve always imagined it to be this dark den of sin and debauchery, filled to brim with hitmen and lawlessness. “You have to do something other than work and sleep; you know. You’re missing out on your whole life.” She chides, attempting to launch into the same speech she repeats over and over every few weeks. 

“Alright, alright,” you look down at your torn up cuticles and sigh, “I’ll go.” 

You weren’t wrong about The Rook being dark. 

It’s hollowed out under a club, nooks and crannies and little hallways splitting off in every direction, dim lamps and flickering candlelight casting shadows to the ceiling, bartenders dressed in all black working behind a massive, burnished wood bar along the back wall. Velvet couches, high top tables, overstuff armchairs flow in the space, and Case tells you there are more rooms if you’re keen to explore, explaining in hushed tones how there’s usually a band in one, a card game of sorts in another, a pool table somewhere, all with various styles of seating, and even another bar. It's elegant, decadent, sinful. Most of the people are startlingly beautiful, high heels and skintight dresses, perfectly made-up faces, polished onyx cuff links gleaming against expensive navy suits. 

Even the drinks are licentious. 

You decidedly do not belong here. Perched on a stool next to Case, you occasionally rub your wrists, casually wondering if it would have been acceptable to wear your braces, your carpal tunnel flaring into a swell of agony. 

Wouldn’t that be a sight. 

The bartender slides her two generous neat pours of… something, and you raise an eyebrow. 

“On the house, from the boss.” He says with a wink, and she tips her head to ceiling with a bubble of a laughter, before pressing one of the tumblers into your hand. 

“What is it?” 

“Probably bourbon.” 

“Oh, no thanks, I don’t-“ 

“Just shoot it.” She throws it back with ease, showing her teeth afterwards, a hyena leering in the lamplight. 

Fuck it. Maybe it will the throbbing in your wrists will quiet down. 

It’s thick, syrupy, hot in your throat. Burns all the way down and settles like lava in your stomach, uncomfortable until the sting ebbs into warmth, moving through your bones. 

“Not bad.” You rasp, and she smiles. 

There are more free drinks. They stick to your insides like tar, slicking you in a heavy cotton, weighing your limbs down, loosening the tension in your neck and shoulders, peeling away your layers of discomfort one by one. 

You’re surprised by how at home Case seems in this place, how comfortable she is, smiling and waving to the occasional person, making small talk here and there. She practically floats in her seat, black dress taut against every dimple and dip on her body, hair artfully twisted into something that could be considered modern art. She’s a gazelle. A heron. Something graceful and gorgeous, fine feathered and fabulous.

And you’re… a tired girl in a tired dress, counting her lucky stars that there seem to be so many generous patrons buying drinks tonight. 

“Having fun?” She whispers, nudging you with her shoulder. 

“How often do you come here?” Her eyes wander, flicking past you and then back, wistful caution etched across her brow. 

“Often enough,” She sips her drink and then folds her hands together on the bar top, looking over shoulder, “Most of these people in here… are connected to organized crime somehow.” The information doesn’t surprise you, but hearing it confirmed, knowing it’s not just some story made up, some fairytale about boogeymen, makes you shiver. 

 “Like, the mafia?” 

“The mafia is Italian, but they have a presence in the city.” She shrugs, like it’s all common knowledge. Like you’re out of the loop. “The Rook belongs to Kyle Garrick.” You shake your head, unfamiliar. “Of The 141?” your mouth goes dry. 

The 141. 

The 141 were a notorious organized crime group who ran half, if not more, of the city. You knew they owned clubs, bars, restaurants, and hotels, but you were never clear on the details of their illegitimate work, and you didn’t want to know. 

You knew, for sure: they were men to be feared. Men capable of terrible things. Destruction. Death. 

Their ongoing war with The Shadows was the reason the city was soaked in blood. 

“Don’t worry,” she rushes out, hand on your arm, “like I said, It’s neutral here. Nothing happens in The Rook.” You nod meekly, head swimming. You’re more than drunk now, stuck in a sloshing ship, floor tilting beneath your feet. The urge to get away, to disappear slams into you like a truck, and you slip off the stool. 

“Which way is the bathroom?” She points to one of those dark hallways, and you stumble through the throngs of people like a fresh born fawn, unsteady and teetering on the edge, approaching a hallway that splits into two. 

Which way? 

You pick one, sure you’ll run into someone who can point you in the right direction, but when it zigs and zags up to a polished wooden door, you stop short, confused. The alcohol has rendered you fuzzy, and your vision spins, trying to look for a recognizable placard. 

Is this the bathroom? 

It must be. 

The first thing you realize when you push the door open, is a chorus of men’s voices, stopping on a dime. You hear them, before you see them, and immediately try to backpedal, tugging the door handle towards you, trying to close it. You’re wayward, with heavy, tired feet, and the movement is slow, slow enough that an opposing force pulls on the other side and then- 

rips. 

You fly forward into the room, dragged by your grip on the handle, spilling onto your knees with a shocked gasp, and someone curses in the background, another voice barking out a name. 

Then, the room goes Sunday church service silent. 

You gape at the table of men, transfixed in horror on the two familiar faces staring back at you, the unforgettable Scot and his marble etched partner, who was just in the shop only two days ago. They’re frozen, half risen from their seats, a cigarette burning away in an ash tray filling the air with smoke. 

There’s a nickel-plated flash, and your blood curdles. 

He has a gun. 

“I…” you croak, still on your knees, unable to categorize or rationalize why you’re seeing them here, why one of them has a gun, why any of this is happening. “I’m sorry, I was lo-looking for the bathroom.” There are many men in this room, you realize. More than just the two you’re acquainted with, and your stomach rolls, nausea creeping forward, trying to bring the too many drinks you’ve consumed up through your mouth. “I’m sorry.” You say again, more clearly. 

Obviously, you’re interrupting something. 

“These aren’t the toilets, little girl.” A Russian voice booms over your head. “Unless you’re going to piss on the floor for us?” 

“Nikolai.” The blonde cuts, Manchester accent rougher than sandpaper, and you shake your head frantically. 

“N-no, I just got turned around, that’s all.” Your brain screams at you to get up, but your body is immobile, and you look away in fear. 

A warm hand takes yours, tanned skin soft and sweet, gentle touch urging your face back up. 

“It’s alright, doe. Ye’re alright.” It’s the Scot, crooning in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist to bring you to your feet. “Let’s get ye to the bathroom then, aye?” You lean against him, breathing in cypress and ocean spray, letting him guide you out of the room, his partner right at your back. 

“We’re not finished.” Someone calls out, and the bigger man clips out a response. 

“We are now.” 

[drunkwhenimadethis]

"...a new edition of the Oxford Junior Dictionary was published. A sharp-eyed reader noticed that there had been a culling of words concerning nature. Under pressure, Oxford University Press revealed a list of the entries it no longer felt to be relevant to a modern-day childhood. The deletions included acorn, adder, ash, beech, bluebell, buttercup, catkin, conker, cowslip, cygnet, dandelion, fern, hazel, heather, heron, ivy, kingfisher, lark, mistletoe, nectar, newt, otter, pasture and willow. The words taking their places in the new edition included attachment, block-graph, blog, broadband, bullet-point, celebrity, chatroom, committee, cut-and-paste, MP3 player and voice-mail."

Robert Macfarlane in The Guardian

[robin-evry]

pppsssstttt hey~ mothman yuu for twisted wonderland, imagine the chaos, the memes

Sure thing, ask and you shall receive

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐔𝐔 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐌𝐀𝐍 💡

Mothman, in West Virginian folklore, is a humanoid creature reportedly seen in the Point Pleasant area from November 15, 1966, to December 15, 1967. The first newspaper report was published in the Point Pleasant Register, dated November 16, 1966, titled "Couples See Man-Sized Bird ... Creature ... Something". The national press soon picked up the reports and helped spread the story across the United States. The source of the legend is believed to have originated from sightings of out-of-migration sandhill cranes or herons.

Mothman!yuu would look really intimidating towards all of NRC, during one night they are exploring NRC and see a car moving, following their natural instincts to follow light and moving objects. They hopped on the car roof and tried to lift it but the passenger fired a magic spell that scared them and caused them to return back to the ramshackle dorm.

This created a legend of them in twst about a creature that is attracted to light. It becomes a local legend in NRC and many people would try to capture the creature.

Meanwhile mothman!yuu is blissfully unaware of the legend being about them and thought it was some other creature.

Mothman!Yuu is introverted and observant, preferring solitude and quiet places like the Ramshackle Dorm or the garden at night. They communicate softly, often using body language, and enjoy listening more than speaking. Despite their quiet demeanor, Yuu is deeply compassionate and protective of those they care about, silently watching over their friends like a guardian in the dark.

They Have an odd obsession with lamps and lights, often staring at them in awe, and other students have caught them sitting by a lamp for hours, entranced as well to be attracted into moving objects. They also have a habit of fluttering their wings when nervous or excited, making a soft, soothing sound.

During one of idia long walks at night, mothman!yuu see this and would try to hug idia due to their attraction to light. in idia eyes this giant creature with wings and large red eyes is chasing him causing him to bolt it out of there.

Mothman! yuu is a loveable goofball or should I say fluff ball since around their neck they have a ball of fluff around their neck which is basically their scales, even tho they are adorable at far and at night or during the dark their appearance is actually very scary or intimidating. They look like a humanoid creature with large wings and glowing eyes.

First meeting with malleus, malleus was walking and found a mothman!yuu hugging a lamp post and question what they are doing. Mothman!yuu just looked at him and continued admiring the lamp.

Mothman!Yuu is particularly sensitive to bright light during the day and tends to be more active at night. Their wings can get damaged easily if they aren’t careful, so they’re cautious in battles or physical activities.

Mothman!Yuu is much more active at night, often staying up well past midnight, finding the school grounds calming and peaceful when everyone else is asleep. They sleep during the day, which sometimes causes issues with classes. However, Crowley allows them to take night classes or study independently since Mothman!Yuu excels in their own time. During the day, they might be seen dozing in quiet corners, wrapped up in their cloak like a cocoon.

Mothman Yuu loves to explore the campus at night. They've memorized every hidden corner of NRC, knowing all the best spots for stargazing or simply enjoying the quiet. They often find peace in the botanical garden, surrounded by moonlit flowers, or the rooftop, where they can spread their wings and feel the night breeze.

During the day, they wear a large hat or hood to shield themselves from the sun. Sudden bright lights make them squint or retreat, and if it’s too intense, they can even get dizzy. They prefer dimly lit rooms and gravitate toward dark, shadowy spaces.

Mothman!yuu is technically mute since they don't have a mouth so they usually carry a book and paper to communicate or use sign language.

When someone is upset, they often doesn’t need words to comfort them. Instead, they offer their presence, staying close and using their wings to envelop their friends in a soft, protective embrace. This has a calming effect, almost like a gentle hug from a comforting presence in the night.

Mothman Yuu can’t resist the soft glow of lamps, especially old-fashioned lanterns. They often get lost staring at them, much to the amusement of their friends. When stressed or needing comfort, Yuu seeks out warm lights, finding peace in the flickering glow.

Mothman Yuu gets distracted easily by bright lights, so when someone opens a window or flicks on a particularly bright light during class, they have an unfortunate habit of darting toward it without thinking. There have been multiple instances of them awkwardly crashing into windows, doors, or even students. One time, mothman Yuu tackled Ace during a midnight hallway patrol, mistaking the lantern he was holding for something irresistible. It’s now a running gag, and Ace loves teasing them with lanterns.

It’s become an inside joke around NRC that Mothman!Yuu is magnetically drawn to lamps. Whenever there’s a lamp nearby, they just… drift toward it without realizing. During study sessions, Deuce once had to physically drag them away from a table lamp because they had zoned out completely, mesmerized by the glow. Grim now makes sure to “lamp-proof” their dorm room, or else they might stare at a lamp for hours, lost in thought.

Mothman!yuu have camouflage abilities are so good that they’ve accidentally made people think the Ramshackle Dorm is haunted. Students will sometimes walk in, see them hanging upside down from the ceiling or perched silently on top of a bookshelf, and freak out thinking it’s a ghost. They finds it funny but doesn’t understand why people scream every time. Grim is the only one unfazed by their tendency to "disappear" into the background, often sitting on their wings or tail without realizing they’re there.

