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blooming-violets · 1 year

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[tasm!peter x forest nymph, fantasy au]

Summary: A forest nymph captures Peter’s heart.

Warnings: 18+ smut (mostly smut with a light plot), both fem and male oral, vaginal penetration, slight breeding kink

A/N: I started this for the Kink or Treat event that happened during Kinktober but it’s now the second week of November so...I’m late. Per usual. Better late than never though!

She smiled up at the hazy, autumn morning sun that was beginning to break through the clouds. The day after a rainstorm was always her favorite. The scent of rich, damp earth and decaying plants teased her nostrils. The forest floor was soft under her bare feet, the green moss, covered with a layer of wet leaves, cushioned her every step. It was the last few remaining days before she would take her slumber. Once the air cooled and snow flurries fell from the sky, she would retreat back to the safety of her home. When the last leaf fell from the tree, she would fall with it into her winter dormancy, only to reemerge the following season when the green buds sprouted to life.

Her long hickory colored mane tumbled down her bare back in wild, untamed waves. The silky tips brushed against her bottom as she strode with a hypnotic sway of her hips towards her favorite bathing spot. A series of small waterfalls, stacked into rocklike steps, that pooled with perfect watering holes. The brown speckled rocks were smoothed down from the centuries of waterflow to create a hidden gem tucked away deep into the forest. As the morning golden rays of sunlight peeked over the tips of the trees, her world was cast into a fiery display of rich reds, shining yellows, and warm oranges. A perfect autumn morning to relish in her few remaining days.

There was only one thing missing to make her day complete and she hoped she would find it before the night fell.

He had promised her, after all.

She’d come to trust his promises. He had yet to break one. He was different from the rest. Even the Gods could not be trusted to keep their end of a bargain. But, alas, her Peter was no God. He was merely a man. A mortal man. A trained and powerful warrior but still a man. He promised her his devotion and protection as long as she promised to meet him whenever he called upon her. Last night, his message was carried on the backs of the wind. He was on his way. She longed for his arrival.

The crystal clear water of Mother Nature's pool felt cool against her skin as she waded into the deepest depths. The cold of the river did not affect her like it would a mortal. It seeped into her skin and awoke each of her senses. She drew the lifeforce from the water and felt more alive with each passing second. A twinkle of light laughter fell from her lips as she sunk down to her shoulders. Her nipples tightened as the water weaved between her thighs, as if it had a mind of its own, to lap at her flesh like a flurry of tiny tongues. She was one with the nature around her. She could feel every breath of life that radiated from the ground. It was her home. Her safety.

The wind rose up, blowing back the wisps of hair that teased at her cheek, and swirled around her naked skin. When she held her hand above the water, the wind curled through her dripping fingers. It tickled her fingers to elicit another laugh from her. Her hand sunk back under the water to gently cup her soft, round breasts and smooth down her over her belly in growing anticipation for her lover to arrive. Her body was untouched by time, forever in her prime, and eager to be pleased by knowing hands. Many had worshiped her flesh before, many had pushed her to the brinks of pleasure, but none had captivated her like Peter. She never wanted to be tied down to one partner. Even now, she still enjoys her joyous romps with her favorite Satyrs, but none held her heart like her human did. He was special. She couldn’t quite place how. It didn’t matter. All she knew was that Peter was hers. She cradled his soul in her palms.

She closed her eyes to imagine her lover. She remembered the feel of his warm tongue and soft lips as they glided over her chest, hungry for something only her body could satiate. He would seek out the sweet nectar between her thighs and feast on her like a starving man devouring his first meal in days. There was a particular charm to Peter which other’s lacked. He lived to serve her. He aimed to please not be pleased. It was a rare kindness for the men she often came across. His innate ability for lovemaking resembled more of a woman’s compassionate touch than a man’s. And, still, he had a jealous streak, wishing to never share her with anyone else. She was not meant to be possessed, no matter how hard he tried. No man could ever own her. Not even Peter.

The rustle of the leaves changed their usual sound to alert her of a new presence approaching. He was almost here. His familiar scent floated before him on the wind to reach her first. She inhaled the comforting smell with a smile. He was coming in from the north.

She lifted herself out of the water to perch on a large rock at the edge of the river. The sun had been busy warming it for her and the heat felt nice absorbing into her skin. She pulled her long hair over her shoulder to run her fingers through the locks, humming a soft and enchanting melody while she patiently waited. The light inside of her was growing the closer he got. By the time she watched his shadow emerge from between the trees, she was practically bursting with excitement. Still, she feigned ignorance to his presence, continuing to hum and brush out her hair.

He was watching her in silence. He always took his time to approach. The first time they met, he had spied on her for nearly three hours before making his entrance. She knew. She always knew when she was being watched. She loved the attention and enjoyed showing off for her unsuspecting suitors. This morning was no different.

Her hands fell to her breasts, tweaking her nipples between her fingers with a soft sigh. Peter loved her chest. He could spend an entire evening doing nothing but nursing on her ripe breasts while his fingers twirled through her hair. They would lay together for hours, lazily exploring each other’s bodies while listening to the sounds of the forest sing around them. She could hear him give a sharp inhale from the opposite side of the river and knew he was enjoying what he saw.

Her upturned eyes, phthalo green with shimmers of gold specs, unique to her kind, finally crossed the gap to land on him. She gazed at him through long lashes. A smile tugged at her lips at the sight. His chestnut hair was longer than it was the last time she saw him. It curled around his ears and at the nape of his neck. He looked older. Men always age so fast to her. A new scar cut along his cheekbone. White but prominent. Something that must have happened a few months ago while he was away. She knew he was a warrior fighting for his people’s freedom and that was a job that came with many dangers. She didn’t concern herself with many human issues though. As long as he kept safe and returned to her, she didn’t mind what disheveled state he showed up as.

Peter straightened up when he saw he caught her attention. She stood on the rock, tossing her tumbles of hair behind her. His warm brown eyes danced over her nudity. To see a woman stand naked and unabashed out in the open was forbidden where he was from. Her sight stunned him every single time. His eyes sought out her chest, taking in the rise and fall of her breasts with their dark, budding tips and continued down to the indent of her waist and over her generous hips to her long, sturdy legs. She allowed him to look upon her in silence before she dove, head first, into the pool.

She swam with a dazzling grace under the water until she emerged directly in front of him with a wide, teasing smile. Peter knelt down in front of her, reaching his hand out for her to take. The moment they clasped, he effortlessly pulled her from the water and onto her feet. Time seemed to come to a standstill as she pressed her face against his chest to breathe in his intoxicating scent clinging to his shirt. His strong arms wrapped around her wet body, crushing her breasts against him, and drawing her up against the rising hardness between his thighs. Fingers brushed the long, silky strands of wet hair over her shoulder, lowering his head to the exposed flesh, as his lips drank from her skin.

She hummed with content at his touch, “Have you been with another since we were together last?” It was something she always asked. She played it off as curiosity but the blatant, underlying jealousy was easily noticeable. She could be others but not him. He belonged to her and only her.

Peter sighed, shaking his head against the crook of her neck, “No. I’ve told you. You are my only one. The women try but none compare to you. Once your eyes have been blessed with the sight of a nymph, you can never see beauty the same way again.”

She’d never met a human woman before. Their appearance was forgein to her so she had no input on the subject. If Peter claimed that her beauty outshone a human, then she could only go off his word, and his word satisfied her question. He was still hers.

“I have been with others,” she replied, hoping to elicit a particular response from him. “No humans, though. I saw one pass through once but I stayed hidden.” She knew he wasn’t fond of that answer but he understood how nymphs lived. This was a part of her. Her sexuality could not be held down. Still, she enjoyed toying with his emotions. Men were so easily manipulated by beauty. If she asked, he would fight wars in her honor.

His arms tightened possessively around her and she smiled. His male pride and ego fought his own war raging inside his head but he took a deep breath. He didn’t want to share her but knew he had no choice. If he wanted her, this was how it would be. She would always come when he called. She would always be his when he needed her. She would choose him over another if given the chance and that would have to be enough.

Calloused, rough fingertips slide down her spine to cup her bottom and draw her even harder against his evident desire for her. He was showing her what he could offer, why he was there, and everything she wanted. A devilish smile spread across her face followed by a chiming laugh. She wriggled out of his grasp and dived back into the pool, swimming back to the rock she had been lounging on when he arrived.

“Hey!” He called out after her, a smile of his own growing on his rosy lips.

She kept her back to him, hearing him strip off his clothes behind her, and folded her arms on the rock’s surface to rest her head in them. Her eyes set sight into her dying forest. She took care of it. Her soul and the trees were tangled into one. Soon they would be put to rest so new life could grow. It was a beautiful cycle she had been a part of for years now. There was something special in the days leading to winter. A hopeful sadness. Death that would lead to life. The end of one thing and the birth of another. The circle of life starting over once more.

Icy hands stole around her waist and leaned her back against his bare chest. Peter wasn’t built like her. The chill of the water wouldn’t be pleasant for him but he endured for her sake. His chin rested on her shoulder, her head nuzzling against his, letting his wet hair tickle her ear. She could sense his sadness. He knew what winter meant. She would not be around for him to call upon until the snow melted. This would be the last time of the year they would get to spend in each other’s arms. He missed her already.

“Do you promise you will return to me?” He whispered.

She gave a soft, pleased sigh, “I promise. When the first sprout pushes through the frosty ground, you will be the first I seek. Be waiting for me. You know my tree. Keep it safe while I sleep. As long as it is still standing, I will awake in the spring.”

“Then I will protect that tree with my life.”

She turned around in his embrace, locking her arms around his neck, and softly pressed her lips to his. His lips were already colder than normal. She tried to warm them through their kiss. Her eyes, holding the heart of the forest in their depths, gazed up at him with a playful amusement. She liked that she would be missed. She knew her winter dreams would be filled with him but time would pass quickly for her. Peter would be the one to carry the burden of the wait. His lips parted, forcing his tongue to dance with hers, as he pressed her tighter against the rock. His movements were fueled with a demanding desire. He wanted to have her. He knew he’d be forced to wait a long time for their next encounter so he refused to wait now. Today, she was his, and only his. He would prove to her that he was better than any other one she made love to. That was why she liked to bring it up each time they met. It turned him into an animal in need of her utter devotion.

Cool waves of water sloshed up over her sides as she melted beneath his urgency. Quivers of heat shot between her thighs every time he ground his lips against hers. A cold, muscular thigh wedged its way between her legs offering a place to sit. Her heat pressed against his skin as she angled her hips to better situate her delicate nub to rub against him. Peter shuddered when her hand sought out his cock. She marveled at the perfection of man. She’d seen many sizes and Peter was perfect. Not too big to cause pain like some of the Gods she’d been with but perfectly sized to get the maximum amount of pleasure. She loved the way it twitched and throbbed against her palm, her fingers encircling his girth to slowly pump him between her fist.

Peter gave a low groan into her open mouth. He gripped at her hips and lifted her, away from him, to gently sit on the rock. He never let her tend to him first. She smiled down at him shivering in the water and let her legs fall open so he could be face to face with her hidden treasure. His eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head at the sight.

“I worship you,” he whispered.

His hands rose from out of the water to wrap his arms around her thighs and pull her to the very edge of the rock. She gave a light laugh, enjoying the feeling of being so well adored. The muscles in her thighs tightened as fingers deftly parted her lush folds, still clinging to the sparkling water in the morning sun. Peter took a moment to enjoy the beauty bestowed onto him before easing his head down between her thighs. Anticipation curled through her stomach as he gazed at her sultry core. She felt his cool breath tickle her sensitive skin just before his warm tongue darted out, slowly licking a path from her dewy gate up to circle her throbbing clitoris.

With a heavy exhale, her head fell back to stare up at the sky and her lips parted on a soft moan, “Oh, Peter, how I’ve missed you.”

Peter’s hands held her thighs wide apart as she squirmed against his mouth. Her breath came out in shallow, uneven pants. Honey flowed between her thighs and his tongue sought out every last drop. Fingers pressed against her entrance, seeking admittance and coating in her slick, before pressing forward to slide between her tight walls. Her body clenched around the thrusting digits as his mouth expertly sucked on her nub. Heat scorched through her, pushing away the autumn chill, as tension coiled in her stomach. Nymphs were known to be very sensitive and easy to please but Peter never did a sloppy job of anything involving her. He took his time. He got the majority of his pleasure from worshiping her body.

She whimpered as the fingers withdrew from her warmth and were replaced back with his hungry mouth. His tongue thrust up inside of her, fucking her slowly. The grip around her thighs tightened, pulling her bottom off the rock to press against his face. He gave loud moans as he savored her taste. That familiar burning ball of pressure started to grow in her stomach. Her hips grinded against his mouth trying to force his tongue deeper into her depths. She was close to reaching the place of pure euphoria. He could sense her anxious, pulsating, need and sped up his ministrations, pinning her tightly to his mouth as he ate her out.

A screaming gasp echoed off the forest trees as that ball untangled into a bright light of passion. Her hands gripped onto fistfuls of his hair to keep her from falling off the rock and she rode out her high with a series of shrill shrieks. Her body shook and trembled while Peter continued to drink from her lifeforce until she finally collapsed on top of him.

He collected her protectively in his arms, dragging her back into the water, to cradle her against his chest. His fingers brushed through her hair and he shushed her soft whimpers, “You did so good, my little nymph.” Lips pressed against her temple. “Thank you for letting me taste you. I will never tire of your sweetness on my tongue.”

She felt the steady beat of his heart and tried to match her breaths to the beat. Her eyes opened to gaze through half closed lids up at his handsome face. His lips were dusting with a light blue. Despite trying to keep them from shivering, he couldn’t quite control his chattering teeth. She laughed, cupping his cold cheek in her palm.

“Come on, my love. Let’s get you out of this water.” She grasped his hand and swam him to the other side of the pool where his abandoned clothes and bag lay strewn over the soft grass. She knew he wouldn’t leave the waters depths unless she instructed him to. Wherever she was, he was going to stay.

Droplets clung to his thick lashes and dripped off his bottom lip. She had the urge to catch it on her tongue. Peter gave her a loving smile and grabbed the bag off the ground. He pulled out a wool blanket and wiped off the excess water from his body before laying it over a bed of leaves. He laced his fingers with hers and laid down with her in his arms, using her body heat to help warm himself.

He cherished the moments after her orgasm the most. Her usual mischievous playfulness dulled to a deeper intimacy while her strange colored eyes softened as she studied him. Their times together were never long enough. Passing ships. He craved her by his side. He’d dream of stealing her from these woods and dragging her back to his village so she could spend the rest of her life with him but he knew his desires were fueled by selfishness. She would hate it there. She could never leave her forest. He thought of moving out into the forest to be with her. He could build himself a little hut and live by her side but she always refused his advances. She could never be his. Not fully. She knew him too well. He wouldn’t be able to sit in his hut knowing that she was out giving herself to someone else. If a God came calling for her, who was he to challenge them? She needed her freedom as badly as he needed her and he would never deny her that right.

Despite his aching heart, his desires only grew. He listened to her soft, labored breaths in his ear and admired the way the sun dried the droplets from her smooth skin faster than normal. Even her long, thick hair was already starting to dry out moments after leaving the water. She was an enigma to him and he was completely enraptured by her mere existence. He wanted more from her than what he was given. He couldn’t help but dream bigger than the life they were currently living.

Peter had heard stories about human’s mating with the nymphs. There were legends of the beautiful half-nymphs who walked between the two worlds. It was a new desire that had been tumbling around his thoughts for the past few days. He wanted to be the one to give her a child.

“Have you ever given birth?” He asked, breaking the silence.

Her laughter filled his ears at his unexpected question and he felt his ears burning in embarrassment.

“No, my love. I have not. Not yet. I assume some day I may bear a child. Why?” She blinked up at him with her curious, innocent eyes.

A blush deepened his chilled cheeks, “Have you ever thought about it?”

An understanding sparked in her expression, “Do you wish to give me a child, Peter? What about your future wife? Won’t she be appalled by the idea of you impregnating a nymph? I’ve heard stories about what humans think of us. You’d never get a proper wife if they found out.”

“What future wife?” He countered. “I have no need for wives.”

“Someday you will need to find a spouse to carry on your family name. That is what you men do. That’s part of your legacy.” She waited with bated breath to hear his reply, knowing his answer would determine her next move. If he asked her to have his children, she would not deny him.

Peter shook his head, “No. Not me. I have no legacy if it’s not with you.”

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips, “Then I will not stop you from the legacy you deserve.”

Peter felt the throbbing in his loins. Everything but the thought of spilling his seed into her welcoming womb disappeared. He needed her. His fingers caught her chin as he lowered his mouth to settle over hers, letting her taste her own lingering passion as his tongue explored her mouth. He had answered correctly and passed her test.

