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egrets-not-regrets · 3 months

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Not For Hunting

Alcyon and Amelia visit Erriox’s home nest to look through his collection of metals and stones for metal and jewelry crafting. Bringing along Ben and Malaran. Sometimes Malaran needs to not be nosy for his own good.

Author’s Note: Not smut, just suggestive and funny. I saw this post about the relationship between steppes centaurs and mountain harpies and thought it was amazing and very funny. And I can’t help myself to write something for MerErriox and HarpyLenora.

OCs: Erriox (Iron Warrior), Lenora, Alcyon (Chaos Iron Warrior), Amelia, Malaran Blackspike (Black Legion), Ben

Tagged: @shadowfirecat , @kit-williams , @bleedingichorhearts , @barn-anon , @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@sleepyfan-blog, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @bispecsual , @ms--lobotomy , @whorety-k

“Aunt Lenora!”

Lenora braces for impact from an enthusiastic Ben dive bombing at her from above. She laughs and catches him in her wings and swings the young plover in a circle with the momentum, hugging him tightly and nuzzling his face, “Hello Ben! You have grown so much since I last saw you!”

Ben was Amelia’s son, both of whom were the healer harpies among the captives that were rescued in the mission that Erriox and Lenora allied in. After the rescue, Amelia became fast friends with the osprey harpy and often traded goods and stories with each other, with Ben unofficially adopting Lenora as his aunt.

Erriox swims over and gives Ben an affectionate scratch on his head, “Is Alcyon and Malaran with you two?” He asks, spotting Amelia at the cave entrance.

The plover fledgling churrs happily, “Yeah! Mom’s waiting for them.”

“Lenora!” Amelia’s voice calls out as she walks in, followed by two large fierce-looking chaos mers. The plover harpy hugged Lenora, the both of them nuzzling each other in greeting, “I hope Ben didn’t hurt you by accident, he’s been practising his dive bombing with Malaran and Alcyon. He can get a little over enthusiastic.” She said, concerned.

“Mooom…” Ben whined, feeling outed unfairly. He then turned to the osprey harpy, “Aunt Lenora, you’re not hurt, right?

Lenora laughed, “I’m fine. Though that was a good whomp you gave me. Any stronger, I might get bowled over!”

“I will aim for that!”

“I’ll train you to knock Erriox over!” Malaran snickered, his scarred orca tail wagging up and down as he swam over to them.

Amelia gasped in dismay, “Ben! Malaran!”

“It’s alright, Amelia. I’d like to see them try.” Erriox reassured her with a wry grin.

The other large venomfin swam up to them, greeting his legion brother and his mate, his tail loosely curled around Amelia as he settled next to her, “Thanks for letting us go through you collection, Erriox.” He said.

“We needed to replenish our supply of healing potions anyway. It’s a fair trade. “ Erriox replied. The Iron Warrior mer collected pieces of metal, mostly picking up old ceramite armor pieces as they would come in handy for armor repairs, and other metal pieces that he found interesting or potentially useful. He also amassed a collection of shinies: stones, pearls, gems, etc… that he either used for crafting or to trade with.

Alcyon and Amelia had been looking for some stones and metal for metal and jewellery crafting and some ingredients for potion making. So it made sense to trade supply acquisition services and access to his metal and shinies collection in return for several vials of mid to high grade healing potions.

“Will I get to meet cousin Jophiel and his brothers one day?” Ben asked.

Lenora chuckled, “You will. They’re off on their own missions and work so they aren’t around very often. They’re curious about meeting you too.” Her Primaris boys were curious about Ben and Amelia. Jophiel was rather enthused about the young plover. However, they all were still uneasy with the thought of them being bonded to chaos mer-Astartes.

She led Ben to the bags of precious stones, sea glass, and pearls sitting in a pile by Jophiel’s nest, “Speaking of which, the boys have a bunch of stones and pearls that you can go through and take some that you’d like. And if you don’t mind, could you organize them by type and for the sea glass and pearls, by colour? There’s a box over there with compartments that you can separate them into.”

“I can do that.” The plover fledgling chirped.

Lenora patted his head, “Thanks!”

Ben nodded and started on his task.

Alcyon, Amelia, and Malaran had started looking through Erriox’s collection of things, examining certain pieces more closely than others and selecting the few they wanted or needed. Amelia turned to Lenora when she noticed the harpy’s return, “we put the box of potions by where you normally store them.

“Thank you! I also have the ingredients you requested.” Lenora replied as she went off to reorganize the potions storage and search for the ingredients she collected for Amelia.

Malaran spotted two other chest boxes sitting slightly off to the side from the collection of metal. Curious, he opened the first one and found a bunch of leather and furs. After checking out the contents of the chest, he pulled out what looked like two wide leather anklets. Each has a belt-like fastener to secure them onto a leg and a very long strap of leather attached to the belt. They were well-crafted with a simple but intricate design stamped onto the leather and shiny scales embedded throughout the pattern.

Working through the logic of the pieces, Malaran assembles the leather anklets. The Black Legion mer admired the craftsmanship on the anklets a bit before wiggling them at Amelia.

“These would look pretty on you.” He trilled, “What are they?”

Alcyon paused his search and looked at the anklets dangling from Malaran’s hand and then eyed his mate. Those would look rather good on her with some more colour, he thought to himself.

Amelia looked at them, tilting her head inquisitively, “They look like jesses…”

Lenora returned carrying Amelia’s storage box and spotted the anklets the Black Legion mer was holding, “Oh! You found the jesses! They’re in there to be repaired.”

“Malaran, why are you looking through those boxes? Those are not part of the trade.” Erriox asked, his voice flat and unamused.

The Black Legion mer huffed and was about to return the jesses to the box when Lenora took them from him and gave them to Amelia to examine.

Amelia looked at the jesses closely, admiring the pattern on them before passing them to Alcyon who she knew would be interested in the craftsmanship, “These are beautifully made.”

The osprey harpy smiled and said with pride, “They really are. Erriox made them for me.” The Iron Warrior mer’s mouth quirked a smile at the praise.

“It’s a simple design, but well made.” Alcyon agreed. The chaos Iron Warrior mer assessed the jesses closely, trying to figure out how they were put together.

Amelia piped up, “Those are hunting jesses, are they not? I’ve only heard of the mountain raptor harpies using them or as fashion statements for others.” After a bit of thought, “and you don’t seem the type to wear them as a fashion statement either.”

Malaran cocked his head, “What’s the point of the extra long straps then, that would only increase your aerodynamic resistance.”

