#trout legacy

[thepettymachine]

I decided to move them to Cape Garner Islands because of the great outdoors it provides for fishing.

Also Starlight Shores was becoming laggy

#sims #sims 3 #ts3 #ts3 gameplay #ts3 legacy #trout legacy #trout g1 #the irony is that cape garner has been memory crashing but i refuse to leave because its pretty

[tardyharpy]

inventory at the Hog's Head

#hogwarts legacy #hogsmeade #hogs head inn #harry potter #jasper trout

[greenbloods]

a lot of people dont know this but we already have all the hints for the future of house lannister. see it all has to do with the legacy of the house. when lann the clever connived his way into casterly rock that set a shadow from which house lannister never escaped. the targaryens were defined by aegon the conqueror and daenys the dreamer and the doom of valyria setting forth a 400 year long bloodcurse that forever entwined that house with the violence of the oppressor and conqueror and dreamer in that system. arryn honor and stark wolfsblood--ancient founders have ancient legacies.

but house stark was remade under ned starks image after his father and brother and sister died. and house lannister was remade under tywin lannisters image after tytos died. there some of that cleverness in tyrion and tywin, but the lannister name now is synonymous with the envy and lust and low cunning that tywin sought desparately to hide. house lannister is all brass and no gold; it needs a fresh start. jaime and cersei and tyrion are all stuck under tywins shadow; whether they try to be him or his opposite they are doomed to be defined by him. the hope for house lannister, then is in the youth who have not had a chance to be tormented by the psychosexual humiliation and power mentality of the dead lion.

but what is a lion a symbol of? kingship and power and sharp teeth. if sharp claws and pride are not enough then what is enough for the future of the house?

maybe a horse.

“Has there been no word of our Lord Tyrek?” her castellan asked as a course of trout was served. “None.” Tyrek Lannister had vanished during the riots in King’s Landing whilst Jaime himself was still captive at Riverrun. The boy would be fourteen by now, assuming he was still alive. “I led a search myself, at Lord Tywin’s command,” offered Addam Marbrand as he boned his fish, “but I found no more than Bywater had before me. The boy was last seen ahorse, when the press of the mob broke the line of gold cloaks. " -AFFC Jaime III

they say that tyrek lannister was last seen ahorse during the bread riots of kings landing. but these riots dont seem to be without instigator, and many have pointed to varys intentionally capturing tyrek to be groomed into a heir, much like young griff was groomed for kingship. it's later in feast that we get this exchange:

“Your word of honor?” Ser Brynden raised an eyebrow. “Do you even know what honor is?” A horse. -AFFC Jaime VI

so we know that tyrek = horse and honor = horse. by the transitive property it must be then that tyrek is the embodiment of the conception of honor, and has been captured by varys in the bread riots to create a new future for house lannister in order for westeros to escape from the shadow of tywin lannister

#is this a shitpost? yes #do i also believe it? absolutely #tyrek lannister #house lannister #asoiaf #my posts

[magnuficent76]

★○~ ! INTRO POST ! ~○★

{ ★ HOWDY ! Name's Magnus/Mael <They/it/xe/star> ! I'm an adult from Brazil and this is my art blog ! I'm mainly an oc artist, but I occasionally make some fanart for games if it manages to make me insane enough. My main tag is #magoriginals , but there's more under the cut along with extras about me ! Hope you enjoy me bog :D here's some of me art ! ★ }

Wanna get yourself an image ? Head down to my Ko-Fi !

{ ★ I'm a brazillian artist, But I also speak spanish + am studying swedish/italian !

★ I am autistic so please be direct with me ! I tend to struggle with tone/social cues, so in case I'm doing something wrong, tell me right away and I will stop !

★ I don't really like DNI lists because. Yk. Can't really stop anyone here, but here's some general rules for my blog:

☆ EXCLUSIONISTS OF ANY KIND GET AWAY FROM HERE. I AM A TRANS QUEER PERSON. BOOM 🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍🌈Terfs/Swerfs/"gender criticals"/Whatever the hell you call yourself !! I don't care !!! Fuck off forever !!]

☆ Please don't repost my art anywhere else. No I don't care if you credit me. Don't do that. Unless I have given you explicit permission, please just. Don't.