She kissed him back, that familiar tingling feeling of excitement starting to grow in her belly the more urgent his kiss became. His mouth ground itself against hers, devouring, seeking, and demanding her attention. Heat shimmered through her when his hand closed around her supple breast, teasing the aching tip. If she left him to his devices, Peter would undoubtedly shimmy his way back down to her core for another taste. This time, she wanted to be the one to please him. A reward for only choosing her. Her mouth pulled away to catch her breath.

“Roll over,” she ordered.

Peter did as he was told and flopped onto his back. The golden sun reflected off his damp chest with dancing light. It only served to highlight the perfect beauty of his toned body. She rose above him, joy filling her eyes at the sight. Her mouth lowered to sink her teeth into his shoulder, a teasing bite to awake his senses, and she laughed when she heard him hiss at the quick pain. He was her favorite plaything.

Her hair feathered across his tanned skin, the result of hours spent working in the sun, as her lips trailed down his chest. The pads of her finger tips tickled over his sides, causing him to squirm, while she continued her slow descent to her prize. When she reached his tight stomach, she paused, resting her cheek above his belly button to gaze lovingly at the hard, throbbing shaft resting against his thigh. A familiar friend. Her fingers gently reached out to stroke over his length and wrap around his girth. Exploring him. Inquisitive, round eyes admired the beautiful sight he had to offer. The more she caressed him, the shorter his breaths became.

“Would you like me to taste you, Peter?” She offered, knowing she was going to, but wanting to hear him say it.

He took a shaky breath, “I’d prefer to have my mouth on you but do what you think is best.”

She giggled. It was what he always said. He hated the idea of making her work for his pleasure but she never saw it as work. She adored feeling him against her tongue. He deserved to lay back and enjoy her talents.

Her tongue teased over the glistening tip. Some days she would tease him for longer but, this morning, she could not wait. With a low moan, she took him into her mouth. His satin globe settled between her cheeks as she began to work him inch by inch down her throat. Peter was a mouthful but she could handle herself. She licked the sensitive underside of his head before swallowing him back down. Her head fell into a bobbing rhythm causing him to groan and lean back against the blanket. His eyes fixated on the colorful trees painting the deep blue sky above him. He couldn’t think of a better way to spend his morning. His hand fell down to grasp onto the back of her head. He took a fistful of her silky hair in his grip, helping ease her up and down in his lap.

“That’s it,” he sighed. “Mm, you make me feel so nice.”

She smiled around the mouthful of cock. She was starting to crave his praise. In a show of appreciation, she relaxed her throat and brought her lips all the way to his base. His curly patch of coarse pubic hair tickled the tip of her nose as he let out a loud whine. His hand held her head down for a few seconds, enjoying the sensation, before pulling her back up with a fistful of hair. She took a quick gasp of air but almost immediately went straight back to tending to her lover. It didn’t take long for an all consuming heat to begin burning through him as her mouth treasured his manhood. Her lips were like magic. She could coax even the most powerful man to his knees with nothing but her tongue. His bottom clenched and rose from the ground, thrusting deeper, and meeting the downward plunge of her mouth. A quiet whimper fell from his lips as his breathing labored.

They both knew he was close. Usually when he found his release, he would need to take a while before they could play again. Today, he wanted to save himself for her. As much as he would love to feel her swallow his every drop, he would not be denied the pleasure of emptying into her fiery heat. He would save everything he had for their love making.

Peter carefully lifted her head from his shimmering, saliva drenched cock as she gave him a pout. He chuckled at the sight of her disappointment.

“Not now,” he said, trying to resist her pleading eyes. “That’s not where I want to finish. I need it to be inside you.”

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and a smirk spread across her pouty lips, “Never disrupt a woman from her work. Now you must pay the price. Catch me if you can!”

She sprung up and darted off into the forest. Nymphs were known for their playful spirit and she was no exception. Peter couldn’t help but softly laugh to himself as he struggled to his feet. His body felt like it was on fire in need of a release and playing a game of chase was the last thing on his mind. Running naked through the forest wasn’t something he was used to until they met but it never phased her. She cared little for the ache in his lower half, only caring for him to play along. He knew better than to deny her of her fun. He followed the sounds of her laughter, catching flashing glimpses of her silhouette through the trees. It didn’t take long for him to gain on her. Peter was swift and agile. He was hot on her heels, her joyous laughter bathing over him, as she tried to loop him back to their blanket. Before she reached their place of rest, his arm extended and he lunged forward, wrapping around her waist to pull her tight against his chest. He gripped her hips to spin her around and shove her backwards, pinning her against her large, smooth boulder lining the river.

“Caught ya,” he smirked down at her. His sparkling eyes wandered lower to her heaving chest to eye her breasts as they lifted with each gasp for breath. Her skin was radiating with excitement and she felt like she was vibrating under him. She was the epitome of light.

“You win,” she breathed. “That means I must be your prize.”

She offered no resistance as his hands captured her wrists to pin them against the rock wall. His one hand was large enough to ensnare both her wrists in his single grasp. He pinned her there, watching her carefully, his expression turning hungry as his mouth watered. Anticipation shivered through her at the look in his eye. Dark and wickedly seductive. A provocative change from their usual warm, soft appearance. She wiggled against him, teasing him, rubbing on him, inciting him until he hissed through clenched teeth. The air shifted. The playful fire sizzled out into a needy desire.

“Tell me what you want,” he commanded. “Tell me that you belong to me.”

He caught her knee, shoving it to the side, and rubbed himself against her wet channel, drawing a restrained whimper from her. Her eyes widened at his touch. His free hand glided up her leg to delve between her thighs. She arched against the rock the moment he found her throbbing nub nestled between her lush folds. His fingers coaxed her clit until she whined and her legs trembled.

“Peter, please,” she gasped. He had never made her state her loyalty to him before. She always just assumed he knew she loved him most. She never knew he wanted her to actually say it out loud. The fire grew inside of her. She ground her hips against his finger, begging for something more.

“Tell me,” he repeated. “Tell me what it is you want and tell me who owns your heart.”

Her breath came in uneven pants. He was an expert with his fingers. She ached to feel him surging up inside of her, stretching her, filling her. Her slick coated his shaft sliding between her thighs as his fingers deftly toyed with her, keeping her on edge but never allowing her to peak.

She gave a loud whine, finally allowing herself to give in to the feelings she’d been trying to suppress, “You! I need you, Peter! I love you. My heart belongs to you and only you. I don’t want anyone else! No one compares to you. You are my only love. You are the only one I truly crave. Please, please. I need you Peter. I want you to fill me, make me yours, give me your children and let me be a part of you forever.” Tears sprang to her pleading eyes. They pooled with a strange, leafy color and left hazy, green streaks down her cheeks. He’d never seen a nymph cry before. It was mesmerizing.

A soft smile spread across his lips and he closed his eyes upon hearing her words, “I love you, too.”

She fell forward, her wrists being released from his grasp, to throw her arms around his neck and seek out his waiting lips. He kissed her hard as he grabbed at her thighs to lift her up, her legs wrapping around his waist, as he pressed her back against the rock. He angled himself into her warm, welcoming channel and slowly pushed into her. A mewling cry fell from her lips as he pushed against her, his full thickness wedging into her tight entrance. The stretch was delicious and heavenly. He fit her beautifully like he was the perfect key to her lock. Everything about this human was tailored just for her. She couldn’t pretend any more. She belonged to Peter like he belonged to her.

“I love you,” she sighed. “I love you, I love you, I love you. Only you. When spring returns and I return with it, I will cover this forest floor in a carpet of white flowers as far as the eye can see. Each one will represent my adoration for you and lead you like a path straight back to me.”

Her fingers tangled into the soft curls at the nape of his neck while she rested her forehead against his. He supported her with ease, hands gripping onto the soft flesh of her bottom, and closed his eyes to relish in her words of love. He had waited so long to hear them. They sounded better than he could have ever imagined.

“I will make you mine forever,” he whispered straight into her ear. A promise. “We will have a family. I’ll move out to the forest and leave my life behind for you. I don’t care if I have to share you as long as you come home to me at night. We’ll find a way to make it work. Stay with me. Let me have you. All of you. Forever.”

She shuddered at the thought of having Peter close to her for the rest of time. He would age. She would not. They could raise their children in the forest, they could be together for real. Finally. It wasn’t like a nymph to settle down but she couldn’t resist the allure of his safety. It was the most tempting offer she’d ever received.

Before she could contemplate any further, Peter thrust her up against the rock. She cried out at the exquisite friction as he eased out of her only to drive up deep inside of her with heavy, powerful thrusts. He took her hard against the rock wall. He turned all his unspoken devotion into his lovemaking. Peter’s nails dug into the soft flesh of cheeks, holding her steady against him, as her back scraped over the rock's surface. She knew she’d be feeling the impact of it on her sensitive skin tomorrow morning but it would only serve to remind her of their risque meeting. Scratches of their love etched into her back. Her thighs curved around his while she gripped tightly onto fistfuls of his hair to keep her balance. His eyes burned with passion as he sunk into her with a burning need.

Peter tried to hold back a whimper but was unsuccessful. His bottom lip quivered. She could turn him from a fearless warrior into a shivering, begging mess in mere seconds. No one else had that kind of power over him. His strokes increased their tempo, forging a burning path between her thighs to her very core. His breath was ragged in her ear. She knew he was close. Long, powerful thrusts took over all of her senses until all she could see was Peter, all she could hear was his moans, and all she could feel was his cock driving into her. Her body yielded to his fierce possession. Each throbbing thrust seared her, branded her as his and only his, as he took her with a relentless determination.

“Fill me, Peter,” she cried. “Give me you children. Let me be tied to you forever.”

His whine in response was quickly followed by a cry as pleasure seized him. His cock twitched inside of her, his seed spilling out as he took her with sharp, jerky thrusts, no longer in control of his actions, giving himself over to his body.

Her head fell back, hitting into the hard rock, as she gave a cry of her own. Her wail of passion echoed off the trees, alerting the forest to her heightened senses. The wind picked up to swirl around them, cooling their sweat and tickling their skin, wrapping them in a hug to force them closer together. She wrapped her arms tight around his neck to hold her body taut against his. She clung to him like a bear clings to a tree trunk to escape danger. While she protected and looked after the forest, Peter protected and looked after her. She decided then and there that he was all she would ever need to satiate the hunger inside of her. Ecstasy tore through her body. Her sheath fluttered and quivered around his piercing sword, gripping him tightly to keep him in place, making sure she took everything he had to offer.

They clutched each other tight, each breathing heavily, until she felt him begin to soften. He slid out of her with a quiet moan. She could feel some of him drip down her inner thigh and she finally untangled her legs from around his waist, settling with unstable feet on the earthy ground. His finger sought out her hair, damp with sweat, as he pushed it out from her eyes and over her shoulder. His lips fell down to her face, kissing away her tears slipping down her cheek. Happy tears. Tears of love.

“Let me stay with you tonight,” he whispered against her lips, catching them with a kiss. “Lay with me while the day passes and the stars emerge. Tell me your favorite stories while I savor your taste and make my home between your thighs. Let me fall asleep to the sound of your beating heart. Tomorrow, you can start your slumber. Today, stay with me.”

She smiled. Soft and warm.

“Anything, Peter. Anything for you.”

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strelles-universe · 6 months

Text

Greenwood Faction Cards - The Stormborn

The Stormborn have always been regarded as the most unusual and strangest looking creatures of the forest with their long, plush tails and short but feathery ears. Compared to the other factions, it wouldn’t be hard to mistake them for being near completely defenseless with their fluffy tails and thick coats without horns or fins. The enemy who makes this mistake however will come to immensely regret it - for mixed within their long coats, sukeme of the Stormborn have long barbed quills that lay calmly against their skin. When feeling threatened, it’s not just their hackles that raise but these pointy, painful defenses.

These long quills start just before their hindlegs forming a sort of cloak over their rump, blanketing the top of their tails. Speaking of their tails, though plush and fluff; the underside of around half-way down is also laced in sharp quills and woe-betide any attacker who makes the mistake of trying to grab them by it. It’s recommended that if you are speared by their quills that you wait until a trained mender can attend to you and the subsequent bleeding.

Quills aside, the Stormborn tend to be various kinds of tabbies that hide them well in their dense forest homes. Tortoiseshells are equally common, finding their best luck when the leaves drop from the trees - their dappled pelts matching the fallen leaves sprinkling the forest floor. They sport powerful, muscular builds, large paws and broad faces - there are often whispers that due their founder showing the most repentance for The Spilling, the Souls were kinder to the Stormborn and left some of their Ancient power within them giving them more lion-like features.

Common Patterns - Mackerel/Ticked Tabbies, Tortoiseshells

Common Colors - Red, Brown, Black, Gold

Uncommon Patterns - Spotted/Classic Tabby, Torbie

Uncommon Colors - White, Silver, Ruddy

Rare Patterns - Colorpoint

Rare Colors - Cream, Blue (Cool Gray)

OVERALL TERRITORY

The Stormborn are settled in the primarily deciduous part of the Greenwood Canopy - while there are evergreen trees scattered throughout the forest, they are primarily found further north-west than the others. They are unanimously agreed to have the most frustrating territory for a newcomer to navigate - the ground level is completely covered with brackens and bushes, thick layers of moss coating the barks of trees and the twisting roots of their oaks. The branches are mostly interlocking, ensuring the ground is dappled with sunlight throughout the day; enhancing the camouflage provided by tortoiseshell pelts.

They proudly boast that their territory always looks gorgeous - in makiim (summer), the branches are a vibrant green with beautiful blossoming flowers and juicy fruits; in ahaliim (autumn) the ground is dappled in leaves of many colors - gold, red, orange and brown; in ilkiim (spring) the buds wave in the wind as freshly born animals scamper about their territory, little puddles of water twinkling in the sunlight. Even dahiim is beautiful - the ground sparking with white snow, icicles dangling from branches and frozen bonds providing windows into the waters.

Notable Landmarks:

The Old Basin - An old hollow full of soft, warm pink-ish red sand that used to be filled with water once upon a time when the river was wider. Eventually the water drained away leaving the smoothed sand and silt from the river. The Stormborn have many theories about the Old Basin - some say that Sunsoul dried up half of the river and Treesoul took what remained and used it to nurture the surrounding trees given how rich and tall the trees around the Basin are. Others say Riversoul reached down and rerouted the river like he did with the part around the Suncairn.

The Neutral Stretch - A large stretch of fertile territory popular with prey of all kind. Politically the land belongs to the Shining Sun - lost during The Raids started by The Mad Storm - and is frequently used to train squires and as a dumping ground for excess seed. The scarred trees mark the divide between the Stretch and solid Shining Sun Territory. This little bit of land has saved the Stormborn many times over during hard times as the dumping of seeds keeps prey animals coming back even during the snow-season.

The Suncairn - A massive collecting of rock outcroppings that are surrounded by a well-drained patch of land on the edge of the deciduous forest that led out to the main river. It seems like the rocks were once large buried deep beneath the river and for whatever reason, were pushed to the surface before being smoothed down by the river’s current. For a long time, the river flowed around the Suncairn preventing anyone but the swimming Shorerisen from accessing it but then slowly, over-time the river-rerouted. The Suncairn has been a place of bloodshed, outrage and conflict ever since as the Stormborn and the Shorerisen fight over the valuable land.

The Boa’s Sarsen - A large collection of somewhat jagged rocks slated together in a way that resembles a coiled snake, creating a series of nooks and hidey-holes that are inhabited by largest collection of blackwhips. The Sarsen is religously significant to the Fennyield, though because it was a Storm cat that was their goddess Hakassebera’s friend; the Storms retain the territory on their own land. Occasionally there have been conversations about officially handing the location over but it remains a popular spot for Fenns and Storms to speak with each other peacefully, especially as cadets.

The Deer Trail - A long since trotted down section of territory that marks the border between the Fennyield and the Stormborn. Deer and wild-boar and even wild horses have long-since trampled the grasses down into a firm trail of dirt, pressing the pebbles and stones deeper into the earth. Almost nothing grows on the trail anymore both because of how long it’s been used but also because the Storms and the Fenns both made dedicated efforts to maintain the easily seen border. The Deer Trail is a dangerous place in ilkiim (when the wild boar return and hae their piglets, becoming hostile to everything with a pulse) and in ahaliim (when stags are in rut and begin fighting each other).

Temekur’s Oak - The tallest stretching oak-tree in the Storm’s territory that hosts a permanent owl’s nest. Generation after generation of owl has been raised in and buried around that tree all stemming from the first, very intelligent owl to scamper from its branches. Said to be the home of Temekur, the owl who saved the Stormborn from a truly terrible famine and the place where the fallen owl was buried and made a god. The Stormborn occasionally leave offerings of prey at the base of the tree that the owls have come to accept, and the hunters are all taught a special tune to use in dahiim that signals to the owls that their cat friends need their help once more.