Whenever anyone sneaks into the Ramshackle Dorm at night, their heightened senses immediately pick up on it… but instead of confronting intruders, Yuu has a special tactic. They silently appear right behind the person, standing still, unblinking. This has led to multiple students fainting or bolting from the dorm, thinking they’ve encountered a terrifying ghost. They never say a word, just stand there, with their eyes wide and wings gently fluttering behind them.

They also have a habit of staring problem, they just stare like they're in a staring contest. No blinking, no movement—just wide, intense eyes. This has freaked out many students who’ve caught them staring in their direction, only to realize Yuu wasn’t looking at them, but at the lamp behind them. mothman!yuu can go hours without blinking.

Mothman!Yuu’s habit of staring has unintentionally earned them a reputation as creepy or intimidating. First-years are terrified when they catch Yuu watching them in class or during lunch, only to realize later that they weren't paying attention to them at all—they were staring at a random window reflection. Trey once had to assure a panicked student that they aren't plotting anything, they’re just… entranced by something shiny.

[hp-hcs]

1.3k words of the author bullying blaise zabini just for the plot (Chapter Three of The Doll) — slytherin boys x gn! ‘the boy’ (2016)! reader

Requests open

tws: dolls, obviously; reader referred to as ‘it’ (presumed inanimate); mentions of past child character death(s); mentions of a house fire—implied arson; violence; & murder

based entirely off of the 2016 film ‘the boy’. the painting? dear jesus fuck. that’s my trauma. watching that scene when i was like, thirteen.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Without further ado, Blaise snatches up the fucking doll, stomping upstairs with the doll carelessly dangling by one porcelain arm. Reaching Y/N’s bedroom (of course the freaky doll has its own bedroom, why wouldn’t it?), Blaise opens the door with much more force than necessary. He pauses in the doorway, taking in the room that the L/Ns had so carefully decorated—as if it were an actual child’s room—with brightly colored bedsheets, cartoon animals painted on the walls, and toys scattered everywhere.

He aggressively chucks the doll onto the rocking chair in the corner, (“The reading chair,” the L/Ns had cooed. “Y/N just loves when we read them bedtime stories”), and shuts the door as he leaves, digging through his pockets for the skeleton key the L/Ns had left the boys and locking the door with a resounding clack!

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he tries to calm his racing heart. Drawing the key back out of the lock and tucking it away safely, he makes his way back downstairs on shaky legs.

He pointedly looks down at the floor as he passes the painting of the L/Ns.

Returning to the living room, his friends stare at him with wildly curious expressions.

“You okay, man?” Draco asks slowly, tilting his head.

“You guys aren’t getting popcorn tonight,” Blaise says with finality, his voice cracking on the last word. Blaise Zabini is not the kind of person to waver while speaking.

The boys don’t press the issue.

They instead scoot over, making room for him to join their blanket pile on the floor as they start the movie. Once he’s settled in, Blaise focuses on watching Cady Heron fumble her way through high school and tries to push the fuckery with the doll out of his mind.

~~~ Passing through the main narrow hallway, Blaise precariously carries a stack of antique books, liable to disintegrate at just the wrong glance. The rain is still going strong, a sudden clap of thunder causing the hallway’s oil lamps to splutter feebly. Cursing under his breath, Blaise sets the books on a decorative hall table and fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. Just in time, another crack of thunder seems to shake the whole house, the lamps giving off one last sad spark of light before giving up entirely.

His thumb slips against the flint wheel a few times before the lighter finally flickers, a flame catching on the wick. The tiny pinprick of light in the otherwise murky and oppressive hallway does nothing to light up Blaise’s surroundings. Moving the lighter around slowly, so as not to accidentally catch anything in the old house on fire, he slowly makes his way down the hall, immediately banging his hip on a console table.

Cursing again, Blaise swings the lighter around, looking for any more furniture boobytraps attempting to further maim him.

Then, a soft sound could be heard.

Blaise freezes, his breath catching in his throat.

It’s the unmistakable sound of a child crying.

Holding the lighter out in front of him like a weapon, Blaise takes a hesitant step down the hall towards the sound. The flame of his lighter then glints off of something hanging on the wall, a very large glossy wooden picture frame.

It’s the damn painting.

Frozen in place, Blaise can’t do anything but stare up at the imposing painting in terror. In the meager light, the L/Ns faces all look demonic and twisted.

The sobbing gets louder, closer.

He glances down the hall towards the sound, his heart pounding in his chest, before glancing back at the painting.

A hand shoots out from the canvas and seizes him around the throat, sharp nails digging into his flesh and squeezing squeezing squeezing-

~~~

Blaise wakes up in a cold sweat. Heart practically beating out of his chest, he breathes heavily, every one of his senses on overdrive, screaming at him to get out of there.

The clock on the TV stand glows a comforting green, whispering the time as an early five in the morning. The sun has only just begun to break over the horizon, gentle morning rays leaking through the decorative bits of stained glass at the top of each of the windows and casting warm shades of colors over the ceiling.

Mattheo lays stretched out next to him, dead asleep and hogging all of the blankets. Enzo and Draco fell asleep on each other, in a way that looks terribly uncomfortable. Theo is sprawled out across all of them, his head on Blaise’s knee and half of his body sandwiched between him and Mattheo. They must’ve fallen asleep before the movie ended, because the little DVD logo box slowly bounces across the screen, avoiding the corners like the plague.

Blaise scrubs his hands over his face, looking around the inviting and entirely non-threatening room. Really, the house is rather cute, in its own charming way. Like how a grandparent’s house is always tacky and poorly decorated, yet still perfect and homey nonetheless.

Knowing there was no way he’d be able to fall back asleep, Blaise carefully moves Theo’s head onto a blanket, sliding out of the group pile and standing up. His knees snap crackle and pop as he grunts to himself, shuffling to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

The kitchen is even cuter in the sunlight, with pale gingham curtains framing the window above the sink and cross-stitch frames dotting the walls. As he flicks the start lever on the coffee pot, he takes the opportunity to look around the room. Tacky linoleum floors? Check. Kitchen towels with embroidered kitschy sayings? Check. Live laugh and fucking love, everybody.

Blaise leans against the counter on his forearms, listening to the coffee pot hum. Taped onto one of the kitchen cabinets in front of him is a faded polaroid of a family in the outdoors, the woman and man grinning widely at the camera while the young child in the foreground appears to be mid-laugh, clinging to their father. The scrawled handwriting at the bottom describes the photo as ‘Y/N’s 9th birthday at the lake!’

Blaise’s eyebrows shoot up as he looks over the photo again. He hadn’t recognized them immediately, but sure enough, the woman and man in the photograph are the L/Ns. They look so much younger and happier in the polaroid, the weight of life having yet to set in.

Caught up in his thoughts, Blaise barely notices when the coffee pot dings to let him know that it’s done. Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, he pulls down a few mugs for him and the rest of the boys. He glances down curiously when the coffee pot continues to hum.

His brow furrows as he taps at the machine with a fingernail. The coffee maker splutters indignantly and beeps again, then goes silent.

But the hum continues.

Abandoning his quest for caffeine, he peeks out into the hall, wondering if one of his friends had woken up. He peers into the entrance of the living room from the kitchen doorway; he can see the still-bouncing logo on the otherwise mute TV, and his four friends still sprawled out on top of all of the blankets.

But the hum continues.

He steps a little further out into the hall. He can now hear distinctly that the sound is coming from upstairs. Looking back at his abandoned mug on the counter forlornly—and mentally cursing himself for being insatiable in his curiosity—Blaise slowly starts up the stairs.

Once he reaches the top floor, the sound grows louder. It’s clearer now too. Blaise can tell that it’s not a hum.

It’s a child’s sobs.

Eyes widening, his gaze immediately latches onto the door of Y/N’s bedroom.

Surely not.

Holding the skeleton key retrieved from his pocket between shaking fingers, he slides it into the lock and twists, the door slowly creaking open.

The doll is still sitting in the chair, exactly as he left it.

He sighs in relief.

It’s a doll, dumbass. You’re just being paranoid. The war just left you on edge, that’s all.

He turns to leave, to go back downstairs and enjoy his coffee, when something catches his eye.

The doll is crying.

A single tear tracks down its face, hanging still for a moment before dripping off of its porcelain chin.

Blaise stumbles backwards, dropping the key with a clatter. He tugs the neckline of his shirt down frantically, feeling the phantom hand from his dream wrapping around his throat once more. He could swear he feels those damn nails again, slicing into his skin.

Watching the doll with bated breath and terror-stricken eyes, Blaise waits a long moment before another tear runs down its face, running down the bridge of its nose from its forehead.

Wait.

Forehead?

Blaise slowly looks up at the ceiling, a bit convinced that if he looks away from the doll for too long, it’ll lunge. He releases the breath he’s holding when he sees that the ceiling has a leak, rainwater from last night’s storm dripping down. Down from the seam of where the shut tight pull-down ladder to what must be the attic—or some kind of storage space—meets the rest of the ceiling.

It’s just an old house. There’s no crying dolls, no monstrous paintings. Just a wacky old house with wacky old owners.

Yep. That’s all.

~~~

Chapter Four <3

[uwmspeccoll]

Decorative Sunday

Nebraska printmaker and book artist Karen Kunc (b. 1952) is a favorite here at UWM Special Collections. Here is a new acquisition of color, reduction woodcuts and letterpress printing, On this Land, with a text by Latina Nebraskan poet Lenora Castillo (b. 1950), printed in Lincoln, Nebraska, at Kunc's Blue Heron Press for the Library Fellows of the National Museum of Women in the Arts in 1996 in an edition of 126 copies signed by the poet and artist.

The images were printed in five runs from Kunc's two basswood blocks on mouldmade Nideggen paper by artist Nancy Palmeri. On This Land reflects the austere beauty of the artist's environment - its farmland and open sky - and describes the gradual process of acceptance and attachment to a new place. Kunc's nature-inspired woodcuts echo the colors of rural harvesting, festivals and folk arts. The size of the book is intimate in scale, yet unfolds to a dramatic horizontal spread that evokes the land itself. Our copy is another donation from the estate of our late friend Dennis Bayuzick.

View other posts with works by Karen Kunc.

View other books from the collection of Dennis Bayuzick.

View other Decorative Sunday posts.

[watcher-with-burned-wings]

Captain’s Call

(A Pirates Smp au where Scott secretly siren hybrid but Sausage catches him. Inspired by Scott’s stream)

Scott thrashed and hissed as the damned net wrapped tightly around his body. He didn’t know what what happening until it was too late. A ship had snuck up on as he was hunting near the Faction Isles. A harpoon net was shot and engulfed him before he had time to react.

He felt himself being hoisted toward the surface as he clawed uselessly at the net, the rope too damn thick to cut through. Panic seized Scott’s chest as he was pulled out of the water and hulled over the edge to the deck of the ship. A Kestrel flag catches Scott’s eye through the net as the crew gathered around him. He hisses and snapped at the crew as they tried to touch his royal blue and golden scales, his ear fins pressed against his head, knowing he had to escape before his tail returned to his human legs.

Scott’s mouth when dry as the crew parted to reveal Captain Sausage, a large gleaming smile on his face. Sausage knelt down to the net and grabbed his chin through the net, jerking his head left and right.

“Well aren’t you the most beautiful siren I have ever seen!” Sausage giggled. “Just a perfect treasure to add to my collection!”

Scott’s cheeks flushed against his will, even if the words made a shiver crawl up his spine. Sausage was a handsome devil but everyone knew how possessive he was of his treasures. Don’t get Scott wrong, he would loved to be worshiped by Sausage but not like this.

Taking a deep breath, Scott opened his mouth to sing his song but was rudely cut off by Sausage picking him from the net and shoving a rope in between his jaws. He clicks and hisses around the rope in displeasure, struggling in his hold.

“Ah ah ah! No singing allowed! As much as I would like to hear your lovely voice, I would rather not drown today, thank you very much!” Sausage explained as he bridal carried Scott to his captain quarters, a tight grip on him preventing him from escaping.

Scott freaked out as he was placed on the bed, moving quickly, he tried to lunge at Sausage but was quickly subdued again. This time a metal collar around his neck, preventing him from moving from the bed. Sausage once finished, took a step back. His eyes scanned over Scott’s form, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You know, you remind me of a certain Heron captian.”

Scott’s blood turned to icy as he looked at Sausage with wide terrified eyes. No, Scott thought. He couldn’t possibly know. He was so careful! How the heck could he know! Scott’s breathing picked up a little fast once he felt a tingle go down his spine.

Oh no.

He was changing back. Sausage’s eyes seemed to gleam with excitement as his tail glowed, slowly parting into humans legs. His webbed claws turning to normal. His teeth shrinking down to barely noticeable fangs instead of his needle-like teeth. His ear fins shrink but still are fins, just less noticeable now. Thankfully his legs were clothed with pants.

Once his transformation was complete, Sausage strolled over and cupped Scott’s cheek, making him look him in the eyes.

“Well looks like I catch myself a real treasure.” Sausage purred as thumbed Scott’s cheek bone. “I wasn’t expecting to add a Heron to my collection but I can always make an exception for someone as special as you, Scott.”

Gay panic filled Scott as he blushed, frozen under the touch. Sausage continued.

“I mean, look at you. You’re just begging to be claimed as my treasure.” A possessive edge leaked into his voice. “So I’m gonna claim you here and now. Then you will be all mine and no one else can have you. Let’s hear you sing my name.” Sausage climbed next to Scott.

Scott gulped, having a feeling he was in for a long night.

