#night. marish.

[oneforthemunny]

marish hysteria |cowboy!eddie munson x reader|

prompt: eddie's been busy training for competition season, leaving you pent up and lonely.

so-called “marish” behavior—aggressiveness, impatience and general grumpiness—is more common during estrus because of increased hormone levels.

contains: minors dni 18+. dom/sub themes. exhibitionism (kinda??), spanking, with implement (strap), oral fem receiving, pinvsex, creampie, bratting (ish).

The bed creaked, the familiar soft grunt filling the room long before the morning light ever did. Eddie's arms stretching, hand rubbing softly over your hip tucked soundly under the quilt, feet padding across the groaning hardwood towards the bathroom. Light spilled under the door, the heavy stream of the faucet, toothbrush scratching across teeth; scratch, spit, swish, spit.

Jeans pulled off the rack, shimmying up his legs, buckle clinking as Eddie fastened it. Hair pulled back, short sleeve t-shirt on, today's selection a red tee, with a sports logo on it- something he saw at a yard sale that was in good enough condition to be a work shirt. His boots and hat by the door, the rising daw sun just barely starting to rise over the lush horizons. Eddie's lips pressed to your cheek, lingering a little longer than usual, nose rubbing against the skin before he pulled back, a final rub over your hip and he was out the door, leaving you to your peaceful slumber.

Or so he thought.

Your eyes fluttered open after you heard the screen door snap with a screech, latching and leaving the house still, silent. You sat up in the bed, reaching towards the curtains to yank them open, your curly headed love headed out into the stables. He looked so pretty in the morning light; that fucker.

You huffed, throwing the curtain back, lying on your back, watching the blades of the ceiling fan spin around and around. You knew Eddie would be out there all day, barely stepping in for lunch before he was back out there, training the last of the show horses. It was all he'd done for the past week... maybe longer, you weren't sure. You were starting to lose count, days blurring together in a blinded rage.

All you knew, was that it had been too long since you'd been with Eddie. You'd blame it on your ovulation, that sensitive time of your cycle that left you insatiable anyways, but with Eddie preoccupied in other ways it was miserable. Usually, Eddie would slip back into the house at eleven, after the stables had been clean and horses fed. Sometimes, he'd bend you over the kitchen table, hips snapping into you with such a deep force that you were left drooling over the faded wood. Other times, you'd join him on the porch, dropping to your knees when he walked up the stairs, sucking him off right there- he just looked too good, all flushed from the work of the day.

The first day he missed lunch, nothing more than a tired sigh when you went out to him a few hours later. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Lost track of time." A soft reply that came with a brief kiss to your cheek. He practically passed out when he climbed into bed with you that night, exhausted and snoring.

By day four, you were antsy. A dry spell was normal, you supposed. Eddie was busy and was working, it wasn't like there wasn't a reason. He was exhausted, working himself overtime in the stables to make sure the show horses could execute every command flawlessly. Selfishly enough, you couldn't help but feel rejected, neglected... and you missed him. You'd tried to do the job yourself, finger buried between your legs, circling your clit the way Eddie did, but it wasn't as fulfilling as when he did it.

Now, gone was that guilt and understanding, irritation standing in it's place. You'd been good, you really had, until last night. Eddie showered after he came in, heavy steps and drooping shoulders all the way to the shower, and even lower when he came out. You watched him carefully from the bed, how he tossed his towel from off his hips, cock hanging in front of him- teasing you. Your mouth watered at the sight.

"I'll be glad when these fuckers come get the horses and I get my money." Eddie grumbled, fumbling through his drawer for his boxers.

"Mhmm," You hummed, eyes trained on his ass, the outline of his soft cock in the green plaid material.

"'m gonna take you out when I do." Eddie's eyes met yours, soft and sweet, grinning just lightly enough to make your heart flutter with hope; with excitement.

"Take ya out somewhere real nice." He rasped, leaning onto the bed, lips pressing into yours in a sweet kiss that had your own head spinning.

Your hand reached to cradle his jaw, a small sigh when you pressed him deeper into your kiss, melting into him easily. The desperate throbbing between your legs easing with the smell of his soap, every move of his full lips against yours, pulling him closer and closer.

"Honey," Eddie sighed lightly, hands on your wrists, holding them softly. "'m beat. I don't think I have it in me, baby."

Your heart dropped, blinking at him blankly, that familiar rush snatched out of your chest, filling the empty space with disappointment. "B-But," You stammered, watching him with wide eyes when he slipped under the sheets next to you. "I'll ride you, Ed. You don't have to do anything-"

"- I really just want to sleep." Eddie said softly, sweet enough. No bitterness or harbored resentment in his tone.

You stammered, floundering with your words for a moment, gaping at him when he reached over, flicking off his lamp. A hand on your hip, sweetly rubbing the flesh there, a coaxing move to get you to lie down. Your cheeks burned with rejection, huffing furiously, angrily turning off your own lamp. Eddie pulled you closer to him, his chest on your back, hand thrown over your hip.

One last glimmer of hope, a Hail Mary you hoped might work. You shimmied yourself further into his grasp, ass wiggling against the front of his boxers, brushing against his cock. You repeated it once, twice, hips shimmying for a third time before Eddie's sigh came heavy out of his nose.

"Baby, I told you 'm tired. I'm not in the mood. Quit it." He grumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

You bristled, rolling out of his gasp entirely so you were pressed against the edge of the bed. Normally, Eddie would huff, slap on the light and demand to know why you were being such a brat. Your tummy flipped at the idea that he might be rough with you, be a little mean and punish you for your attitude. Fuck, you'd take a switching at this point if that meant he'd fuck you.

He didn't.

Instead, just sighed softly, before settling back into his pillows, snoring within a matter of minutes.

Fury filled you, and you had to clench your fists, stop yourself from shoving him off the bed in your rage. You knew it was silly, silly to be this bratty and demanding. Eddie had been working hard. Yet, you couldn't rationalize it enough to your raging hormones, set ablaze with lack of dick.

You barely slept, tossing and turning, avoiding Eddie's warm grasp that drew you in like a magnet. It just made you more and more furious, reminding you of what you hadn't got.

Arms crossed over your chest, you replayed the night before- the week before, with a pouty scowl. Unfair, fuck, it was so unfair. How did Eddie not feel the same way?

If you knew Eddie, and you did, you knew he wasn't not feeling the same way. You knew he had to be just as pent up, his exhaustion trumping whatever hormones he had. You twisted your lips in thought, finger tapping in a rapid pace against your arm.

Flinging the covers off you, you looked out to see Eddie in the fields, letting each of the horses out to gallop around in the morning sun. Your eyes narrowed, stomping to the bathroom, slapping on the faucet to fill the tub.

Eddie pulled the reigns gently, a small grunt leaving his lips as the horse trotted skillfully around the barrel. "Good girl," Eddie muttered, hand sliding down the silky mane. He was feeling proud, a pep back in his step that had long been gone since the start of the week before. The owners were coming to get their horses, ready to trot for show and competitions, and that meant he'd have a large check in his pocket.

Eddie looked down, checking his watch. A quarter til one, the owner and the rider would be here soon to make sure he had efficiently trained their thoroughbred. "Let's get you brushed out before your owners come and-" Eddie's head stuttered, catching a glimpse of something- someone approaching the stables.

You, with that devious, sultry smile, in your little rubber rain boots- and just your little rain boots.

"What the fuck..." Eddie muttered, demounting himself, gripping the reigns while he paced towards you. You grinned at him, waving sweetly, a shy little smile that he knew better than to fall for.

"Hi, handsome," You purred, stepping onto the gate, leaning over so your breasts spilled over the bar. "How's it going out here?"

"What the hell are you doin'?" Eddie huffed, tying the horse to the post, hands on his hips when he strode over to you.

It wasn't quite the reaction you expected, your face falling slightly. "What?" You feigned innocence. "I just came out to see you."

Eddie rolled his eyes lightly, eyes scanning over your body. Fuck, you knew what you were doing to him, all shaved and oiled up- positively delicious looking. "I'm working, honey." Eddie swallowed the growing lump in his throat, his cock stirring at the sight. "I got people coming soon."

"Aw," You jutted your bottom lip out, nearly mocking. "I thought you liked when I walked around like this."

"I do." Eddie nodded, letting his hand fall over your hip sweetly, willing himself not to grab your ass. He sighed heavy out his nose, frowning at you. "But not when I got people coming. Not when I'm working."

Your face fell, the sultry mask falling off your face. There was a second of hurt, a small fall in your face that had Eddie's heart wrenching with guilt- only for a moment. Before you were overcome with rage. Lips twisting and setting in pure displeasure, eyes narrowing at him.

"Are you fucking serious?" You snapped, pulling away from him with a shove.

Eddie's brows shot up, shocked out your outburst. "Baby-"

"Don't." You sneered. "You've been working all week and... You know what? Fuck it." You threw your hands up, turning on your rubber soled heel.

Eddie called your name, a rather strangled, frustrated sigh, his hand reaching for your wrist that you slapped away. "No, no, fuck you, Eddie. You've ignored me all fucking week and I try to do something nice and exciting for you, and you still ignore me." Your cheeks burned with embarrassment maybe fury, waterline pricking with tears.

"Sweet girl, I told you. I'm exhausted. I've been out here all day-"

"-I know, Eddie." You snapped. "Didn't realize that meant you couldn't spend a second of your time with me. At the very least fuck me."

Eddie paused for a moment, lips pursing. "That's what this is about?" He huffed. "I've been tired."

"So have I," You shrilled. "Tired of you ignoring me."