“They’re not for hunting.” Erriox cut in, having had enough of their guessing.

“They’re not for hunting. Or for fashion.” Lenora added with a wink to the plover harpy, her lips curving into an wicked half-grin as she let the implications set in.

Amelia’s feathers ruffled slightly when she realized what Lenora meant, heat rising to her cheeks. Malaran scoffed and shook his head, muttering about Alcyon wearing out Amelia again before turning around to go join Ben instead. Alcyon noticed the stitching of the belt attachment on the jesses had come undone. He side-eyed his loyalist brother.

“I see they’ve gone through some use.” He commented, his brow raised.

Erriox smirked, “What? Giving you ideas?”

Alcyon looked at his blushing Amelia, meeting her glance, then back at the jesses in his hand, his scarred tail idly moving back and forth in thought. He tossed them back to his legion brother, matching his smirk, “Maybe.”

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #mer-astartes au #mermay 40k #oc: erriox #oc: alcyon #oc: malaran blackspike #oc: amelia plover #oc: ben plover #oc: lenora #tw suggestive #iron warriors #black legion #of fin and feathers au

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sweetbunpura · 14 days

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I was thinking about Leona x my OC (once a bunny but I changed that back to the mouse Scar is trying to eat when Mufasa comes)

Anyway, I wish we had more instances of prey animal beastman interacting with pred beastman because… is there like a dynamic

The only prey beastman we've seen so far has been Kifaji. And he's not a good impression on prey animals. I'd imagine that there is, though I'm not sure with what. With certain animals, like a croc beastman or a plover bird beastman, they'd be close in terms of friendship and the works.

At the most Kifaji isn't the best example of how that kinda relationship would work given how he's a long time friend of the royal family.

My own OC, Howard Chestnut, is part prey animal (He's a lop-eared rabbit). It's like any other dynamic, although depending on which animals they are, would depend on their dynamic.

Or would it be like a Zootopia thing?

#twisted wonderland #thorn answers

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i-got-da-rubes · 1 year

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Teenage Mutant Nature "Turtles" Masterpost

I wanna make a masterpost for these goobers. It will be updated as I make more content for them.

Iteration tag - TMN'T'

Iteration art tag - TMN'T' Art

Iteration info tag - TMN'T' Info

Iteration writing tag - TMN'T' Writing

Welcome to TMN'T'!! In this iteration, the boys don't grow up in a busy city, but secluded in a house in the woods on an island on the coast of South Carolina. When Splinter escaped with the kids, he ran as far and as fast as he could, hitchhiking, train hopping, and stealing bus tickets with two oddly covered toddlers and a suspiciously lumpy backpack.

Wonder who he was running from...

The story begins when April moves to their small town and stumbles upon the boys and their eccentric friend, Casey Jones. Shenanigans ensue, enemies are made, there’s kidnapping?? Maybe?? They eventually end up in New York, living begrudgingly in the hidden city with someone they don’t quite like.

They meet Cass, Sunita, Donnie’s online friend Donnie, and even MORE shenanigans ensue!! People get hurt, hearts broken, family ties tested, pasts revealed, and many, many hugs are given.

The photo references will often be out of date, so refer to the text parts of this post.

Q: What the hell is up with the birds?

A: They we’re mutated in their eggs with the DNA of two bio parents and a bird. The bird part was meant to increase speed and eyesight and similar things, but mostly just shows up in their patterns. They do have bird behaviors, like nesting and chirping and beaks, but turtles already had that. (Except for Donnie, homeboy doesn’t have a beak)

Q: Who mutated them?

A: ;) All I’ll tell you for now is that it was purposeful, similar to Rise. Leo was five when she was rescued, Raph one, and the twins in their eggs.

Q: What is the turtles relationship with each other?

A: Much like 2k12, Raph challenges Leo a lot. He knows she’s keeping things from them, won’t explain her scars, and there’s more to why they need to hide. All the boys tend to disrespect her place as leader, but are generally very close. Mikey and Donnie lean on each other, finding solidarity in being the “broken” ones(blind and softshell). The generally don’t need to talk to understand each other. They all cuddle and while they bicker, love each other very much. Overall, the relationship is good!

Leo - Turquoise Tanager - Ger

-Oldest at 19 years old

-Name is Leo or Ger

-DNA is spliced from a diamondback terrapin and a blue-winged teal

-Transfem and uses she/her

-English is her second language, learned when she was closer to four

-Terrified of snakes, extremely protective of her brothers

-Tallest at 6 foot even

-Uses two katanas

-Is not 100% in control of her portal Ninpo

-Wears handles on her body for Mikey to hold if he needs grounding

Raph - Red Knot - Red

-Second oldest at 16 years old

-Goes by Raph or Red

-Bigender, using he/she pronouns. Refer to her as however you want, but she will be written where she actively determines what gender she is at the moment to those around her.

-She caught Splinter and Leo doing Katas one day and insisted on being taught. Found a hero comic book and donned her mask first.

-Besties with Casey

-Can't follow rules or orders for shit

-Second shortest at 5"2

-Uses tail and phantom limb Ninpo as a whip

-Wears handles on her body for Mikey to hold if he needs grounding

Donnie - Black-bellied Plover - Plover

-Third oldest at 15 years old, twins with Viero

-Goes by Donnie, Plover, or Plo'

-Spliced from a spiny softshell turtle and a black-bellied plover

-Uses hey/they pronouns

-Their tech abilities are currently undetermined

-Mostly nonverbal, uses TFS (three-finger sign)

-Second tallest at 5"10

-Gets so fucking anxious and overwhelmed when feeling warm emotions

-Ninpo is creating objects from "thin air." They actually use nutrients from their own body or around them, so they have to be careful with what they eat and create.

-Obsessed with history, biology, and making sweet grass baskets

-There's a stupid amount of preserved plantations(you know the kind) in the area. They have burnt one to the ground on one confirmed occasion.

-Their idea to wear handles on their body for Mikey to grab if he needs grounding

Mikey - White-eyed Viero - Viero

-Youngest at 15 years old, twins with Donnie

-Goes by Viero, V, Mikey

-Spliced from a musk turtle, striped mud turtle, and a white-eyed viero

-He/him, cis

-Blind from hatching

-When activating Ninpo they have a heightened sense of their surroundings, like a kind of sight. Imagine Toph Beifong.