The Prisoner’s Barracks - An open clearing in Stormborn territory that brushes against firmly packed and dense soil guarded very heavily by the thickest thorns and brambles the forest has to offer. It’s a well-defended and hard to access place - which of course is exactly why the Storms have turned it into a prison. Proponents of mercy and firmly against executions, the Stormborn are the only faction to regularly keep prisoners enclosed within their territory and are the only faction period to have a set of regulations dedicated to managing them. Even those who’ve been imprisoned in the barracks don’t know where it is in Stormborn territory as they are usually blindfolded in some way when they’re led out. To the outside, it appears to be the average tangle of plants, brackens and vines.

Treesoul’s Ravine - A sloped valley sort of area surrounded by some of the strongest, healthiest looking trees in the forest that opens out into a little meadow type area. The largest stream in Stormborn territory runs through the Ravine, creating a little pond against a hilly-edge; the area littered with brilliant green brush and a variety of berries. Treesoul’s Ravine is the most popular burial location for the Stormborn, a vast majority of the faction have requests to specifically be buried in special locations of the Ravine. A series of totems line the Ravine - one made to honor each of the Souls where Storms can leave offerings of flowers, prey-bones and even trophies for the Souls to judge.

PREY, PREDATORS AND HERBS

Common Prey - Gray squirrel, cottontails, deer mouse, red squirrel, chipmunk, woodrats, mourning dove, chickadee, bluejay, robin, sparrow, wrens, waxwings

Uncommon - wild turkey, opossums, porcupine, pine vole, common garter, cormorant, tern, sandpipers, wood frog, minnow

Rare - White-Tail yearlings, trout, carp

Forbidden - Cardinals

Common Herbs -

Uncommon Herbs -

Rare Herbs -

Minor Dangers - Striped skunk

Medium Dangers - Short-Tailed Weasel, copperheads

Severe Dangers - Black bears, wild boar, White-Tailed Stag, Blackwhips, Timber Rattlesnake

---

BATTLE TACTICS

Contrary to what many will say, they don’t love battle nor are they battle-hungry, their warnings and cautions are just that - warnings though the other factions have been known to take them as challenges.

The Stormborn prefer to end battles as quickly as possible, minimizing the amount of suffering either side goes through and as such, typically target who they deem to be battle-leaders and second in commands. Demoralizing the enemy is plays along well with this trait of theirs - a signature tactic of theirs are Brush Rushes. The thick, dense brush of their territory can safely hide even the largest of their legionaries well enough that a patrol of Stormborn cats can follow invaders for hours without the invaders themselves noticing.

Naturally this has been worked into a battle advantage. When the Stormborn feel that a patrol has overstayed their welcome, they rush from the bushes and attack hard and fast with the goal of disorienting their enemy before retreating as quickly as they arrived. The break in attack is an offering - telling the enemy to return to where they came from. If this offerring is not respected, they will be rushed again - this time with the intent of dealing painful, lasting injuries. The rushes will continue until the enemy retreats or until the Storms declare an outright battle and summon reinforcements.

Recognizable Tactics:

Tail Tucking - The Stormborn have sharp, painful barbed quills lining their hindquarters and tails. When an enemy attempts to attack them from behind, they tuck the soft underside of their tails to their bellies and bristle their spines; impaling those who would attempt an ambush

Land Grapple - It’s rare that someone wants to keep their enemy close-by hence this being a very recognizable Stormborn tactic. Grasping the opponent by their shoulders either from above or below, hold tight; forcing them to either rip their fur free or stay for a pummeling. They will snap at their enemy’s face and ears while using their hindlegs to shred them. The enemy is only released when they express surrender.

CULTURAL VALUES

> The Maternal Bond should always be respected and harshly punished if ever abused

> There is incredible bravery in honesty - a legionary should always be confident in their actions; regardless of the consequences

> Though there are four factions, there is only one Empire and when one is in need; the other three should be honor-bound to assist

HOLIDAYS

The Last Snow -

QUIRKS

A legionary having relations within another faction will say they’re ‘patrolling’ as a way of being discreet about their relationship. It’s more noticeable if the reasoning is claimed after high-sun, when the Storms are mostly at rest

Though barracks tasks are common punishments for misbehaving cubs, any of them can be picked up by anyone. Cubs who take a liking to a specific task are encouraged to keep at it.

Temekur’s Oak has a series of increasingly higher notches from cadets challenging each other to climb. Legionaries will brag moons after promotions about taking the highest marks

The Stormborn tend to come out during rainstorms to let a few drops of water hit them. It’s said that you can receive omens from the blurry vision granted when rain hits your face

The Storms are the closest to omnivorous as you get in the Empire, it’s not uncommon to catch them snacking on berries of all sorts throughout the day; preserving prey for actual meals

#strelles universe #strelles the greenwood empire #strelles the stormborn

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the-world-of-ignavus · 5 months

Text

Faction Card Overview - The Stormborn

The Stormborn have always been regarded as the most unusual and strangest looking creatures of the forest with their long, plush tails and short but feathery ears. Compared to the other factions, it wouldn’t be hard to mistake them for being near completely defenseless with their fluffy tails and thick coats without horns or fins. The enemy who makes this mistake however will come to immensely regret it - for mixed within their long coats, moggi of the Stormborn have long barbed quills that lay calmly against their skin. When feeling threatened, it’s not just their hackles that raise but these pointy, painful defenses.

OVERALL TERRITORY

Though visitors complain about the confusion turning them in circles, the Stormborn themselves can easily navigate their territory. From early training, cadets are brought through a series of routes to different important locations in their territory that escalates into leaving the cadet in specific locations with orders to get as quickly to a different location as possible. By the time a legionary earns their true name, they’ve mastered and memorized every leaf and bramble in their forest. They proudly boast that their territory always looks gorgeous - in makiim (summer), the branches are a vibrant green with beautiful blossoming flowers and juicy fruits; in ahaliim (autumn) the ground is dappled in leaves of many colors - gold, red, orange and brown; in ilkiim (spring) the buds wave in the wind as freshly born animals scamper about their territory, little puddles of water twinkling in the sunlight. Even dahiim is beautiful - the ground sparking with white snow, icicles dangling from branches and frozen bonds providing windows into the waters.

Notable Landmarks:

Temekur’s Oak - The tallest stretching oak-tree in the Storm’s territory that hosts a permanent owl’s nest. Generation after generation of owl has been raised in and buried around that tree all stemming from the first, very intelligent owl to scamper from its branches. Said to be the home of Temekur, the owl who saved the Stormborn from a truly terrible famine and the place where the fallen owl was buried and made a god. The Stormborn occasionally leave offerings of prey at the base of the tree that the owls have come to accept and the hunters are all taught a special tune to use in dahiim that signals to the owls that their cat friends need their help once more.

PREY, PREDATORS AND HERBS

Common Prey - Gray squirrel, cottontails, deer mouse, red squirrel, chipmunk, woodrats, mourning dove, chickadee, bluejay, robin, sparrow, wrens, waxwings

Uncommon - wild turkey, opossums, porcupine, pine vole, common garter, cormorant, tern, sandpipers, wood frog, minnow

Rare - White-Tail yearlings, trout, carp

Forbidden - Cardinals

Common Herbs -

Uncommon Herbs -

Rare Herbs -

Minor Dangers - Striped skunk

Medium Dangers - Short-Tailed Weasel, copperheads

Severe Dangers - Black bears, wild boar, White-Tailed Stag, Blackwhips, Timber Rattlesnake

BATTLE TACTICS

Recognizable Tactics:

CULTURAL VALUES

The Maternal Bond should always be respected and harshly punished if ever abused

There is incredible bravery in honesty - a legionary should always be confident in their actions; regardless of the consequences

Though there are four factions, there is only one Empire and when one is in need; the other three should be honor-bound to assist

HOLIDAYS

The Last Snow -

QUIRKS

Though barracks tasks are common punishments for misbehaving cubs, any of them can be picked up by anyone. Cubs who take a liking to a specific task are encouraged to keep at it.

Temekur’s Oak has a series of increasingly higher notches from cadets challenging each other to climb. Legionaries will brag moons after promotions about taking the highest marks

The Stormborn tend to come out during rainstorms to let a few drops of water hit them. It’s said that you can receive omens from the blurry vision granted when rain hits your face

The Storms are the closest to omnivorous as you get in the Empire, it’s not uncommon to catch them snacking on berries of all sorts throughout the day; preserving prey for actual meals

#the world of ignavus #ignavus the greenwood empire #ignavus the stormborn #xenomoggy

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riverdrifter · 8 months

Text

Fisherman's Log: 8/21/2023

Uhh, hi! You probably don't know this, but I've been working on a long retrospective of Pikmin 4 as I play through the game. That was intended to be my first post on this blog. However, I quickly realized something: writing my thoughts about a game without exhaustively journaling my experience while playing it is excruciating. I grew up playing games for an audience, be it my mom watching me play some obscure Wii game, or me liveposting my playthrough of said game to whomever I was talking to on the Warrior Cats forums at the time. So, to remedy this, I'm going to be posting more hands-on "stream of consciousness"-type logs while I'm playing something. And what better to start with than a game I play very regularly: Creatures of the Deep.

A friend put me onto this quirky little game, knowing my propensity for fish and other aquatic creatures. It's been a fun little way to relax throughout my day, while also engaging my completionist hubris. I will confess: the reason I was iffy on posting journal entries alongside retrospectives is because I was feeling a bit of sunk cost fallacy. After all, if I've already completed a good bit of the game, why start now? But I'm nipping that in the bud. So! I'm going to catalogue my progress up until this point, then get into my daily session.

🗺️ Location Progress

Legend ⦾ Common ◈ Rare ✧ Epic ☆ Legendary

Please note that any inconsistent capitalization or spelling is just me noting things down exactly as the games have them written.

🏝️ Paradise Island 🏝️

41% | Discoveries: 36/37

🐟 Fish - 12/12 ⦾ Bluefish - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Blue Trevally - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Bonefish - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Clownfish - ★★☆☆☆ ◈ Green Humphead Parrotfish - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Largetooth Flounder - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Longtail Tuna - ★★☆☆☆ ✧ Pacific Footballfish - ★☆☆☆☆ ✧ Pelagic Stingray - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Snubnose Pompano - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Spot-fin Porcupinefish - ★★★☆☆ ◈ White Tuna - ★☆☆☆☆

🦐 Creatures - 5/5 ⦾ Flower Tube Sea Anemone - ★★★☆☆ ◈ Mimic Octopus - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Peacock Mantis Shrimp - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Red Starfish - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Sand Striker - ★★☆☆☆

🗑️ Trash - 19/19 • Can • Can Fish • Chest With A Skull • Chips • Empty Bottle • Flip Flops • Gear • Kelp Leaf • Key With A Skull • Mask • Message In A Bottle • Old Phone • Pinacolada Drink • Plastic Bag • Plastic Bottle • Rubber Duck • Sea Weed • Straw Hat • Wilson Ball

🏕️ Great Lakes 🏕️

41% | Discoveries: 62/63

🐟 Fish - 23/24 ⦾ Alewife - ★★★☆☆ ✧ American Eel - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Bloater - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Brook Trout - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Brown Trout - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Channel Catfish - ★★★☆☆ ◈ Chinook Salmon - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Coho Salmon - ★★★☆☆ ◈ Flathead Catfish - ★★☆☆☆ ✧ Goldfish - ★☆☆☆☆ ✧ Lake Sturgeon - UNCAUGHT ◈ Lake Trout - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Largemouth Bass - ★☆☆☆☆ ✧ Longnose Gar - ★☆☆☆☆ ◈ Muskie - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Pink Salmon - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Redear Sunfish - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Round Whitefish - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Sea Lamprey - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Smallmouth Bass - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Walleye - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ White Bass - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ White Crappie - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Yellow Perch - ★★★☆☆

🦐 Creatures - 9/9 ⦾ Beaver - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Bullfrog - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Chinese Mystery Snail - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Common Musk Turtle - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Eastern Massasauga Rattlesnake - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ North American River Otter - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Quagga Mussels - ★★★☆☆ ◈ Queen Snake - ★★☆☆☆

🗑️ Trash - 29/29 • Al'Capone Hat • Arrow • Baseball Hat • Beaver Hat • Beverage can • Boom Floppy Disc • Can Soup • Chip Bag • Cobra Sunglasses • Colorful Headdress • Concrete Shoe • Fish Can • Glass Bottle with XXX Sign • Green floppy disc • Grey Casette • Hot Dog • Meat Can • Mouse Glove • Old Branch • Old Tire • Pipe • Plastic Bottle • Toxic Barrel • Treasure chest • Vegetable Can • Video Cassette • Vinyl Record • Wilted leaf

🌅 Costa Rica 🌅

27% | Discoveries: 41/62

I've elected to not list the undiscovered entries in Costa Rica and any future locations, as I prefer to go into newer areas as blindly as possible. For the Great Lakes, I already know the one fish I don't have is that damn sturgeon. I'd rather leave the rest up to mystery though.

🐟 Fish - 16/22 ⦾ Barracuda - ★★★☆☆ ◈ Blue Marlin - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Broomtail Grouper - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Cubera Snapper - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Dorado - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Jack Crevalle - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Pompano - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Roosterfish - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Sierra Mackerel - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Snook - ★★☆☆☆ ◈ Striped Marlin - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Tarpon - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Tripletail - ★★★☆☆ ⦾ Wahoo - ★☆☆☆☆ ✧ Whitetip Shark - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Yellowfin Tuna - ★★☆☆☆

🦐 Creatures - 7/9 ◈ American Crocodile - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Brown Sea Cucumber - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Nudibranch - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Olive Ridley Sea Turtle - ★☆☆☆☆ ⦾ Pacific Land Crab - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Pink Jellyfish - ★★☆☆☆ ⦾ Yellow-Bellied Sea Snake - ★★☆☆☆

🗑️ Trash - 18/30 • Anchor • Bicycle Frame • Bikini Top • Bottle Santa Maria • Broken coral • Chip Bag • Coconut • Costa Rican Vase • Fish Can • Flipper • Oil Barrel • Orange Cassette • Palm Leaf • Scuba Diver Mask • Surfboard • Volcanic Rock • Watermelon Vinyl Record • White Bottle

🏅 Achievements Board

Fish Catcher ★★☆☆☆ 156/500

Explorer of Sea Creatures ★★☆☆☆ 21/40

Recycling Master ★★☆☆☆ 390/500

Trash Catcher ★★☆☆☆ 66/100

Days in the Game ★☆☆☆☆ 23/50

Master Reeler ★★☆☆☆ 7/50 My fucking white whale.

Monster Hunter ★☆☆☆☆ 1/10

Monster Collector ★☆☆☆☆ 1/2

Tournament Lover ☆☆☆☆☆ 0/5 Please don't make me use social functions I am just a humble fisherman

🎣 Fish Tank

I may very well make a spreadsheet for this in the future like some sort of deranged lunatic, but for now I just want to play the damn game so have some pictures.

I'm not sure what else to note. That I haven't bought any character customization yet? That all my stats are 1 except for Luck, which is 2? God forbid, my lure stats?? I don't know, but I'm done cataloguing! Now let's get into what you came here for!!

🗒️ Gameplay Log

📋 Info Board - 4 reel in a row Reward: +2 gems - Catch 5 x Brook Trout Reward: +500 coins - Catch 3 x American Eel Reward: +3 gems

Those gems are so, so valuable, so you know I'll be gunning for those. Although it does mean that I have to remember to play at night if I want to do that eel task. Those are kind of a pain in the ass... I should probably spend some time grinding garbage so that I can get Temporary Luck for eel time.

Well, first thing's first: off to Paradise Island to collect wood and see who our quest NPC is! As it turns out, Sir Joseph Bellywise is waiting for us, with a request for 3 Largetooth Flounder. That should hopefully synergize well with my consecutive reeling task.

I end up getting both tasks done without too much trouble, although I did break my reel chain and I don't want to talk about it. I handed in my three shittiest flounders for a nice 407 gold. I spend the rest of my visit hanging out in the Garbage Patch so that I can take home a full inventory and work towards that Temporary Luck. Once home, I quickly deposit two wood in the next section of the fish tank; that's where I'm focusing my efforts right now, as I've not found myself filling up the item storage yet. But with that, it's Great Lakes time!

Our daily NPC for this area is Mike "Lock" Smith, who just tells me to go fuck myself and that he's looking for someone more experienced. I'm level 7, what the hell do you want from me?! I also encounter some stress early on in the form of Sea Lampreys; the game doesn't recognize this, but I the player know that they're an invasive species, so morally I will not throw them back in to save bag space. Which means I may have to spend more gold going back to free up some slots.

...Or my rod could break and make us have to go back anyway. Neat. I'll plan ahead and go for the cheaper Garbage Grabber Rod; it shouldn't impede my catching too much, and I want to be able to hit a 50 cleanup streak by nightfall. The rest of the Brook Trout search is a cakewalk, but I swear the longer I know my reel streak is, the more scarcely I breathe during the hooking sequence. This is in spite of me purposefully not checking the number because I know it'll psych me out.