"This is a very big job for me, you know that. It's a lot of money-"

"-Great, Eddie. You've said that." You snapped. "I didn't realize that meant you'd be ignoring me all week. Clearly you can't handle the pressure of this job." Finger jabbed in his chest, you emphasized your point. Mean? Yes. You knew it was, and the way Eddie's face fell secured that. Still, you didn't care. You were a woman possessed, blinded by rage and desire and rejection.

Eddie didn't get a chance to respond, the familiar crunch of the gravel startling him. The tiny figure of a car starting down the path. "Shit, shit," Eddie huffed, yanking you by your arm towards the stables.

You blushed furiously, suddenly very aware of how exposed you were. You'd wished you had at least wore panties now, but that was too late now. Eddie yanked you through the barn towards the far corner where his tools were, yanking a utility jacket that had been retired until fall off the hook.

"Put this on, and stay back here. Do you understand me?" Eddie's tone held no room for argument, stern and authoritative. Your head bobbed, fingers curling around the jacket to keep yourself concealed, wedging into corner behind the stall.

"Don't you dare make a sound, and don't you dare move." He pointed at you, jaw tight and firm, scolding you like a bad puppy. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, thighs clenching at the tone. You hated how thrilling this was, the adrenaline of being naked in the barn, of being potentially caught. Eddie's stern tone, fuck, it made your knees shake.

Eddie stomped out the barn, the soft mummer of voices mingling outside of the barn before they disappeared towards the field. A part of you wanted to look, watch Eddie ride and show off the horse, the veins in his hands, bulge in his forearm. You were dizzy at the thought. Instead, you stayed hidden, pressed up against the wood of the stable, hidden away from the eyes of others, heart trilling in your chest like a hummingbirds wings when Eddie's voice finally came into earshot again.

Muttered words about "pleasure to work with" and "another one soon", you leaned closer to hopefully hear more. Eddie's gruff tone, friendly but still rough, the creak of the horse trailer, heavy hooves clomping against the metal ramp, the tear of the check, before finally the gravel crunched under the truck and trailer.

You waited, too scared to peer around to check. Eddie's boots were hard, even against the hay, eyes hard and cutting under his hat. He looked at you for a moment, eyes scanning your frame, the valley of your breasts down to your navel, your freshly shaved pussy. His cock throbbed at the sight.

"You better listen to me. Do exactly what I say with no lip, you understand?" Eddie glared at you, pointed and mean. You nodded dumbly.

Eddie's hand pushed the jacket off your shoulder, the feeling of his rough fingertips on your shoulder enough to make you shudder. "I want you waiting for me inside." He nodded towards the house, hand raising to stop you. "Uh, not so fast, darlin'." His eyes were dark, gleaming with that wickedness that had your tummy flipping.

"Grab your strap." Eddie nodded towards the wall, hidden behind ropes and reigns, inconspicuous mahogany leather on the wall, a tool reserved just for you. Entirely yours.

You didn't hesitate, snatching the strap off the wall, scurrying back to the house bare except for your boots. Eddie followed slowly, a menacing pace he knew was thrilling to you. He'd find you in the bedroom, standing by the edge of the mattress, practically bouncing on your toes. Hands by your side but eyes wide, excited, every ounce of attitude from before gone with the promise that you'd finally get what you want- the attention you craved.

Eddie couldn't blame you, he supposed. He'd be mad too if it was him being ignored, and guilt flooded his system in an icy shock at the thought. Until he saw you, biting back your tiny grin at the edge of the bed.

Eddie snorted lightly, fighting back his own smile. He crossed his arms over his chest, a desperate attempt to stay stern. "I expected better from you." He shook his head at you. "Thought you would know better than to throw a hissy fit like that. All because you didn't get your way."

Your lip jutted. "It's not a hissy fit, Ed." You whined, foot stamping lightly into the ground. His brow raised at you, a warning. You huffed. "I just... I missed you, Eddie. I thought you'd like me surprising you like this. You always do."

Eddie hummed, pulling off his own shirt, your eyes gaping at his sweat slicked chest, toned softly from years of manual labor. You knew you had to be dripping by this point, and he wasn't making it any easier on you.

"I do like it when you surprise me, baby." Eddie cooed lightly, hands moving to his belt. You watched his fingers flex with the buckle. "I don't like it when you try to distract me while I'm working so you can get your way."

You crossed your arms over your bare chest. "Ed, I'm sorry." You sighed heavily. "But you were ignoring me and... and I missed you."

Eddie hummed, chest puffing to tower over you. "You missed me?" He tilted his head in question, stepping so he was toe to toe with you. You looked down at his tented boxers, lip rolling between your teeth.

"Or," Eddie's hand grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze back to him. "Did this pretty little thing miss me?" He hummed, free hand cupping your heat.

You gasped, knees locking at the sensation. The heel of his hand rolling over your mound, middle finger teasing your slick folds. You whined, hips grinding down into his touch. Your mind was blazing, body too, with every swipe of Eddie's fingers teasing you. Oh, it was delicious. You had missed this.

"You just not gonna answer me anymore? Not gonna listen, hm?" Eddie tsked, tilting his head down menacingly towards you. "That's how this is gonna be?"

"No," You whine, pressing down towards his fingers. He was purposefully missing your clit, your hole, the places you needed him most. "Both."

"Both, what, honey?" Eddie's twang fell through his words, making your chest bolt with feverish heat.

"We both missed you." The pout you gave him had his knees weak, fingers curling just barely into your entrance. Your eyes widened, mouth matching at the idea that he might give you what you wanted.

Instead, Eddie pulled his fingers out. You nearly fell into him, knees knocking together like the newborn foals that wobbled around the pastures. Eddie's free hand caught you by your waist, steadying you with a firm grasp.

"Easy, baby," He muttered, squeezing the fat of your hips gently. "We're just gettin' started here, sweetheart. Don't give up on me so easily now."

Stubble covered cheeks creasing, dimples deepening with the tug of his lips, curling in a dark grin that had you aching between your legs. Eddie told you to climb on the bed, hands and knees, and you knew you were too excited. You could hear him snort lightly, knowing he was shaking his head when you scrambled to your tabletop position on the edge of the bed excitedly.

"You know what you're in for?" Eddie scoffed, rolling the strap, heavy and thick, in his hand. "You ain't gotta outta that one, baby."

"I know." You chirped, looking over your shoulder at him. "I deserve it, I know." You purred.

Eddie nearly choked, swallowing down the spit that pooled in his mouth. The sight of your swollen cunt, slick already, eyes batting over your shoulder at him- it made his head spin.

"Christ Almighty," Eddie muttered. "I didn't know you were this bad, honey." His hand smoothed over the soft skin of your thigh, squeezing the flesh lightly. "Makin' me feel bad."

"Don't." You shook your head. "Just-Just-" You nodded at the strap in his hand, eyes shining with excitement. "I need you. Now."

Eddie's brow raised, shocked at your boldness, the commanding tone that took him back. It wasn't usually how things played out when you were in this position. Bratty, whiny- sure, but never directing... never this excited.

But who was Eddie to deny you? He'd be a fool to.

"You're really pent up, aren't ya, sweet thing?" Eddie grinned, the leather of the strap rubbing over your ass teasingly.

You sucked in a slow breath, eyes fluttering closed. "I told you I was." You muttered. Eddie squeezed your hip lightly twice, a warning that he was starting.

There was a pause, an absence of the strap, a soft grunt before the familiar swishing cutting through the air before it landed across your ass. The sting of surprise dwindling to a burning sear of pain sizzling across your skin, straight to your core.

Your usual whiney cry didn't fill the room. Instead, a delicious sigh of pleasure, like when you were sinking in the bath after a long day- longing and content.

Eddie's brows raised, hesitating before pulling his arm back again, sending the strap falling against your raised ass. You grunted, the hit harder this time, leaning forward at the impact. Your back arched, hips wiggling back into place, teasing, nearly.

"You know you're not 'sposed to be enjoying this." Smack!

"'m not." Your voice raised, lifting to that airy octave that teetered on a whine, leaned more towards a sigh of pleasure. "It hurts, Ed."

Eddie snorted, rolling his eyes. As if that was convincing. Not with the way your back arched, pussy drooling at him. "Does it?" Eddie brought the strap down harder this time, enough to pull a squeal out of you.

"Thought bringin' the strap out on ya woulda had you more obedient." Smack! You whined, swallowing down a hint of a moan you hoped Eddie didn't hear.

"Nearly let everyone out there see you naked." Eddie shook his head, the strap falling yet again. You jumped, wishing he would have let you bend over the bed instead so you could rub out some relief on your aching pussy. You knew that's why he had you in this position, so you couldn't.

"People I do business with," Smack!

"Seein' you out there, paradin' around with nothin' on." Smack!

"E-Eddie..." You were sure you weren't going to last, aching between your legs so badly it was beginning to hurt. You needed him to touch you, you would beg for it at this point.

"Wonder what they'd think, hm." Eddie smirked, letting the strap fall again, right to the center of your ass. His rough hands slid over your hot skin, squeezing. You hissed at the burn, his chest folding over your back, curls tickling the shell of your ear.

"If they saw you like that, like this." Eddie's hands slid between your legs, fingertips gliding through your slick folds. You gasped, a strangling of a moan tore through the air, head tipping back and back arching deep into his touch.

"If they saw how needy you get f'me." Eddie growled, teeth bared with lust, breath hot on your cheek.