-Smallest at 4"10

-Loves swimming, pineapple pizza, using their fear stink to mess with his siblings

-Musk turtles emit a foul "armpit" odor on command when threatened so yes, Mikey can do this

-Their species tends to carry salmonella, and while Mikey doesn't they totally use this to mess with humans

-Aroace

-Quite literally doesn't see the point in fashion so only wears necessary elbow and knee pads

-Likes pottery and making sweet grass baskets, they feel nice to his hands

-"Secret" pizza pal Woody

Casey - Arnold Casey Jones - Case

-17 years old

-Raph’s best friend

-Antisocial as hell at school

-Hockey!!

-He made a custom jersey using the turtle’s colors

-Tries hard to be a mean punk but is too sweet

-5”7

April - April O’Neil - Pri

-16

-Very little is known yet

-Has a foster father of five years

-Oddly enough, she wasn’t disturbed to meet anthropomorphic turtles…

-5”9

More bios to be added as completed.

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gaevl · 1 year

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⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀a warm afternoon in a glade ;

that’s what his love feels like.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀character playlist 01 .

1. feelings. i'm sorry that i care. it's really not that fair, i can't help but care. i over communicate and feel too much, i just complicate it when i say too much. i laugh about it, dream about that casual touch. sex is fire, sick and tired of acting all tough. i'm hooked on all these feelings, i know exactly what i'm feelin'.

2. you are the right one. you were the right way, i was just waitin' for you to look at me. is there a wrong time? baby, i'm guessin', just let me know. well, it's been a long time since you've been lonely, so what will i do? you are the right one and i'm just the boy who is lookin' at you.

3. blue jeans. blue jeans, white shirt. walked into the room, you know you made my eyes burn. it was like james dean, for sure. you're so fresh to death and sick as c-cancer. you were sorta punk rock, i grew up on hip hop but you fit me better than my favorite sweater. and i know that love is mean and love hurts but i still remember that day we met in december, oh baby.

4. mystery of love. like hephaestion, who died, alexander's lover, now my riverbed has dried. shall i find no other? oh, woe-oh-woah is me. i'm running like a plover, now i'm prone to misery. the birthmark on your shoulder reminds me... how much sorrow can i take? blackbird on my shoulder, and what difference does it make when this love is over?

5. strawberry & cigarettes. long nights, daydreams. sugar and smoke rings, i've been a fool, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you. headlights on me, racing to 60. i've been a fool but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like... blue eyes, black jeans, lighters and candy, i've been a fool, but strawberries and cigarettes always taste like you.

6. scar tissue. soft spoken with a broken jaw, step outside but not to brawl and autumn's sweet, we call it fall. i'll make it to the moon if i have to crawl and with the birds i'll share this lonely viewin'. scar tissue that i wish you saw, sarcastic mister know-it-all. close your eyes and i'll kiss you, 'cause with the birds i'll share this lonely viewin'.

#˚ ✞ 。 ㅤㅤ ( 𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥. ) :: development.

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mickmundy · 2 years

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i wanted to fill out some of those little relationship question prompt things for bushmedicine! ^v^ so here's part one, and part two you can find here! trying to answer these without spoiling plans for my fic was a little difficult, but i think i managed decently enough for now. thank you for reading and i hope you enjoy! <3

Who is the most affectionate? Both are equally matched when they’re in private! In public, Medic is definitely more-so than Sniper, but Sniper’s always glad to throw an arm around Medic or hook his finger in one of the straps on Medic’s coat and pull him close! Medic will hold Sniper’s hand, rub or pat his belly (which Sniper will never say no to!) and fidget with anything he can grab onto. They are very touchy-feely!

Big spoon/little spoon? It varies, but Medic loves having Sniper in his arms! Medic lays more on his back than on his side, so he likes laying belly-to-belly with Sniper on top of him. Medic puts one hand in Sniper’s hair and the other on the back of his thigh, just under his butt, to hold him in place! If they’re spooning, Sniper enjoys feeling Medic’s weight and warmth against his back and encourages him to squish him between himself and the mattress!

Most common argument? They really don’t argue much. Both know the other is very capable and trust one another’s judgement; work is stressful enough as it i when you’re a couple of workaholics! Sniper is the pessimist to Medic’s romantic, but they tend to be able to talk things out. Sniper sometimes has trouble communicating but the doc doesn’t mind and is always available to listen and talk when he’s ready!

Favorite non-sexual activity? They have plenty of shared hobbies, including taxidermy, medicine, nonfiction literature, plant husbandry, exotic animal know-how, and of course, their birds! Medic also loves listening to Sniper’s stories about his life as a bounty-and-big-game hunter before he joined MANN CO.! The one where Sniper slept in the corpse of a water buffalo is one of his favorites! They’re both very touchy-feely and love the way each other smells, so they’re also content to just lay in silence together while Sniper reads and Medic goes over his lab notes!

Who is most likely to carry the other? Medic is more likely to scoop Sniper up and jog off with him or give him an excited spin, but Sniper enjoys catching the doctor by surprise with a quick pick-up and carry back to the infirmary or his van! They both cherish one another’s giddy laughter as they’re carried off! Medic picks Sniper up bridal style, but the bushman enjoys tossing the doctor over his shoulder like a bag of bones (which is a pun that Medic quite enjoys)!

What is their favorite features of their partners? Sniper loves Medic’s smile and laugh, despite how shrill it is! He also loves the perfect curl of hair at his forehead, and his breasts and belly! For Medic, it’s very hard to pick: Sniper is his greatest scientific achievement, after all! If he must though, he adores his canine teeth, facial scars, hands, and his breasts and belly too! Both treasure the scars on Sniper’s chest from the operation that brought them together, too!

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other? Nothing, really. Being together became so natural that it became all they knew, all they wanted. Actually being together was the easiest part for both of them! The hardest part was realizing and actualizing the feelings that they both carried for one another for so long. Sniper took much longer to realize his than Medic did, but it was worth the wait!

Nicknames? Medic calls Sniper (his) Spatzchen or Spatz, because the face markings of a sparrow remind him of Sniper’s iconic sideburns! He also calls him Krokodil and Liebling/darling. They both love to lay them on pretty thick! Sniper’s petnames of choice for Medic are Dovey, Plover (the little birds that sit in the mouths of crocodiles), Nurse, Death, and Pidge/Pigeon; if they’re alone, he’ll sweeten it up by ending it with a -darling, -sweetness, or so on! They both enjoy how personal their petnames are, too!