~~~~~~~~~

Scott grumbled as he limped through the town of the Faction Isles, shirt missing, showing a mass of marks on his chest and neck. Sausage following behind him with a cheeky expression on his face, clearly proud of his work. If anyone questioned the two, Scott would glare at Sausage and the other would just giggle, saying nothing.

[luvrlou]

Get Out Of Your Own Way

Pairing: Matt Press x fem!reader

Warnings: swearing, drug use, underage drinking, Matt is a warning in itself

Summary: Matt Press can never seem to get out of his own way.

A/N: Why is there no Press imagines!

Word Count: 2.1k

If Y/N L/N was asked who she most hated in the entire world, she would answer with Matt Press in a heartbeat. Where to even start with him? Some would say he's a dick others would be straight up and label him a sociopath. Conventionally, he was attractive, tall, had dark hair and always had this mysterious glint in his eye, that's what caused the girl to dislike him even more.

"Halloween, the one night of the year when a girl can dress like a total slut and no other girls can say anything about it," the iconic words of Cady Heron projected from the small tv in Diana's bedroom.

"Di! Is this too much?" Y/N questioned, twirly around the room in a pair of black spandex shorts, a black crop top with purple zip and a witch hat placed messily on her head.

"Some would say not enough babe!" She replied, "put these on," she instructed chucking a pair of black heels towards her friend.

Tonight the two girls were headed to a Halloween party thrown by some kids in the year below, it was in this boy, Brodie's, basement. The pair were invited by a close friend of his called Abby Littman, Y/N didn't know her that well but Diana had known her since she was one year old.

"So what are you being?" Y/N asked the ginger girl sitting on the floor across from her.

"An angel!" She smiled grabbing the wings and halo next to her and placing them on. She stood up and did a spin, "tada!"

"Get your heels on so we can leave," the H/C girl ordered, switching off the tv, "we'll just walk, yeah?"

"Sounds good!" Diana grins, grabbing her friend by the hand and running down her stairs, locking her door behind her and heading in the direction of the party.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

"Mothers lock up your sons!" Y/N yells as the pair enter the party hand in hand.

"Y/N and Di are here!" The other girl finished, receiving a chorus of cheers from the massive amount of teenagers in the basement.

"Di, come get a drink with me!" Y/N shouted over the noise.

The pair slipped through mountains of intoxicated people and poured themselves two cups of vodka, lemonade and blackcurrant juice. They clinked cups and downed their drinks giggling softly to each other before pouring themselves the same again.

"Let us mingle!" Diane croaked in a weird voice causing her friend to burst out laughing, they both parted ways and went to mingle.

"Glad to see you embracing your true self as a witch!" A male's voice boomed, followed by an obnoxious giggle.

"Lovely to see you too Matt," She pulled a tight-lipped smile, "Samantha," she nods towards the other girl.

"Awe, don't be so jealous of our Sam," he taunted, pulling a faux pout.

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I'm not jealous, I just don't like her simple as that."

"Don't need to be so rude!" The girl on the couch complained.

"Shut up Samantha," Press quipped before turning to glare at the girl in front of him.

"I'm away for a drink, bye Matty!" Y/N teased, grinning.

"And I'm joining you!" He added, clearly trying to wind her up.

She groaned and made a break for the kitchen.

"So Y/N, you do realise that you're meant to dress up as something for Halloween?" He laughed as she grabbed a bottle of vodka.

"Matt, you do realise that being a dick doesn't need to be your only personality trait?" The girl spat back, filling up her cup with vodka, and adding almost equal part lemonade.

"Woah, you have enough lemonade for your vodka?" Press asked taking the bottle off of her as she attempted to add even more into her cup.

Y/N smiled, "aren't you so cute caring about me," her smile dropped, "now fuck off and play with your little toy, she's waiting for you!"

He grunted in annoyance before walking off with a beer.

"It's shot o'clock!" Abby's voice rang through the small basement. All of the drunken teenagers gathered around the table tennis table and started to pound on it.

A chant of "Tiny sips, tiny flips!" bounced around the walls of the basement as Abby walked around pouring everyone a shot, Y/N stood oppisite Norah, a girl she knew fairly well.

When it came to her and Norah's turn Norah sent Y/N a quick smile before they both grabbed their shots and downed them, they tried to flip their cups, both messing up and sending the cups flying.

"Better luck next time sweet cheeks!" Press cackled his arm hooked around Samantha. Y/N sent the boy a middle finger, causing Diana to burst out laughing from behind her.

"Holy shit Di! You scared me!" Y/N drunkenly chuckled, embracing her friend. The pair walking off, "let's get more shots."

"You know how glad I am to have picked you to be friends with!" Diana commented, stumbling over to the kitchen, Y/N on her arm.

The girls grabbed a bottle of tequila rose and two shot glasses, pouring shots and linking arms, downing them.

"I could drink this all day!" Diana dreamily exclaimed.

"We can!" Y/N cheered, taking the bottle by the neck and pouring some of it down her throat.

Diana snatched the bottle drinking it wistfully slipping to the floor, Y/N joining her. Despite the partygoers coming and going from the kitchen, no one really paid much attention to the two girls tanning the bottle of creamy alcohol.

"Shit it's done," Y/N whined, sliding herself to lie down on the cold floor.

"Oh my, what have I walked in on?" The dreaded man said as he entered the kitchen.

"Oh Matty, be a doll and pass me down one of the vodkas," the intoxicated version of Y/N slurred.

"Absolutely not, get up!" He commanded reaching for Diana's hand, who gratefully took it and stumbled to a stool. Press then went to grab Y/N and haul her to her feet.

"Don't touch me, Matt Press!" She screamed.

"Come on Y/N, work with me, " he muttered, watching the girl submit and grab onto him. "There you go," he softly whispered as she reached her feet.

Matt turned to leave and Y/N went to sit next to Diana, "I wish he wasn't such a cunt," she stated, making Diana whip he head around.

"Y/N! Oh my god!" She screamed, and then they smelt it, the weed-infused aroma of a bong, "I think I know what time it is, do you know what time it is?"

"Bong time baby!" Y/N yelled, grabbing Diana's arm and stumbling towards the couch, "pass the bong sophomore!"

Y/N lit the end of it inhaling a big draw and passing it to Diana, Y/N reached over to Press and blew the cloud of smoke straight into his face, "oh you want to play that game huh?" He smirked, clutching her by the hips and pulling her onto the couch. "Hand it over Diana!"

Press took the bong and inhaled, grabbing Y/N's draw roughly and connecting their lips, the smoke travelled into her mouth. "Press! You animal!" Jordan shouted.

Y/N watched grinning as Samantha ran off into a bathroom, she stood up snatching the bong of the raven-haired boy, "Is there any weed that's not in here, I want a joint," she announced.

Abby sprinted off and came back with a small baggy filled with weed and a box of rolling paper, you took them out the girl's hands and kissed her forehead, "you're a gem."

The girl grinned and chucked herself onto the couch, on top of Brodie. Y/N stumbled towards the table to roll two joints, one for her, one for Diana.

"Come get one Di!" She shouted, the skidding and crashing indicated that the girl had arrived.

She picked one up and inspected it, "I love when you roll them!" Y/N tossed the lighter at her which she caught surprisingly well. Y/N placed hers between her lips and waited for her friend to light it.

The pair walked over to the people on the couch, the two girls mentally deciding to through themselves on Abby, the party had noticeably gone quiet, as the time had hit around half one. The only people who were left were the group of nine huddled around the couch.

"You know how much I love you, Abby, you're so cute and pretty," Y/N mumbled, cuddling into the girl she hadn't properly talked to since about five minutes ago.

"You two are definitely drunk!" Abby laughed, pushing both Y/N and Diana off of her onto the space next to her.

"We're not drunk we're just appreciating life!" Diana shouted, taking another long draw of her joint.

"While you guys appreciate life, me and Norah are away to have sex!" Jordan slipped into the conversation, causing everyone to groan.

"Shut up Jordan!" Norah reddened, pulling him away and up the stairs.

Everyone sat and talked for a while, despite never really hanging out with the group Diana and Y/N were fitting right in, laughing like they were old friends who hadn't seen each other for ten years. Diana had especially warmed up to Brodie who she was now all over in the corner of the basement.

"Perhaps we should take this to my room, what do you say Diana?" Brodie suggested to the ethereal-looking girl on his lap who was layering his neck with the red lipstick she had swiped on only an hour or so prior.

"I say that sounds great!" She beamed, grabbing the boy's hand and leading him up the stairs as silently as they could.

"I'm heading, I refuse to hear two couples going at it." Abby groaned kissing Y/N on the head before she leaves, waving a small goodbye at Ginny, who was cuddled into Hunter's side pretty much comatose.

"I better get Ginny home, sorry guys." Hunter pitifully smiled.

"No please don't leave me here with Matt!" Y/N pleaded making him burst out laughing.

"I'm not that bad babe!" He answered, giving her a side-eye. Hunter sent you yet another apologetic look, assisting a stumbling Ginny up the stairs.

"I need another drink," Y/N declared, standing up from her spot on the couch. She could sense him following her to the kitchen, which bothered her a ton but she was too interested in getting some more fiery liquid down her, instead of pouring something she just grabbed a bottle of vodka, slugged some down and trudged back to the couch.

"Stop hiding that you like me, it's honestly pathetic." A voice spoke behind her.

She whipped round, and finally he had well and truly pissed her off. "Oh my god, will you ever get out of your own way?"

"What's your deal, why are you being such a bitch to me lately, do I mean nothing to you," Matt shouted taking a step closer to the girl.

"Well fucking done Matt! You finally get it!" She yelled back at him. "You aren't as stupid as you give yourself credit for."

Matt laughed, "look at yourself Y/N, you're a mess, just admit it the only way you are happy with yourself is when you're drinking or smoking your dumb fucking joints!"

"What's that supposed to mean?" She questioned getting even closer, making him step back into the table.

"I stopped being close to you and now you cry by yourself in school and act like you don't give a flying fuck about anyone! Other than Diana? Tell me that isn't true." He demanded looking the girl up and down.

"You don't know the first thing about me Press." She spat, prodding his chest with her dainty finger. "I mean you can't even go by your first name and you call me pathetic, that's funny!"

He only grunted in response, shoving the drunken shell of a girl out of the way, this only annoyed her even more.

"Matt for the love of god, just let me hate you." She whispered.

He huffed, "I don't want you to hate me Y/N but we'll never have whatever it was we even had again."

"God Matt! Stop!" Her distraught voice begged, his complexion softened a bit before advancing towards her, "Matt, don't speak."

Y/N pondered her decision, looking at the tall body who is towering over her, in one swift movement she pulled the boy closer, her hands wrapping around the back of his neck.

Matt's warm breath fanned over her face, "are you going to kiss me or what?" He smirked.

"Shut it." Y/N reached up and placed her lips against his, him instantly wrapping an arm around her waist, his other falling firmly on the side of her neck, he started to walk her so his back hit the cold table.

"Jump," Matt grunted, breaking the kiss, his arms came down to the back of her thighs, lifting her onto the table. She wrapped his legs around his waist, letting him kiss down her neck.