Your eyes met his, rounded and begging before he pinned you beneath him. Teeth clashing, hands grabbing at anything, everything you could. Your threading, pulling at the hair at the nape of his neck. His squeezing your ass cheeks, grinning into your kiss when you squealed.

"I-I've fuckin' missed you- Fuck, I've missed you." Eddie muttered, hot, sloppy kisses trailing down your jaw, your cheek.

"I've missed you." You tipped your head back onto the pillows, hips grinding on his thigh, shamelessly humping his leg, hands tangled in his hair.

"This was too long, Eddie. Don't-Don't do this again." You whimpered, shuddering when he sucked a deep bruise into your collarbones.

"I won't, baby. I won't." Eddie rasped, squeezing your breast, thumb rolling over your nipple. "Fuck, 's too long for me. Been fuckin' miserable."

"Yeah?" You hummed, half lidded lashes fluttering down towards him.

"Yeah." Eddie's lips curled, squeezing your hip playfully. "Way too fuckin' long. Been fuckin' starving." He growled, sitting up at the edge of the bed, your legs hooked around his shoulders.

"Eddie! Be careful!" You squealed, your body raised half off the mattress when he pulled you. You loved when he's manhandle you like this, tug and toss you into place so effortlessly.

His hands gripped the fat of your ass, leaving you hissing as he dove tongue first into your heat. No warm up, no warning, no teasing- just a man deprived, desperate for a taste.

"Oh!" You gaped in surprise, back arching into his mouth. Your hands fisted around the quilt above your head. Your clit ached when Eddie's tongue swiped over it, a beautiful pain that had your whole body burning in heat.

Clicks of spit mixing with your slick, muffle moans and gasps filled the small room, your body twisting in his grasp. Toes curling, chest heaving and stuttering far easier than usual, but what could you say? You had missed him. Missed this.

Eddie's stubble covered chin was covered in a wet sheen, shining in the sunlit room, stripping off the rest of his clothes. Belt buckle falling, jeans joining in a puddle.

"How d'ya want me, baby?" Eddie rasped, eyes lust-soaked and dark.

"However, I don't care." Pushing up on your elbows, moving closer to the edge of the bed.

Eddie grinned, a sly, dimpled smile that had your body electrified with a throbbing excitement. He settled between your legs, wrapping one around his hip. He swallowed a groan when you pumped his length, hips rolling towards your hand.

"That's it." Eddie looked down at you through half-lidded lashes. "Go on. Put it in there for me, honey."

Your body flushed with thrilling heat, pussy clenching at the authority in his voice. You pumped him a few more times, guiding him into your sopping hole, his hips pushing in with your guidance.

"Good girl. Knew you could be good for me." Eddie's voice was tight, mind numbing with every slow roll of his hips, your walls strangling his length.

"Fuck," Eddie shuddered, bottoming out. He held himself there for a moment, just wanting to feel you. He'd missed it, nearly forgotten how good you felt, it had been so long.

Your nails dug into his forearm when he started to move, slow and deep thrusts, filling you. "Feel s'good." Eddie muttered, hand squeezing your thigh, your hip. "You feelin' good?"

"Yeah." A breathy sigh teetering on a whine.

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned. "This what you needed, baby? This's all you needed wasn't it?"

"Yes, Eddie." You whimpered, hips grinding down to meet his slow thrusts. "G-Go faster."

"Faster?" Eddie grinned nearly teasingly, shifting your leg on his hip, pulling your closer to the edge. "You're in charge now, hm?"

"I- no." Your mind swirled with pleasure, babbling at the change of pace. "I just- I need it like that."

"Need?" Eddie laughed. You frowned, lip jutting in a pout that had his cock throbbing with need. "Alright, alright, I'll give you what you need, sweet girl. I gotcha, baby."

You clenched around him, head tipping back into the mattress. Eddie's thumb circled your clit lazily, smirking at how you whined, legs tightening around his hips.

"Look s'pretty like this." Eddie hummed, lashes fluttering, gaze rolling over your body. "Look pretty f'me, don't you? Look at me, sweetheart."

"For you." You looked over at him, eyes glassy with pleasure. "Eddie, I need-" You whined, back arching, body twisting in his grasp.

"What? You need what?" Eddie's pace slowed, looking at you carefully. "Tell me what you need."

Your body burned, a shooting flare of heat, as blinding as it was before. A primal need that had your mind stuttering. You weren't exactly sure what came over you, Eddie certainly wasn't. Pulling him flush against you roughly, his chest pressed to yours, hands by your shoulders to steady himself.

"What are you doin'-"

You gripped his ass, squeezing the muscles of his cheeks, pressing him deeper and deeper into you. Your legs tightening around his hips, locking him in place, your hips rolling, grinding into the wiry hair of his base.

Eddie's eyes widened, startled, a little shocked. You grabbed at him, grinding mercilessly onto him, hips rocking, cunt squeezing his cock. "F-Faster, Ed." You panted, eyed pinched closed.

Eddie faltered for a moment, feet planting awkwardly, body still folded over your, jackhammering into you still buried deep. Your legs squeezing his hips, arms wrapped around his body.

"Yes!" You cried into his skin, nails digging into his shoulder. "Like that, like that. Oh shit, just like that, Ed!" You babbled, grinding down to meet his furious pace.

"Like that?" Eddie gritted, hand sliding under your spine to hold you closer. "That's how you need it? That's good?"

"Yes, yes, so good, so good." You rambled, head lolling back.

Eddie's breath was hot on your cheek, pressing a sloppy kiss to your jaw, teeth grazing over the nape of your neck. You whined, clawing at him furiously, he knew his back would be marked with your scratches- he couldn't wait.

Eddie fucked into you, hard, hips stuttering as his own orgasm teetered closer and closer. Teeth sinking in a rough kiss to your neck, sucking a bruise that sent you right over the edge, body shaking in pure pleasure. His own orgasm following, spilling deeply inside of you. Your feet dug into his lower back, pushing him closer and closer to you as he released, a hungry look in your starry eyes that told him you weren't going to be done with him anytime soon.

"You-You gotta give me a second, baby." Eddie's chest heaved with yours, grunting at the burn in his legs when he shifted to stand. "Gotta gimme a second, and I-I'll get it up again. Just let me-"

You were grinning, that same sly smile across your features that had Eddie's heart leaping in excitement.

Eddie found himself back on the bed, against the headboard, you between his legs. "I- hmph- I can get it up, baby. You don't-don't have to- shit!" Eddie's hips bucked, fists clenching the quilt on the bed.

You looked up at him, lashes batting innocently, tongue running down the seam of his sac, sucking lightly. Your thumb moved back teasingly, sliding towards Eddie's tight hole.

"Hey, hey! Get outta there." Eddie's voice was tight, trying to swallow down a moan that threatened to spill out.

"Think you like it." You grinned, fingertip running along the vein on the underside of Eddie's cock, stirring back to life.

"Think I'll strap your ass some more if you do that again." Eddie threatened, eyes hard, but the flustered flush on his cheeks made you grin.

"Promise?" You grinned wickedly, pad of your finger dragging back slowly towards his sac.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Eddie grunted, your hands rolling and squeezing his balls perfectly, making his toes clench and curl.

Your finger tickled the underside of his balls, trailing lower and lower towards his crack when he'd finally had enough. Face down in the mattress, hands pinned behind your back, Eddie's free hand reigning down on your still sensitive ass. You squealed, squirmed, even giggled, cheek pressed to the quilt to look over at him.

Eddie's tongue rolled over his cheek, fighting back a smile he couldn't hold in. Eyes batting sweetly, that same little smile on your lips. "You're somethin' fuckin' else, you know that?" Eddie smirked.

"Yeah." You bite back a smile. "You love me anyways."

"I do." Eddie nodded, his grip loosening on your wrists, leaning down to kiss your cheek gently. You sighed contently, melting under his tender touch.

"Love you so much, baby." Eddie hummed. You burned under his gaze, heart soaring at the affection in his tone.

"Even if you are a brat." His hand fell down on your ass, pulling a squeal of surprise from you.

"How you want me this time?" Eddie smirked, legs swinging off the bed to stand, looking at you carefully.

You grinned, pushing off the mattress, back in your table top position towards the edge of the bed. Eddie snorted, muttering under his breath as he stroked himself, a hand on your spine pushing you down into place. You smirked against the mattress, hips wiggling for him. You finally got what you wanted.

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[scotianostra]

Man, boy and horse.

This statue in my hometown of Loanhead is a nod to the mining community that once thrived here, and in the surrounding areas.

The work is acreditted to an Alan Herriot, on of Scotland's finest sculptors, his most famous creations, in my opinion are The Commando Monument, Speak Bridge and the Robert The Bruce statue at Marishal College in Aberdeen, so it is a big honour that Loanhead has one of his pieces of art, his other statues include Wojtek, in Princes Street Gardens, Robert Louis Stevenson at Colinton as well as work across the Europe in France, Holland, Belgium and Norway.

The statue here was unveiled in 1987 and was commissioned by Loanhead and District Community Council.

I must admit to climbing up on it in the 80's after a drunken night out, but I think it may have been raised higher since then!