Who worries the most? Sniper for sure. Medic is very self-assured and doesn’t really see any need to worry for any reason. He’s certain that if he ever gets in a sticky situation, he can talk (or cut!) his way right out of it. Sniper is much more pessimistic and is definitely the worrier. He believes Medic is one of the most capable members of their team and doesn’t worry about him much in battle thanks to respawn, but he does often worry about him getting enough sleep! Likewise, Medic knows Sniper can sometimes get a little too in his own head, so they do their best to take care of each other in their own roundabout ways!

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant? Both do, but Sniper often orders because Medic likes to look at the menu and go "ummmmmmmmmmm....!" even if it's somewhere they eat all the time! Sniper thinks its cute though. Both of them are extremely observant by nature so they pick up on what the other likes pretty quickly! They love eating and sharing the food they like. Medic is always eager for Sniper to try his German treats and Sniper always looks forward to being able to cook and grill for Medic! They’ll often collaborate on dinners together, but if they order takeout or go somewhere, they could both very confidently order food for each other!

Who tops? They like switching it up! Medic naturally likes taking initiative and Sniper trusts Medic to lead. Both are invested in each other’s pleasure and like taking their time, riling the other up until they beg! Sniper likes feeling Medic’s weight on top of him and Medic thinks it’s very amusing that Sniper’s legs go weak so easily; he always loves pleasing his touch-starved Aussie! Once they’re together, their sex drives are through the roof. They can’t get enough!

Who initiates kisses? Medic! He pushes his face against Sniper’s when they kiss (especially when it’s just a quick chaste goodbye kiss before they go onto the field!) so their glasses gently knock together and their noses push together… and it takes Sniper’s breath away every time! Medic also loves to grab Sniper’s face and give him a tooth smile just after he pulls away… sometimes he’ll even bite the tip of Sniper’s nose and they share a devious giggle!

Who reaches for the other’s hand first? Sniper… he’s typically much more discreet about pda than Medic is but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t like it! Medic is always moving his hands though (super expressive!), so instead of grabbing for his hand he’s content to hook his finger in one of medic’s beltloops, in his pants/belt, in one of his satchels, etc! If he’s feeling particularly bold, he’ll give them a tug and pull Medic right into his arms or his lap!

Who kisses the hardest? Sniper. When they first start dating he always starts kisses in a rush, pressing his mouth hard against Medic’s, before Medic gently pulls back and grins at him, lets him know there is no rush dummkopf! Sniper gives him a sheepish smile… and they both lean in again, slower, and Sniper’s content to let Medic lead the kiss and just melts against him…

Who wakes up first? Sniper. Old habit to rise with the sun, likes waking up and having ample time to do his morning routines. He puts on the coffeemaker (while Medic is still fast asleep in his van’s loft bed of course!) and brushes his teeth and starts on breakfast. Before Medic, he didn’t typically eat breakfast at all (cup of coffee suffices just fine, he swears), but the doctor can be very persuasive! He’ll feed Sniper a few bites off of his plate and eventually coaxes him into having a little more than just a cup of coffee!

#bushmedicine #tf2 #sniper #medic #tf2 sniper #tf2 medic #dutchfoolery #dutchiehcs #medsnip

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amaryllisthegheist · 14 days

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The Farlands - A Lesson Learned (Pt 3)

When Blackbird opened his eyes, he wanted to go right back to sleep. His mouth was drier than he could ever remember it being and he felt disgustingly sticky. Trying to sit up was a worse idea - the pain in his shoulder blazed to life, reminding him of the dumb decisions he’d made only a few days earlier and his throat stunning, furthering the message while his head throbbed. He blinked slowly, trying to clear up the fuzziness in his vision to understand what was happening around the camp.

Stupid, he thought to himself bitterly, drawing his paws closer to himself.

His own arrogant voice mocking Redstart this entire journey over what her aunt could possibly be protecting them from, the pointless accusations he’d made of her working against them rang through his head, furthering the humiliation he felt sinking into his skin. He flexed his claws into the earth - he felt like the biggest idiot on the stretch in that moment. He’d heard tales of what happened to those beyond the Sanctuary - stars, he’d been around for cats going missing in the night as passing far-creatures took advantage of the mostly undefended cats of the Sanctuary. And instead of thinking logically and using more than his ego to consider that the more experienced molly was deliberately leading them away from the worse dangers, he’d assumed the worst of her automatically and went prancing off to go find a stupid rabbit.

And how here he was with a busted shoulder, a scarred throat and the worst migraine he’d ever had slowing down their group because he was too self-absorbed to even consider what Kite was doing to help them.

“Here.”

He jumped a little, opening his eyes to a large, gray creature being dropped in front of him. He would assume it was a mouse - it certainly seemed like one - but it was huge, only slightly smaller than the average rabbit rather than the paw-sized rodents the Sanctuary had running around. He prodded it with mild disbelief - how could a mouse this big not be as suspicious and deadly as the creatures in the old zone.

“...it’s a dire mouse,” she informed when she noticed his amazement, and potentially the shock on Redstart’s face as well. Blackbird cast a glance around, seeing that Crane's Honor and Plover's Heart were sharing one of the massive mice and Thrasher was ripping away at one that seemed half-gone already. The older molly gestured to the creature, snapping Blackbird’s attention back to her while Redstart shuffled forward to share as well. “They get fucking massive from hunting insects and occasionally eating each other. It’s breeding season for them - the males get massive and start shrieking their heads off around dawn so it’s like finding rain-drops in a rain storm.”

“And they taste great,” Thrasher murmured around a big mouthful of his own.

Kite snorted but pushed a bundle of flower-blossoms and seeds towards him while Redstart ducked her head, beginning to nip at the creature’s thin layer of fur as tear it open.

“These will lessen the pain in your shoulder,” she informed him. “Normally I’d boil them, but I get the feeling you need these as undiluted as possible. Eat the herbs, then eat the mouse to wash the taste away.”

Boil them? He wondered, even as he robotically snapped up the plants to take her advice. His face screwed up at their bitter taste, giving his head a fierce shake and a light gag of disdain as he imagined it - there were so many things that Farwalkers had developed to make life easier that he and everyone else in the Sanctuary had never been exposed to. He got the feeling that they were a bit behind the survival-tactics used by the wider world as he remembered the difference in taste between the water Kite offered them and water from the streams in the Sanctuary.

He jumped a little when something brushed his foreleg and glanced down to see Redstart leveling him a sympathetic look as she pushed the blood carcass of the mouse towards him. He offered a grateful look in return, diving into the much more appreciated iron-y tang while the russet molly began grooming the blood out of her chest.