While I'm trying to catch one more thing to bring home, I wonder about the internal formula the game must use to calculate rod wear. I know for a fact different rods have different strengths, and I imagine that fish weight must factor in somehow, because some fish will be too strong and will pull the line out of range and break free. Does player strength get taken into account? I see people on the Discord saying that they still lose fish even at 8 or so strength. I don't know. Food for thought.

With the Brook Trout task now complete, I'm able to deposit a two-star into the fish tank, as well as adding some more wood onto the Alaska pile. Seeing as how I've not unlocked that area yet, building that section of the fish tank is not a priority. But I do need something to do with all that wood.

Since our final daily task is locked to nighttime, and I'm writing this at 3:15 pm, that means our last stop for now is Costa Rica! I'll be honest, this map is so huge, I don't even end up finding all the daily wood half the time, and I don't exactly bother. It's just sooo much effort to comb through all that water... based on the size progression so far, I can only imagine Alaska will be downright nightmarish.

I immediately eat my words and find two wood floating right next to each other.

While it's a nice bonus for sure, this still leaves me in the dark on who and where our Daily Slut Encounter is. I eventually give up and bring home some dudes for the tank: a Tarpon, a Jack Crevalle, and a Pompano, all sadly one star. The Tarpon has just the most delightfully smug little face swimming around in there.

I returned to Costa Rica to try and find some new trash, and only on my last bag slot did I snag something new: the Ship Bell from Santa Maria. It's only on the way back that I finally find the NPC. It's Sir Joseph Bellywise again, this time wanting 110 lbs of fish for a party tomorrow. I can do that! After I go drop off this trash run. Self-reminder: he is west of the Spanish Shipwreck. Trash payouts barely make up for the price of coming back, but I need it.

Aand it turns out the task's payout was barely worth the trip anyway! 95 coins for 110 pounds of fish? That is straight up daylight robbery. Anyway, after brutally murdering my reel streak, I don't feel like playing anymore, so I'll resume this entry tonight when it's eel time. I place a one-star Broomtail Grouper face-down and end my turn.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

Touching base again past midnight, and holy shit, I was actually able to do it! While I was waiting for my T gel to dry, not only did I snag 3 American Eels and claim the gem prize, but I also caught the Lake Sturgeon (2 stars, straight to the fish tank) and got 5 more gems from Aneta Angler for completing the area! I also slapped a 2-star American Eel and a 1-star Flathead Catfish into the fish tank for good measure. With time left on my Temporary Luck, I set out for the Great Depths of Costa Rica.

And I sure reaped the benefits! I brought home a 2-star Barracuda, a 2-star Wahoo to replace the one in my fish tank, a 2-star Nurse Shark, a 1-star Hammerhead Shark, and a 1-star Whitetip Shark. In other news, I need to do wrist stretches now. I also got myself a new creature discovery in the Red-Ringed Clinging Crab; all in all, this netted me another Aneta Angler prize, with her giving me 5 Rare Bait for my efforts. The payout for this trip wasn't spectacular, but it'll be worth it in the future.

... And dear God, to ride out the last of my Temporary Luck, I hit the middle north of Paradise Island, as that's where other anglers on the Discord had been reporting Shredder sightings for tonight. And whaddya know! I actually caught the fucker first try! This got me two stars in the Monster Collector achievement, and I can finally go talk to Cap'n Slappy and finish out the main area quest. I also level up, getting 2,800 coins in all between that and the quest reward. ...Tapping the level-up turns out to be a major mistake, as I was planning on going to sleep, but now I have an hour of temporary luck. e.e I spend my singular stat point on Strength, boosting it to 2; I've been searching for a lot of large targets, and every time a fish breaks free, I lose a bit of my awake time for the day.

Well, I'm not one to waste Temporary Luck now that I'm journaling my grind, so back to Costa Rica it is. I can't tell if this is just copium on my part, but I swear there is an immediate, noticeable difference in how easy it is to control the reel bar when battling a fish that engages the minigame now that I've leveled up my Strength. Either that or I'm getting better at the game, which is also true, but I swear that bar is just steadier. Honestly, I was considering getting a Monster Rod, but I've been doing so well with just the Carbon Rod that it feels unnecessary at this point.

I'm glad to announce that I got even more new discoveries before bed: the Pacific Sailfish (2 stars) and the Bull Shark (also 2 stars). I was trying for the Black Marlin for a bit, but with a sliver of Temporary Luck left, I decided to call it quits because I was getting too eepy. Still, I'd say that was a relentlessly productive day of fishing.

This was really fun to journal! The verb tenses are all over the place, and punctuation is real funky; this certainly isn't editor's portfolio material. But I think it's something I'd like to do more often! I like writing more than I give myself credit for. Hopefully the next post will be much shorter!

#river plays #video games #creatures of the deep #infinite dreams #mobile #long post #100%#journal

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xtruss · 1 year

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How to Read the Tree Leaves

A Little Knowledge of Botany can be helpful, even if you’re an Amateur Gardener. Here are a few things you should know about what happens in the fall.

— By Margaret Roach | November 16, 2022 | The New York Times

Fallen leaves carpet the ground beneath a red maple (Acer rubrum) at the New York Botanical Garden, in the Bronx. Credit...New York Botanical Garden Photo

What’s going on out there — and why? Some version of that is the perennial question on any inquisitive gardener’s mind.

Fall provides plenty of dramatic subject matter along those lines, beyond the changing leaves. What is it exactly that gives the foliage of deciduous trees the signal to let go (except in the case of contrarians like certain oaks and beeches)?

Although we call them evergreens, the inner needles of many conifers show us otherwise each autumn. Why do they turn noticeably yellow and brown, in preparation for shedding?

And as the deep, cold of a Northern winter approaches, what gardener does not wonder how dormant buds and other tender-looking parts of plants survive intact?

A hunger to explain such phenomena led me to a beginning botany course and its accompanying textbook. In the decades since, I have revisited those lessons time and again.

Japanese maple leaves and other fallen foliage cover the ground at the New York Botanical Garden. Credit...New York Botanical Garden Photo

Apparently, I am not alone in my search for answers. The textbook used in that course, Brian Capon’s “Botany for Gardeners: An Introduction to the Science of Plants,” has sold more than 260,000 copies since it was published in 1990. In August, the fourth edition was released.

And the course itself, Introduction to Plant Science, is now given year-round at the New York Botanical Garden, virtually and in person, with up to 12 sessions a year and as many as 20 students in each. It is one of more than 700 annual offerings in subjects as diverse as botanical illustration, landscape design, psychedelic mushrooms and paleobotany — all part of the nation’s largest plant-focused adult continuing-education program.

Perhaps my biggest takeaway from the classes I attended: Putting some botany into our horticulture can help improve results in the garden. But best of all, it deepens our appreciation of how plants live their hard-working lives.

In the fall, the conservatory at the New York Botanical Garden is enlivened by honey locust trees (Gleditsia triacanthos). Shorter days and cooler weather trigger chlorophyll breakdown in the foliage, unmasking yellow and orange carotenoid pigments that had been there all along. Credit...New York Botanical Garden Photo

Batten Down the Hatches: Dormancy

Dormancy is a “virtual metabolic standstill,” wrote Dr. Capon, who died last year but was a professor of botany at California State University, Los Angeles, for decades.

In the temperate zone, “it’s an ecological adaptation for living in a cold environment, to survive the cold,” said Regina Alvarez, an assistant professor of biology at Dominican University New York, in Rockland County, and one of New York Botanical Garden’s botany instructors. “Depending on the life cycle and the form of the plant, they do it in different ways.”

Herbaceous plants have two choices: They can complete their life cycles and leave only their seeds behind for the following year (annuals), or their aboveground portions can die back, leaving the roots and storage organs like rhizomes, bulbs and corms to carry on when favorable conditions resume (biennials and perennials).

A Fern-Leaf Maple (Acer Japonicum Aconitifolium) in its fall glory at the New York Botanical Garden, with hot-colored foliar pigments taking center stage, after the chlorophyll that dominated the growing season recedes. Credit...New York Botanical Garden Photo

But woody plants can’t completely tuck in like that. Even those that drop their leaves as part of their overall defense have parts that remain exposed. Those include organs as small and seemingly vulnerable as the buds of next year’s leaves and flowers, or the growing tips of twigs and branches where elongation will resume again come spring.

In preparation, the undeveloped flowers, leaves or shoots may become encased in overlapping bud scales every autumn. Some species may also coat the covered buds in “a thick resin to protect them from the cold and wind,” said Leslie Day, the author of urban-focused natural history guides, including “Field Guide to the Street Trees of New York City,” and a plant-science instructor at the botanical garden.

It’s not just the buds that benefit from the waterproof sealant. Some insects do, too. Honey bees, for instance, mix the resin they scrape from bud scales and other plant parts with their saliva to produce propolis, which they use as a glue to seal cracks in their hives, Dr. Day said.

Another unexpected application for the antimicrobial sealant: “To embalm large intruders like mice and wasps that are too heavy to carry out after they sting them to death,” she said. Noted: Nature provides — and it wastes nothing.

In preparation for winter, many woody plants encase their undeveloped flowers, leaves or shoots in overlapping bud scales. Some species may also coat the covered buds in a thick resin for extra protection. Credit...Brian Capon

The Coloring Up, and the Letting Go

We watched the recent show, as shorter days and cooler weather triggered the breakdown of chlorophyll, the predominant pigment in most leaves. What was unmasked are known as the accessory pigments, Dr. Alvarez said, including yellow and orange carotenoids that were there all along, in a supporting role. Although hidden during the growing season, they were helping with photosynthesis.

The anthocyanin pigments that we perceive as red and purple in dogwoods, sumacs or red oaks, however, weren’t hiding. They are produced in fall, products of a chemical change involving an increased concentration of sugars in the leaves.

Then — no matter the color, but all too soon for our liking — the foliage on most deciduous trees takes flight. The big event’s timing is determined by changing chemistry in the tiny abscission zone, a narrow band of cells at the base of each petiole, or leaf stalk, where it attaches to the stem or branch.

“None of this would happen without the plant hormones,” Dr. Day said.

Which hormone is at work in leaf drop? Not abscisic acid, the one that “abscission zone” would seem to imply. That hormone tells the plant to form the bud scales, to stop certain aspects of growth ahead of dormancy and even to keep the seed dormant until the time is right for germination, Dr. Day said.

It is now understood instead that ethylene — better known for its role in ripening fruits — is the catalyst. (Fruit and flowers, with their own specialized abscission zones and timing, are likewise influenced by ethylene on when to drop.)

“It starts to break down the cell membranes and form this zone where the leaf eventually can just fall,” Dr. Day said, “sealing itself off and leaving a scar on woody plants.” A thin cork layer forms to prevent water loss and fungal invasions.

A scar left behind after the dropping of a northern Catalpa leaf (Catalpa speciosa). The letting go is controlled by chemistry in the tiny abscission zone, a narrow band of cells at the base of each leaf stalk, where it attaches to the stem. The distinctive scars can aid in winter tree identification. Credit...Regina Alvarez

The outline of each scar forms a shape like an oval or a heart, Dr. Alvarez said. Dots inside that outline mark where the plant’s vascular tissues, the xylem and phloem, were connected, and conducted fluids between stem and leaf.

These scars can be very distinctive. How have I never looked at them?

Plenty of garden downtime lies ahead for such exploration. The scars are a useful tool for winter tree identification, said Dr. Alvarez, who admits that she and Dr. Day “get obsessive over leaf-scar photos.”

Dr. Day explained: “You learn to look at the scars and say, ‘Oh, that’s an Ailanthus’ or ‘That’s a horse chestnut.’”

The horse chestnut (Aesculus hippocastanum), for example, with its big compound foliage, “leaves behind what looks like a little horseshoe or smiley-face scar,” she said.

A portion of the New York Botanical Garden’s Benenson Ornamental Conifers collection in winter. The often narrow foliage of conifers is winter-adapted: It is less vulnerable to the effects of ice, snow and wind than broader leaves, and coated in a waxy substance. Credit...New York Botanical Garden Photo

When Leaves Don’t Fall (at Least Not Right Away)

How can so much be governed by such a microscopic piece of real estate?

“The restriction of ethylene’s destructive effects only to cells in the abscission zone illustrates the precise control plants exercise over their hormone systems,” Dr. Capon wrote.

Nowhere is this engineering prowess more astounding than in the deciduous trees and shrubs that hold onto their dead leaves all winter, only to release them in spring. To accomplish that, they must manage to keep just that attachment point up and running — the junction of a dead leaf and a dormant twig. Preposterous.

The inner Needles of a White Pine (Pinus Strobus) preparing to shed. Conifers don’t complete an annual shed like deciduous trees, but a portion of their oldest needles do drop each year. How long each needle holds on is particular to the species, ranging from two years to four or more. Credit...Margaret Roach

The trait, called Marcescence, is common to some Witch-Hazels (Hamamelis) and certain Hornbeams (Carpinus), Beech (Fagus) and Oaks (Quercus), especially in the lower branches and in younger trees.

Scientists hypothesize that the persistent leaves may have developed long ago, as an adaptation against browsing by large animals the plants evolved alongside. A mouthful of dead leaf is a less-tasty target than a bare twig and tender buds, something today’s deer also seem to understand.

A bonus design tip for gardeners: A row of marcescent trees, although not technically evergreen, makes for an effective, nearly year-round screen.

A hybrid witch-hazel (Hamamelis x intermedia Jelena) in February bloom, still holding last year’s faded leaves. Some deciduous woody plants hold their dead leaves until spring, a trait called marcescence, by keeping just the tiny attachment points up and running. Credit...Margaret Roach

Those Yellow and Brown Inner Conifer Needles

For something evergreen, we often turn to conifers — although they aren’t technically evergreen. Their often narrow foliage is winter-adapted: less vulnerable to the effects of ice, snow and wind than broader leaves, and coated in a waxy substance that guards against the elements.

“They’re always green,” Dr. Alvarez said, “but that doesn’t mean it’s always the same needles.”

When she worked for the Central Park Conservancy, Dr. Alvarez heard the question regularly starting in the early fall, when the inner foliage of many conifers turned yellow and brown. “What’s wrong with the trees?” visitors wanted to know.

As part of their life cycle, conifers undergo leaf drop, too. But it’s a sequential one — not an annual process like that of deciduous trees, and not to be confused with discolored foliage throughout the tree or at the branch tips at other times, which may indicate disease or injury.

Each year, the oldest foliage fades and prepares to fall. How long each needle holds on before that is particular to the species, ranging from two years to four or more.

Admittedly, the process can look alarming.

There’s no need to panic, though. Nothing’s wrong — provided you know a little about how to read the tree leaves.

#Botany #Trees #Tree 🌴 🌲 Leaves 🍁 🍂 🍃#Amateur Gardener #Margaret Roach #The New York Times #Fallen Foliage #New York Botanical Garden 🪴#Needles of a White Pine 🌲#Marcescence | Witch-Hazels

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rjalker · 2 years

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this is the most disappointing picture I've ever taken

A wasp was sitting on the acorn drinking out of the cap not even a second before I took this picture. It flew away completely before my thumb hit the camera button. RIP.

but anyways look at that wasp gall next to the cap, it's the little brown sphere on the bottom of the leaf, probably the species Belonocnema treatae, which doesn't have a common name.

This is a southern live oak tree, which is evergreen! It's weird. The acorns when ripe are a very shiny black, with a noticeable "tan line" where the cap was, which stays pale tan. It's a host plant for multiple species of gall wasps, including Belonocnema treatae, but also:

Callirhytis quercusbatatoides, aptly named the Southern Live Oak Stem Gall Wasp, because it forms galls on the stem rather than the leaves.

There's also Andricus quercusfoliatus, the Leafy Oak Gall Wasp, which also forms galls on the stems, but they almost look like fluffy acorn caps, and the first few times I saw them, I thought they /were/ developing acorns!

[ID: A portrait photograph of a southern live oak tree, with an empty acorn cap facing the camera that has a few drops of water in it. Below and around it are unripe acorns still in their caps, which are dark green on the ends and paler green towards the cap. The leaves of the live oak are dark green, and shaped long long ovals, with slightly wavy edges. The stems are light tan, with clusters of red pointed buds at the end of each twigs. Some spanish moss, with strands of fuzzy light grey, curl around the twigs and a dead branch. Next to the acorn cap in the center of the photo, on a leaf behind it, is small, red-brown sphere of a wasp gall from the species Belonocnema treatae. Some sparce grass and dead leaves are visible on the ground in the background End ID.]