[adobe-outdesign]

could you review some of the neopets as animals outfits, like the fennec kacheek, red panda vandagyre, and cockatiel pteri? (those are examples, choose whichever you like!) thank you <3

(Note: I included a random selection of outfits in this post, but feel free to send in asks if anyone wants to see a specific outfit I didn't cover.)

I'll be honest, I'm personally not super big on the "outfit that resembles a real-world animal" trend. First, I play Neopets for the cool fantasy creatures; even the most true-to-life Neopets species have some pretty fantastical colors. I feel like making pets just look exactly like actual animals kind of defeats the purpose of them being Neopets. I get why people would like it and I'm not saying it's bad; it's just not my thing.

Also, the other reason I'm not always big on these outfits is that a lot of Neopets have colours that already resemble real animal patterns. Not only do the outfits blur the colour/customization line quite a bit, but usually I like the colour ones much more, as they keep the actual design of the Neopets in place and just change the patterns and colors, rather than covering up the fun fantasy elements. This also helps them avoid the uncanny valley effect, which I talk about more below.

Also I might be over thinking this but who is making these outfits. None of these animals seem to exist in-universe as far as we're aware. what are the shopkeepers basing these off of. the colours at least have a magic as an excuse

Examples that I think are okay:

Feathery Pteri Outfit: This one's nice! I like the layered patterning on the wings and the high-contrast colors. Most, though, I like that this sticks fairly close to the actual pet, mostly just changing up the tail shape. This almost could've been a paintbrush colour, but then again what colour is up in the air.

(Side note: the eye clipping over the beak is a rendering issue? I think?)

Bouncing Zafara: This one definitely strays farther from the actual pet than the Pteri, but it's a fitting animal choice and it doesn't fall into the uncanny valley, which is all I care about. The body is still somewhat recognizable as a Zafara in terms of shape, and the Miamouse as the joey is super cute.

Freshwater Lenny: Kind of the same case as the Zafara; not super one-to-one with the actual pet, but it's still recognizable as a Lenny and isn't too uncanny. The legs are a particularly nice touch, actually changing the pose to look more heron-like (though they are also the part that strays dangerously into being too detailed).

Please don't:

Adorable Kacheek: Sorry to the fans of this one, but this outfit just resides deep within the uncanny valley to me—like it's a mascot suit instead of just a normal pet. The artstyle is way off from Neopets, looking much more Subeta-ish (except Subeta's art usually isn't so off putting). It's not a bad artstyle, mind you, it's just not very Neopets-ish. I also feel like a fennec fox was also a bad pick for this one, as it's basically unrecognizable as a Kacheek at all.

Feathered Eyrie: Speaking of the uncanny valley, this is another pet that lands squarely there due to having entirely too much detail in the shading and weirdly realistic fur textures. It also just doesn't look very good aesthetically—the beak doesn't fit the face, and the wings are an absolute trainwreck (not only is the perspective wrong, but the left wing is coming from the middle of its back!). On the plus side, you'd be hard pressed to not recognize this as an Eyrie, and it's a fantasy creature instead of a regular animal, so I guess that's something?

Furry Meerca: Hmm... no. This one also suffers from an overly-detailed artstyle and way too much realism, which is especially jarring when placed on top of the Meerca's heavily stylized body shape, resulting in a perfectly round animal with hyper-realistic animal eyes. It's also particularly bothersome because we already had a chipmunk Meerca design in the form of the striped Meerca colour, which is just this but less soul-haunting:

Which is what I meant at the beginning when I was talking about colours vs outfits. The colour is a Meerca that looks like a chipmunk; the outfit is a chipmunk that looks like a Meerca. Big difference.

[ghooostbaby]

so the posts i've seen about the boy and the heron were all describing it as a story about an old man accepting that the magical world he created would not be taken up by his descendents. but now that i've seen it, it's really not the beautiful story that sounds like ... the magical world is really a gruesome place. all these animals are starving, not meant to be there, not able to eat what they need to survive, trying to kill each other, it's a constant violent struggle, and there are all these chaotic and dense systems of rules that don't really make sense and are so confusing and absurd and terrifying... the regal heron is really this horrible pathetic little guy. it's not a world worth saving, its a magical and poisonous place. and when the boy refuses to save it. (the character of the old man actually definitely does not accept it and keeps pressing him to save it.) after the old man says if the boy takes it on he can make it better - create a beautiful world, the boy says its because he has his own malice and it'll end up the same as this even if he tries. he acknowledges their kinship (being malicious) while rejecting his ancestor's legacy. and the destruction of that world was the liberation of all the creatures and people trapped there.

fuck me

[pezberrywhoreee]

'If it feels good, then it can't be bad'

pairing: dom!regina george x sub!cady heron

words: 2,155

content warning: hardmommydom!regina, sub!cady, bdsm, d/s dynamic, playing with alcohol!!!!! intoxicated bdsm!!!!! cnc (pretty heavy, lines get blurry, beware), consensual sexual manipulation, risk aware consensual kink, public sex (in a corner, in the dark), mommy kink, exihbitionism, degradation, mocking, praise, vaginal fingering, clit stim, ruined orgasm, light breath play

summary: what's the fun of playing with you if you're fully willing? or mommy in a way that makes you sad

a/n: if you don't like the thought of cady being uncomfortable and lines blurring in sex because of alcohol...please skip this one out lmaoo. also, take a shot every time is say "girl" lmaooo.

A malicious smirk formed on Regina's face as she tipped Cady's head back, slowly forcing the remaining half of her wine down her throat.

The blonde hummed in satisfaction when the girl mewled in protest, the liquid lightly biting at her esophagus. She couldn't help her eyes from fluttering at the sensation of the familiar haze that washed over her.

"Good girl~" the blonde purred into the side of her head, her eyes roaming around the crowded basement that was flooded with intoxicated teenagers.

Cady blinked her eyes open just in time to notice another glass being brushed against her lips, her hands flying up to grab at the blonde's wrist resistantly.

"No—too much", the smaller girl breathed, suddenly becoming hyper aware of the feeling of how firmly Regina held her in her lap, forcing contact.

The blonde shushed the protesting girl as she lightly grabbed her hair and pulled her head back into her desired position.

"Don't fight it, baby" she purred as she watched as the girl reluctantly swallowed the liquid. She pressed hot kisses to Cady's head, humming at the back of her throat almost in a growl as the girl physically started to relax in her grasp.

Regina placed the glass down, her hands wrapping around the girl's midsection unassumingly. Cady's eyes widened as she felt the blonde softly groping at her breasts, occasionally humming against her ear as her grip made its way up to the girl's delicate throat, ghosting her nails over her windpipe teasingly.

Cady let her head fall back against Regina's shoulder, a shaky hand mindlessly reaching to stroke at the blonde's thigh in attempts to make her feel as good as she was feeling in this moment.

A soft gasp left the shorter girl as blunt nails inconsistently bit at the skin along her throat, digging just hard enough to make her hips jump on top of the girl.

She fought the flutter of her eyes when Regina found her way up her jaw and along her lips, inconsiderately and rather roughly dragging her thumb along the soft flesh, making the girl groan in something akin to discomfort.

"Does that feel good, baby?" the blonde purred against Cady's nape, pressing contrastingly soft kisses to her skin which made the slightly intoxicated girl uneasy, her mind not exactly in the right state to fully understand why the blonde was overwhelming her all of a sudden.

Cady lifted her head from the girl's shoulder in a groan, slightly shaking her head. Regina caught how the girl's brows furrowed as she pulled away from the hands that were still very present of her face.

Regina cooed in a feigned sympathy as Cady brought her own hands up to her eyes to rub at them, clearly a little bothered by what the blonde was doing.

The blonde moved her grip to span the girl's jaw, softly turning her head to force eye contact. Cady took in the mocking smile that painted Regina's face in the dim room and was immediately overcome with a feeling of smallness. She didn't even have to open her mouth to make the girl feel talked down to.

Cady shivered when the blonde stroked her face condescendingly like she was a child who said something stupid, her eyes slamming shut at the contact. Regina waited for her to look at her once more before nodding and humming "Yes it does" without breaking eye contact.

The blonde pulled her in for a long, punishing kiss before she could respond. There was a sense of security and safety in Regina's eyes that searched for the consciousness in Cady's eyes, wordlessly communicating that she intended to keep her safe, especially in a scene so intense.

The slight pull at the girl's lips as her head slowly fell, as if her creeping submission and arousal that mixed with the substance physically weighed on her, reassured the blonde that she was still present.

Although Regina didn't really care if the girl was comfortable or not which was already coming across, much to Cady's liking.

She watched with lidded eyes as Regina grabbed a shot from a nearby table, smirking as she turned back to her girl. "You should have one more~", she whispered against the girl's lips before pulling her head back and slowly pouring the burning liquid into her throat.

With eyes squeezed shut Cady swallowed, feeling herself tear up from the burn and sting which was only aided by the maniacal way the blonde stared at her.

Regina let out a low chuckle at the whines that resounded in the girl's throat, her own arousal due to the power of the situation settling in her body.

"That's right, relax for me~" the blonde hummed as she pulled the girl back into her previous position of facing away from her. She reveled in how Cady was using all of the awareness left in her body to try and resist, though Regina thought it was a rather pathetic display.

The blonde moved her head to be able to watch the girl's expression as her hands shimmied down her torso and into the front of her underwear, smirking when she saw the furrow of her brows deepen and her shoulders tense protectively.

Regina let out a breathy laugh as she roughly thumbed at the girl's already swollen clit, her fingers generously coated in her arousal. She raised her eyebrows smugly, shaking her head knowingly. The blonde shushed the whines that continued to spill from Cady, clearly unwelcoming to how Regina was touching her.

A firmness came over the blonde as she felt a familiar grip on her wrist that was trying to pull her hand away from the girl, furrowing her brows.

"Hands to yourself, slut" Regina ordered in a low tone, making the other girl quietly whimper. Cady turned her head to nuzzle against the girl's face, arching her back to hopefully reduce the contact at her cunt.

The blonde brought her other hand down to a trembling thigh, once again digging her nails into supple flesh as a warning. "You know I hate it when you brat...I suggest you stop" she hummed, her tone quickening Cady's pulse as she really felt the weight of the threat.

Cady let out a weak groan as the blonde forced her legs further apart, noticing how the girl's movements were in turn stilling the motions of her coercion.

When Cady didn't feel the need to move her hands, Regina's free hand pried her resistant hands away from her own body and pulled them behind her back, her tight grip on the lithe wrists against the small of her back slowly breaking down her resolve.

"Arch your back" Regina whispered sternly into her ear. The lack of pet name or honourific struck a chord in the girl's mind as she could feel the blonde's patience starting to slip, a slight sense of fear running through her.

She made an attempt to stifle the whine that left her as she flexed her back, which earned her a satisfied growl from the girl behind her.

The smaller girl let her shoulders relax, her mind starting to stir from the very present drinks in her system, which were intensified by the girl's unforgiving touch.

The hot kisses that Regina pushed against her jaw paired with the low chuckles in her throat really made her aware of just how arousing this whole situation was.

A content sigh left Cady's lungs as a trance like state came over her, her head once again resting on Regina's shoulder. A little smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as her eyes fell shut, drowning out the bumping music within the room.

"So you can listen~" the blonde purred as her fingers resumed in their teasing of the girl's cunt which were now circling around her steadily leaking hole. This did remind the girl of the fact that she was still uneasy, physically feeling the discomfort in her stomach.

"Mommy—" Cady slurred in another whine, the throbbing of her clit worsening as the agonising attention was focused on her mess of a hole.

"Oh are you just going to let me touch you, baby? You don't seem to want it" the blonde mocked against the girl's reddened cheek, her fingers shallowly dipping in and out of her entrance in a tormenting rhythm.

Cady used all of the willpower left in her body to try and give the blonde a response but the way her head swam, almost feeling like she was becoming one with the arousal spilling onto the blonde's fingers destroyed the intelligent part of her brain, resulting in more pitiful cries.

The mindfuck of Regina forcing the girl to submit to her with dozens of their friends around them intermingled with how she was seeming to try and get Cady to stop her planted a pit in the girl's core, so overwhelmed that it manifested itself as arousal.