#scotland #scottish #history #Loanhead #Midlothian #statue #my pics

[libidomechanica]

“Feeds Hell”

D our fed my hart both moon and  ah! Feeds Hell.                                       Will behest disaray,  and thou hast said, she was they  pleasured enough for her  Sicilian airport. Passed the  rolls impose more the spent sweet pride, helpe  to wish ourselves—t was 

bustle will hardly rude enough  in things to himself  and dishes such the pretty  dear;and whether fill, to  beguile, so calld marish-mosses  creak, dreadful ash, thats one drunk at once heard;  but this souls to speculation 

which did the French has always  too of soft sex are  very ware and joyance brewd, to feel  along since— since her lay then his tremorse  even to dry, the unblunted  by the bud of the  waves rainbows oer the pressd; and 

the heroines whether out,  and all lifes Liberator—still ye  virgins—a child, gaue her wherewith  threadbare elbows, smiling bones the not  for t other gay girl who gave sate  him soft cheek. The cost him  down swung things in or out; of 

my head of shame which youngest upon  the base affeard: nor the scale.  Among they have been about some mayden  þat is come down! S ways; france too drown  the ways sing its hand. Breake gentleman,  for which canals  of arrive when my own alone, 

but what I cant without Greek  or fortnight, not love me my wel-formd of  arrivals halts, “midst royal smiles and  still from a woodland wane  in vogue beneath our good  matching, as I cant well and winds  the faultlesse harmes, ne 

let the bans, that creep from  Clarindas heat is night above, and  rise,” rich will do; but, as youths found,  as Horace fayre doe make out to  thy stream, but for my sin your  delicious eyes were crossed, like ours,  althoughts, though Love doth not graces as 

Queens and with all these her  and that took up an old man?  In sound me hes strength. It was  no doubt, for by ridicule  benumb that metaphor! Dogs, if  that euen vnto the pledge springs.  Then said; she life has growing less sorrow 

comes in such a Surplus as the  back against thy Face of  her, if such them thus, she said I)  although so very short, speaking, “What Lamp  had perceivest, with a bleed.  Could shatter of tyrants, without  remorse” even as the road: so 

well; for, let none knew not wake; for  she through that held in their mail,  and string of your are more admires,  where no long since my table (his  blow together numerous, like in clams  as on another shouts—and the  world, and sight, her tender that 

modest, one friar as he strewed  with sure are from town,  while to light and carrol sweet  parading its worth and the  blue larkspur, with no more can  even a persons of the  marke-wanting crowne with steps.

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 6 #162 texts

[cartesianu]

Ephemeral Love (17/1/24)

Last night I dreamt a dream,

A feverish one, full of fright,

The only dream I ever dreamt,

When I lay by my lover at night

When twilight blue blackens,

And the moon is scarce from sky,

In my mind things do muddle

In my mind terror doth rise

When last I saw my lover's face,

'Twas bright and warm and full of day,

When Love's lips are red and eyes are brown,

When love is autumn, spring and summer-bound

I know then my love is pure and sweet

And sickly and soft and gentle too,

I know then my love is old and gay

And timeless and honest and always true

But at night, at slumber, with 'marish haste

I dreamt I saw my lover's face

And looking upon my lover's eyes

Rot-filled pupils there did I find

And ashen skin,

And stony face,

And beguiled lips,

And in heart's place...

There was instead a golden coin.

So, I pocketed it, swift,

And careful too, to let my love's death

Lay rest - inevitable destitute.

Love hath now killed me,

But I mourn for the penniless,

For love did give me one last gift,

For which I cannot take to bed.

#poem #vent

[camellachronicles]

acquiescence: some word I’m fond of, strangely

sometimes I rethink of the times when I didn’t have a phone. I didn’t mind carrying this book wherever I went. Given to me by a friend before he went abroad, It was ridiculously heavy. I had thoroughly enjoyed the paper material it was made of. It smelled of ivy and dried flowers I picked at the garden. When I read it, I held the two sides with both hands. It was as big as my head. I wrote all the words I didn’t understand in a notebook. If I forget to bring said notebook, I’d mentally discipline myself to remember to look up whatever “loquacious” meant in the bus when I get home

I had slept at ate Marish’s. Her apartment felt homey and very personalized. The sleepovers smelled of cherries and green tea in the mornings. I didn’t mind sleeping on the floor. The nights were like fort blankets like a dream so painstakingly beautiful along with the concrete stairs very vivid. These things I know aren’t easily fleeting. The meals with that family in Candon has got to be the fondest.

I slept easily. I had nothing to think about but the ventures of the siblings in the book. Colanders for hats, foxes for soldiers, crows for airplanes.

Now I understand more words than the usual person, and if I’d ever learn about complexity the first time again I’d still want to learn it on a dictionary. I want to put a word to it before I ever get to learn what it’s like. When adults were adults and not complicated beings. The quiet pauses when one of them gets a call, when everyone glances at the doorway to whoever arrived. 

I don’t want to be confused. But then again, remembering I’ve had an ‘and’ when I’m back to ‘or’ makes the ‘or’ mean more than it did before. (Sondheim literary genius, I wish you weren’t dead )

[garasham]

vampire language — update i

this post is part of a project to analyse and expand the vampire language from the witcher; many of the definitions listed (including for words marked with a ☆ which come from canon) are either my own inventions or my own hypothetical, fallible interpretations

navigation: language analysis & language expansion (including wordlists) | etruscan sources: one two three four five | inspiration & ideas: one two 🦇

special thanks to @lohrendrell 🖤

requests and messages are welcome 🌹

last updated: 7 february 🩸

words

acun: greetings, health

aki: what

ama, ame, amce: to be ☆

Aritimi, Artume, Artam, Artms, Artumes, Arthem: alternative word for vampire, vampire species/people, suggesting they are deities of spells, prophecies, night, death and/or natural growth

asham: rose

athumica: kin ☆

atranes: here ☆

avile: name ☆

canta: precious item, work of art ☆

Cantata: This Gift, silver sword found in Hen Gaidth ☆

Ceisatni: The Butcher, epithet for Geralt of Rivia which vampires adopted after Geralt was dubbed “Butcher of Blaviken” (simultaneously referring to his butchering vampires)

cesu: to lie ☆

cleva: gift, offering ☆

Draakul: Regis’ mule ☆

eclthi: here ☆

ei: do not, no, not

-eni, -ni: the ☆

etu: and ☆

gharash: night

Gharasham: Night Rose, one of the vampire tribes ☆

hilux: midnight

hinthial: below ☆

lusxnei: moon

marish: servant ☆

me: I, me ☆

mlac, mlach: beautiful

mutna: coffin, sarcophagus ☆

nac: as, how, so, because, then, when, why ☆

Rasenna, Rasna: vampire, vampire species/people

Rasnev: Vampiric, vampire language

rosa: rose

satir: to speak, to talk, to say

sech: daughter ☆

sech farthana: step-daughter ☆

sel: to do, to make ☆

spelthi: to kill

spur: city ☆

(-)ta: this, that ☆

tesham: burial ☆

Tesham Mutna: Burial Coffin, fortress previously used by vampires ☆

thaur: tomb, sepulcher ☆

themias: caretaker ☆

thi: you, formal ☆

thuta: people

thuu: they, them

tiu, tiur: moon

un: you, informal/intimate

ushil: noon

veres: bloody ☆

zatlath: silence ☆

zia: to wound, to stab, to kill

sentences

Acun un!

Greetings to you! (lit. Greetings you!)

acun: greetings, health un: you, informal/intimate

Gharata mlach amce.

It’s a beautiful night. (lit. Night-this beautiful is.)

ghara: night -ta: this, that mlach: beautiful amce: to be

Nac ei zia thuu?

Why not kill them?

nac: as, how, so, because, then, when, why ei: no(t), don’t zia: to wound, to stab, to kill thuu: they, them

Nac me ame aki thuu sa.

Because [then] I am what they say [I am].

nac: as, how, so, because, then, when, why me: I, me ame: to be aki: what thuu: they, them satir: to speak, to talk, to say

#the witcher #witcher lore #witcher vampires #vampire language #regis #emiel regis #dettlaff #blood and wine #updates #i just added an explanatory note at the beginning to make sure the nature of this project is clear to everyone who's not familiar ✨

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Eleven

(AO3 counterpart here.)

The silence continued into the dawn. No one got much sleep after Littlepaw’s vision. They were all afraid that they would be next.

Laurelclaw tried his best to stay positive, he really did. He pulled up as many hopeful, happy thoughts as he could while standing guard outside of Littlepaw’s den, ready to jump in and shake her out of another nightmare at the drop of a feather. Flyfang had tried to tell him to rest, but there was a silent understanding between the two that neither of them was going to sleep again when Littlepaw was at risk of falling back into whatever horrible space she had been in. Flyfang had conceded and gone into the den to be closer to her half-apprentice. When Laurelclaw glanced in occasionally, she was curled around Littlepaw’s tightly balled-up body, watching her with exhausted fear. He couldn’t blame her.

It wasn’t just that which made him fail to keep a happy image in his head. All of his happy images were of his family, the Plage – his mother, father, goofy deputy and snarky former mentor, among all the others, walking together, sharing jokes, watching the waves of the ocean rear and collapse, stretching their foam as far as it could go up the beach. The sense of companionship and confidence. Security in their strength as they stood together.

All of it suddenly felt so pointless, in the grand scheme of things. So temporary.

Laurelclaw fought against the dread that came with every reminder that his family was not going to a happy afterlife. He failed to keep it down. It soaked into his chest and stomach, sticking against the walls of his insides, making him sick. He shivered with nausea many times throughout the night.

The sun barely made it through the thick canopy above the makeshift camp. Laurelclaw hardly noticed it was daylight until Flyfang emerged from the den and shook out her fur. She wordlessly went off into the woods, tail dragging on the ground after her.

Everyone was awake and outside, sitting uncomfortably in silence, before Flyfang returned, carrying prey. Beetlefoot went with her to retrieve everything else she had caught, but there were still no words exchanged. They all formed a ring again and picked listlessly at their meals, nibbling without tasting.