#Rjalker takes pictures #southern live oak #quercus virginiana #live oak #live oaks #oaks #acorns #spanish moss #wasp galls #gall wasps #?#Belonocnema treatae #galls #oak galls

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secret-stash-of-literary-quotes · 5 months

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Mrs Dalloway

Waves of divine vitality which Clarissa loved. To dance, to ride, she had adored all that;

However beautiful the day might be, and the trees and the grass, and the little girl in pink—Peter never saw a thing of all that. He would put on his spectacles, if she told him to; he would look. It was the state of the world that interested him; Wagner, Pope’s poetry, people’s characters eternally, and the defects of her own soul;

For in marriage a little licence, a little independence there must be between people living together day in day out in the same house;

She had a perpetual sense, as she watched the taxicabs, of being out, out, far out to sea and alone; she always had the feeling that it was very, very dangerous to live even one day;

Her only gift was knowing people almost by instinct;

Hazel eyes which had that look of apprehension in them which makes complete strangers apprehensive too. The world has raised its whip; where will it descend;

‘For you should see the Milan gardens,’ she said aloud. But to whom There was nobody. Her words faded. So a rocket fades. Its sparks, having grazed their way into the night, surrender to it, dark descends, pours over the outlines of houses and towers. But though they are gone, the night is full of them; robbed of colour, blank of windows, they exist more ponderously, give out what the frank daylight fails to transmit—the trouble and suspense of things conglomerated there in the darkness; huddled together in the darkness; reft of the relief which dawn brings when, washing the walls white and grey, spotting each window-pane, lifting the mist from the fields, showing the red-brown cows peacefully grazing, all is once more decked out to the eye; exists again;

Moments like this are buds on the tree of life;

The dwindling of life; how year by year her share was sliced; how little the margin that remained was capable any longer of stretching, of absorbing, as in the youthful years, the colours, salts, tones of existence, so that she filled the room she entered, and felt often, as she stood hesitating one moment on the threshold of her drawing-room, an exquisite suspense, such as might stay a diver before plunging while the sea darkens and brightens beneath him, and the waves which threaten to break, but only gently split their surface, roll and conceal and encrust as they just turn over the weeds with pearl;

She knew nothing about sex—nothing about social problems. She had once seen an old man who had dropped dead in a field—she had seen cows just after their calves were born;

But nothing is so strange when one is in love (and what was this except being in love?) as the complete indifference of other people;

She was not old yet. She had just broken into her fifty-second year. Months and months of it were still untouched. June, July, August! Each still remained almost whole, and, as if to catch the falling drop, Clarissa (crossing to the dressing-table) plunged into the very heart of the moment, transfixed it, there—the moment of this June morning on which was the pressure of all the other mornings, seeing the glass, the dressing-table, and all the bottles afresh, collecting the whole of her at one point (as she looked into the glass), seeing the delicate pink face of the woman who was that very night to give a party; of Clarissa Dalloway; of herself;

Then, just as happens on a terrace in the moonlight, when one person begins to feel ashamed that he is already bored, and yet as the other sits silent, very quiet, sadly looking at the moon, does not like to speak, moves his foot, clears his throat, notices some iron scroll on a table leg, stirs a leaf, but says nothing—so Peter Walsh did now;

‘Well, and what’s happened to you?’ she said. So before a battle begins, the horses paw the ground; toss their heads; the light shines on their flanks; their necks curve. So Peter Walsh and Clarissa, sitting side by side on the blue sofa, challenged each other;

‘In love!’ she said. That he at his age should be sucked under in his little bow-tie by that monster! And there’s no flesh on his neck; his hands are red; and he’s six months older than I am! her eye flashed back to her; but in her heart she felt, all the same; he is in love. He has that, she felt; he is in love;

And it was awfully strange, he thought, how she still had the power, as she came tinkling, rustling, still had the power, as she came across the room, to make the moon, which he detested, rise at Bourton on the terrace in the summer sky;

Take me with you, Clarissa thought impulsively, as if he were starting directly upon some great voyage;

Rigid, the skeleton of habit alone upholds the human frame;

Well, I’ve had my fun; I’ve had it, he thought, looking up at the swinging baskets of pale geraniums. And it was smashed to atoms—his fun, for it was half made up, as he knew very well; invented, this escapade with the girl; made up, as one makes up the better part of life, he thought—making oneself up; making her up; creating an exquisite amusement, and something more. But odd it was, and quite true; all this one could never share—it smashed to atoms.

It was a splendid morning too. Like the pulse of a perfect heart, life struck straight through the streets. There was no fumbling—no hesitation.

To watch a leaf quivering in the rush of air was an exquisite joy. Up in the sky swallows swooping, swerving, flinging themselves in and out, round and round, yet always with perfect control as if elastics held them; and the flies rising and falling; and the sun spotting now this leaf, now that, in mockery, dazzling it with soft gold in pure good temper; and now and again some chime (it might be a motor horn) tinkling divinely on the grass stalks—all of this, calm and reasonable as it was, made out of ordinary things as it was, was the truth now; beauty, that was the truth now. Beauty was everywhere.

This susceptibility to impressions had been his undoing, no doubt. Still at his age he had, like a boy or a girl even, these alternations of mood; good days, bad days, for no reason whatever, happiness from a pretty face, downright misery at the sight of a frump.

She was worldly; cared too much for rank and society and getting on in the world—which was true in a sense; she had admitted it to him. (You could always get her to own up if you took the trouble; she was honest.) What she would say was that she hated frumps, fogies, failures, like himself presumably; thought people had no right to slouch about with their hands in their pockets; must do something, be something;

Infinite numbers of dull people conglomerated round her, of course. But odd unexpected people turned up; an artist sometimes; sometimes a writer; queer fish in that atmosphere;

As we are a doomed race, chained to a sinking ship (her favourite reading as a girl was Huxley and Tyndall,* and they were fond of these nautical metaphors), as the whole thing is a bad joke, let us, at any rate, do our part; mitigate the sufferings of our fellow-prisoners (Huxley again); decorate the dungeon with flowers and air-cushions; be as decent as we possibly can;

She had a sense of comedy that was really exquisite, but she needed people, always people, to bring it out, with the inevitable result that she frittered her time away, lunching, dining, giving these incessant parties of hers, talking nonsense, saying things she didn’t mean, blunting the edge of her mind, losing her discrimination;

The compensation of growing old, Peter Walsh thought, coming out of Regent’s Park, and holding his hat in his hand, was simply this; that the passions remain as strong as ever, but one has gained—at last!—the power which adds the supreme flavour to existence—the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it round, slowly, in the light;

But now, at the age of fifty-three, one scarcely needed people any more. Life itself, every moment of it, every drop of it, here, this instant, now, in the sun, in Regent’s Park, was enough. Too much, indeed. A whole lifetime was too short to bring out, now that one had acquired the power, the full flavour; to extract every ounce of pleasure, every shade of meaning; which both were so much more solid than they used to be, so much less personal;

He felt an extraordinary relief, wanted nothing so much as to be alone; was annoyed to find all her little attentions—cigars, notes, a rug for the voyage—in his cabin. Everyone if they were honest would say the same; one doesn’t want people after fifty;

A sound interrupted him; a frail quivering sound, a voice bubbling up without direction, vigour, beginning or end, running weakly and shrilly and with an absence of all human meaning into ee um fah um so foo swee too eem oo— the voice of no age or sex, the voice of an ancient spring spouting from the earth;

Through all ages—when the pavement was grass, when it was swamp, through the age of tusk and mammoth, through the age of silent sunrise—the battered woman*—for she wore a skirt—with her right hand exposed, her left clutching at her side, stood singing of love—love which has lasted a million years, she sang, love which prevails, and millions of years ago her lover, who had been dead these centuries, had walked, she crooned, with her in May; but in the course of ages, long as summer days, and flaming, she remembered, with nothing but red asters, he had gone [...] Still remembering how once in some primeval May she had walked with her lover, this rusty pump, this battered old woman with one hand exposed for coppers, the other clutching her side, would still be there in ten million years, remembering how once she had walked in May, where the sea flows now, with whom it did not matter—he was a man, oh yes, a man who had loved her. But the passage of ages had blurred the clarity of that ancient May day; the bright-petalled flowers were hoar and silver frosted; and she no longer saw, when she implored him (as she did now quite clearly) ‘look in my eyes with thy sweet eyes intently’, she no longer saw brown eyes, black whiskers or sunburnt face, but only a looming shape, a shadow shape, to which, with the birdlike freshness of the very aged, she still twittered ‘give me your hand and let me press it gently;

It was a silly, silly dream, being unhappy;

It has flowered; flowered from vanity, ambition, idealism, passion, loneliness, courage, laziness, the usual seeds, which all muddled up, made him shy, and stammering, made him anxious to improve himself, made him fall in love with Miss Isabel Pole, lecturing in the Waterloo Road upon Shakespeare;

‘Beautiful!’ she would murmur, nudging Septimus, that he might see. But beauty was behind a pane of glass. Even taste (Rezia liked ices, chocolates, sweet things) had no relish to him. He put down his cup on the little marble table. He looked at people outside; happy they seemed, collecting in the middle of the street, shouting, laughing, squabbling over nothing. But he could not taste, he could not feel. In the teashop among the tables and the chattering waiters the appalling fear came over him—he could not feel. He could reason; he could read, Dante for example, quite easily (‘Septimus, do put down your book,’ said Rezia, gently shutting the Inferno), he could add up his bill; his brain was perfect; it must be the fault of the world then—that he could not feel;

Now that he was quite alone, condemned, deserted, as those who are about to die are alone, there was a luxury in it, an isolation full of sublimity; a freedom which the attached can never know;

For he would say it in so many words, when he came into the room. Because it is a thousand pities never to say what one feels;

Nothing else had she of the slightest importance; could not think, write, even play the piano. She muddled Armenians and Turks; loved success; hated discomfort; must be liked; talked oceans of nonsense; and to this day, ask her what the Equator was, and she did not know;

All the same, that one day should follow another; Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday; that one should wake up in the morning; see the sky; walk in the park; meet Hugh Whitbread; then suddenly in came Peter; then these roses; it was enough. After that, how unbelievable death was!—that it must end; and no one in the whole world would know how she had loved it all; how, every instant...;

And her fine eyes, having no eyes to meet, gazed ahead, blank, bright, with the staring, incredible innocence of sculpture;

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chandigarhayurved · 5 months

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Home Remedies for Joint Pain-

Joint pain caused by many types of injuries or infections, illness or inflammation. Joint pain also called arthralgia which means inflammation of the joint, which causes pain and sometimes redness, warmth or swelling of the joint. Joint pain refers to aches, discomfort and soreness in any of the body’s joints. It is a common complaint. Arthritis is also a common cause of joint pain; it can also be due to other conditions or factors. Joint allow the bones of your skeleton to move. Joint include- hips, shoulders, elbows, knees. 2 main forms of arthritis are osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis. Joint pain can affect your quality of life. Physical discomfort where two or more bones meet to form a joint ranging from mild to disabling joint pain can felt in multiple parts of the body. Weight, age, previous injuries, overuse and other medical conditions can all be

Causes of Joint pain-

Gout

Bursitis

Lupus

Certain infectious diseases such as influenza, mumps and hepatitis

An injury

Chondromalacia of the patella or a breakdown of the cartilage in the kneecap

An infection of the bone or joint

Overuse of a joint

Cancer

Fibromyalgia

Osteoporosis

Sarcoidosis

Rickets

Symptoms of Joint pain-

Redness or warmth at a joint

The area around the joint is swollen, red, tender or warm to the touch

Severe joint pain the pain persists for 3 days or more

You have a fever but no other signs of the flu

The joint is completely immobile

Home Remedies for Joint pain-

Lose weight

Exercise regularly

Eat a healthy and anti- inflammatory diet

Use ice and heat therapy

Lower your stress levels

Turmeric and ginger tea – turmeric and ginger are both anti-inflammatory and it will help with osteoarthritis and rheumatoid arthritis.

Cold compressed olive oil massage

Make a joint pain relieving rub – take 3-4 buds of garlic, heat them in mustard oil for 3-5 minutes, let the garlic turn brown and your oil is ready apply this oil on the affected area.

Epsom salt soak – it is a classic remedy for joint pain is taking a relaxing bath with Epsom salts

Anti-inflammatory herbs- herbs like ginger, turmeric and boswellia are great for reducing inflammation throughout the body

Aloe Vera contains anti-inflammatory properties it is very beneficial in joint pain. It’s available in many forms such as pills, powder, gel, leaf

Eucalyptus – extracts of eucalyptus leaves feature in topical remedies to treat arthritis pain. Eucalyptus essential oils help ease the symptoms of RA

#ayurvedic #herbal #treatment #health & fitness #ayurvedic medicine for piles #food #ayurved #natural

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scattered-winter · 1 year

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!! (willow?? <333)

he :]

(picrew link)

his parents were both knights, and they were killed in separate, unrelated battles* leaving him behind to be trained to follow in their footsteps (because we're back at it with the NARRATIVE CYCLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and so he was training to be a knight with rowan, and they were rivals who would compete with each other at every opportunity and they couldn't STAND each other but :] they eventually grow super close and were inseparable until rowan suddenly is chosen as the new king and everything fucking changes.

*their kingdom is constantly at war with other kingdoms/factions/forces of nature because. that's what a forest is: a massive ecosystem of living things all fighting to survive. the knights hold the line between the kingdom and the chaos of nature trying to survive and its soooooooooooooooo (you thought i wouldn't put knight shit in a story? you thought WRONG !!!!)

willow feels !! a little betrayed !!! his best friend is actually gonna be the fucking king !!! and he didn't know about it !!!! and he doesn't even get the chance to talk to rowan about it to find out that he didn't know about it either !! because rowan went to the mother tree to learn how to use his powers and willow had his own training to complete !! they were joined at the hip fighting side by side for years and now they can't even fucking see each other !! it's the equivalent of buck and eddie getting separated !!!!! they were best friends !!!!!!

about a year later, they run into each other at a celebration of some kind, and they reconnect and it's like they were never apart. and willow decides right then and there that he never wants to be separated from his other half like that again ??? so he fucking ?? turns his entire trajectory around and becomes part of rowan's inner guard instead ??

and I do actually know how willow's story ends: he dies to protect the forest and rowan, just like every knight before him. something something he didn't become a knight because he wanted to avoid his parents' fate but it was inescapable either way

on a MUCH happier note, the KNIGHTS !!!!! i want them to have a cool name but i haven't come up w one yet. but they have magic leaf armor that's like. mostly leather w a little bit of chain mail so that they have peak movement and agility. and their armor changes colors w the seasons to blend in with their surroundings because a BIG part of this kingdom's natural defense is camouflage. so in the summer, their armor is a bunch of different shades of green/teal, in the fall it's gold/red/orange/yellow, in the winter it's white/silver/brown, and in the spring it's pink/light green/light blue to blend in with the blossoms and buds :]

#he makes me insane <3 #forest ecosystems are like. a little hyperfixation of mine so ofc im putting all kinds of shit into the worldbuilding :]#willow (oc)#tysm :] i love he #leo 🌻

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hornegreenwood05 · 2 years

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<h1>Wholesale Trees For Sale In Bulk Portions Close To Cape Town</h1>

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Likely from the Chihuhuan space of the Rocky Mountain, regardless of its name “paraguayense,” this plant lovesthe sun. While it will deal with the shade and still produce stunning grays and silvers, purples, and blues, it shines the most in full sun. This awkward epiphyte likes to defy the principles of a succulent a little. Once mistaken for being a member of the parasitic Cassytha, it was soon discovered to be a real cactus. It options numerous indeterminate branches with small hairs at nubs. Coming from East Africa, this succulent will prefer warmer, brighter circumstances. artificial palm trees for sale Although vigourous and adaptable to low temperatures and peacock spot, lower yield must be anticipated particularly in hotter regions. Low pollen quality and wishes ample cross pollination from Barnea, Arbequina, Frantoio and Coratina. Picual is highly rates as a general pollinator, self pollinating successfully. 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wellwaytea · 2 years

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What are the Differences between Green Tea and Black Tea

Black tea and green tea originate from the same plant; however, they require different processing techniques. The next time you drink tea there are more similarities and differences that you may notice.

What is green tea?

Green tea is a general term reserved for loose-leaf tea made from the leaves and buds of the Camellia sinensis plant, produced primarily in China and consumed worldwide. Manufacturers in Japan steam the Sancha tea leaves and then hand-roll them to retain their delicate, herbal flavor. Macha is another type of green tea that producer’s process green tea leaves into a fine powder. The customer then prepares the tea by mixing the matches in boiling water.

However, if you use very hot water while brewing green tea, you may burn or scratch the tea leaves. As a result, your tea will taste bitter and less appetizing. Compared to black tea, green tea is steeped for a short time, usually about 1-2 minutes.

What is Black Tea?

Black tea is another variant of tea made from the leaves of the same plant, Camellia sinensis. However, unlike green tea leaves, growers completely oxidize black tea leaves immediately after harvesting. The process of oxidation, unlike green tea leaves, turns the leaves into a dark brown or black shade, which retains their natural green shade.