“Where are we heading next?” Crane's Honor asked, drawing her tongue across her foreleg. She’d taken most quickly to the older molly’s lessons besides Redstart herself since the incident.

Kite flicked her tail, moving briskly towards the long-cooled remains of their campfire and began to pack it all back into the rolled satchel she kept on her hip, “There’s a kinband not too far from here, about a moon’s journey - The Haebond. The Sanctuary of Blood will give us the chance to sleep properly, restock our equipment to make it to the White Peaks and get Blackbird more advanced treatment.”

“You mean the mountains?” Plover's Heart said, a bit taken aback. “We’re going to the mountains? Aren’t there dogs up there?”

“Right… sometimes I forget the Four Clans are all cats,” Kite remarked aloud, moving to collect the now inactive stakes to put away as well. “Yes there are dogs but they’re all Touched and most speak the common farspeech - I know a little dog for those who don’t. As long as you aren’t stupid and don’t try to attack them, you’ll be fine - and once you see how big mountain dogs are, I doubt they’ll be any problems there.”

“It’s still so weird…” Thrasher sighed, her tail swishing a little before glancing up. “Does that mean we’ll meet other non-cat farwalkers?”

“Of course,” said Kite. “Especially if I’m going to start training you lot.”

“We’re training?!” Redstart shrieked with delight, her tail bushing out with excitement.

“I suspect that the only way to find a proper starshard is to enter the Whistling Caverns in the White Peaks,” the molly explained, turning to face them again as she packed away the last of the ward-stakes. “And if you lot are tagging along, you’ll need to know how to defend yourselves against the few farcreatures that live in there. There aren’t many but they’re among the most dangerous you’ll find outside of the Deeplands. And that means, training you as proper farwalkers.”

“But we’re all sealed,” Blackbird pointed out with a frown. “How can we learn to fight if we’re sealed?”

“You don’t need your own magic to use Ancient Symbols,” Kite said in a matter-of-factly way, she nudged Blackbird to his paws watching the almost shaky way he stood with a frown. He did his best to hide his pain and discomfort - a moon’s journey? That was eight days thrice over - it was a daunting prospect trying to survive for so long but he could do it. He had to. She sent him a slightly doubtful expression but didn’t fight him, instead continuing to explain, “And formal Karosseki should allow you to get by.”

She paused and looked Redstart up and down for a moment.

“...and I don’t think Cardinal had you sealed.”

“He didn’t?!” Redstart yelped, startled alongside the rest of them. An unsealed theurgist within the Sanctuary? Sure, it wasn’t super rare but it was rare enough - there had been one other theurgist when she was younger named Blackie once. His mother had kept him under the radar enough for his powers to build and one day, he tried to hex a fellow cub of the Emerald Sector in frustrations - and Redstart had gotten to watch in horror as he screamed, a sort of angry, dark energy blossoming from a spot on his belly and began eating away at him. When it was over, she had stared in numb shock at the stiff husk laying cold and hard on the ground, his mother shrieking in desperate horror for him to wake.

Redstart had never once tried to play ‘charmer’ since that day.

“It’s fine - the wards wouldn’t kill you for having magic. Just for using it,” Kite informed.

“What about when we were kits?” Thrasher asked, a bit confused. “We used magic when we were kits and were fine.”

“There’s a threshold obviously. Your Overseers can’t seal you as a theurgist if they don’t know you are one - so there’s a low-threshold of magic that can be used before the safeguards activate.”

“How can you tell what the threshold is?”

“You let someone use magic until it kills them. Then you know to use less than that.”

Blackbird wonders sometimes if Kite even hears the things that come out of her mouth.

| | | |

They made decent progress traveling the next couple of days - or at least, it felt that way to his inexperienced senses. They’d come across two more containment sectors in their travels, much smaller but evidently better kept. He saw his relief reflected on his friends’ faces when Kite picked their way around them each time, rather than forging through them. Their pace was much slower than they moved before, the molly allowing them an additional break likely to compensate for Blackbird’s shoulder. The wave of humiliation he felt at burdening their group, slowing their journey only increased as he came to better know the leader of this expedition.

Now that he wasn’t intentionally dismissing or ignoring her, the gruff molly was actually starting to grow on him. Though she didn’t speak much unprompted, she was very intelligent, seeming to have collected endless amounts of knowledge about the world around them and was willing to share if asked. She was a bit harsh and seemingly had no concept of honey-coating things but she was honest and kept them properly aware of the situation at paw. There’s an undercurrent of melancholy to her, a hard life of tragedy and tenacity paving the way for her little nuggets of wisdom and advice. Watching her get into a standoff with a spineback that attacked Thrasher, snarling and swiping as she placed herself between them and the beast, he could understand why Redstart held her in such high regard.

She was very much like one of the ancient guards come to life, a turbulent frenzy of frigid apathy to blistering protectiveness.

Blackbird wonders how she must feel about him - too humiliated from being rescued to acknowledge her very good points about sneaking out, too prideful to listen to any of her attempts to teach them to recognize the signs of hidden prey, too stubborn to believe she had their best interests at heart and only yielding when he was badly wounded, almost killed in his immature behavior.

I never should’ve left the Sanctuary, Blackbird sighs to himself long after they’d finally settled down for the day, only snapping back to the present from a prod in his ribcage.

He blinked, turning his gaze on the silken form of Crane's Honor as she settled sympathetically beside him.

“Hey,” she said softly. “How are you feeling?”

“Alright I guess,” he mumbled.

“Well, Kite was about to take Redstart and I hunting,” Crane's Honor explained. “I wanted to know if you want to come with us or stay by the fire.”

Blackbird nearly jumped at the offer immediately - lately, they hadn’t had time to hunt. Usually, they just woke up to Kite extinguishing the camp fire with whatever she’d dragged from the bushes already waiting in front of them, brushing their whiskers or paws for them to eat while they cleaned the area. It was starting to grate on him that he’d never seen her eat actually.

But if one lesson from Kite was beginning to stick, it was to always assess your status before committing into a hunt. If you were low on drinkable water and you were heading out into a dry savannah, you should wait. If you were out of herbs and you had some form of stomach sickness, you shouldn’t risk entering a battle-zone.

And when you were injured to the point that it affects your mobility, you shouldn’t hunt.

So when he extended his foreleg and immediately winced as pain rippled through his muscles, burning harsher than sand in an open cut he settled back down.

“...I think I’ll stay here,” he said, the words leaving a far more bitter tang in his mouth than any of those nasty herbs Kite made him eat. His embarrassment was only faintly mitigated by the fact that he wouldn’t be the only one left behind given that he was staying because he had to.