Laurelclaw was absorbed in his own thoughts, but the tension eventually became too much to ignore. He followed his urge to say something.

“You know…” he started, and winced when everyone looked at him like he had shouted. “Imagining everyone’s reaction to all of this, it’s… it can be a little funny, I think.”

Silence. Every face was baffled. Laurelclaw internally berated himself and tried again.  

“It’s just me thinking about my mom, really,” he said while fighting off shakiness in his voice. “She’d- she would want to go to sleep and find StarClan and fight it to the death herself. She’d leap at the opportunity. But my dad, he’d run. He’d take the entire family with him – the whole Clan, probably – and flee as far as he could go. He was always a little timid like that.”

The silence calmed a little. Laurelclaw could see the others considering their own families.

“I think…” Flyfang’s eyes lifted up towards the treetops, contemplating. “I think the Marish would panic. My sisters, maybe they wouldn’t get it. They’d think it’s some monster from a story, something easy to beat on your way to becoming a hero. It’d be exciting for them.” Her voice lowered a little, tightened. “I’d prefer for them to think of it that way.”

Surprisingly, Beetlefoot spoke next. “I know the Fleet would all follow Redheart’s idea to get the entire Clan out of the Territory, if they could. Though everyone where I was born is… rather traditional. They prefer the aspects. But they still cling to them going to StarClan for their ‘good behavior’ and ‘righteous worship’. If they knew that all their praying and piousness meant nothing, they might just fling themselves into the river. Leap into the mouth of the beast. Get it over with as soon as possible.”

Laurelclaw looked at Beetlefoot, a little startled. It was the most he had ever said about himself. That tiny, weak cynicism in him remarked wryly about how of course it was unhappy and dour, coming from Beetlefoot. He told that part to hush and be nice.

“My mom wouldn’t believe it,” Littlepaw said, a bit muted and flat. She wasn’t looking at anyone. “She’d find every excuse under the sun to reason it away as a mistake or a lie.”

“Hard thing to convince anyone about,” Mistface said.

Laurelclaw couldn’t help some desperation in his voice. “Isn’t there anything we can do? We could warn everyone, right? Spread the word?”

Redheart sighed, more in a world-weary way than in annoyance with him (thankfully). “I’ve wanted to run around the Territory and tell everyone the truth so many times, Laurelclaw. But the Runagate’s been doing that for generations now, and they’ve barely gotten anywhere. We’re not the first ones to know about StarClan. We probably won’t be the last.”

“I don’t know how much we could do, anyway,” Greyleaf said. His claws were deeply sunk into the soft ground. “Who would believe a deputy on the run, and who would believe a healer, of all cats?”

“But Littlepaw-“ started Laurelclaw, but Redheart shook her head.

“She’s not a seer anymore,” she said. “And so many of our actual seers are fooled, StarClan can easily lie to them and call us insane. Littlepaw got lucky with the Runagate visiting her and StarClan trying to talk to her again, it seems.”

“‘Lucky’ is a real subjective word,” Mistface remarked. “Ain’t sure how lucky it is to see what y’all see.”

“About as lucky as bearing witness to a murder when no one else was around, I suppose,” Beetlefoot said darkly.

“You aren’t wrong.” Greyleaf looked down at his paws and carefully retracted his claws, grimacing. “It’s a stroke of incredible fortune that any of you believed us to begin with. I mean…” He looked to his brother. “You didn’t at first, right? Even you?”

Mistface gave him a non-smile. “Thought you might’ve been crazy for a minute, yes.”

“And he’s my brother.” Greyleaf turned back to everyone else. “The thing is that, yeah, you all believed us, but you’re a smaller group with at least relatively open minds, and it still took a second to win you over. Telling a much larger crowd, or a couple of strangers you’ve never spoken to before, that’s going to be a lot harder to convince.”

“That’s the trouble with all of us,” Darkpelt said suddenly. “I’ve noticed it in my line of work. Cats like to follow along with the crowd because it makes us feel more secure, like somehow more cats means more logical thinking and correct choices. And we cling to any line of security we can get. If you were told a horrible truth, and someone in your group said ‘that’s nonsense!’, you’d be inclined to believe them. It’s safer for your sanity.”

“Then how did we all believe it?” Flyfang, despite her words, did not sound argumentative. She looked more puzzled than anything.

Darkpelt shifted to tuck her front paws underneath her chest and she shut her eyes. Her tone became contemplative. “For me, at least, it just makes sense. I’ve always believed that nothing is impossible, given how real StarClan seemed all my life. And the connections between Redheart and Greyleaf, especially the nightmares, made me far too curious to just pass them off as insane and leave it at that.” She opened her eyes and turned her head in Flyfang’s direction. “Like I said the other day, they have a completely bonkers story that no one would expect to be believed, except a nutter. But a nutter wouldn’t also have the story make sense if one stops to think about the logistics of it.”

“And you believed based on that?” Mistface asked, eyes half-closed as he regarded her doubtfully. 

“Better reason than just a blood connection,” Darkpelt said, with a jaunty nod at him. “You’d believe Greyleaf if he told you he was Derecho in physical form.”

Mistface, surprisingly, did not react with his usual flat irritation. Rather, he looked amused. “It’d make more sense for him to be Gelid, with everything about Gelid’s inevitability, relating to what we know now.”

“You’d make a better Gelid than me,” Greyleaf said.

“Or Brume,” Beetlefoot muttered. “Slow and fluffy as you are.”

Mistface gave a breathy laugh, and with that the air of the ring loosened and relaxed. Appetites returned, everyone now eating properly and with a little more enjoyment of their food. It was quiet again for a while, until Beetlefoot spoke up, almost quiet enough that Laurelclaw didn't hear him.

“You know, Brume and Gelid used to be the same aspect,” he murmured.

Littlepaw perked up immediately. “I thought I heard something like that when I was a kit. Who were they?”

Speaking a little louder and, rather nicely, almost friendlier, Beetlefoot looked at Littlepaw. “They were called Rime. He was the aspect of ice and fog, once. He split into two a long time ago. The Brae still pray to him, though, as if he hasn’t been halved.”

“That doesn’t make much sense,” Flyfang said. “How could he still exist and be two different aspects at the same time?”

“Nothing the Brae do makes sense.” Beetlefoot shook his head. “They’re reclusive idiots.”

“Sounds like the Marish,” Flyfang said, almost nostalgically. “I had to peal out of there when they had their backs turned. They don’t want anyone leaving or coming in.”

Mistface swallowed a mouse tail. “Y’all got more problems in your families than they’re worth, if you ask me.”

“Your brother is on the run because he’s immune to a monster's visions,” Flyfang said, giving him a sarcastic head tilt. “Don’t you talk on family.”

“He’s kind of right, though,” Laurelclaw offered. “I love the Plage, but they can be a lot to handle. They all keep pushing me to be a patroller in the Fleet.”

Littlepaw lifted a paw to hide a smile. “They’ve met you, right?”

“I say the same thing.” Laurelclaw sighed a bit dramatically, for humor’s sake. “I’m just good at taking hits, that’s all.”

“You would not be a good patroller,” said Beetlefoot. “They’re all eager for a fight.” He paused, considering. “Though you cut an intimidating enough figure. You do have a chip in your ear.”

Laurelclaw lowered his head, a little embarrassed. “That was just an accident in my assessment.”

Littlepaw could not hide her smile now. “Have you been in a single real fight at all?”

“…No.” Laurelclaw’s ears (including the chipped one) started to burn, but Littlepaw’s laugh - quiet and small, but genuine - cooled them down again. Flyfang shook her head in mock disappointment. Even Redheart smiled.

There was a lull in the conversation again, but it was nice now – Laurelclaw could see everyone’s relief at the lightening of the mood as they exchanged friendly glances or started grooming their fur. Mistface and Greyleaf were talking in low voices to each other, and Greyleaf seemed calm for once.

“AH!”

A collective jump and the crew all looked at Darkpelt. She had shot up into a sitting position, her eyes huge even compared to her normal wide-eyed blind stare. Her tail stood straight up, fur sticking out like a fox’s.

“Something wrong?” Flyfang ventured when nothing was said.

“StarClan’s visions.” Darkpelt’s head twisted this way and that, like she was seeing something they couldn’t. “Greyleaf has been immune to them his whole life, and Littlepaw can see through the veil. ‘Through the veil’.” Her head turned in Redheart’s direction. “That’s what the Runagate told you. That was the specific wording.”

Redheart haltingly answered, confused. “It was, yes.”

“Littlepaw, Greyleaf, neither of you believe anymore, if you ever did.” Darkpelt looked between them. “As soon as you knew the truth, StarClan couldn’t work its magic on you.”

Littlepaw’s face fell. She seemed to be recalling the memory of her nightmare. “Yes. The field I always see was dead, and then it fell apart.”

“Is there a point to this?” Beetlefoot's head was craned a bit forward and his eyes were narrowed like Darkpelt’s were whenever she was concentrating.

“I don’t know yet.” Darkpelt lowered herself down again. “But it’s important. I can feel that. We have the veil and the knowledge of immunity. That’s all based on belief.” She squinted hard. “Belief. That’s going to be a factor. Keep that in your heads, everyone. We’re going to need to think.”

Laurelclaw didn’t know what to say. Thinking was not his strong suite to begin with, but this incredibly vague command to 'keep belief in his head' was already beyond him.

“Um…” He tilted his head, forgetting for a moment that Darkpelt couldn’t see him. “What does that factor into?”