Currently, various varieties of black tea are grown mainly in India and China. There are some varieties of world famous black tea like Assam, Golden Yunnan and Darjeeling. In addition, Vietnam and Nepal are the other two largest Asian producers of black tea in the world.

Unlike green tea, when brewing black tea, we use boiling water at or around 212 degrees. Additionally, we soak black tea for about 3-5 minutes.

Black Tea vs. Green Tea: The Difference between Teas

Black tea and green tea come from the same plant, although differences in their processing lead to differences in caffeine, color and taste.

Caffeine

One cup of green tea contains less caffeine - twenty-five to thirty milligrams - resulting in less processing time than a cup of black tea. Black tea contains about forty to fifty milligrams of caffeine per cup (still less than the amount of caffeine you get in a cup of coffee). The longer the tea bag is boiled, the higher the caffeine content.

Color

Once tea growers harvest green tea leaves, they warm them gently usually with steam which helps prevent high levels of oxidation. This process retains the green color of the green tea. In the production of black tea, the leaves undergo a long period of oxidation process, also called tea fermentation process. This gives the black tea leaves a dark brown or black color.

Polyphenols

Since all teas are derived from plants, they contain polyphenols-organic compounds including flavonoids, tannins and theflavins. However, black tea and green tea have different types and amounts of polyphenols. For example, green tea contains epigallocatechin gallate, tea contains the most abundant catechins, while black tea contains more theflavins, which contribute to the red color. Tea also contains L-theanine, an amino acid that gives green tea its broth flavor.

Taste

A shorter brewing process in other words, a shorter oxidation process-preserves and enhances the natural flavor of green tea and prevents the typical bitterness of black tea. In contrast, black tea undergoes a longer oxidation process, resulting in a stronger flavor than green tea.

The main difference between green tea and black tea is oxidation. Producers avoid oxidizing tea when processing green tea, but manufacturers generally oxidize the tea leaves used to produce black tea for a significant period of time. This leaves two varieties of tea as two products that differ in taste and color but with similar health benefits.

#herbal tea #green tea #online tea store #buy herbal tea #buy green tea #tea

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frankenshane · 3 years

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our pomegranate tree is R E A D Y for spring!

#complete with brown and red leaf buds #that are impossible to photograph well on my phone 🙃

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foragingincanadamb · 2 years

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Rose hips-Prickly Rose

Find:part shade, sun; dry to moist; boreal forest, woodland edges, rocky openings, lakeshores, thickets

Description:A deciduous shrub up to 4 ft. tall with densely prickly stems & pink, 5-petaled flowers. Foliage is pinnately compound and somewhat pubescent. Flowers, usually solitary but sometimes in small clusters, are followed by smooth rosehips.Bloom Color are White and Pink. Blooming Time is Jun and Jul.

Edible Parts and uses:Rosehips for jelly and tea; edible flowers.

Precautions:Prickly.

Rose-Low Prairie and the very similar Smooth Rose

Find:It occurs on hills and other well-drained, open sites on the prairies throughout the province.

Description:The bark is red-brown in colour and densely covered with prickles. The leaves are dark green and pinnately compound. The leaflets number 9–11 per leaf, are usually smooth and shiny, and measure 2–5 cm in length. The flowers appear in June and July and occur in corymbs of 2 or 3 flowers. Each blossom displays five broad, white to light pink to dark pink petals which measure 1.5–2.5 cm in length. Five sepals and numerous yellow stamens are also present. The fruit is a rounded, dull orange to red structure called a ‘hip’ which contains a number of hairy, dry achenes. The petals and hips are high in vitamins A and C, calcium, phosphorus and iron and are used to make tea.

Edible Parts and uses:Most parts of the rose are edible—flower buds, petals, young leaves—but the hips are most nutritious

Precautions:no side effects.

Skunkberry

Find:part shade, shade; moist to wet; swamps, bogs, conifer and mixed forests, thickets, ravines, rocky shores

Description:Leaves are 1 to 2 inches long, 1¼ to 3 inches wide, coarsely toothed, heart-shaped at the base, with 5 to 7 primary lobes that may be again shallowly lobed. Veins are prominent and radiate from the base. Leaf stalks are 1 to 3 inches long and hairless to sparsely glandular, and may have a few long hairs at the base.Erect to ascending clusters arising from leaf axils on lateral branches, made up of 6 to 15 stalked flowers. Flowers are ¼ to 1/6 inch across, saucer to bell-shaped with a shallow, bowl-shaped tube. The 5 petals are tiny, erect, more or less spoon-shaped, pink to purplish, alternating with 5 pink to purple stamens that are about the same length as the petals. The calyx cupping the flower is yellowish to greenish white, hairless to sparsely hairy and sometimes glandular, with 5 sepal lobes that are rather petal-like, much larger and showier than the actual petals, rounded or lobed at the tips, widely spreading and white to creamy colored.

Edible Parts and uses:Most parts of the rose are edible—flower buds, petals, young leaves—but the hips are most nutritious

Precautions:no side effects.

Smooth Blackberry

Find:farms,woodland,in the woods and sandhills.

Description:has almost completely smooth stems that are free of prickles and spines. Leaves are smooth with few hairs on the underside.

Edible Parts and uses:The fruit is edible raw or cooked.Leaves can be dried for tea.

Precautions: no side effects.

Strawberry-American Wild

Find:Found in patches in fields and dry openings.

Description:Wild strawberries are very to spot as their leaves have toothed edges and hairy undersides. The white flowers have five petals and a golden centre; and the distinctive red fruit look like cultivated strawberries with tiny seeds on the outside.

Edible Parts and uses:Fruit.Tea can be made from either fresh or dried leaves.

Precautions:no side effects.

Western Mountain Ash

Find:Likes acidic soil with good drainage, full sun to light shade. Grows to 10'–30'.

Description:green leaves turn yellow, orange and reddish-purple in the fall. Showy white spring flowers are followed by large clusters of flame-red, berry-like fruit loved by birds.

Edible Parts and uses:The berries may be used fresh, dried, or cooked and then dried. People take mountain ash for diabetes.

Precautions:Eating large amounts of raw mountain ash berries can also be unsafe.

Wild Sarsaparilla

Find:can grow in full shade and semi-shaded areas.

Description:A separate stalk, shorter than the leaf stalk, bears ball-shaped clusters of tiny, greenish-white flowers followed in fall by dark purple berries. The leafless flower stem, topped with clusters of greenish-white flowers, is beneath a large, umbrella-like leaf. Often grows in colonies from extensive rootstock.

Edible Parts and uses:The leaves, fruits, and roots of this plant are edible, but the roots are by far the most commonly used one. They're used as a substitute for sarsaparilla, to make root beer, to make syrup, as well as to flavor other foods and beverages.Young shoots are often cooked as a potherb as well. They can be stir-fried, blanched, or added into soups and stews. Lastly, ripe wild sarsaparilla fruits can be used to make wine and jelly.

Precautions:There are no known side effects of using sarsaparilla. However, taking a large amount of saponins may cause stomach irritation.

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fleckcmscott · 3 years

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Coffee & Donuts

Summary: Arthur’s thrilled to be part of a crowd. Though the evening doesn’t go perfectly, Y/N’s flirtations make it sweet.

Warnings: Smut

Words: 4,602

A/N: Alright. After the heart wrenching angst of my last piece (which I love, by the way; don't get me wrong! 😂), I had to write another story in which Arthur and Y/N are happy and together. It's inspired by one of Arthur's visions during their kiss. I hope you all like it! Special thanks to @jokerownsmysoul for beta-ing!

If you have any thoughts or questions, please comment, feel free to message me, or send me an ask. Requests for Arthur and WWH are open!

Parties and celebrations weren't foreign to Arthur. He'd worked plenty, enough to make him realize what he'd been missing out on. He was well-versed in pin the tail on the donkey, musical chairs, and balloon animals. But as an adult, those activities didn't satisfy. He wanted to be included rather than paid. Connect with people, introduce himself. Discuss his experiences and pursuits. Feel sufficiently at ease to loosen up a little and have a good time.

Now he was a guest - a certified guest - at Patricia Gorman's fifty-sixth birthday party. The first party he'd been invited to since being the weird kid in class who'd rotated between three worn out sweaters and could never afford a gift.

He'd been a tad apprehensive about going to Burnside. Gotham's nicest borough had a reputation for high rents and low tolerance. When Y/N and he had entered 2E, however, Patricia's greeting ("You made it!") and the apartment were thoroughly welcoming. Crocodile brown walls and forest green shag carpet made the spacious living room a cozy hideaway. Marigolds leapt across the polyester of the T-cushion sofa and its easy-chair companion. The floor lamp's amber, crimped glass shades cast the spacious living room in a glow borrowed from warm autumn days.

Patricia's husband, Robert, was out on an emergency call. An HVAC had gone haywire in a residential building in Hinckley. Her daughter, son-in-law, and grandson had been by for lunch. That meant the only other guests were Matt - Y/N's old boss - and a bottle-blonde in a black halter dress and spike heels, who Y/N introduced as Laura. ("She's Matt's ex-wife," Y/N later disclosed. "He's been trying to win her back since I moved to Gotham.") Both shook Arthur's hand when he offered it, and he felt a little thrill whirl his stomach when Y/N laid claim to him by telling the woman, "This is my husband."

A collection of appetizers served as dinner, a fun and novel menu. The slow cooker meatballs Y/N and he had lugged over on the subway were a bit tangy; he still couldn't believe the recipe called for grape jelly. The deviled eggs with paprika, a pleasant mix of savory and sweet, was a dish he'd heard about on television. Cream cheese and cucumber sandwiches were light and airy, a good match for his iced tea. Only the artichoke and spinach dip gave him pause. Its beans and hot sauce made his taste buds wince.

That unpleasant flavor was quickly forgotten when Y/N pulled him to sit next to her on the sofa, so Patricia could open her presents. She proudly showed off the orange, clay ashtray her grandson had made for her. Arthur, having successfully kept the secret of her light smoking from Y/N, chuckled at Patricia fibbing she'd put candy in it. She thanked Matt and Laura for the champagne, wrapped in a silver bow with a simple "Happy Birthday" tag. The bottle wasn't popped. Upon peeking into the large giftbag Y/N placed on her lap, she made a soft sound. The Dazey whirlpool bath, which attached to the side of the tub and had three strength settings, was a hit. She announced her plans to try it in the morning. The dark blue Rexbuilt briefbag was intended to replace her cracked, leather briefcase, Y/N explained. Patricia ran her fingertips along the expanding inner compartments, the personalized planner that included the credential "CLA" after her name, and flipped through the included steno pads, eyes brimming.

She sipped at her cocktail and put an arm around Y/N. Melancholy tinged Patricia's voice. "At my age, the people in your life tend to stay the people in your life. Whether you like them or not." She reached further and patted Arthur's knee. "I'm glad an old dame like me gets to call you all friends." His throat clenched in gratification, though he wasn't daring enough to squeeze her hand and thank her for deciding he was a friend.

Still on top of the world an hour later, Arthur sauntered to the red and white enamel dining table to serve himself a second slice of upside-down pineapple cake. The evening had gone well, better than a guy with a natural inability to mingle could've expected. He bobbed his head to the beat of "Come Fly with Me." It was a happy coincidence that Patricia's taste in music aligned with his. She'd regaled him with tales of seeing Sinatra and Count Basie on her and Robert's honeymoon in Vegas. Arthur took a bite absentmindedly, wondering how long it would take for him to save the money to surprise Y/N with plane and concert tickets.

The daydreaming didn't last long. Matt's plodding footsteps preceded him, followed by a long sigh as he propped himself on the beige stone of the dining area's accent wall, across from the u-shaped kitchen. He held out a Budweiser and smirked. "Marriage is a hell of a lot of work."

Pleased that he was being treated like one of the guys, like a regular husband with a regular relationship who got to speak about his regular wife, Arthur accepted the beer and considered the comment. Matt's sentiment was hard to grasp. Dr. Sally had said marriage could be difficult, and Y/N's first hadn't survived the ripples of her life. But it didn't feel like work with her. Their arguments were minor. Her nagging him to find a primary doctor for annual check-ups, even though he'd survived this long without one. Or back in Missouri, when he'd told her to stop shielding him and trust he could take anything she had to give.

Arthur adopted a similar nonchalant posture and jutted his hip against the table's edge. "I like it. It's easy to take good care of her." He wasn't able to completely erase the smugness of success from his tone.

"You're what? Two years in with the most headstrong woman in Gotham? She's great and all, but she spikes my blood pressure." Matt slapped Arthur's back and let out a hearty guffaw. "Give it five more and you'll be in my office trying to avoid alimony."

"Don't. Say that." Arthur crinkled the can in his grip and glared up at him.

"Hey," Matt started, withdrawing even as he tried diplomacy. "It was just a joke. I didn't mean anything by it."

Flinching, pulling at the cuffs of his red sweater, Arthur fought the surge of anger in his veins. It wouldn't do to lose control and cause a scene. Of course Matt's comment about them splitting up was supposed to be a joke. But Arthur didn't find it one bit funny. Even with his complete faith in her and his firm belief that they were meant to be together, the possibility that she'd stop wanting him hurt. It didn't occur to him that the implication of the punchline could be that he'd get sick of Y/N.

With a muttered apology, Matt walked to the others in the kitchen. Arthur glanced over to see her laugh tipsily, until she grabbed her stomach and swatted Patricia's shoulder, a stark demonstration of how much he and Y/N differed. She always knew how to respond to people, the right comebacks. Appropriate timing and levels of interaction. It seemed she was in her natural element, the loveliest swan on a lake. Whereas after years of therapy and practice with her, he was still a fish out of water, flopping around on the shoreline in hopes some stranger would take pity on him and throw him back into the sea.

Maybe that was the real punchline. Eventually their contrasts would no longer complement each other and instead become a chore.

Scowling, he ambled towards the record player stationed before two double-hung windows. Increased the volume to drown out the intrusive notions. It didn't really work. He settled on a grounding technique he'd practiced, all the while lamenting that he couldn't handle a party without needing it. His attention went to the spinning LP, the needle following its grooves. The bright blue album cover, where Ol' Blue Eyes beckoned him, the scuff marks on the cardboard's corner edges. He acknowledged the spider plants sat on the windowsill, worried a papery leaf until it broke off. He stared out the window, taking in the whole of the city. Pinpricks of light dazzling in the darkness.

"Gotham's beautiful at night," Y/N said from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder to watch her approach. Her cheeks glowed with alcohol and good cheer, the collar of her ivory blouse unbuttoned. "There's a life behind every light out there. Ten million of them. Here. Try this." She offered her hurricane glass, filled with an off-white slush.

He sipped the pina colada with cautious skepticism and grimaced as soon as it hit his tongue. The blend of pineapple and coconut tasted of cheap sunscreen and tropical imitations, the kind advertised in smudged brochures for bad cruises to islands with made up sounding names. "No, thanks."

Snorting, she shrugged and embraced his back at the waist. "How are we doing?" she asked, curling into his side. After a few seconds, she prodded him. "Had your fill of Matt?"

"He was just joking." Arthur rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. She set the drink next to the record player and brought her hand to his, trailed it over the inside of his wrist, up his forearm. She pecked his chin and nudged him until he turned to her. As soon as their gazes met, the concern in hers told him she'd continue to pepper him with questions. But he wasn't about to let his misplaced doubts spoil her evening. And he knew the perfect way to distract them both.

A new song started. An oldie that sang of Jupiter and Mars, playfulness among the stars. He cupped her cheek, thumb sweeping the corner of her mouth. "Dance with me," he said. Before accepting his proffered palm, she laid a sloppy kiss on him. With a flutter of her eyelashes, she grinned, and his smile grew to match her own. As he held her side, led her in a slow, swaying circle, he marveled at her. At her ability to soothe every molecule, every lingering ache. Self-assurance welled in him, chased away his earlier dejection. He cradled her to his lanky frame, trembled and felt himself blush. She was the only woman for him. That was as certain as his cigarette habit.

Despite Patricia's reassurances she was fine, that Robert working late wasn't unusual, Y/N insisted on staying until he got home. Though Arthur would have preferred they take their leave an hour earlier, being allowed to smoke inside blunted his grumbling. The disarming flirtations she bestowed on him also didn't hurt. She'd pour herself a drink (four in total, if he counted correctly), help Patricia make a plate of leftovers for her husband, then throw him a wink. Whisper and cackle while cleaning, then kiss his temple.

Around midnight, Patricia put her foot down. Ushered them out with a promise to call and a hug fierce enough to crush his ribs. She raised a brow at Y/N's unsteady gait, grasped Arthur's arm, and said with a wry, tired smile, "Make sure you put that woman straight to bed." His dark brows shot up and held. Had she intended a pun? Or had Y/N's spare caresses caused the interpretation? Either way, he liked being trusted to take care of her. And the hint of arousal that flared in his belly.