“Alright,” Crane's Honor said, dipping her head in accept and turned to pad off. He watched her go, envy curling its claws in his stomach as she joined the impatiently dancing Redstart as Kite led them beyond the wards and into the low lying brush nearby.

| | | |

Blackbird practically choked himself as he forced the mouse down this throat.

It had been five long days since he’d gotten his injury but every day felt worse instead of better. Kite showed him how to wrap his own shoulder, helping him change it every night and forcing him to swallow down bitter, vile herbs every morning and the the recovering flesh had turned a proper pale pink. Despite this, the muscle that had been carved away wasn’t growing back and although the fur on his throat had begun to recover, creating a thin fuzzy layer of new fur; his shoulder remained sensitive and exposed. It still stung horrifically when he tried to put too much weight on it or if he stretched it too far.

And even worse he thinks, is the way his mouth was getting drier and drier.

He complained about it often and though Kite told him it wasn’t true, he privately believed the daily regime of herbs to be what was causing his dry mouth. She’d finally gotten sick of his whining and started boiling the herbs into a proper tea for him to drink every morning. His mouth was still dry every morning but he quieted his complaints given that the awful taste had been diluted significantly through the water.

His appetite was decreasing and he found himself less and less inclined to eat. Kite had confirmed he didn’t have an infection, so he put it down to the fact that he could never keep anything down, his stomach churning and twisting every time he tried. It didn’t matter what he ate - sparrows, mice or even rabbits, it would always come right back out half-digested. After doing that for a few days straight, Blackbird feels like anyone would be a bit reluctant to eat.

At least the tea-form of herbs required so much water, so he could bloat himself with it and pretend he was full.

| | | |

“Come on Blackbird, you have to eat something,” Redstart insisted as he pushed away the latest sparrow she offered him. It was small and scrawny, more feathers than meat he thinks but even that felt like too much. “You can’t just drink herbal tea every day.”

“Why? I’ll just throw it up,” he grumbled, passing his tongue across his lips. He pawed his empty bowl lightly, bowing his head he lapped persistently at the damp bottom of the vessel.

“Look you’re thirsty,” Redstart urged, pushing the sparrow closer. “At least eat this until Kite finds another water source for you.”

Blackbird sighed and turned away from the bowl, dragging the bird closer to himself. She was right at least - the last two pools of water had been deemed unsafe, even when boiled by the older molly and she’d even offered them the chance to smell it when they whined. He nearly forced himself to throw up on the spot as he remembered the rancid scent of the water while she pointed out the rotting, decaying bodies of fish and frogs eerily not floating in the murky liquid before they unanimously agreed to move on.

He did his best to ignore her worried expression when she groomed his shoulders and neck when he woke them all up, coughing and gagging in the middle of the night as he spat out the mangled mass of feathers.

He collapsed onto his side panting as Redstart cleaned away the sweat tangled in his fur.

| | | |

Blackbird lapped desperately from the clear stream passing rapidly through the stones, taking in as much as he could while Kite filled a vial. They’d been surviving purely off the water from the blood and muscle of their prey, rather than risk the dangerous still waters of the bracken. With every swallow, the almost painful dryness of his mouth was finally starting to die down but only as long as he continued to drink.

“We’ll make camp nearby,” Kite remarked, eying him as she corked her vial. “You won’t be able to go far drinking that much water.”

Blackbird’s ear flicked, barely making out the note of concern in her voice as he focused on the cure before him.

Stars, Water has never tasted so good.

| | | |

Blackbird didn’t even look at the tiny, scrawny mouse that Kite dropped beside him with his latest bowl of tea. It was even smaller than the creatures found back in the Sanctuary - a baby maybe, unfilling to anyone but maybe a few moons’ old cub who’s just started eating solid prey. Which means that if he threw it all back up, he would’ve spat out half of his stomach with it.

He lapped up his tea while Kite sighed, passing the mouse to Crane's Honor to finish for him.

| | | |

He wonders when he’d gone from feeling nauseous at the thought of eating to feeling nauseous watching others eat. He felt his throat constrict with every crunch of bones and drip of blood in his friends’ mouths and turned his gaze away.

I might be ruined forever just because I was so stupid, he thought to himself in resignation. At the very least, there was only another four days before they reached the Blood Sanctuary. Or was it six? His internal clock had gotten skewed from the last time they passed through a small patch of woods.

He decided to distract himself, drawing his tongue across his his filthy pelt. He always woke in the middle of the night, choking and coughing drenching himself in sweat or missing his leaf, throwing up on his own fur. He hadn’t been feeling the desire to groom himself - his mouth constantly tasted like he was chewing dandelion fluff and rabbit-tails, completely dry and uncomfortable at the best of times.

Would he ever taste rabbit again? Or would he be forced onto a diet of herbs, berries and the occasional slab of simple meat to keep himself alive? Had he completely destroyed his own future?

He squeezed his eyes tightly shut as they began to sting with the weight of his decisions, furiously dragging his tongue across his chest.

He couldn’t afford to think about that now.

| | | |

The herbs weren’t working anymore - of that, Kite was sure. His stomach clawed with hunger even when he drank so much water his stomach bulged out and the idea of trying to swallow anything else would make him vomit.

“Our kind wasn’t meant to subsist on herbs,” Kite said gruffly, watching him drink. “I don’t think those have anything more to offer you.”

| | | |

He averted his eyes from Redstart as she hastily tried to finish off the strange frog-like creature she’d caught.

With them running low on herbs, he couldn’t afford to throw up the meager amounts he’d managed to swallow today.

| | | |

His mind was starting to feel hazy now - or maybe it had been hazy for a while and he hadn’t noticed?

He’d lost track of how many days they’d been traveling since his injury - one set of eight? Two sets and a few days? He didn’t know - the days passed by in a blur, the faint cloud cover floated across the sky in the day and every stretch of grassland or woodland felt exactly the same.

He didn’t understand the defeated look on Kite’s face when she announced that they would be stopping to make camp for a few days, resting and recovering before they could finish the last leg. He was exhausted, staggering closer to the fire than usual and flopping down onto his side. A glint in the firelight caught his eyes and he blinked sluggishly.

Her claws are unsheathed, he thought belatedly as his eyes slipped shut.

| | | |

I was such an idiot.

| | | |

“Blackbird stop!” Crane's Honor shrieked desperately, pressing her paws against his shoulders and chest to keep his gnashing mouth from her face.