“Haven’t the faintest,” Darkpelt said. “We’ll just have to wrack our noggins and see. Think hard, everyone. Think harder than you’ve ever thought in your lives. Our home and Clan depend on it.”

Redheart regarded Darkpelt with some puzzlement, but eventually she gave a small sigh. “We can do that. I hope this is going somewhere.”

“It is.” For the first time since they’d left the Clast, Darkpelt smiled broadly. “I promise.”

#warrior cats #arc three #steorra #chapter #chapter eleven #littlepaw #darkpelt #mistface #greyleaf #laurelclaw #beetlefoot #redheart #flyfang

[pumpkincentaur]

Find the Word Tag 3

Thank you to @sleepyowlwrites for the tag! It’s been forever since I’ve done one of these owo

All samples from UHT, of course, since that’s the only thing I work on these days.

LOOK

He matches this with one of his trademark crooked smiles, a look bards sing about in taverns and winehouses all over Valeros. Bonny Prince Sionri’s radiant grin, or the Whore Prince of Caerr Mara’s twisted smirk, it makes no difference. The light blush spreading across Iphne’s pale cheeks makes Sionri’s stomach churn.

She’s fallen for it, at any rate. Check, and mate.

LEAN

The girl speaks too late. Iphne has already stepped towards a bush of black roses, petals darker than the night against the bone-white leaves. Their scent is so sweet, so heavenly, that Iphne cannot help but lean in to take in more. She lifts a hand, reaching up to run her fingers over the silken petals, and—

LEND

Iphne laughs, but it’s saccharine enough to be sickening. She wears a garish brooch in the shape of a blood-red rose pinned to her bodice, bedecked with rubies that glimmer to the point of distraction. “Your enthusiasm is much appreciated, Prince Sionri. How was your journey? I hope the weather was not too unpleasant. I’ve heard the winds on the Marish coast can be most violent this time of year. Such a thing does not lend well to airship travel, I should think.”

LIVE

“I’m sorry,” Setsirig says, for lack of any other words. “I cannot imagine. For, well, obvious reasons, I suppose.”

Iphne sighs. “I envy you for that. But… enough talk of this. If we do not escape, I won’t live to marry the thrice-cursed fool in the first place, and I’d prefer to remain alive even if it means I have to call the world’s biggest rake my husband. Shall we?”

LOUD

“We can try the door. Perhaps the lamps are broken, or the holystone has gone out. Come along.” The girl takes Setsirig’s hand, and together they march down to the end of the hallway. Their footsteps echo far too loudly for a hallway of this size. The rafters aren’t high enough to make that kind of sound.

Unfortunately I don’t have any examples for the two bonus words, somehow. Whoops.

Tagging @writinglyra, @qelizhus, and @arkicts, as well as anyone who sees this and wants to do it! Your words are BIND, BREAK, HASTE, HALT, SEA, and SALT.

#tag games #man i love find the word tags #i need to do them more often

[writersblockandapotoftea]

Scions of Syralth Masterpost Part 1

Scions of Syralth and the companion books to it focus on the brothers Arthur and Allistor as they try to stop their great-uncle from destroying the world in a grief-driven madness. Along the way, they meet several allies and close friends and discover that they’re the, well, the scions of Syralth, a legendary wizard and warrior, who’s sequestered himself deep in the mountains. Arthur goes on a perilous journey to meet him and begin his magical training, while Allistor commits himself to the Resistance, to fight the Empire which is steadily expanding over their home continent. Together with their friends and allies, they uncover the secrets of their home, dismantle the Empire  The books focus mainly on them of found family, hope in darkness, and revolution. As it stands, the only one I’m ready to show people is Scions of Syralth itself, which has a beta reader server on discord, which you can join by following this link: https://discord.gg/2846GWhG7E ! I’d love to hear your thoughts on it! 

The Books In Chronological Order (So Far): Dancing with Dragons: This is the prequel to the prequel, and it’s this enemy to friends to realizing we’re soulmates romp through the jungle while also making fun of the white saviour trope. Jal goes there to save the elves of the Wekuku jungle from a dark elven lord and his crystal associate, and instead ends up getting his ass beat by one of the dark elves forced soldiers, Pheo. Pheo’s orders are to bring Jal to the Dark Elf lord or his sister will be killed, but something about the surprisingly incompetent and goofy Jal makes him reconsider. Grigori the Guardian and The Treaty of Twelve: This fun little two-parter is the actual prequel to Scions of Syralth, focusing first on Grigori and his fight to save a dragon’s egg from a vengeful fire demon and a mysterious man made from crystal. It then shifts gears and focusing on Arthur and Allistor’s father, Ivar, as he tries to rescue Arthur and Allistor from the same man made from crystal. Allistor proves himself to be far more capable than anyone imagined and shatters the man, setting the pieces in place for Scions of Syralth. Scions of Syralth: This one has a BETA SERVER and is the only one with an official blurb: 

The Barlosian Empire is torn apart by war and revolution, a war that comes harshly into Arthur and Allistor’s lives one summer night. Separated by the machinations of Hjatle, the High Wizard, the two brothers are pushed into two very different worlds. Allistor joins the People’s Rebellion, taking him deep into the heart of the mountains as he fights the Imperial army. There he rises through the ranks, becoming an accomplished warrior. Arthur, however, must flee to the south, meeting two new allies entirely by accident. The trio is guided out of danger by a former dark elf, who leads them to a safe haven; The Tower. While there, Arthur struggles to control his magical powers, learning of the prophecy he and his brother must face to prevent the reemergence of ancient and powerful mage made of crystal. Hail to The Queen: This is the direct sequel to Scions of Syralth. The gang is beat to shit, and it’s time to rethink their strategy. This partially rewritten mess has a spy lesbian romance, some cool prosthetics and an angry vampire dragon.  This book brings about the end of the Barlosian Empire and sends Arthur into a dark spiral once he discovers what true power is. The crystal mage is backed into a corner and is forced to move his plans into their final phase, leaving the continent of Ebouline forever.  The Many Lands and Peoples of the World of Unitien: This is my worldbuilding magnum opus, with almost 70 000 words of pure, unhinged worldbuilding. It’s my reference guide to all of the people, places and things because honestly, my brain isn’t big enough for all my outlandish thoughts and I had to get them on paper somewhere. 

CAST OF CHARACTERS (MAINS)

Protagonists: 

Arthur Draga: Is the younger son of Ivar Bjarnson and Aoife Draga, and is the original protagonist of Scions of Syralth. He’s a kind-hearted young man, about  20 years old, raised deep in the Marish. Before his life went to shit, he wanted to go to the capital of the Marish, Epidamnos, to become an illuminator and a monk, and as such, he always carries a sketchbook with him. Colour Scheme: Sunflower Yellow, Moss Green, Snow White

Allistor Bjarnson: Is the older brother of Arthur, and fun fact, was originally the antagonist. He’s 25 years old, and before his life went to shit, he was the chief of their village, it was passed down from his father, who died about 9 years prior to the story. He’s stubborn and literally my only straight man, so uh, you’d better better he drinks his respect women juice. He’s been raising Arthur on his own, despite some attempts to have his little brother taken from him to be raised by a proper adult.  Colour Scheme: Scarlet, Forest Green, Leather Brown

‘Alexis’ Zhihao Bai Whitelocke: Is the best friend of Arthur and is a brilliant engineer and inventor. She’s the 21 year old daughter of Bitanese merchant tycoon Bai Lee-Jein and Marish Heiress Marigold Whitelocke and grew up in her mother’s family home, in the woods between Camelios and the Silver Valley. She’s creative, stubborn and strategic.  Colour Scheme: Steel Grey, Sky Blue, Thundering Purple

Antonio ‘Toni’ Thiago Barlios: Is the slow-burn romantic interest of Arthur, the  dreaming and disgraced youngest prince of the Empire. He’s 21 years old, and unlike his siblings, was raised by his grandmother, giving him an idealized idea of the world and a firm sense of right and wrong. He’s sensitive and kind of a dumbass, but his heart is in the right place.  Colour Scheme: Coffee Brown, Sea-Glass Green, Royal Gold

Nolio: Is a former dark elf trying to figure out his life beyond his incredibly fucked up relationship with the queen of the dark elves and has attached himself to these kids as a way to redeem himself. He’s tired, but he looks for the hope in every situation. Colour Scheme: Slate Gray, Marble White, Opal 

Darjeeling Braga: Is the loud-mouthed, enthusiastic, half-elf best friend of Allistor after he joins the Resistance. He’s incredibly graceful and smart, but is also a complete and utter goofball a good deal of the time. He’s the adopted son of the leader of the Resistance, so don’t mistake his cheer for weakness.  Colour Scheme: Royal Purple, Black Tea Red, Starlight Silver.

I’ll keep going in part 2! 

Taglist: @synwrites @abalonetea @woodhouse-jay @expositionpreposition @ink-whiskey-seats @diseonfire @woodlights​ @pinespittinink​

#writing #fantasy #my writing #characters #long writng post #writeblr #scions of syralth #to be continued

[escapismsworld]

Mariana

With blackest moss the flower-pots

Were thickly crusted, one and all:

The rusted nails fell from the knots

That held the peach to the garden-wall.

The broken sheds look'd sad and strange:

Unlifted was the clicking latch;

Weeded and worn the ancient thatch

Upon the lonely moated grange.

She only said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!'

Her tears fell with the dews at even;

Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;

She could not look on the sweet heaven,

Either at morn or eventide.

After the flitting of the bats,

When thickest dark did trance the sky,

She drew her casement-curtain by,

And glanced athwart the glooming flats.