By the time they stumbled into their apartment, that arousal had reduced to a dull exhaustion. She kicked off her heels on the way to the bathroom, calling a slurred "night!" as she closed the door. Yawning, he put dish soap and hot water in the crockpot, scrubbed burned bits of sauce from its rim, turned it upside down on a towel to dry. Once he'd brushed his teeth for one minute rather than the recommended two, he tossed his sweater, trousers, briefs, and socks in the hamper, and went to the bedroom. He found his blue pajamas in their usual spot, the chair in the corner, and slid them up his skinny but toned legs. Tucked in next to her, he was carried to sleep on waves of fatigue and her quiet, wet snoring.

~~~~~

A tickle threatened to rouse him. Whispers along the waistband of his bottoms. Heat snuggled his back. Delightfully drowsy, he cuddled deeper into cozy, cream-color sheets, already returning to a pleasant, dreamless slumber. But a rumble of exhaust, likely from a bus that needed a new muffler, dragged him to consciousness. Arthur grumbled and tucked his arm under his pillow, not ready to transition to a world of overcrowding and concrete, commotion and bad jokes.

Yet, Y/N's insistent grazes continued, luring him with promises of placid pleasure. Her toes wiggled at his heel until he made space for her to slip her foot between his ankles. The corner of his mouth quirked. He was reminded of last night's playfulness, her endless teasing. The way he'd held the crockpot as a shield to fend off her advances on the train home, her forwardness to the point that he would've preferred having a laminated card to present on her behalf. Forgive my wife: she has a condition. It causes frequent and uncontrollable displays of affection.

Nimble fingers edged lower, loosened the tie of his pajamas before dipping beneath the loose elastic to lace through his dark brown curls, darker than the chestnut hair on his head. Her knuckles ran over him, lazy caresses full of intent. Up and down, up and down. Delicate. Deliberate. The blood racing to his groin, the pleasant swelling, made his abdomen twitch. Soon full and heavy, the sensitive tip straining the cotton seams, he pressed his lips together. When she skimmed the tender skin resting on his inner thigh, he flexed the muscle at the base of his erection. It bobbed and hit her wrist and she let loose a girlish giggle, more intoxicating than wine.

With her left leg draped over him at the knee, she undulated against his rear. Plush lips brushed the boney knobs of his spine, damp breath fanned the nape of his neck, labored, needy. Pebbled nipples grazed his back through the thin nylon of her nightgown, taunting and compelling. He made up his mind to throw an arm around her, to yank her on top of him. To eagerly take part in her seduction.

But she withdrew from his bottoms to palm his stomach and plant a gentle kiss to the shell of his ear, whispering, "Sleep tight." The mattress shifted and she rolled away from him. He furrowed his brows. She rarely relented this easily - other times he'd awakened, hard and aching, enveloped by the captivating wetness of her mouth. What was she up to?

Covers rustled. Her calf bumped his. And the opposite of what he'd assumed occurred. Instead of light footfalls leading out of the room, there was silence, silence that seemed to stretch on and on...

Until a hitched gasp gave her away.

Touching herself. She was touching herself. She'd just been all over him, acted like he was some sort of model on the cover of Vue magazine, and now she was touching herself. Right beside him! Ecstatic to have inspired such brazenness, he grinned and fisted the pillow. Her fleeting, stifled moans tangled him in knots, implored him to give her what they both burned for.

He flipped in her direction, his hand shooting under the sheet to grab hers. "Gotcha."

Eyes wide, she gaped at him in surprise. But adoration softened her expression as she entwined their fingers. "How long have you been awake?" she asked.

"Long enough."

He stretched to rewind the shades, the diaphanous curtains staying in place. Sunlight diffused over them, wrapped around her face, lent her disheveled hair a warm luster. He twirled a feathered lock and pecked her eyelids. "Finishing what you started on the subway, hm?"

"Me?" Y/N brought his knuckles to her mouth. "You're the one who came to bed without any underwear."

"Well, it was a late night." The pad of his thumb tugged at her bottom lip to reveal the pink tip of her tongue. He bent to claim it. "I was lucky to find my pajamas."

Chuckling, she broke their connection. "Did you have a good time?"

"Yeah. The cake was good. And the music. Everyone was nice."

"Patricia loved having you there. She thought you were very sweet." A pause as she mapped a dimple. "Matt said he'd upset you. Something stupid about breaking up?"

Vague shadows of discomfort flashed through Arthur, a frustration he'd mostly moved on from. He did his best to ignore it, waving her concern away. "Don't worry about it."

"He was just jealous, you know." Her nails ran along the small of his back. "He wants Laura to look at him the way I look at you."

Arthur had spent so much of his life yearning for change, to understand his purpose in the world and improve himself. The idea that a man with a good education, a successful career, and no disabilities could ever be jealous of him was, frankly, bizarre. But he didn't correct Y/N, instead locking her praise within his heart, preserving it for when he needed it most. He boosted himself on his forearm and fiddled with her V-neck, traced its button loops as he slipped the plastic knobs through them. "And how's that?'

A hint of scandal glimmered in her irises. She arched into him as he eased a strap down her upper arm to reveal her shapely breast, the lilac fabric momentarily catching on its taut peak. "Like I can't get enough of you."

He huffed at that, fondled her faintly before his lips met the velvety skin of her chest. A tonic comprised of the musk oil she'd dabbed on before the party and distinct sexual wanting wafted to his nostrils. He licked at her nipple, the bumps on her areola, and drew it between his teeth. She whined softly and lifted the bottom of her nightdress to her waist.

Hurriedly, he yanked on the waistband of her cotton panties, pushed them past her knees. She kicked them off while he knelt to lower his bottoms. Straddling her, he pumped himself back to hardness and opened the drawer of her nightstand. He searched haphazardly until he retrieved a small, glass bottle of lubricant. (She'd ordered it from a mail catalog, both of them a bit too bashful to walk into an adult shop, even together.)

She snagged it from him and poured half a teaspoon in her hand, then palmed herself. He moved between her legs and she grasped his length, coating him with the warm, slippery liquid. He pushed forward into her. Gradually, slowly, savoring every millimeter of her enticing heat. He noted the stretch of her mouth, the jut of her jaw, the lifting of her upper lip. "Mmm..." she breathed and begged him to keep going. When he did, her head tilted back into the pillow, eyelids falling shut. A smile cut across her cheeks as she purred her satisfaction. "Arthur, I love you."

His touch wandered down the curve of her thigh. At the sight of her subtle writhing beneath him, the sway of her slightly uneven breasts in time with his languid thrusts, he pushed her knee into the mattress, splayed her wider. He grunted lowly. "Look at me."

Their gazes met but didn't hold for long; hers dropped to where they were joined. She caressed right above his pubic bone. "I love seeing you like this." Her fingertips walked a line up his sternum to his chest. "And touching you like this." She wrapped her arms around his middle and drew him to her, locked their lips in a greedy kiss. "And making love like this."

He snorted. "I think this is the only reason you married me."

"Well, not the only reason. There's your good hair, too."

"I've been thinking about cutting it. Trying something new."

"Don't you dare." She tugged at his loose curls, wore her best pout. "What else would I hold onto when we're doing this?"

Laughing lightly, he bumped his nose to hers. Falling into her was like falling into his old fantasies, the ones that'd sustained him through years of isolation. Dates at diners, at comedy clubs, at donut shops, at home. Their shapes had changed as he'd matured, his role in them, his aspirations and infatuations. But they'd remained a warm comfort nonetheless, a place that felt like belonging. And now he belonged with her. Hunger filled him. Happiness. And love. So much love, more than he'd ever believed he'd carried in him. He bucked a little harder. "You feel so good," he murmured. "You make me feel so good."

A strained cry left her and her pelvis answered his steady rhythm with demands of its own. Her calves rose to squeeze him closer, encircle his narrow hips. They were pressed together so tightly; it felt like they were one flesh. He never wanted it to stop. But a dizzying euphoria had ignited, one that eclipsed the romantic yearnings of his heart, twisting his desire to last all morning into the desperate drive to possess her. Gasping, Arthur raised himself to his knees, delving deeper with each push. Their foreheads met and he grit his teeth at the scald of her, the texture of her walls. She fit as though she'd been made for him.

He supposed she was.

Pressure began in the base of him, building and building in terrific torment. The muscles of his inner thighs contracted inward. Tingling climbed his shaft, his tailbone, his spine. He wove his fingers into the sheet, his grip a vise that wrested its corner from the mattress. She kissed the spot where his jaw met his neck, all the while murmuring encouragements for him to let himself go.

Bliss shot through him, from the tips of his toes to the follicles on his scalp, and his back stiffened as he whimpered and poured into. Fever engulfed his frame, sublime in its frenzy, leaving him in a heady stupor. Aftershocks made him tremble. Once, twice. Until, sated and spent, he landed on top her. He closed his eyes, ribs rising and falling as he forced air into his lungs.

A minute later, he swallowed and looked down at her. "You didn't come."

She carded through his sweaty locks. "It's all righ-"

"Shh." He slid out of her and settled at her side, reached between her legs to swipe at her core. "I'm not done," he declared, tracing the edges of her entrance, slick and swollen. One of his favorite things about getting her off was demonstrating his prowess in bed, how well he'd learned with her. His thumb met her plump clitoral hood, and he felt her throb beneath his ministrations.

Nails biting his bicep, she rocked upwards. A bewitching blush crept up her breast, her neck, spread across her cheeks. Shallow pants hit his face, short puffs suffused with high-pitched whines, utterly irresistible. He circled her nub at a steady cadence, tapping when she'd shiver, and she clasped the back of his hand. He swirled his tongue around her nipple, sucked the pretty peak, and lowered the other strap of her nightgown to bare her completely. A hushed plea fell from her lips. "Please, please..."

Suddenly, her vulva grew white hot and she seized, her hips stuttering with each flutter of his touch to her folds. She thrusts her breasts towards him, a sharp moan caught in her throat. Liquid pooled against his fingers, proof of her rapture that made him wish, with mild amusement, that he could be an unmedicated young man again. He would've gladly taken her a second time.

Giggling and rubbing her temple, she released a long exhale and opened her eyes. He brushed her hair back and grinned, completely smitten, like the first time he'd heard a joke and understood the punchline. The light brown picture frame on his nightstand caught his attention, and he regarded the wallet size photo in it, one of the shots of Y/N from the booth at Amusement Mile. The last thing he looked at before turning in each night. He lay his head her shoulder and hummed, listened to the drum of her heart.

She smooched his hairline and wriggled out from beneath him to stand. Her nightie had been reduced to a crumpled stripe of lilac cinched about her waist. It felt tawdry and shameless and he wanted to see her in it for the rest of the weekend. But she peeled it down her legs, wrinkling her nose when it got stuck on her thighs, and stepped out of it one foot at a time. She dropped it on the floral bedspread and retrieved her bathrobe from the closet. "Meet you in the kitchen," she said, opening the door.

The sun had risen higher, its beams slanting across the covers. He basked in it, catlike, then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He pulled on his pajamas, got a new pair of socks from their dresser, and made his way to the kitchen. He washed off the remnants of Y/N's arousal from his fingers, popped open a prescription bottle and took a tablet. He poured water into the coffeemaker, grabbed the can of grounds from the second shelf, added three scoops to the paper filter. Their three-tone brown mugs sat in their spot next to the machine, waiting to be filled.

When the glass coffeepot was half full, Y/N emerged from the bathroom, chuckling to herself. She opened the breadbox on the opposite counter and took out a wax paper bag. "Do you have any idea how dull this morning would have been if we'd never met? I'd have read the Sunday paper, had a drink. Probably worked on a file." He handed her a couple dessert plates, watched her put a donut on each one. "I wonder where you'd be. What woman you'd have breakfast with, what jokes you'd be writing, what magic tricks you'd have learned."

"Um..." At first he wanted to ask where this speculation had come from, if Matt had let her in on exactly what he'd said. But the confident slant of her smirk told Arthur she was teasing. He tried to play along but winced. No matter how appealing, how extraordinary she found him, his gut told him there wouldn't have been another woman. There'd be no more stand-up routines, no more Carnival. He certainly wouldn't be taking care of Penny. He'd likely be locked up in the hospital, maybe even dead. Without an anchor, his life would have lost what little sense it had.

Y/N was one of his anchors now, hooked into the sand alongside his material, treatment, the ability to pay bills. He seized her hand and squeezed it tight, unaware he was squishing her fingers. "I don't wanna think about it," he said quietly.

She sidled up to him and pulled him to her side. Rubbed his flank soothingly and pecked the corner of his mouth. "Don't worry." She took his chin and guided him to look at her. The intimate comfort of her smile helped him believe her next words, even before she spoke them. "I'll always be here."

~~~~~

Tag list (Let me know if you want to be added!): @harmonioussolve @ithinkimaperson @sweet-nothings04 @stephieraptorr @rommies @fallenstarsabyss @gruffle1 @octopus-plasma @tsukiakarinobara @arthur-flecks-lovely-smile @another-day-in-chuckletown @hhandley80 @jokerownsmysoul @fakestreet @ralugraphics @iartsometimes

#arthur fleck #arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck smut #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur fleck x ofc #joker 2019 #watchwhathappens

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straydawg-writing · 3 years

Text

𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖌𝖊𝖙-𝖒𝖊-𝖓𝖔𝖙

ᴅᴀᴢᴀɪ ᴏꜱᴀᴍᴜ.

• bungo stray dogs series

chapter 2: 𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗 — 𝖍𝖎𝖉𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖍

✥ ⊱ ────── ♔ ────── ⊰ ✥

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊

┊ ┊ ┊ ✫ ˚✩

┊ ┊ ✫

┊ ┊

┊ ⊹ ☪︎⋆

✯ ⋆

˚✩

"SORRY TO BREAK IT TO YOU princess, but calling yourself a vegan because you don't believe in hurting animals and then killing 240 men is just stupid," chuuya scowled down at kita's tofu burrito, utterly repulsed by its contents.

"wrong! take any cow that you want and it'll still be a thousand times better than any person I've killed. the human race is corrupted beyond saving, chuu." she said, booping the tip of his nose.

in an attempt to vanquish the pink tint threatening to color his cheeks, he scoffed.

"you're psychotic."

chuuya liked to pretend he was some kind of macho man, the type who worships meat and builds a shrine for his rib-eye steaks adorned with a single leaf on top, but he never failed to come to their lunch meet-ups with a fully decked out salad. out of thoughtfulness for kita, she'd never know.

kita's gaze drifted from her tofu burrito to a boy strolling past their table. bandages wrapped all the way up his arms like vines, and shaggy brown hair fell over his eyes. a coat he didn't wear properly was draped over his shoulders, catching in the wind as he walked. she didn't recognize him.

"don't tell me that annoying prick caught your eye," chuuya grumbled, following her gaze.

"you know him? why haven't i ever seen him before?"

"that idiot follows the boss around like a lost puppy dog. it's pitiful," he spat out, casting glares at the mystery man. "you're better off staying away from him."

kita wasn't sure why the red-head seemed to hate him so much, the boy surely didn't hold himself in a way that suggested he blindly followed another's lead. he gave off a certain aura when he walked, like he was... untamed. maybe even a little dangerous. she couldn't help casting curious glances at the bandaged boy until he turned around, dark brown eyes meeting with her own.

"oh frick," she said through her teeth, sending him a small smile instead of looking away. she wouldn't be found acting all shy and embarrassed now that he had caught her in the act of staring. "he saw me. no way, is he smirking right now?"

chuuya was too busy sending venemous daggers at the teasing boy to hear her, when kita realized he hadn't directed the smirk at her at all. his attention was fully centered on taunting chuuya, and chuuya alone. they seemed to have some kind of rivalry she hadn't been let in on, and now she just felt like a third wheel.

"i don't even want to know."

grabbing kita by the arm, chuuya pulled her away from the table and in the opposite direction from the man, who was now innocently waving goodbye. she was forced to abandon her tofu burrito.

"trust me, i wish i didn't know that suicidal maniac either. unless you enjoy being around an idiot all day," he muttered, strands of red hair trailing behind him as he fast-walked away from the boy.

"but i hang around you, don't i?" kita joked, pulling chuuya back to slow him down and face her.

"stupid.. if you ever try comparing my idiocy with that brat again, I'll make you regret the day you ever did it." he cracked an almost invisible smile as he hit her upside the head, though not hard at all. he would never be the one to hurt her.

starlight cast a shimmering glow on the lush garden, creating a dream-like atmosphere. kita treasured her time here, as it became a reverie from the harsh realities and pressuring stress that the mafia demands. the floral garden has become the place she spends most of her time at, second only to working in the field.

white gravel crunched lightly under her shoes as she walked down the path, lit up by the scattering fireflies. the delightful little things loved kissing the rich blossoming flowers as they flew by, making sure not one of the flowerets missed their light.

white and orange koi fish danced by her feet as she reached the pond. they sent small bubbles up to the surface to greet her, in hopes she had breadcrumbs to spare. what kita did not expect to see was a man sitting on the other side of the ledge, one that had been overwhelmed by the wild vines some years ago. he was captured by the black velvet sky, unbothered to glance her way.