Her mind whirled frantically - she should be able to throw him off now. She would’ve already done so easily if he were still like he used to be at the beginning of their journey. But with the pressure that travel had put on them, his long slender limbs had begun to gain some muscle and his despite his emaciated, starved look, he held a new kind of power. He snapped at her again, almost grasping her whiskers in his teeth if she hadn’t slammed her paw on the bottom of his chin, redirecting his attack upwards while she tried not to think about the foggy look in his usually sharp, blue eyes.

He released a nonsensical cry of pain, drool was smeared all across his mouth and dripping from his maw onto her paw while his paws swiped blindly, claws attempting to find purchase on her body. She shrieked as he managed to hook a few into her pelt, raking his claws down the side of her ribs and she lashed out with her hind-legs again. This time, they impacted well enough on his chest to send him flying through the air and slamming harshly into the ground, releasing a ragged gasp of shock.

I can’t let him bite me!

Crane's Honor ran, pelting from the wards remembering how Kite had explained the way they worked. With Blackbird’s blood within the stakes, they wouldn’t protect her from him though now she understand why Kite had hesitated for a brief moment before adding his blood.

He recovered swiftly coming howling after her, eerily alike to the horrid creatures that had attacked him in the first place, snapping at her tail and trying to sink his teeth into her hind leg. She hissed when his claws struck her hip and whipped around, lashing out with a paw scoring deep claw marks down his face. Much to her horror however, he didn’t react merely shaking his head once before pouncing on her, sinking her teeth into the scruff of her neck.

She didn’t hesitate to drop, rolling swiftly on her back to slam him fiercely into the earth, making him gasp once more and release her.

She scrambled back to her paws and sprinted back towards the camp - if she fled too far, she would end up lost on the stretch and then, Blackbird would be the least of her worries.

He still clawed after her, springing on her once more when she crossed the wards and they were locked in a screeching, snarling whirlwind of claws and blood. She bit and tore and kicked as she tried to dislodge him again, her movements becoming more frantic with every lunge he made towards her throat.

I can’t let him-

She released a gasp of shock as abruptly, Blackbird was yanked off of her like he was merely a nuisance.

She rolled to her paws immediately, adopting a defensive stance as she panted before she recognized her savior as Kite. She watched the older molly swing the still screeching, snarl mass of fur that was Blackbird into the air by the scruff like she was going to throw him. Instead, she yanked her yeah down sharply and Blackbird’s body didn’t follow fast enough.

Crane's Honor emptied her stomach at the snapping sound that rang through the air as the clearing finally fell silent.

| | | |

Redstart stared blankly, feeling numb to everything as Kite slung Blackbird’s broken body across her back, leaving him to hang as limply as the rabbits they hunted. The peaceberry-jam - made from an intensely poisonous berry that could put down creatures as big as as elk in only a single night - remained latched tightly to her hip, untouched and unused. It made her feel sick to realize that they’d stopped because her aunt had realized that Blackbird’s condition had been too severe, that there was no saving him - that she’d intended to give him a painless death through a delightfully tasting jam in his sleep.

But they hadn’t been fast enough.

And now Crane's Honor was all wrapped up in the last bits of Kite’s unused bandages (“The rest of you better not get hurt or you’re walking with open bites”), limping slowly around the camp like she’d seen a ghost after being forced to fight him. Now they were down a friend in a way they would never get the back.

“There’s a burial place for Tainted Ones not far from here,” Kite said eventually, gesturing for them to begin following her. “It’s not far from the Haebond.”

None of them protested, merely falling into step behind her as they moved out.

Redstart can’t believe that she’d thought this trip would be easy, that it would mostly be boring, they they’d return in maybe a couple of moons as heroes to be admired showing everyone what a theurgist could be while saving her father. Now Blackbird was dead and he would never see his siblings or parents again.

“There’s no point in punishing you,” Kite had said when she led them away from the devourer. “The farlands teaches its own lessons - I’m just here to keep you alive.”

Redstart shuddered as Thrasher rested his tail gently over her flanks, swallowing back a pained wail as she did her best not to look at Blackbird’s limp body, swaying like caught prey. The Farlands taught lessons alright - and Redstart thinks she preferred Kite’s.

“I’m so sorry Blackbird,” she finally croaked out, feeling the wind ruffling the fur around her neck. “May you walk the skies in peace now.”

#creatures of the farlands #amaryllis writes #arc journey for the starshard #cw blood #cw swearing #magic #cw death #cw vomit

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renatedagmarmilada · 2 years

Text

Kashmiri Scars

watching as the walls grow

from daily gifts

each part of the holy cow

aimless, bony

bovine straddling

providers of show leather

food and drink

the storm grew great

as Jesus died

yet could not die

seven plovers flew the sky

taken off the cross

not alone was he

who lived

with Mother Mary walked

whence once a child

had learnt the ancient wisdom

paid for by three oriental kings

who set up father Josef

in the joiner's business

windows rattled in the storm

he'd taught Rabbis in the temples

now struggling across mountains

and dale to escape

over sand and sea

over grass and thatch

to find the holy river

Mary's grave still stands

a path trodden to this very day

come walk to that spot

there on Koh Maree Mountain

its soil kept moist

by the holy air

ailing and ill

Mother Mary had passed away

but doubting Thomas still searched

as Jesus' prophesying voice was heard

murdered in merciless Madras

and yet the struggle grows

though sixteen centuries have passed

and sown their seeds

since the Arabian steed

had unfurled with all its speed

there over the Yusmarg in Kashmir

that storm still blows

nursing the meadow of Jesus

and when I die

I will tell thee

on Kashmiri scars

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my-mr-x · 2 years

Link

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richs-pics · 2 years

Photo

Plover Scar Lighthouse at low tide

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raven0276 · 2 years

Text

Three Leaf Plover... ☘️ (Click for full size images)

A portrait of a tiny little Lancashire lighthouse (the only off-shore Lancashire lighthouse) transitioning from golden hour to twilight.

Don't forget, pre-orders for my 2023 calendar (aptly named Landscapes & Seascapes) close in a little over a week, so if you want yours, don't sleep on it and get in touch if you'd like to place an order.

Just £10.99 each or 2 for £20 with UK postage included in that price - delivered in ample time for Christmas (stocking fillers?) 😉

Anyways, hope you're all enjoying the weekend so far. I hope you like these three.