She only said, 'The night is dreary,

He cometh not,' she said;

She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!'

Upon the middle of the night,

Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:

The cock sung out an hour ere light:

From the dark fen the oxen's low

Came to her: without hope of change,

In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn,

Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn

About the lonely moated-grange

She only said, 'The day is dreary,

He cometh not,' she said;

She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!'

About a stone-cast from the wall

A sluice with blacken'd waters slept,

And o'er it many, round and small,

The cluster'd marish-mosses crept.

Hard by a poplar shook alway,

All silver-green with gnarled bark:

For leagues no other tree did mark

The level waste, the rounding gray.

She only said, 'My life is dreary,

He cometh not,' she said;

She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!'

And ever when the moon was low,

And the shrill winds were up and away,

In the white curtain, to and fro,

She saw the gutsy shadow sway.

But when the moon was very low,

And wild winds bound within their cell,

The shadow of the poplar fell

Upon her bed, across her brow.

She only said, 'The night is dreary,

He commeth not,' she said;

She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!'

All day within the dreamy house,

The doors upon their hinges creak'd;

The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse

Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd,

Or from the crevice peer'd about.

Old faces glimmmer'd through the doors,

Old footsteps trod the upper floors,

Old voices called her from without.

She only said, 'My life is dreary,

He cometh not,' she said;

She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!'

The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,

The slow clock ticking, and the sound

Which to the wooing wind aloof

The poplar made, did all confound

Her sense; but most she loathed the hour

When the thick-moted sunbeam lay

Athwart the chambers, and the day

Was sloping toward his western bower.

Then, she said, 'I am very dreary,

He will not come,' she said;

She wept, 'I am aweary, aweary,

Oh God, that I were dead!'

'Mariana in the moated-grange' - Measure for Measure by Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1830)

#academia aesthetic #classical #dark academia #light academia #academia #escapism #classic literature #books #books and libraries #victorian poetry #poetry #poet #poets #classical poetry #alfred lord tennyson #19th century #poets on tumblr

[thequeenofmyownscreen]

Following the end of campaign 1, since I'm sticking to the chronological order, I've watched the numerous one-shots Critical Role did between the two campaigns. Man, the hiatus was long !

Some of them I appreciated less than others : wherever it was a tone of the one-shot, or the mood I was in... for example, I think I didn't enjoy enough the "Once Upon a Fairytale Cruise" (this one was, I think, because there was a weird inbalance between the fun dating cruise with explicit details, and the horrifying aspects of the fairy tales), or the "Epic Level Battle Royale" (this one was definitely because of the rythm, which suprised me because the precedent battle royale was so much fun ! But Liam made it real hard for the audience even if it was in character), or the Kobolds & Catacombs one-shot (this one was because perhaps it was a "normal" one, maybe too normal, and even if it was with a guest, there was a lot of combat and the universe did not vary very much from usual).

My favorites were, in order :

"Honey Heist", because I'm a Marisha Ray fan above all else. The system itself was really simple, and the story had a simple goal, but it's a demonstration of how you don't have to have a complex RPG system to have lots of fun : Criminal bears ! Plus the cast was just so great : seeing Matt as a player is a delight, especially as Trinket. Brian as a honey badger on a bender, Liam and Taliesin as brothers that have "roaring 20's criminals from New York" accents, Sam as panda that just can't shut up about being a vegan. I love that there were rolls to see what role the bears played in this heist, but also rolls to see what hat they're wearing. Bits and pieces :

"With these hats, there’s no way anybody in the town of Westruun would think that we’re bears !!"

Liam and Taliesin are playing it like honey is cocaïne, while Peddy Tuxpin tastes honey like a wine, because this is Sam.

Marisha as Vex, and Marisha as Victor, she's amazing.

The couple of criminal cows that are called Bonnie and Cow

Brian's personal challenge to make as many euphemisms as possible.

Tova, who survived the Nine Hells - it's canon ! - and is part of an order called 'the High-Bear Nation' (this pun is amazing, and so is Liam Las Vegas' line : "Listen, to one extremely high bear to another...").

And of course the game at the safe's door, this all sequence is hilarious.

Matt, to Marisha : "I'm so proud I married you."

Paddy had to ressuscitate Trinket who was uncounscious, by making "snout-to-snout", or "BPR", and Sam had the audacity to shout in character : "Trinket, if you died, I would be so upset !"

"Thursday by Night" was so great !! I know nothing about the system of Vampire: The Masquerade, but when Taliesin talked about vampires, I was on board instantly. Add to that the cast playing "themselves as newbies vampires" and you just know it's going to be great. Everyone dressing up vaguely goth (they are handsome people), and then for the 2nd part on Halloween in costumes, was great. Like Liam's one-shot, they all begin in a familiar place (the Nerdist set), that is strange and overturned by a calamity ; and Taliesin really brought the weird in the building ! And I love that it was destined, in his mind, to be a TPK since they are newbies vampires and he knew his friends would be reckless in this world ; but Laura saved her and Travis' non-life by staying true to her good heart, and this made for a very statisfying end. Bits and pieces :

Taliesin keeps mispronuncing "stamina" into "stanima".

Sam doesn't know anything else in the building except the Critical Role set.

Matt and Marish dying super early because they had to go prepare their wedding (Marisha, when Matt dies "We always knew you would be the first to go in the apocalypse", and Sam asking in-game if this means they get a refund on their wedding gifts, cracked me up).

The True Blood (Sam's only reference when it comes to vampires) and the Twilight (Travis' only reference) things.

The fact that they made secret alliances with each other, sometimes using mind-control (Liam was such a little shit ! I love it) so that in the end they all betrayed and double-crossed.

Travis saying "Can I take my shirt off..." and Taliesin, Liam and Sam simultenously responding "Always".

The lizard people living in the L.A. sewers, because of course there is, and some of them are fans of the cast because Critters are everywhere.

The whole sequence where Liam hunts a human that turns out to be Will Friedle, and stuff his body inside the hole of a porta-potty (Taliesin : "Actually you can shove a whole body in a porta-potty hole. Don't ask me how I know that")

The "Shadow of War" one-shot, because I'm a huge LoTR nerd and also Darin De Paul is such a treasure that I would watch anything he's in.

The Grog as a DM one-shot was so much ridiculousness that it won me over. It was very relaxing, since there were no high stakes at all, except Scanlan trying to kill Trinket. Also Seeing Travis panicking as a DM was a delight.

#my thoughts #critical role #cr campaign 1 #cr one-shots

[mitsukui]

tag game! ✨

i was tagged by @writingsomewrongs + @pineapplesandpinas + @anchoeritic! thank you so much, babies ❤️

rules: answer the following and tag followers you want to get to know better.

name: bee.

gender: female.

star sign: scorpio.

height: 5′5″.

age: 23.

wallpaper on my phone: my lockscreen is a hogwarts castle illustration, and my homescreen is a flying ford anglia one!

house: hufflepuff, but many of my friends say i could be a ravenclaw, too. what do you think?

ever crush on a teacher: oh, my god, yes! quite a few times, actually. but there were two teachers who really made me feel like i was falling for them. the first one was a physics teacher, when i was in high school. and the second was my literature teacher, in college.

coolest halloween costume: ok, so, i work at a bilingual school, so we take halloween very seriously there! two years ago, me and other 3 teachers all wore onesie pajamas, and i was a very cute unicorn, heh. 

favourite 90’s tv show: kenan & kel.

last kiss: february, rip.

have you ever been stood up: yes, bitch, but how could they? i’m fucking gorgeous.

favourite pair of shoes: my over the knees black boots.

have you ever been to las vegas: nope!

favourite fruit: grapes, plums and cherries.

favourite book: night film, by marish pessl.

stupidest thing you’ve ever done: i trusted men.

all time favourite shows: friends, modern family, stranger things.

last movie you saw in the theatres: birds of prey.

face reveal: it’s gonna be here only for a lil bit, because i’m shy

(picture deleted)

[libidomechanica]

“makes me thee so entic bed”

Before I say not for my souls of view, 

and catch at the emptied by the  tongues may keel; makes me thee so entic bed; Pity which faith  holla forehearse for suspicion: thou willow eight  me go. that were dwell on does Pity hed, or  glut of the water, strong the white 

which as their eyes hence it though rude, bare that my  duty is which thy liues by the Earth  free, my lords the head and euer the scawled  frowards my losse art just sumd in my heavend, may the 

ladde in these that lasting the gusts gracious  of electric clearly youth and passions bob this,  that reigne Pan his me bels, yellows on, as  light, and stand our place, this chillery, vermeil  right; nothing to an any mothers. Also  set to-night whose the moon is playd with 

a rated arms, are brain: be spirit 

seen film of theyr loue with thy prepare “

em, what come to perplexion dim dawn. For 

I cannot from this turned the dog,  and that counsel me, her glossy find, then Hell it 

is shrink—what in sleep a kind Amaryllis,  stella hath me numberd or priest keep  in the sent from Abelard beneath. Thyself  and self the come acids with all things.  And no more was store of charming pale yet  a breath, and hoary, and over my copy-books 

but thee, and thou can heat deeds are yet America  wash is friend, you coverted paradict  than mattered in the light doth sanctities,  while thee. Harke howsoeer breathing were different 

grasses in prefigure;” my woes. Ring on  the night, if the bit of Thyself, He 

hears may lingers over breathings, and day. And lost,’“tis  filling the Spiteful those thing winds taen and purple 

fuller mild will—how small rebellious as  stole that they court and them emong, disting walkd  of oneness?” No hint or weakness to  dress sympathized in any careful dream of him  wrong dazzled soul marish-mossed on soul in some made  theyr good, and shield— shocks mirth, memories of which  we wretches: and from very day and tuft with 

horrors above of thou learness, to be 

too she schoolboy or two. His nicknamed of Hell; 

whoeer saw them not take hem all. My shee when watch  out inflame, its composd, but when I w as as a sparkles in us, to  a blank Verse had never childhood in a  turning the rest, though the she sage Miss Flaw, Misses:  nothings, and great gift we talkd with  hollowing, and that delicious human eer  tho theyr pray, ready as t other own with  comparing is that each of the matters!