★ Main tags: #magoriginals [for og text posts, also goes for my reblog place !] ; #magart [for general art posts, some of my older stuff might not show up cuz its a new tag ! In which case #my art also will do] ; #magocs/my oc stuff [my oc tag(s) ! anything involving them is in there !] ;

☆ Other tags: #disjointed trouts [Just random stuf that doesn't lead anywhere] ; #audience participation [asks tag] ; #for me's ! [Tagged in stuff/fanart for me !] ; #beloved mutuals tag <3 [You already know <3]

★ I tend to only tag "[trigger]" instead of "[tw trigger]" for potentially triggering content. Will tag things more specifically if you ask me !

★ ME STORIES !! Original projects that are currently ongoing !

☆ #Solar Years – Slice of life about an immortal vessel of the Sun God, Baltazar, and their ventures in the mortal plane as they explore the world around them, make some friends, and cope with the crippling existential fear that came free with their "mortality" !

☆ #Caede Tales – A Borderlands fan-story mainly following the Caede brothers —Jonah and Archer— two bandits from Pandora trying to make a living in the inhospitable lands.

☆ #Gaslighting Fires – The dramedy story of Eris Treacher, a wanted criminal woman from the 1980's who wants to make it to the top of the food chain in her city, all while throwing those who stand in her way to the ground.

☆ #HELLBREAKER – The Devil, bored of the mundanity in hell, proposes a game to the souls stuck in purgatory: If you can make it through all rings and defeat their respective sins, you get to ascend to a higher state of being. This particular cycle, a new arrival named Maria decides to try her luck in escaping.

☆ #Computing: Legacy – Follows William and Althea as they're living through a post-apocalyptic technological revolution, another brewing war between world powers for domination over the digitalscape, and the looming threat of mass extinction due to pollution. Also they're in university so they have to deal with all THAT shit too.

Other blogs of mine:

@magnuficentwo [Reblogging place, but also my main blog ! That's who's liking and following yer posts basically !]

#intro post #magoriginals #magocs #magart #txt #my posts #artists on tumblr #my oc stuff #my art #PHEW finally did this #i felt. naked without my intro post

[go-go-devil]

Captain Leafheart, 2002-2023

Today my dear pet frog, whom I named Captain Leafheart, died in his miniature pond. I made sure to bury him under the same backyard trees as my deceased mammalian pet, for his legacy was just as great as theirs!

Originally he wasn't even my frog. He once belonged to my cousin, but around ten years after getting him he moved out to college and decided not to bring his frog with him. My aunt, already having several other animals to take care of, asked me if I was willing to take in the amphibian, and since I had lost the last of my own frogs not too long I happily obliged!

I ended up renaming him to "Captain Leafheart" a few years later due to his original name being the same as an old friend I had drifted apart from after high school, which made me a bit uncomfortable with keeping it (a major improvement I'd say!).

I've always enjoyed caring for frogs, and the Captain was certainly remarkable. His nighttime croaking was always a pleasure for me to listen to, as was witnessing him hunting all of the crickets I'd buy for and flies I'd catch for him. Once he started living with me he got to experience the texture of moss for the first time, and I'll never forget how long he laid in the first batch I harvested for him <3

His living space also happened to be in my rec room, and so he was treated to a whole lotta music from my vinyl records, or at least as much as his eardrums could pick up (which probably wasn't much at all). Tree frog eardrums are very limited in what acoustic patterns they pick up on.

Also before anyone asks, don't worry! I did play Captain Beefheart for Leafheart, Trout Mask Replica to be precise. Hopefully there were enough frog frequencies in that insanity of an album for him to enjoy!

Leafheart lived a remarkably long life for an animal, and especially for an Australian green tree frog! Rest in Peace, Captain. You brought such joy to my life in your own humble way 🐸

#captain leafheart #tree frogs #amphibians #my pets #my photos #RIP

[kriz-fics]

The Sword’s Legacy

Series Summary: As the heir of your father's lands, you have grown up knowing that one day you must wed to your House's advantage, and there's no better catch than the younger son of the Magister himself. Meanwhile tensions within the king's court are set to come to a head at any moment - it just needs that spark to send everything ablaze. Now in a court more dangerous than the one you entered, you find distraction and joy in the company of the beautiful boy with the beautiful eyes. You can only hope to weather the storm you can sense brewing in the horizon.