"All it took was a couple of drinks to get you right where you belong, huh?—" the blonde hummed, her tone oozing with desire. She brought her drenched fingers up to the girl's neglected clit, "—no no, let me—" the blonde insisted firmly as Cady's hips jumped from her touch at her new found sensitivity.

Regina clapped her hand that once bound the girl's wrists over her mouth as a loud, needy moan erupted from her at the firm pressure on her aching clit.

The blonde let out a quiet chuckle, "Feels good to give in, huh?" the condescension in her voice was starting to make the girl vibrate with need.

Cady began to nod her head slowly, the sound of the blonde's voice the only thing that existed in that moment before she felt relentless pressure at her entrance as the girl pushed into her, bottoming out within seconds at which Regina let out a quiet moan beside Cady's ear.

The blonde felt Cady's jaw slack in her grip, nothing but a heavy breath leaving her lips at the intrusion. Regina felt her eyes flutter at the warmth and wetness enveloping her fingers, suddenly hyperconscious of the arousal flowing out of her.

"I knew you wanted it" Regina growled through gritted teeth as she finally started to deeply fuck her fingers into the barely conscious girl who was now letting out throaty groans.

She was wet enough that if they were in a quiet space you could hear each thrust of the blonde's fingers. The thought combined with the sounds that only Regina could hear brought on a new fervour in the blonde, her fingers keeping their steady rhythm while increasing their pressure, much to Cady's satisfaction.

The grip on the girl's now surely flushed face tightened, her jaw being forced closed to reduce the volume of her moans. Her muffled whimpers right by Regina's ear only strengthened her desire to be malicious and unfair to the desperate girl.

"You're taking it so well, baby" the blonde encouraged as she felt hips start to rock against her fingers, the girl clearly searching for that impending release, her focus on nothing but that.

Regina let out a soft laugh at the girl's lack of awareness or care about the fact that they were in an open public space, completely under the bliss of submission to even consider anything but how much power she was giving to the blonde.

The blonde picked up on how Cady's thighs began to shake, drawing her fingers back once again and rubbing at her clit with the same pressure, pressing wet kisses to the panting girl's face.

"Aww sweetie are you close already? What if I'm not done with you yet?" the blonde taunted as she kept the consistently deep pressure against the girl's bundle of nerves, the hips bucking up against her quickening.

Cady hummed in response, her breath picking up as she desperately pushed against Regina's rough fingers, focusing all that she could to not have that feeling dissipate.

The familiar increasing volume of groans were pushed against Regina's hand, that hand practically doing nothing to muffle the girl as she was brought to the edge.

As her hips began to stutter, the blonde pulled away with a sadistic chuckle and instead tapped at the girl's clit, pressing long enough each time to make sure the wave of arousal stayed at that heightened spot.

Cady slumped forward as the inconsistent pressure of the light tapping unnoticeably pushed her over the edge, the monumental build up crashing at the last second.

"No!!" the girl groaned as Regina quickly pulled her hand out of the soaked garment, not even aiding her in riding out her subpar release.

A content sadness came over her as she fell backwards against the blonde's torso, her breathing slowing back to normal.

Regina pressed one last kiss to her damp forehead, "I love you" she whispered as she soothingly caressed the girl's flushed face.

[wawamouse]

Oz Rewatch 3: S6E03: Sonata da Oz

Plotlines

Eugene Dobbins guesting

Keller and Beecher are saying goodbye; Keller attacks Lopresti; Schillinger goes to visit Loewen, who berates him; Yood tells Beecher that Winthrop killed his father; Loewen threatens Devlin; Beecher is released from Oz; Loewen is killed in the hospital

Stella reaches out to Pablo Rosa; Norma visits Rebadow to ask him to talk to Busmalis

Cutler fights Pancamo for Robson; Glynn gives Pancamo back the kitchens on the condition he leaves the Aryans alone

Martinez continues to be ill and harassed by Brass; Chico visits Martinez to shank him but ultimately chooses not to, angering Morales; Martinez dies in the night under Nurse Grace’s care; Gloria fires heron the spot and informs Glynn she’ll be publicizing the autopsy results; Glynn decides to hold a press conference about the toxins in Solitary;

Brass tells Murphy that Martinez confessed that Morales ordered him; Morales is placed in Solitary where Brass cuts his achilles tendons

Hoyt has a mental breakdown on Death Row; Mukada asks Sister Pete to examine Hoyt; Mukada releases Kirk’s possession to his mother

Sister Pete tries to take Jericho from Cyril, who resists and is upset; Cyril is set to be executed; he is put through electro shock to deal with his emerging mental illness and return to a mental space fit for execution

Redding tells the Homeboys they will be working in the telemarketing office

Said is visited by the publishers who tell him the legal battles involved; Said decides to publish Augustus’s boo himself and pay the employees minimum wage; Idzik, posing as a reporter, kills Said

I accidentally started episode 4 instead and had to DIVE for the play controls before McManus announced Said’s death to Emerald City 😅 So she already heard the part that was like "Yesterday, a man came to Oz pretending to be a journalist" and was suspicious when Said went to meet with a supposed reporter at the end of the episode. Whoopsss

Me: What does Yood get from egging this on? Sister: He gets to keep his companion.

Sister: He’s got that prison-itis where he just starts telling everyone his plans. He’s going to die in this episode.

Sister: No time for hugs! Leave, leave, leave! Get out first and then come back and hug him in the visiting room! Quick! Before the door closes!

Sister: Your boy is moving up in the world. Rebelling… Now that he made up with Miguel, it's time for a new leader…

Sister: Uhh, are they banging? Miss ma’am? What are your fingers doing?

Sister: I don’t get it, either… (proceeds to muse for several minutes)

Sister: Wait, wait, wait. They publicly revealed that Solitary is full of poison and they’re still just putting people in there?

Sister: His ideas are getting too big… Something's going to happen. Said: Mentions he's meeting a reporter Sister: NOOOOO... he's going to DIE.....

Stray Thoughts

Sister was impatient to see Beecher leave

Sister thinks Eleanor is Secretly Evil

Final Thoughts Sister: I was wondering why there wasn’t really a Said storyline this season, and it was because now he’s gone forever… I wonder if the writers got lazy and just killed him so they wouldn’t have to figure out what to do about all the legal battles. Damn, and now we won’t get to see Beecher come visit him and hug him in the visiting room… And who will be leader now? Arif? I guess so, but he seems to have control problems. They’re not going to bring a new guy in just to be the leader, because this is season 6. Everything’s falling apart… What are we going to do? What’s the point? Said’s dead…

Sister: The Irish guy (Murphy) got stupider. Me: Ryan? Sister: No, the other one. The guy who just went along with things. Me: Oh, Murphy. Sister: Yeah, maybe. Also, if I worked there and they said that part of my workplace was contaminated, I would not be stepping foot in there. Not only did they know that area was making people sick, but they put people back there and continued to voluntarily step into the space. I’d be pissed. I’d be calling OSHA. Me: Did they mention that they are already fixed the situation and we just forgot? Sister: I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure he just said to keep it hush hush and then stuck them back in Solitary… Sister: Also, if they’re cutting him up in Solitary, how are they supposed to make up an excuse? Don’t they have to take him to the hospital? And they’re cutting his heels, so that’s like a slow torture and they’re all exposed to the contaminants. Like, shouldn’t that one lady be sick, too? The one who keeps going to all of the prisoner’s cells? And she works there? Ooh, is that what the plot is going to be? Retribution at last? Is the lady going to die? Hm… I guess it depends on how the show wants me to feel about them… 20 years later…

Me: Any predictions for the rest of the season? Sister: The lady may or may not die… Mm, I was going to say maybe the prison will close, but they didn’t even close it when it got blown up. They just moved everyone to a different part, so I guess not. Umm… McManus will leave, depending on what happens. The Poet guy may try to take control from Redding, and the telemarketing office is going to do credit card scams…. Miguel? I don’t know… He didn’t really have a storyline this episode, either. Other than being horny. Also, the priest is having some demon plot line… You know, kind of rude of Mr. Reverend to disappear and instead of hanging around on Mr. Priest’s shoulder, he lets the devil ride there instead. He should be coming over like “shoo, shoo, this is my guy”. Like, if you’re supernatural, and the devil is supernatural, then you’re on the same playing field. You could tell him to fuck off, that’s your shoulder. Or, you could send prophetic dreams to him and be like “there is no devil on your shoulder” like the biker dude said. That way Mr Priest isn’t all paranoid, looking at his shoulder and thinking he’s haunted.

Sister: I think Cyril will die. Me: Which episode, do you think? Sister: Episode 5…

[queen-scribbles]

The Long Burning Torch ch 9

Heeeere we go, next chapter for my @shepherds-of-haven 20's AU! ----

Gutter water seeped into Xaeryn's shoes as she misstepped, but she hardly noticed. It was coming up on time for King Kaza and his entourage to reach the Ashtown gate, if she'd guessed right. Please let me have guessed right. It wasn't just a matter of if he was visiting wherever his people had stashed the Torch(and Red), but which gate they would use to pass between districts. There were two, one closer to the king's hotel, the other closer to the theorized goal.

Xaeryn was placing her hopes on someone like Kaza Ackshin wanting to spend as little time in such a rough and tumble place as possible. She studied the passersby and passing vehicles with the same scrutiny, unsure of travel method given when her scry had ended. She was fairly certain they weren't translocating, with how many were in the group and it not being Heron's main skillset, according to Briony.

She was pulled from her thoughts by the rattle of an approaching car engine, heartbeat quickening when she saw it was a gleaming red beast, cleaner and a trifle more elegant than the majority of other vehicles she'd seen. Bold of anyone to take something that ritzy into Ashtown; it was going to get filthy and probably nicked. She peered intently at the interior. The timing worked out, maybe this was--

The was a flash of the bodyguard's silver-white hair in one window, a couple indistinct silhouettes, then a glimpse of King Kaza's profile when he leaned forward to talk to the driver as the car trundled past. Xaeryn caught a sharp breath, let her gaze flick away for just a moment to look for Darius, then glued it back on the automobile. She wanted to let it get a bit more distance before she followed. Ashtown's streets were a rutted mess; you could drive them, but not fast. Regardless, she would need to move soon.

If he's not here in the next five seconds, I'm going alone, she thought grimly, stepping from her hiding place. I warned him-

A shadowy figure rushed toward her, and she started to reach for the dagger in her handbag before green hair registered.

"Half expected not to find a blazin' trace," Darius said, tucking himself out of the car's line of sight with her.

"You were about two seconds from that being the case," Xaeryn returned dryly. "That's their car, we're following."

Darius nodded and the two of them were moving, close to buildings, letting evening shadows swallow them. "Who's with him?"

"The Ket for sure. It looked like Briony as well when I scryed, but I couldn't see for sure and can't confirm she's in the car. I may have seen another guard or two as well, but I was more focused on the king."

Darius grunted. "Maybe we should split. Opposite sides of the street," he pointed out, dodging a pothole. "Better visibility and lower odds we catch their eye."

"Good thinking," Xaeryn nodded, gaze still locked on the hazy silhouette of the car. "Next time there's a long enough shadow or they make a turn-"

Even as she spoke, the car swung into a right turn.

"Go," she hissed, pressing herself close to the building as she rounded the turn after them. For half a second, she was afraid Darius would argue being the one to cross the street, but he didn't, jaw set as he darted to the opposing shadows. They wouldn't be able to talk, but that wasn't really necessary at this point.

Almost a mile from the Smoketown gate, very close to to the outer wall, the car finally braked in front of a mid-sized building, hybrid small warehouse and offices from the look of it. The large doors covering half the front opened and they drove inside. Xaeryn hid herself in a doorway with a good view, saw King Kaza and Heron exit the car. Pink hair made it easy to spot Briony as she followed. So she was here. She and King Kaza both scanned the street, Briony's gaze hitching slightly, before the king said something to someone Xaeryn couldn't see and the doors started to close. Just before it shut she thought belatedly to scan the interior and caught the faint outline of another car. Were they meeting someone? Or was that just an alternate? How many people were in there?

Darius crossed to join her, still skulking in shadow. "So how're we gettin' in, miss snooper?"

She shook her head. He wasn't going to like this. "I need you to go get the authorities."

He bristled. "What?!"

"Now that we have a solid location, back-up wouldn't go amiss." She glanced at him. "There was another car in there. Maybe more than the three of us can handle. We need the police, or better yet, the Shepherds," she amended as a thought occurred. "Magic rigmarole is more in their purview than the police, and their compound is in Ashtown so it's closer."