#poetry #automatically generated text #Patrick Mooney #Markov chains #Markov chain length: 5 #213 texts

[jw-waterhouse]

Mariana in the South (1897), by J.W. Waterhouse

This painting of Mariana refers again to a poem by Tennyson, this time published in 1830 (see below).  The character originates from Shakespeare’s “Measure by Measure” in which Mariana withers by loneliness as her lover, Duke Angelo, chases another woman.

With blackest moss the flower-plots

 Were thickly crusted, one and all:

The rusted nails fell from the knots

 That held the pear to the gable-wall.

The broken sheds look'd sad and strange:

 Unlifted was the clinking latch;

 Weeded and worn the ancient thatch

Upon the lonely moated grange.

   She only said, 'My life is dreary,

     He cometh not,' she said;

   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

     I would that I were dead!'

  Her tears fell with the dews at even;

 Her tears fell ere the dews were dried;

She could not look on the sweet heaven,

 Either at morn or eventide.

After the flitting of the bats,

 When thickest dark did trance the sky,

 She drew her casement-curtain by,

And glanced athwart the glooming flats.

   She only said, 'The night is dreary,

     He cometh not,' she said;

   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

     I would that I were dead!'

  Upon the middle of the night,

 Waking she heard the night-fowl crow:

The cock sung out an hour ere light:

 From the dark fen the oxen's low

Came to her: without hope of change,

 In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn,

 Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn

About the lonely moated grange.

   She only said, 'The day is dreary,

     He cometh not,' she said;

   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

     I would that I were dead!'

  About a stone-cast from the wall

 A sluice with blacken'd waters slept,

And o'er it many, round and small,

 The cluster'd marish-mosses crept.

Hard by a poplar shook alway,

 All silver-green with gnarlèd bark:

 For leagues no other tree did mark

The level waste, the rounding gray.

   She only said, 'My life is dreary,

     He cometh not,' she said;

   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

     I would that I were dead!'

  And ever when the moon was low,

 And the shrill winds were up and away,

In the white curtain, to and fro,

 She saw the gusty shadow sway.

But when the moon was very low,

 And wild winds bound within their cell,

 The shadow of the poplar fell

Upon her bed, across her brow.

   She only said, 'The night is dreary,

     He cometh not,' she said;

   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,

     I would that I were dead!'

  All day within the dreamy house,

 The doors upon their hinges creak'd;

The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse

 Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd,

Or from the crevice peer'd about.

 Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors,

 Old footsteps trod the upper floors,

Old voices call'd her from without.

   She only said, 'My life is dreary,

     He cometh not,' she said;

   She said, 'I am aweary, aweary,'

     I would that I were dead!'

  The sparrow's chirrup on the roof,

 The slow clock ticking, and the sound

Which to the wooing wind aloof

 The poplar made, did all confound

Her sense; but most she loathed the hour

 When the thick-moted sunbeam lay

 Athwart the chambers, and the day

Was sloping toward his western bower.

   Then, said she, 'I am very dreary,

     He will not come,' she said;

   She wept, 'I am aweary, aweary,

     O God, that I were dead!'

#art #painting #john william waterhouse #symbolism #1897 #19th Century #shakespeare #alfred tennyson #mariana #poetry #loneliness #measure by measure

[papirene-royzn]

"Mariana in the Moated Grange"

(Shakespeare, Measure for Measure)

With blackest moss the flower-plots Were thickly crusted, one and all: The rusted nails fell from the knots That held the pear to the gable-wall. The broken sheds look'd sad and strange: Unlifted was the clinking latch; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange. She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!" Her tears fell with the dews at even; Her tears fell ere the dews were dried; She could not look on the sweet heaven, Either at morn or eventide. After the flitting of the bats, When thickest dark did trance the sky, She drew her casement-curtain by, And glanced athwart the glooming flats. She only said, "The night is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!" Upon the middle of the night, Waking she heard the night-fowl crow: The cock sung out an hour ere light: From the dark fen the oxen's low Came to her: without hope of change, In sleep she seem'd to walk forlorn, Till cold winds woke the gray-eyed morn About the lonely moated grange. She only said, "The day is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!" About a stone-cast from the wall A sluice with blacken'd waters slept, And o'er it many, round and small, The cluster'd marish-mosses crept. Hard by a poplar shook alway, All silver-green with gnarled bark: For leagues no other tree did mark The level waste, the rounding gray. She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said "I am aweary, aweary I would that I were dead!" And ever when the moon was low, And the shrill winds were up and away, In the white curtain, to and fro, She saw the gusty shadow sway. But when the moon was very low And wild winds bound within their cell, The shadow of the poplar fell Upon her bed, across her brow. She only said, "The night is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!" All day within the dreamy house, The doors upon their hinges creak'd; The blue fly sung in the pane; the mouse Behind the mouldering wainscot shriek'd, Or from the crevice peer'd about. Old faces glimmer'd thro' the doors Old footsteps trod the upper floors, Old voices called her from without. She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!" The sparrow's chirrup on the roof, The slow clock ticking, and the sound Which to the wooing wind aloof The poplar made, did all confound Her sense; but most she loathed the hour When the thick-moted sunbeam lay Athwart the chambers, and the day Was sloping toward his western bower. Then said she, "I am very dreary, He will not come," she said; She wept, "I am aweary, aweary, Oh God, that I were dead!"

1. Mariana by Sir John Everett Millais, 1851.

2. “Mariana” by Tennyson, 1850.

#mariana #art history

[creepingsharia]

Muslims hack 36 to death with machetes, including Christian pastor in Congo; 32 Killed by Fulani Muslims in Nigeria

Suspected Islamist militants hacked to death over 30 people, including an Anglican pastor, in overnight attacks on villages in the east of the Democratic Republic of Congo.

On Tuesday, four villages were raided by the Allied Democratic Forces, an Islamist group, in the west of Beni territory, Reuters reports. The rebel group has its origins in Uganda but is now based in DR Congo's Beni region.

Beni Governor Donat Kibwana told AFP that members of the terrorist group hacked all victims to death with machetes. In total, 36 individuals were killed, including an Anglican pastor. 

The main attack took place in Manzingi, a village northwest from Oicha, while the pastor was killed in the village of Eringeti. 

"The victim had the misfortune to pass them on his way to the field with his wife," Omar Kavota from rights group CEPADHO said in a statement, according to Reuters. 

Launched in the mid-1990s by Ugandan Muslim rebels forced out of Uganda, the ADF has become the conflict-stricken DRC’s most active and violent rebel group over the past two years. Led by Musa Baluku, the group is known for committing crimes such as murder, rape and abduction of women and children, as well as slavery and indoctrination.

The Beni region has seen a surge of violence since Oct. 30 when Congolese troops launched an offensive against the rebels. In total, 265 people have been killed by the ADF since November, according to the Kivu Security Tracker, a research initiative that maps unrest in Congo's east.

Persecution watchdog group Open Doors USA notes that the operation to push ADF out the area has come at great cost to the mostly Christian population.

In November 2019, attacks carried out by the ADF killed at least 84 people, including men, women and children. Over half of the victims were Christians. 

In March, six Christians, including a 9-year-old child, were reportedly killed when rebel forces attacked the largely Christian village of Kalau near the city of Beni. Additionally, 500 families were forced to flee from their homes.

In August 2016, ADF was blamed for carrying out what is known as the “Beni massacre,” where at least 64 people were hacked to death.

Pastor Gilbert Kambale, president of the Beni city civil society organization, urged the international community to pray to God for deliverance for Beni and the DRC.

“Even as the night is long, day will surely dawn,” Gilbert told Open Doors.

In December, the Trump administration imposed sanctions on the leader of the ADF and five others for perpetrating serious human rights abuses including mass rape, torture and killings, Reuters reported. 

According to the Treasury’s Office of Foreign Assets Control, Baluku assisted the group “through recruitment, logistics, administration, financing, intelligence, and operations coordination.”

The ADF “continues to perpetuate widespread violence and innumerable human rights abuses including the abduction, recruitment, and use of children during attacks and other violent operations."

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Another 32 Killed by Fulani in Plateau, Nigeria

02/01/2020 Nigeria There have been increased attacks in Plateau State, Nigeria over the past several weeks. There have been two large attacks that took place on January 26 and 27. These two attacks took places in Kwatas and Marish villages and left a total of at least 32 dead.

The attack on Kwatas, which took place on the 26th, left at least 15 people killed according to online reports. A local source told ICC that the number is actually 21 however. The attack was also confirmed to have been committed by Fulani according to the online reports.

The second attack was in Marish village on the 27th. During this attack nor only were 17 people killed, but a church was also burned down. Despite this, the media and government will continue to say that there is no religious element to the attacks that are happening.

These attacks followed other recent attacks that killed at least 15 other people as well. That brings the total death count in January in Plateau State to at least 47. With the other attacks that have taken place in other areas by fulani and boko haram, 2020 has started off very bloody. Please continue to pray for our suffering brothers and sisters in Nigeria.

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