"hello," kita said, in an attempt to break the silence. he didn't so much as look at her, only humming lightly in response. she took that as an invitation to step closer and discover who it was that had snuck into her garden, only realized by the delicate white bandages wrapping his arms.

"oh, you're the one chuuya hates!" she blurted, recognition flashing across her face.

"and you're the girl who couldn't look away, aren't you~?" he teased, finally facing her. the light of the moon illuminated his features, and now she could, at last, get a good look at him. despite his playful tone, it was impossible to get a read on his emotions. he looked at kita with half-lidded eyes, like he was too lazy to find any importance in his being alive there.

"yeah, that's me," she responded, unphased.

it's true that she couldn't tear her gaze away from him before. he had caught her curiosity like a hook, and now she was set on discovering just who the boy was. kita had a talent for sensing another's loneliness. it took one to know one, and right now, that's the only thing she knew about him. even now, she couldn't look away from his enchanting, outcasted eyes.

he looked slightly taken aback by her straightforward answer –especially when she had lifted herself up to sit next to him– but he quickly regained his composure.

"chuuya kind of hates everybody. so aside from being one of the dozens of people he's banned me from... who are you?"

a comfortable silence fell between the two as she waited for his response, the only noise being a low breeze that softly flowed through the leaves of the weeping willow tree watching over the garden.

"what meaning is there in who i am?" the boy asked, letting out a breath he seemed to have been holding in, stretching his arms out in front of him in a manner that was a little too casual for the question he had just posed.

"everything has meaning. even the flowers in this garden have meaning."

he sent her a raised eyebrow, kita taking it as a challenge.

"what, you don't believe me? i'll prove it to you," she said.

pointing to a single white flower growing in the midst of a rose bush, she continued, "that small flower over there means, 'devotion and courage.' it dedicates its entire life to represent its meaning. don't you see?"

"i don't see it."

"then i'll show you," she grabbed his hand, and pointed it in the direction of the flower.

"in its own way, the edelweiss is making a courageous sacrifice by growing in that bush of thorny roses. it's devoting itself to protect the small white bud next to it, and without it, the flower bud would be left vulnerable to die. i'd call that meaningful."

"you see the purplish ones over there? they mean truth. but the orange ones next to it mean deception."

the boy was listening now, letting her have complete rule over his hands. she used his fingertips as pointers to identify all sorts of flowers and the meaningful relevance behind each one. truthfully, the night air had made them cold, but the warmth of her delicate hands on top of his brought both of their inner temperatures to a comforting match.

"and what about those?" he questioned, moving to point both of their hands at a cluster of blue flowers.

"these ones are saying, 'true love memories. do not forget me.'" kita smiled, reaching over and picking one by its stem.

"ow! ow ow ow ow," she whined, holding out her finger. "i forgot they had thorns."

"let me see." he held her bleeding fingertip to where it was visible in the moonlight. without any warning he pressed his lips to her wound, nearly kissing the redness away. when she sat there frozen, he dropped her hand with a satisfied smirk, lips now tinted scarlet.

"what the- you couldn't have just spared a bandaid?! it's still bleeding," kita yelped in a delayed reaction, pulling away to cradle her small injury.

"should i do it again?" he asked, tilting his head and holding a finger to his chin.

"no! i don't even know your name."

"aww, well in that case~ you can call me dazai! and your name?"

"kita. just kita."

dazai. she finally had a name to remember him by. she was glad, dazai seemed to be in a better mood from when they had first met thirty minutes ago. shaking her head, she looked back up at the night sky and let her ebony hair fall loosely behind her.

it seems she'll be sharing her garden with another from now on.

｡✣✤✥━━━━━━━━━━━━✥✤✣｡

❝𝚁𝙴𝙰𝚂𝙾𝙽 𝙻𝙸𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶❞

1:05 ──♡────── 2:53

|◁ II ▷|

— ʜᴏᴡ ᴄᴀɴ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜰɪɴᴅ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ

ᴀ ꜱɪɴɢʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʏ ᴀʟɪᴠᴇ

ᴡʜᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱʜɪɴɪɴɢ ʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʏᴇꜱᴛᴇʀᴅᴀʏ

ɪꜱ ᴀ ʟɪᴠɪɴɢ ʟɪᴇ ᴏɴ ʙᴏʀʀᴏᴡᴇᴅ ᴛɪᴍᴇ?

｡✣✤✥━━━━━━━━━━━━✥✤✣｡

author's notes: i have some big plans for this story! hope you guys enjoy!! if you have any specific requests for the story lmk and i'll add em!

#mafia!dazai x reader #mafia!dazai #bungo stray dogs fanfiction #bungo stray dogs #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x oc #dazai osamu x oc #bsd fanfic #portmafia #mafia!dazai fanfiction

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fan-clan-fun · 4 years

Text

Stormy Skies Clans

Note: these Clans all four live in Japan. Allegiances are taken from a generator which can be found here.

Thank you for your submission!

I see you used a generator. Im curious, was there a reason you decided to use more traditional western based prefixes rather than looking into local options for prefixes? If you didnt want to do the work for the research, completely understandable, but there could be a hidden wealth of prefixes and names you could use for such a unique setting.

ALLEGIANCES

BlossomClan LEADER: Petalstar-pinkish—red tabby she-cat with calico spots on her back. DEPUTY: Wildtansy—spiky-furred black sam with blue eyes. MEDICINE CAT: Tansypetal—tawny she-cat with one aqua eye and one yellow eye. Apprentice, Laurelpaw

LEAFGAZERS: (oldest to youngest) Chervilfoot—mostly white, cream pseudo classic tabby tom with long fur and yellow eyes. Heatherfoot—red spotted tabby tom with gold eyes. Crowcloud—black and red mackerel torbie she-cat with yellow eyes. Lionleg—blue and cream mackerel caliby she-cat with long fur and blue eyes. Mistblaze—blue classic tabby tom with long fur and hazel eyes. WARRIORS: Sootcloud—black and red mackerel tortoiseshell-tabby she-cat with a white chest and toes and amber eyes. Fennelwhisker—cream ticked tabby-and-white tom with golden eyes. Roseberry—red ticked pseudo tabby she-cat with copper eyes. Apprentice, Magpiepaw Egretwhisker—white tom with a ticked cream pseudo tabby tail and ears. Apprentice, Fritillarypaw Breamcloud—blue ticked tabby she-cat with long fur and green eyes. Plumfoot—black and red spotted tortoiseshell-tabby she-cat with curly fur and yellow eyes. Nightclaw—black tom, with gold eyes. Shadowberry—black tom with hazel eyes. Apprentice, Whinchatpaw Burnetstream—red mackerel pseudo tabby tom with copper eyes. Raventhroat—long haired, black mackerel tabby tom, with copper eyes. Orchidstorm—blue and cream mackerel calico she-cat with green eyes. Apprentice, Martenpaw Lionstream—red spotted tabby she-cat with gold eyes. Crowstream—black tom with hazel eyes. Thriftberry—red ticked pseudo tabby tom with long fur and yellow eyes. Beestone—cream mackerel tabby tom with green eyes. Slugfoot—black tom with hazel eyes. APPRENTICES: Laurelpaw—white she-cat with a taupe tail and ears and golden eyes. Medicine cat apprentice. Magpiepaw—lilac-and-cream mackerel torbie she-cat with white gloves and yellow eyes. Fritillarypaw—red classic pseudo tabby-and-white tom with green eyes. Whinchatpaw—mostly white, fawn demimolly (she/they, born a she-cat) with blue eyes. Martenpaw—chocolate and red mackerel calico she-cat with green eyes.

TyphoonClan LEADER: Crowstar—black she-cat with hazel eyes. DEPUTY: Cootstone—black she-cat with long fur and hazel eyes. MEDICINE CAT: Ravenblaze—black she-cat with hazel eyes. SKYWATCHERS: Comfreyfang—mostly white red classic-mackerel tabby she-cat with amber eyes. Apprentice, Plumpaw Emberwhisker—furless, chocolate and red ticked tortoiseshell she-cat with copper eyes. Owlleg—chocolate tom with curly fur and green eyes. Sandfur—cream spotted tabby she-cat with yellow eyes. Hornetheart—apricot ticked pseudo-tabby she-cat with green eyes. Shinecloud—black tom with green eyes. Shadowpelt—long haired, black mackerel tabby tom with hazel eyes. Rowanfoot—chocolate and red ticked tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes. WARRIORS: Sandfang—short haired cream mackerel tabby tom with gold eyes. Skipperwhisker—red classic pseudo-tabby tom with long fur and amber eyes. Apprentice, Slugpaw Burnetbriar—red ticked pseudo-tabby tom with copper eyes. Redstorm—long furred, red mackerel tabby tom with gold eyes. Campionfur—blue and cream classic calico she-cat with hazel eyes. Apprentice, Starlingpaw Chervilpelt—white tom with copper eyes. Apprentice, Sootpaw Hailstorm—blue she-cat with yellow eyes. APPRENTICES: Slugpaw—black mackerel tabby tom with gold eyes. Sootpaw—long furred, black she-cat with hazel eyes. Plumpaw—red mackerel pseudo-tabby tom with gold eyes. Skywatcher apprentice. Starlingpaw—black spotted tabby tom with gold eyes.

MountainClan LEADER: Larkstar—chocolate she-cat, with yellow eyes. DEPUTY: Hollystorm—red classic “pseudo-tabby” tom, with short fur, and amber eyes. MEDICINE CAT: Yellowleaf—cream ticked pseudo-tabby she-cat with yellow eyes. PATHFINDERS: Whimbrelstep—chocolate and red mackerel torbie she-cat with yellow eyes. Apprentice, Cootpaw Weaselfoot—fawn and cream mackerel torbie she-cat with amber eyes. Oakleg—red mackerel pseudo-tabby tom with yellow eyes. Slugcrawl—chocolate classic tabby-and-white tom with green eyes. WARRIORS: Frostcloud—white she-cat with copper eyes. Leechblaze—chocolate and red, spotted tortoiseshell-tabby she-cat with long fur and gold eyes. Apprentice, Swanpaw Slugcloud—black spotted tabby tom with copper eyes. Crowfur—black she-cat, with amber eyes. Apprentice, Chubpaw Lionstone—apricot classic tabby tom, with green eyes. Starlingfoot—black spotted tabby she-cat with copper eyes. Apprentice, Nightpaw Rooknose—black she-cat with amber eyes. Apprentice, Ravenpaw Beenose—black and red spotted calico she-cat with long fur and green eyes. Rookfang—white she-cat, with a black and red mackerel calico tail and ears and yellow eyes. Cormorantwhisker—black tom with long fur and gold eyes. Apprentice, Sycamorepaw Ravenfur—black mackerel tabby tom with amber eyes. Apprentice, Nettlepaw Aspenheart—blue mackerel tabby tom with green eyes. APPRENTICES: Cootpaw—gray and red spotted torbie she-cat with a white locket, white gloves and green eyes. Pathfinder apprentice. Swanpaw—black and red mackerel calico she-cat with hazel eyes. Nightpaw—long furred, black spotted tabby she-cat with gold eyes. Nettlepaw—blue tom with hazel eyes. Ravenpaw—black mackerel tabby she-cat with gold eyes. Chubpaw—chocolate tom with amber eyes. Sycamorepaw—blue spotted tabby tom with yellow eyes. QUEENS: Mistletoestone—white she-cat with hazel eyes. Cuckoofoot—blue she-cat with long fur and hazel eyes. Slugstream—blue mackerel tabby she-cat with yellow eyes. ELDERS: Lilyclaw—white she-cat with green eyes. Spiderfur—black classic tabby she-cat with long fur and yellow eyes.

BambooClan LEADER: Sandstar—mostly white, blue and cream mackerel calico-tabby she-cat, with short fur and gold eyes. DEPUTY: Heatherflower—cream spotted “pseudo-tabby” tom, with short fur, and green eyes. MEDICINE CAT: Egretcloud—white tom, with long fur, and hazel eyes. FELLGATHERERS: Heatherblaze—black and red classic tortoiseshell she-cat with copper eyes. Owlberry—black and red mackerel tortoiseshell she-cat with amber eyes. Linnetear—chocolate tom with green eyes. Poppyfur—red spotted tabby she-cat with gold eyes. Cypressstream—red spotted pseudo-tabby tom with yellow eyes. Applestream—blue and cream mackerel tortoiseshell she-cat with yellow eyes. Pipitfang—cinnamon mackerel tabby tom, with green eyes. WARRIORS: Laburnumface—red mackerel pseudo-tabby tom with amber eyes. Goldenleg—furless, red ticked pseudo-tabby she-cat with hazel eyes. Apprentice, Fennelpaw Cootstripe—black mackerel tabby tom with copper eyes. Apprentice, Rookpaw Crowberry—black tom with copper eyes. Apprentice, Hornetpaw APPRENTICES: Fennelpaw—red spotted “pseudo-tabby” she-cat with short fur, and yellow eyes. Hornetpaw—short haired, red mackerel “pseudo-tabby” she-cat with gold eyes. Rookpaw—black mackerel tabby she-cat with hazel eyes. Lightpaw—white she-cat with copper eyes. QUEENS: Chanterellecloud—mostly white, black and red spotted calico-tabby she-cat with long fur and gold eyes. Tansyclaw—curly furred, lilac and cream, mackerel tortoiseshell she-cat, with gold eyes. ELDERS: Squirrelfang—blue and cream, ticked tortoiseshell-tabby she-cat, with copper eyes.

The allegiances look pretty good so far! Pretty standard

RANK DESCRIPTION

Leafgazer - someone who is a leafgazer pays close attention to the leaves on the trees in order to tell when seasons are changing. When the leaves begin to grow back, the Clan lays back on the over preparedness they have for leaf-bare. When the leaves are greener then ever, the Clan begins hunting just a little extra. When the leaves turn brown and orange and begin to fall, the Clan starts a hunting initiative due to the coming leaf-bare. And when the leaves on the trees are almost none, the Clan puts their hunting game into overdrive.

The only concern I have for this is that the leaves and trees dont always accurately signify when things are changing. A late frost could destroy a whole tree’s buds, or the leaves could turn colors early or late. It might be worth looking into how that works, if you want to. As an idea its quite interesting though!

Skywatcher - TyphoonClan’s name didn’t come from nowhere - they have a bad track record of losing cats to storms and such that often come to their territory due to it being close to the sea. Skywatchers watch the sky, keeping track of any darkening clouds and such. They are taught in the “writing” of Clawscript, a language using various claw scratches to correspond to different letters, words or phrases, allowing them to keep track of the weather. As TyphoonClan’s kits are taught from a young age how to read Clawscript, it allows warriors to plan their huntings and missions to other Clans, and allows leaders and deputies to plan when to retreat to their second camp.

Good old Skywatchers, I’ve always been a fan of them since my Waveclan had them. Although Clawscript is a unique interpretation! Its always interesting to see how people might implement the idea of writings in their clans.

Pathfinder - due to the rocky terrain of the mountains, all patrols have a pathfinder leading. Pathfinders are cats with extra good eyesight and strength, allowing them to find good paths and push rocks out of the way when needed. Their pelts are almost always at least mostly black, red or brown, in order to blend in with the rocks if that is needed. Most MountainClan cats have such colored pelts as is, however.

This is cool! Its always good to have cats who specialize in certain aspects and making sure to find stable and safe terrain to cross is good.

(Random fun fact about MountainClan: they have common run-ins with leopard cats, which they call kitty-leopards, and I’m thinking of giving them one eventually)

Fellgatherer - living in a bamboo forest can be tough sometimes, as many bigger animals live there and can rip cats apart easily. Due to this, some cats have been trained in the art of felling bamboo trees and gathering the fallen pieces due to their supplies of protein. Fellgatherers often also make meals with combinations of the gathered fell, herbs and prey animals.

This is really interesting! Im curious though, since this opens up a lot of possibilities. Do Feligatherers cook their food or simply put it together? How do the cats consume all that fiber (since most cats generally arent equipped to eat fibrous food)?

I’ll probably fill the form you made out at somepoint, it’s just that I’d likely end up having to fill it out frice. I’m currently writing a fanfic with these Clans (Laurelpaw, Plumpaw, Cootpaw and Laburnumface are the main characters) and it’s on Ao3, link if you’re curious!

Sorry for a really long post!

Looks good! Good luck with your writing!

#warrior cats #non-canon clans #clan culture #warriors OC #warriorsworldbuilding #submission

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