"Why's it gotta be me?" Darius grumbled obstinately. "Why can't you do it? You'd get there faster, you live here."

He had a point, damn him, but, "Because it's my case, I've been working it for two sennights, and it's my best friend they abducted and I am not breezing when I'm this close!" Xaeryn hissed. "Also, I'm good at sneaking."

He arched a skeptical brow at that claim, glancing her height over, and looked ready to argue further--we don't have time, just do what I'm asking--before nodding with a scowl. "Hael, fine. Where are they?"

"About half a mile." She gave him rapid, grateful directions. "Tell them Miss Shrike's case could use their expertise. I crossed paths with a squad while investigating, my name might mean something."

His scowl deepened, argument still clear in his eyes. "Tell Bry to be careful, huh?" he growled, tugging down his cap as he headed off.

If I get the chance. She had to get inside first, figure out the layout, where things were, how many brunos there were aside from the ones she'd seen. The storage portion of the building looked to be the bottom quarter where they'd parked, leaving the rest of the space for offices and other rooms. A lot to search. And if they were smart...

There. The lookout was lounging against the side of the building, hidden in shadow.

She'd have to approach from the other side, where he was at least partially blind. I wonder if Briony even knows we're here, she mused as she carefully made her way across the street. They wouldn't be able to coordinate to any degree if she didn't know Xaeryn and Darius had followed.

The angle of Xaeryn's approach to avoid the lookout put her on the carport/storage side of the building, which had markedly fewer doors or windows. In fact, aside from the big main doors, she only found one; most of the way down the side wall near the back corner, a tiny window and greasy door, unlit despite the lengthening shadows.

She peered through the window as best she could--inside wasn't much better lit than out here--and reached for the door. She was fairly good with locks, but with no light out here--

The knob turned, unlocked. Xaeryn froze.

Luck? A trap? The One-God looking out for her?

Ultimately it didn't matter because Red was in there. So no matter how fortuitous this was, she was accepting it. She slowly, carefully opened the door and stepped inside.

She was in a back corner of the warehouse space, surrounded by cast-off equipment and crates, along with a few of the latter that lacked dust and were likely more recent additions. Xaeryn waited for her eyes to adjust and started carefully picking her way across the room. She skirted the cars, noting what details she could with the dark.

Including the red accents on the car that had been here when King Kaza arrived.

There were two doors on the far wall that led to the offices, one dark, one with light showing underneath. She went to the former, found it locked. No. The knob turned, the door was warped. Not getting in that way. Not without a great deal of noise. She moved to the other door reluctantly, ears pricked of any sound on the other side that would herald a watchman.

This one was unlocked and opened easily. The light was dimmer than she'd expected, lamps turned low. There was a hallway to her left, bisected by a wall and cracked-open door halfway down. Ahead and slightly to the right was a flight of stairs, with light filtering down from the second floor.

Which way...? Something tense and desperate coiled in Xaeryn's chest as she deliberated the value and risks of each. She could hear the murmur of voices but couldn't tell the direction. I can't just stand here, I need to move.

A glint of something white and shiny caught her eye as she rubbed the back of her neck. Tucked in a crack in the wall a couple steps up the stairs, angled so its paws pointed up, she found the ahfuri figurine Briony had bought at Chandry's.

If that wasn't a clue... Xaeryn gently pried the statuette from the wall and tucked it in her handbag. What could it mean but Briony had seen them following and was trying to help without blowing her cover?

The tread of footsteps filtered down from above and Xaeryn backpedaled down the stairs. She moved swiftly toward the door bisecting the hall as the steps continued heading the stairs, joined by the sound of conversation. She slipped through the cracked-open door and stood behind it, hoping the people were just heading for the warehouse.

There was the creak of a door opening, then the low murmur of voices too quiet to overhear cut off as it closed. They were gone. She waited a couple minutes all but holding her breath, then stepped back through. It was a relief to see the hall empty. They're probably watching the cars.

Xaeryn chewed the inside of her cheek as she made her way up the stairs, tensed every step for them to creak or break or give her away. A more patient and canny dame might've waited for King Kaza to leave so there were fewer guards to avoid. But she couldn't. Not this time, not while they had Red. It was her fault he'd been abducted, like blazing hael she was going to leave him one second longer than she had to. Especially not knowing what lengths these goons would go to get what they wanted, or what they'd do after. She had her suspicions, though, and those had her pulse pounding in her ears.

She reached the top of the steps, carefully checking for guards as she went and seeing none. They must be in the rooms, to stay with their charges. She needed to find out if anyone was here besides King Kaza or if that car was simply an alternate for his people.

But if he was already following me before the gala, why did he act like we'd never met? Let me spin the yarn about Circe Blackwood? Was he just toying with me?

Riddles for later. For now she wanted to find Red, find the Torch--yes, God help her, in that order--and get out of here. Finding enough evidence or otherwise managing to implicate King Kaza--and Jarkyth, if he was involved--would be a lovely bonus. But her job was the Torch and her goal was Red and hopefully Darius wouldn't have too much trouble convincing the Shepherds.

Xaeryn paused to take stock. This was a tricky spot; hallway ahead of her and one coming in as a blind corner to her right. The room almost straight in from of her looked larger than the others lining the hall. And there was something about the lights... Aside from the ones at the head of the stairs, they seemed dim, with a barely noticeable flicker that set her teeth on edge and had an ache starting in her temples, faint but annoying.

Alright, let's see... There were three rooms along the left of the hall ahead, the larger room and blind corner on the right, and who knew how many more rooms down that righthand hall. Well, that's what you need to find out. If there are rooms with no windows, those would make the most sense for stashing a stolen artefact and a captive.

She'd passed the first of the left hand rooms when she heard voices to the right. She stepped rapidly into the second room, pressing herself against the wall by the door. Thank God it was unlocked.

"...more stubborn than anticipated." That was King Kaza, tone a mix of amusement and frustration. "He maintains he cannot read it."

"Well, that's hokum," a woman replied, voice cultured, steely, and unfamiliar. "Th' gumshoe looked me in th' eye and said he'd helped develop it."

Red. They were talking about Red. And from the woman's comment... Xaeryn bit her lip and peeked around the doorframe. The woman must be the Shifter. It would be good to know what she looked like when she wasn't masquerading as Ms. Aerin.

Hopefully with this room being unlit Xaeryn wouldn't be easy to spot. It allowed a look down the blind corner hall, and she could just make out the king standing at a juncture with another perpendicular hall, but the woman was out of view.

King Kaza chuckled. "Did she? Very good, Syra." He stroked his chin. "I must again relay my thanks for your aid to our patron. You have been invaluable."

The woman, Syra, snorted a laugh. "Just keep your end of our deal and that will be thank enough for us both." She shifted, moving enough into view Xaeryn could see long silky blue-black hair decorated with narrow braids. "So what're we doing about him?"

"Leave him. Let him think we believe his claim. He is not going anywhere." King Kaza gestured toward one of the doors and Xaeryn's heart skipped a beat. "In an hour, at most, we shall revisit to clarify our resolve and the... nature of his predicament." His fingers drummed the hilt of dagger at his belt and Xaeryn nearly reached for hers.

You hurt him and I swear-- She grit her teeth, which made the headache worse.

"You're the boss," Syra said, shrugging, as the two of them headed into the larger room. "Sort of. If you think it's the best way..."

Xaeryn barely managed to wait a three-count after they were gone before she started back out the door. And then stopped. She should probably check out this room while she was here. Just in case circumstance didn't allow for her coming back, to be sure. But Red.

A quick look. If nothing pops out I'm going, she compromised. He's so close. She tried to summon a witchlight, but her focus was too rattled and the soft flame wouldn't come. She used the faint light from the window instead. Nothing caught her eye. In fact, the room was almost empty.

Relieved both that she could mentally check it as searched and that doing so hadn't taken long, Xaeryn moved with the bare minimum of caution to the door King Kaza had indicated. It was locked, of course. And she'd been in too much of a tizzy when she left to grab her picks.

She gnawed her lower lip, glaring at the lock as if she could foil it through force of will. To be so close and stymied by something so simple... it was making her head hurt, a sense of urgency crawling under her skin.

Xaeryn swiveled to look for something she could maybe use, evidence of an unlocked room where she could look, and came up empty for the hallway. But the dull glint of something in her peripheral reminded her of another option.

Her brooch. The bronze sun Chandry had given her. If the lock was simple enough, it just might work. And really, a run of the mill office building was unlikely to have shelled out for anything fancy, and it had been languishing in disrepair for who-knew-how-long before King Kaza appropriated it.

She plucked the sun from her blouse, flipping out the surprisingly sturdy-looking straight pin. God, please let this work. One last look to confirm no one was coming, no voices heralded a need to hide, and she knelt to start working.

It was, thank God, a rudimentary lock, but it had been quite a while since she picked one with makeshift tools and she bit her lip in concentration as she finagled it. Come on, come o-

She gasped as a hand wrapped around her arm, yanking her abruptly to her feet.

The bruno holding her arm scowled. "How'd you get in here?"

Xaeryn closed her hand around the brooch, the pin and the sun's rays digging into her palm as she gathered her composure. "Through the door."

"Oh, think you're cute," the guard growled. He was a solidly built muti; how blinkered had she been to not hear him coming? "You can tell it to the boss."

"Love to," Xaeryn retorted, even as her heart pounded. No way she could take him in a fight, not by herself. But if Briony was with King Kaza, or if she could drag her feet long enough for Darius to get back with the Shepherds(hopefully), maybe there was a chance.

The guard just sneered at her retort and hauled her toward the room she'd seen King Kaza and Syra enter. He did seem slightly surprised she wasn't fighting harder.

She wanted to. She wanted to break free, incapacitate him, and free Red. But she knew her limits, and handling a brute like this in a dust-up was beyond them. So she played along and prayed for a solution.

Sizing up the room on their arrival wasn't a promising situation. King Kaza and Syra stood in line with the door, the latter leaning slightly against a dilapidated desk as they conversed. There were two other guards in the room--Heron and the one she'd seen in the car--but she didn't see Briony.

Xaeryn tensed and tried to make herself relax as King Kaza broke off his conversation with Syra to arch a brow at her arrival. "Miss Blackwood. I cannot wait to hear what you thought to find here." He smirked. "I imagine it's quite a tale."

"I can start it for her," Syra said, eyes narrowed. "Her name's not Blackwood; this is the snooper. The one after the Torch. Miss Shrike."

"That's me," Xaeryn said, looking around the room and trying to calm--or at least hide--her pounding heart. "You had quite the ingenious method of acquiring it, I must say. Real brain twister." She glanced at Heron, standing with arms crossed near a dusty bookcase that jutted into the room. This must've been a clerical space, record-keeping and multiple secretaries sharing the room. In a fight with back up she could make good use of a space like this, with the multiple desks, cabinets, and shelves. "Almost stumped me."

"And yet here you are," a new voice said, low and almost hypnotizing. "I wonder if we should credit that to your ingenuity or your determination, Miss Shrike." The speaker strode into view from around the bookcase, a shorter man with piercing black eyes and styled dark hair, wearing a suit that probably cost more than she made in a year. No introduction was necessary; he was instantly recognizable to any devotee of the One-God. Talquist Jarkyth. The Western Hierophant.

"I'm more inclined to think it's a combination," Xaeryn countered. No way was she getting her heart to slow now. Her head was still pounding, too.

"You knew she was on our trail and didn't loop me in?!" King Kaza demanded. "We-"

"There was no need," Jarkyth cut him off sharply. "I had people on it. Too many would have defeated efforts at subtlety." He chuckled. "You have proven a most tenacious and clever example of your profession, Miss Shrike. How odd that you have stumbled here, at the end."

"Stumbled, how?" she asked. It was, most likely, futile to play dumb. But if he could toy with her, she could do the same. If he'd had people on her, and was here now, odds were good the car with red accents was his.

"Coming here alone, not waiting for the building to be unoccupied before you entered." He steepled his fingers and tsked. "I was very close to being impressed. I wonder what might've changed to spark such a misstep."

This time Xaeryn ignored his hinting completely, despite the sinking in her gut, turning instead to King Kaza. "Don't tell me you believe the bunk about the Torch making you invulnerable."