Adam x

📷 Canon 80D

🔘 Canon EF-S 10-22mm f/3.5-4.5

⚙️ Various

📍 Plover Scar Lighthouse, Lancashire, UK

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face--the--strange · 4 years

Photo

The Magicians + wolf pupy, part 4/? ↬ antagonist edition

made for @whitespiresarmory challenge, theme ↬ antagonists

#whitespiresarmory #the magicians #themagiciansedit #marina andrieski #quentin coldwater #fun! :D #I was so excited when this was announced as a theme #I hoped it would be one :D #the monster #the monster's sister #martin chatwin #ember #tick pickwick #christopher plover #wolfpupymagicians #!made by me #food cw #scars cw

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egrets-not-regrets · 4 months

Text

Halcyon Nights, Halcyon Days

According to Greek Mythology, it is the fourteen-day period of calm around the winter solstice when storms do not occur. Just Alcyon and Amelia things, pre- and post-Ben/Malaran.

Dialogue spoken in Gothic are bolded and in italics.

Author's Note: I couldn't help myself to write more about Alcyon and Amelia. Their relationship is so compelling to me.

Thanks @squishyowl and @saradika-graphics for the fic dividers!

OCs: Alcyon (Chaos Iron Warrior), Amelia Plover

Tagged: @shadowfirecat, @kit-williams, @bleedingichorhearts,

@sleepyfan-blog, @barn-anon, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

@gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @bispecsual

Absence

The nights when she’s alone are the worst. Those nights remind her of her failure as a mother, a wife, and a failure to protect her son. Alcyon knows Amelia cried herself to sleep those nights when he sees her the next day. He could still smell the remnants of her sorrow-laced tears.

2. Presence

Alcyon’s presence gives her very mixed feelings. Sometimes she is angry at him, preferring that he would leave her, remembering it was his fight with the Black Templar that was the fatal mistake that caused her to lose the chance of ever seeing her son. Other times, she is appreciative that he’s still there with her so she doesn’t have to feel quite as alone.

3. Together at Night

Alcyon prefers to go home to Amelia if he could help it. He does not like to leave his mate alone with her tears at night. Those nights together, Amelia falls asleep against him, listening to the steady beats of his two hearts. In the silence of the darkness, he vows to make up for his past mistake and to shore her defences against her sorrows. Those nights he is able to wipe away her tears when she cries.

4. To Forget

Some nights Amelia wants to forget and be lost to the pleasures of the flesh. So Alcyon indulges her. Gives her the pleasure she seeks. She rides him, revelling in his presence and the distraction that he provides. It doesn’t take long before she gets ridden in turn, both drawing on each other’s pleasure and pain to completion so as to not think about their own mistakes. Sometimes it’s slow and romantic, other times it’s savage and painful. Those nights Amelia gains new scars from Alcyon’s metal claw if he holds her too tightly with it. She usually falls into a dreamless sleep after, if only out of exhaustion.

5. Pray

Amelia sometimes prays during the nights when Alcyon is out on a mission. She’s not so religious anymore, but she does pray to whoever is out there for Alcyon’s safety. Those nights she forgets her anger towards him and only wishes for him to come home to her in one piece.

6. To Be Held

Some nights Amelia holds her Astartes instead of the other way around. After their bond nearly broke, Alcyon needed to confirm that she was still there. Still willing to stay. Still willing to allow him to make amends for his mistake. Amelia had given him so much grace, but at times he feared that she would disappear again. Those nights he would nestle against her chest, breathing in her mild floral scent, with his one arm wrapped around her tightly. She would stroke his head, running her hand through his tightly cropped grey hair.

7. Family

Alcyon watches over Amelia and Ben as they sleep, listening to their heartbeats slow down and even out. Ben unconsciously curls closer toward his mother. Amelia breathes a hummed sigh, wrapping an arm protectively around her son. What was hers, was his to protect as well, he decided. Alcyon realized then that this was his family now, not just hers. He won’t let anything separate them ever again.

8. Looming

Alcyon has a tendency to loom over Amelia at home, especially in the kitchen. He’s not particularly adept in the culinary arts as some of his brothers, nor does he particularly care for the food humans eat that much as they don’t provide enough sustenance. However, it is not to say that he is not interested in the process, particularly when closely watching her work. Sometimes he helps Amelia by getting a bowl, pot, or a measuring cup that is out of her reach. He places those items up there himself so there was something he could do to be involved.

9. Attempted Purring

Amelia finds it cute and endearing when Alcyon tries to purr. That man can’t purr. When he does try, it sounds like a weird mix between a broken engine, a snarl, and the chuff and groan of a needy tiger. The first time he did it, Amelia got worried if he was snarling about something she did wrong, or there’s something wrong with his lungs and he needed to see the apothecary. Once he explained what he was trying to do, she couldn’t stop laughing about it. Alcyon tries for her though, if only to see her laugh.

10. Actual Purring

Amelia sometimes idly scratches his back while they stand in the kitchen together waiting for food to cook. One time, she ended up scratching an old scar near the middle of his back where he could not conveniently reach, a place where he usually just waits for the itch to pass. It was deeply satisfying and relaxing, so much so that he leaned back against her hand and a deep rumble started revving from his chest. Amelia smiles at him, “So that’s what I need to do to get you purring.”

11. Scary

There is no doubt that Alcyon is incredibly intimidating. He once scared children into crying when he went into the medical ward to pick up Amelia. She had to go out and reassure them that: Yes, that’s her Astartes; no, he isn’t the boogeyman, and no, he wasn’t going to eat them for dinner, despite what their parents tell them. He found it amusing and decided to do this a several more times before Osteron forces him to wait for Amelia outside the medical wing from there on out.

12. Uncertainty

When Alcyon received the vox call from Sirass, he was somewhat reluctant to let Amelia know. What if it wasn’t Ben? Would he be setting her up for another heartbreak? He was not sure if his mind would survive their bond actually breaking this time.

13. Troublemaker

Amelia usually calls Malaran, “Orca”, Ben’s given name, but Malaran knows that he’s in trouble and Alcyon will be involved if she starts calling him by his actual name.

14. Wife

“You’ve been calling me, “mate”, your mate, this entire time.” Amelia stated, once they entered into the privacy of his own room at the base.

“Yes.” The midnight blue of his remaining eye stared back at her evenly.

“So what does “my soul” mean?”

“My soul.” Alcyon answered, as he slowly closed the distance between them. Her heart beat faster at their proximity.

“And “my wife”?” She asked as he pulled her close.

“My wife.” He kissed her.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry #space marine husbandry sentience #chaos iron warriors #chaos astartes #oc: alcyon #oc: amelia plover

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