"And who decided it is 'bunk'? Civilized, modern scholars?" King Kaza scoffed. "We know it has an effect on magic, and legends are born from truth."

"And embellishment," she countered, mind racing at that tidbit. What kind of effect? "And even the original tribe didn't remain invulnerable." She shifted and the guard tightened his grip on her arm. Right. He was still there.

"But they did have good fortune and protection, by all accounts. And it is a tie to the land regardless." he crossed his arms. "My plans to establish myself in Jalis will go significantly more smoothly with tangible proof of my belonging, and the Torch should be mine by rights."

"You can't prove that, which is why you resorted to stealing it." Xaeryn glanced around the room. Where the hael was Briony? "Do you think people won't find that out?"

"The Jalis runs on conquest, Miss Shrike. Merely by holding the Torch I will prove my rights to it. And then prove my strength. It is, in fact, lucky for me that you are here." He sat on the edge of the desk, smirking. "While Syra has been invaluable, and what she learned from you was useful confirmation" --the Shifter matched his smirk and Xaeryn grit her teeth--"it will be even more useful for you to regale us with anything else you've learned of the pendant's capabilities. And before you try to claim you may not remember everything, I have something to help with that." He tapped one of the desk drawers and gave her a meaningful look.

Xaeryn's fingers curled in. He had to mean her notepad. "Reading or reciting, why would I give you information that would help you subjugate others?" she asked, surprised how level she kept her voice. The brooch was digging into her hand. "I'd never be able to live with myself."

"I believe you." King Kaza flashed a shark-like grin. "I also believe you know you aren't our only, hm, guest."

Her heart dropped to her toes, hands clenching tighter as she struggled to limit her reaction. The brooch was digging into her hand, almost deep enough to draw blood.

He leaned back against the desk. "How well would you live with yourself, detective, if harm befell him thanks to your actions--or lack thereof?"

Xaeryn was only vaguely aware of a door opening and closing behind her, fury boiling too hot to temper. "You lay a finger on him--"

The guard's grip tightened and King Kaza's grin widened. "That is exactly where I thought we could start, actually. It gives you several chances to reconsider before your friend has suffered too much." His gaze drifted over her shoulder. "Excellent timing, Stormbreaker."

She hoped he read only fury in her jaw's twitch at the words.

"Did you need me, highness?" There was a faintly brittle twang in Briony's voice.

"As you see, we caught a trespasser." King Kaza gestured to Xaeryn. When his gaze shifted away, she realigned the brooch in her grasp.

If their focus all stayed on Briony and the king, maybe she could grip it right to use as a weapon and escape the guard's grasp. It was the closest thing she had; her handbag had dropped in the hall when the guard grabbed her.

"I do see," Briony said. "How's that matter to me?"

"I think it will be most enlightening to get her and our captive in the same room." He pushed off the desk.

"Kaza, dispense with the dramatics and do what needs doing," Jarkyth said coldly. "Pageantry has its place, but this is not it, not on a schedule like ours."

"Yes, your grace. Stormbreaker, you and I will take her, the rest can check for any other interlopers."

She had the sun aligned, thumb pressing the hinge to keep the pin jutting out. There would be no coordination, hopefully she and Briony could make this work. She didn't even know the other woman's fighting style; if she leaned more toward straight brawling or had some level of finesse.

Briony stepped closer, her hand settling on Xaeryn's arm just above the elbow. It was a mirror of the other guard's grip, which he loosened seeing the king's bodyguard take possession of the prisoner.

Briony caught Xaeryn's gaze for a heartbeat, then in one fluid motion dragged her several steps to the side and punched the guard in the face.

He went down with a squawk and crunch of bone that heralded a broken nose. Heron and the other other guard proved to have the fastest reflexes, and even they hesitated a beat before closing in. Xaeryn wheeled on the guard as Briony staggered Hereon with a kick to the gut.

With a prayer and a hard jab, she aimed the brooch pin at the guard's face--and got lucky; the pin caught the soft hollow at the corner of his eye. She twisted in to shoulder check him and sent him crashing over one of the desks.

The nape of her neck tingled with a sense of danger and Xaeryn ducked to the left, almost running onto a bookshelf but feeling the breeze of a missed punch. She pivoted to see Syra already swinging again, the silver glint of punching daggers clenched in each hand.

Xaeryn knocked the blow aside with the back of her wrist, already-bruised hand complaining at the strike. She grit her teeth to ignore it and snapped her knee up toward Syra's stomach.

Syra dodged backward and swiped again. The punching dagger sliced the shoulder of Xaeryn's blouse but didn't catch skin. She was vaguely aware of Kaza launching himself at Briony, knife in each hand and growling oaths about treachery.

Xaeryn pressed her advantage--if you could call it that--to close in and force Syra back against the desk. The Shifter rolled along the edge, taking a swing as she did. This one slashed a shallow cut into Xaeryn's forearm when she blocked and Syra smirked even as she retreated a step at the desk's corner for space. Xaeryn shook out the sting, but before she retaliated she caught the clatter of shifting wood and quietly growled curses.

She ducked backwards with perfect timing for the guard she'd incapacitated before to go barreling between her and Syra. His momentum from the miss carried him into the window and he vanished from sight with a tremendous shattering of glass and dismayed yell.

Syra punched at Xaeryn and in her half-distracted state it was pure instinct she managed to block it. Syra immediately followed with the other hand, and Xaeryn caught her wrist to redirect the blow back at her. The punching dagger drove into the base of Syra's neck.

She gave a choked grunt and took one last feeble swing at Xaeryn as she swayed, before crumbling across the desk.

Xaeryn took a breath, turned to see how Briony was faring--

A hand clamped on the back of her neck and flung her across the room.

She yelped as she ricocheted off the corner of the desk before hitting the floor and narrowly avoided banging her head hard enough to see stars. The brooch went skittering away at the impact, depriving her of any weapon.

"You bitch!" Heron snarled, following with a faint glow building around his fists.

Xaeryn shook off the daze and scrambled backwards. A vicious kick aimed at her ribs caught her thigh instead.

She kicked back, catching his ankle and making him stagger. It only gave her a second of breathing room, but that second got her halfway to her feet and more mobile to avoid his next attack.

The was pretty much her only strategy against Battle Mages; dodge until they got tired and she got lucky. Given Heron wasn't her first opponent in this fight--and he was bloody furious--she wasn't sure that was going to work this time.

He grabbed a fistful of her blouse and shoved her back into a bookshelf.

Almost definitely not going to work this time.

There was scuffling, a distressed "Xaeryn!" from Briony, and the unmistakable thud of something hitting the back of Heron's head.

But it wasn't the pink-haired warrior standing behind him when he staggered under the blow.

It was Red, white knuckle grip on the 2x4 he wielded and worry blazing in his eyes as he whacked Heron once more for good measure. Hard enough it broke the board in the process and sent the man crumpling to the floor.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment before the board hit the ground and they lunged forward, Red's hands gripping her shoulders and Xaeryn's cupping his jaw and both blurting, "Are you alright?!"

How are you here-?!

Before either could answer, however, Briony bolted past for the door. "Xaeryn, Jarkyth!!"

Xaeryn groaned and reluctantly pulled herself away from Red to help with pursuit. He was alive, and she hadn't seen any serious injuries. A more thorough inventory could wait.

Briony was already thundering down the stairs, unnaturally fast. Halfway down behind her, Xaeryn could see the door hanging open and her heart sank. "Watch out!" she hollered, catching movement as one of the downstairs guards charged down the hall at Briony. He caught her around the waist and slammed her into a wall, but dropped with a yelp when she elbowed him in the face.

It still slowed her enough Xaeryn caught up, and the two of them burst out the door at almost the same moment.

To find an empty street.

"Dammit!" Briony growled, kicking the dirt. She clasped her hands against the back of her head, fingers tangling in her ponytail. "If I'd gotten Kaza down just a second faster..."

Xaeryn shook her head. "No sense in playing what if." She surveyed the streets, but His Grace must've been really hotfooting it; there was no sign.

Briony sucked her teeth. "He might have the Torch, Xaeryn. He had enough of a headstart to grab it b'fore he rabbited."

Her heart dropped at the thought. For all her work, the risk she'd brought to Red, to be for nothing in the end... "Is there a way we can check? Did you see where they were keeping it?"

Briony nodded, letting her hands fall. "I did, t'night."

Headlights swung into view from a sidestreet, the truck they belonged to very clearly headed their way, and both women froze.

"Briony!" a familiar voice called from the back, and Darius jumped down before the vehicle had come to a complete stop.

"Coulda used ya about twenty seconds ago, D," Briony chided, but she was still grinning as she gave him a hug and a shoulder punch in quick succession. "Jarkyth scarpered."

"Had t' convince the backup I was on the level," he said gruffly, returning the hug and swaying from the shoulder punch. "Captains Trick and Emroth." He jerked a thumb at the two women climbing down from the cab of the now-halted truck.

"We've met," Xaeryn said dryly. She was grateful not to have Trick's pistol leveled at her chest this time. And she left off her recollection she and Captain Emroth--Iorwen--were school acquaintances. She had bigger concerns at the moment. "Most of us," she amended as a hulking blond Ket hopped from the back of the truck.

"Oh, this is Daren," Trick said with a wave in his direction. "He's a new recruit an' we figured this would be good field experience. You can sweep around the building, Daren, look for any tryin' to sneak off."

"The ones inside are mostly unconscious or at least incapacitated" --she didn't know what shape Briony left the king in--"but you'll still want to keep alert."

"Always," Captain Emroth said as she headed for the building. "Hear you had a friend kidnapped?"

Xaeryn nodded. "Red."

A muscle twitched in Iorwen's jaw as that sank in. "I'll take care of him," she promised, disappearing inside before Xaeryn could explain he's gotten free somehow, he'd come swooping to her rescue somehow, just make sure he's alright.

Leaving aside that Iorwen--Captain Emroth; this was an official setting--was someone she'd trust enough to let her job take focus under the circumstances, she still needed to go back inside. "I think the artefact I'm looking for might still be in there," Xaeryn said to Trick. "The... true butter and egg man of this heist got away, but there are some vital members among the incapacitated."

"Oh, we'll help with collectin' them," Briony interjected. "I know how many there should be." She grabbed Darius by the sleeve and started dragging him inside.

"Briony," Xaeryn started, hustling after them and vaguely wondering how the woman still had so much energy, "where's the Torch?"

"Oh, right. Upstairs, across the hall from where they were keepin' your friend and down one door toward the further end," Briony rattled off.

They nearly ran into Red in the upstairs hallway, his brows twitching at the sight of extra people. "I, ah, tied up the ones I could," he said, gesturing back toward the room before running his hand through his hair. It helped even less than usual, and Xaeryn was torn between a fond smile at the tousled mess and a wince at how exhausted he looked beneath the general dishevelment and--thankfully minor--injuries.

"Good thinkin," Briony said, still holding Darius' sleeve as she angled toward the room.

"And you're with me," Captain Emroth said with a faint smile. She lightly rested one hand on Red's arm and tugged him to the side.

"Ryn-" Red started to protest.

"Is still working," Captain Emroth finished for him, catching Xaeryn's eye as she and Trick started for the hall Briony had mentioned, "I'm sure that'll change in a few minutes, but for now we're worrying about you..."

Xaeryn didn't hear any more, as she and Trick had turned down the hallway. The door Briony had indicated was cracked slightly ajar. Oh, God, please no. Not after everything.

"You said you think it's in here?" Trick asked.

Xaeryn nodded, braced for the worst as she reached to swing the door open. "There's a chance the one who escaped took it, but I'm hoping not."

"Why won't you give this vanishin' man's name?"

"Oh, you wouldn't believe me if I told you," Xaeryn said wryly as she stepped into the room. There were only a few crates in the room, most covered with dust and undisturbed. The only one that looked promising for her was still closed. Maybe it's still here.

"Try me," Trick deadpanned, leaning against the doorframe.

"Talquist Jarkyth."

A snort. "You don't think I'd believe a politician's involved in shady dealings? How long have you lived in this city again?"

"He's also a religious leader who's made a show of piety. Many will likely find it a hard truth to swallow." She opened the crate and the faint headache she'd been ignoring since her arrival pulsed harshly.

But that was small potatoes compared to the sight of what lay in the crate, bronze ornamentation glinting dully in the half-light, easily recognized from all the time she'd spent staring at photographs.

Solimer's Torch.

Relief and elation spiraled in her chest as she reached for the artefact. It was still here, Jarkyth hadn't made off with it, she could fulfill her contract with Mr. Syndran-

The metal burned when her fingers brushed it and she snatched her hand back with a hiss.

Trick pushed off the doorframe, frowning at her. "What's wrong?"

Xaeryn shook her head--she had a theory but didn't want to say it without proof. "Can I borrow those?" She indicated the thick leather gloves tucked in the captain's belt.

"Oh, sure." Trick tugged them free and passed them over.

"Thank you." Xaeryn slipped one on before reaching into the crate again. The muffling layer did the trick, protecting her from the burning sensation, and she carried it out to the better-lit hallway, which confirmed her suspicion. This was not obsidian, though it was similar enough in coloration she could understand how people were fooled. Particularly Norm scholars, to whom it would be just another lump of rock.

It was thoret.

That answers several questions and raises almost as many new ones. Xaeryn fought down the urge to hold it at arm's length, nausea crawling in her stomach.

"That's your artefact?" Trick wrinkled her nose. "I don't like it."

"For good reason." Xaeryn pulled her gaze away from the talisman. "Captain, do you have any sort of warded containment unit in your truck?"

Trick nodded. "Let me--" there was a tread of footsteps downstairs-- "get him to get it. Daren?"

"Aye," floated up a grunted reply.

"Go grab one of the small blanker boxes, huh?"

"Yes, captain." His footsteps retreated.

As they waited, Briony emerged from the main room hauling a bound and protesting Kaza Ackshin, who was raising a ruckus that even if she was working with the Shepherds, he wasn't a citizen of Haven, local authorities had no right--

"The Shepherds might be based in Haven, but we aren't limited to Haven," Trick hollered after in interruption, and Kaza glared daggers at her before Briony manhandled him down the stairs.

Daren came up after they'd passed but before Darius followed with one of the guards. "Here you go."

"Thank you," Trick said, taking the case, roughly half the size of a breadbox, with a nod. "Good work sweeping for baddies. See if there's anyone in there you can take, and go guard the ones in the truck."

He nodded and headed for the room.

"Here we go, miss detective," Trick said, steadying the box so Xaeryn could nestle the Torch inside it.

"Thank you." Xaeryn placed the Torch in the box and closed it. The gnawing-headache sensation almost immediately diminished. She'd have to ask how these worked later; that was impressive enchantment or technology or both. "I should get this back where it belongs," she said through her sigh of relief as she took the box from Trick.

But her feet were reluctant to move, her gaze drifting over to where Red was. Not that she doubted Captain Emroth's skill, but a very large part of her desperately wanted to make sure for herself that he was alright before she left. Even knowing how elated Mr. Syndran would be to see the Torch was reclaimed.

"Wen'll take good care of him," Trick interjected, having seen where he attention lingered. "She's a first rate doctor, if he needs patchin' up--speakin' of, you want me to take care of your arm?" she nodded toward the shallow gash. "An' if he's the one who was kidnapped we'll need to ask him a few questions, but we won't keep him long."

Xaeyn nodded in response to... several things from that torrent, shifting the case with the Torch to clutch it close. "Captain Emroth and I attended the same school; I'm well-acquainted with her skill as a doctor and sure she's more than capable." Doesn't change wanting to confirm for myself, it's Red. "But if you're willing, I probably should get this patched up before I leave." She held up the injured arm. For appearances if nothing else, considering where I need to go. I look enough a fright without an open wound.

"Oh, I don't even need to go that involved." Trick jerked a thumb at herself. "Elae."

Ah. Xaeryn cracked a tired smile. "I imagine that comes in handy in your line of work."

"'Specially when Trouble Alder's your partner," Trick muttered, but the fond smile playing at her lips undercut any exasperation on the comment. She extended her hand, stopping only an inch or so from Xaeryn's arm. "May I?"

Xaeryn nodded, Trick clasped her arm murmuring quietly, and when she withdrew the wound was gone. Not so much as a scar.

"Thank you, you're quite good at this," Xaeryn commented, examining the skin. The Torch's case sat heavy in her arm. She glanced over at Red again. "I'm going to say farewell and I'll be out of your hair." She knew Mr. Syndran and sometimes Ms. Aerin worked late, but she didn't want to push it. "I'll return the case as soon as I can."

"You're welcome, and no rush, we have plenty," Trick said, moving to help as Briony and Darius returned to bundle the rest of the goons out of the building.

Xaeryn found her throat suddenly, thoroughly dry as she approached Red and Captain Emroth. "Pardon, I know you need to talk to him, but could I have just a minute first?"

Something danced in Iorwen's eyes as she nodded and stepped back. "Sure, you can have a minute."

Tempted as she was to fold him into a hug, there were too many other people coming and going and she was holding something in one arm, so she took Red's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I'm glad you're alright." I was so afraid you wouldn't be.

"Me, too," he said with a soft laugh, squeezing her hand back. "More glad you are."

She arched a brow. "I'm not the one who got abducted, Liefred," she said dryly.

"No, you were just part if a brawl with very bad odds," he drawled in counterpoint. He scratched the back of his neck and she stared at the scrape on his forearm. "I know fisticuffs aren't your forte, Ryn, even if you can handle yourself."

Xaeryn gave a soft laugh, even as she looked him over. Scrapes and rope-chafe on his arms, bruise on his forehead, nasty but scabbing split lip. "On that note, thank you for the save."

Red nodded, looking at her with something indecipherable in his eyes. "Of course." The look changed to a playful glint. "Not every day I get to play the hero." He rubbed the back of his head as he watched Briony haul the still-unconscious Heron downstairs. "He had it coming."

"Goose egg for a goose egg?" Xaeryn asked glibly.

He laughed. "Something like that."

They both caught a sharp breath--but tried to hide it--at the realization his thumb was rubbing absent arcs against the heel of her hand.

Xaeryn cleared her throat, painfully aware of Iorwen--Captain Emroth--nearby, surely hearing even if she was pretending to be busy. "I need to take this back while there's a chance of there being someone in the Merchants' Guild offices," she said, giving the case a gentle jostle, "and I understand Captain Emroth needs to speak with you, but if you want to drop by tomorrow we could talk."

Sun above, do we need to talk.

"I'd like that," Red said softly, then gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Assuming I don't sleep the day away."

"If you do, just come the day after," she shrugged, smiling playfully. "I'll always make time for you."

He gave a soft laugh. "Good to know. But hopefully I'll see you tomorrow."

"Hopefully," Xaeryn confirmed. Her heart pounded as he seemed just as reluctant to let go as she was.

"Make sure you get sleep too, Xaer," Red murmured.

"I promise," she nodded, then gave his hand a final squeeze before letting go, her fingers curling as she strode out of the building and through Ashtown's streets, heading for more civilized districts and ultimately, Merchants' Guild headquarters.

It had been a very long day, and she would be glad to put it behind her. ----

Next chapter for answers and tying up loose ends👀 and I think we're done! :D

[emotionaldepravity]

Can I please request cuddle headcanoins for male Robin male Byleth and male Corrin separately with a female reader?

M!Robin

-Robin might not really know proper cuddling form, but he would be the first to study up on it. He'd probably be the one to ask to cuddle the first time as a way to show that he is more okay with physical touch. He doesn't have much free time so he would have set aside a whole afternoon just for you two to lay in each other's arms.

-He gets a bit flustered when he notices your chest pressed up against him, and he is always very aware of how you lay against him. He gets a bit nervous, but he likes being close to you.

-He likes it best when you sit in his lap and cuddle him while he works. Being that he is so busy, he can't spend all the time he wants with you. At least this way he gets to be close to you and get thought the paper work.

M!Byleth

-Byleth is a bit shy about any physical affection. He isn't used to it. Honestly, he isn't used to any affection that isn't just a "good job" and a pat on the back.

-He isn't exactly flustered from being so close so he doesn't really get why you seem so flustered when he places his hands at your hips. Byleth doesn't really have any experience, but he does remember preparing for the White Heron cup. He just mimics that hold on you.

-He does get flustered when you cozy more up to him though. Even he can tell that he really should only be that close to you.

-Never asks to cuddle, but he would never tell you no, even if he got too warm.

M!Corrin

-Corrin loves hugs! He is all about physical affection, and a hug from you? That's his favorite! When you ask to cuddle, he is always so excited. His pointed ears always perk up, and he flashes you a sweet smile.

-He nuzzles a lot. Expect him burying his nose in your hair or neck just so he feels even closer to you. He gets a bit flustered afterward, and asks if it was okay for him to do that.

-He likes cuddling in bed the best. Just being lazy and enjoying each other makes him so happy!

[highstakeweights]

"Mmmhgghhh..."

Leo doesn't belong here. He knows he doesn't belong here. But the invitation showed up with his name on it last night, and it looked very carefully written, so it probably wasn't a mistake...

He takes a peek at it again as he stands outside, clothes rustling as his curves wobble.

'To the distinguished Leopold Vanheim II,

You are cordially invited to the Blue Heron Casino and Resort as a VIP Guest, to be given all the treatment a young man like you deserves. This invite serves as both your entry and your membership card. Please be sure to enjoy your time to the fullest.

Yours, Blue Heron Casino Management.'

Leo squirms around nervously, biting his lip as he glances at the door. The... The guards are men, at least. Maybe this place won't be... TOO bad?

Entry goes quick as a flash after he shows them the VIP invitation, and he is quickly ushered into all the bright lights and the active, chatty floor...

His eyes immediately dart to the ground. Because he knows if he looks up, he'll immediately faint from all the belching he hears and the waddling stomps all around him...

In all honesty, the guards are more of an effort to appear like a normal casino at first glance. Sure, they were positively massive guys, but compared to the average patron or staff member... They seemed like twigs. The entrance was lavish, a sickening display of opulence and senseless hedonism. A gilded fountain in the lobby, statues of purest silver decorated with metals so precious their names long forgotten. Finest wine flowed freely from them, with sharply dressed attendants offering glass after glass to any thirsty patron. So too as there were massive men and women whose unfathomable size had no bearing on their impeccable fashion, there were those with barely any clothes on at all. While there was a flabby fellow every now and again amongst the sea of enormous people... Well, it was good that Leo kept his eyes glued to the marble floor. He might have just fainted from the sheer amount of flabby women with barely anything on. Be they bunny girls just barely contained within their uniforms, or gluttonous gamblers who overindulged and are left exposed at their extreme weight. None of them seemed to pay the poor boy much mind, thankfully. Those that did merely commented on how cute the new girl looked. It was only when Leo felt a soft, yet gargantuan weight press up against his back.

"My my~. Nobody ever informed me that such a handsome young man would be visiting our establishment tonight. You seem to be new here, judging by the look on your face. Madam Diana Welstrom Anatolia Rhysford Mihaly, at your service. But, if it pleases you, you may call me Madam D for short. Now... How may I make your first visit oh so memorable, my dear~?"

[chiropteracupola]

emothy what is the deal with wormsfic. I Must Know

It's The One Where I Put Worms (So Many Worms) In That Man :)

in more seriousness, this is the very very long flight of the heron undead!Keith au which I ...apparently have not posted another chapter of in over a year.

this is an expansion of 'this is not your grave, get out of this hole' to great, wiggly, slimy heights, wherein the idea of this hole not being a grave is somewhat complicated by the fact that it Is in fact a grave. but despite that I continue asking questions such as 'what if you had a Big, Terrible, Difficult-to-Conceal problem (it can be a metaphor for all manner of things if you like) and were loved anyway? what if that problem involved the fact that your open chest cavity was just writhing with worms?'

snippet for vibe taste-testing purposes:

Keith forces his fist closed around a pen, pressing each finger into its once-accustomed place and cursing when they do not comply with his wishes. His hand falls open once more if he tries to refine his grasp, and when he manages to hold the pen long enough for a few letters, the script is shaky, unfamiliar. The ink twists on the page, spidery and wet, and Keith pushes the inkwell aside with enough force that it spills over, blotting out an hour’s efforts. “Of course a dead man cannot write,” he says, and laughs, as much a pitiless half-choked sob as it is a laugh at all. But “Tell me what you wish to say, and I may write for you, if you will permit me,” says Ewen, and finds a fresh sheet of paper to replace the stained one.