Masterlist

Chapter Fourteen: Ebb and Flow

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x Female Reader

Genre: Royalty AU, Historical Fantasy AU, Romance, Politics, Warfare, Eventual Smut (future chapters)

Length: 14.6K

CW: Eren being an absolute boobs man / YN getting off to Eren's voice - not (dammit) but, well... read on

Never, in all his sixteen years of life, can Armin recall partaking of a private dinner as grand as this. They begin with flatbread and a stew thick with clams and cod and crabs. Then come fennel greens with radishes and crumbled cheese and olives, lamprey pie and trout, and swan served in her plumage stuffed with oysters and sun peppers. For the sweet, a heaping tray of lemon cakes is to be served.

All southron fare, Armin notes. A taste of home, Rod Reiss declared, smiling that magnanimous smile of his. A taste of home but for the swan. After all, the king must have his swan. Which is stuffed with southron victuals, to be sure, Armin grants as he bites into a sun pepper embedded in his forkful of fowl and promptly feels his mouth burning. He reaches for his glass of lemonsweet at once and sighs a secret sigh of relief as the cool sweet and tart drink douses the fires in his maw. He has never been able to tolerate heat within as well as he can the heat without. He is perhaps the only southerner made so, as his lord grandfather will often jest. Still he does not shrink from the flames. He is a true southerner in that regard; he need only have his proverbial buckets of water and he can eat his fill of spices and peppers like the true southron boy he is.

The room in which they dine is as grand as the feast set before them. Few have been fortunate enough to claim they had set foot in the king’s privy chambers - Armin cannot quite believe he can now count himself among that fortunate few. It was all he could do not to stare around like an ignorant dullard the moment he entered the very heart of the king’s private life earlier that night.

It is the richest privy chamber he has yet seen, with its high vaulted ceiling and gray marble floor, so shiny that he could see his own awed face looking back up at him from beneath his feet. Yet nothing caught his attention better than the large glass-fronted wooden display situated against the righthand wall of the room. The king’s private collection of scientific artifacts, Armin thought with a thrill of realization, eyes flitting rapidly, hungrily across the wooden shelves. He would have gladly spent the night musing on every one had the king not ushered them to their seats. They have set the long table at the heart of the chamber, moving aside the purple velvet divan and armchairs that normally occupy the space.

How very considerate - and very diplomatic - of the king to set such a table before them all, his southron subjects. And what a table it is. You would think he is feasting seventy instead of seven, with the sheer size of the portions of each course.

To be on the receiving end of the royal bounty is an uncanny thing. His grandfather, sitting to his right, feels so, too, Armin can tell. Beneath the courtesy and politesse, he can hear a note of apprehension in Granik’s voice. As well he might. Six years at court have taught Armin that such bounty is not without its costs. A generous king is a courting king, and there is little doubt that this king will have something from them. They have yet to know the price they’ll pay for this generosity. But the presence of Uncle Kaspar and his brood tells Armin much and more.

“Have a taste of the swan, Hagen, it’s most excellent. And I say that as someone not well-disposed to these tongue scorchers you southerners love so much. Server!” His Majesty barks toward the line of serving men standing dutifully behind his seat at the head of the table, ready to serve at his command. “Give his lordship a good thick slice off that roast.”

One of them obliges, a man with a common face in the purple livery and Founder’s head badge of the Royal House’s household staff. He sets about his commission and returns to his place behind his lord’s chair, expression blank and servile. Behind the line of servants, the tall glass windows flaunt the great capital of the crown lands, Belris. Against the black velvet sky, the many lights of the city’s many buildings take the place of the stars above. Lord Hagen smiles civilly down at the hunk of spiced bird on his plate and spears himself a piece, to the king’s approval.

“So, when will you leave our most vibrant court for the comforts of home?” His Majesty inquires as he starts on his third slice of lamprey pie. A plate chockful of swan and greens is lying beside the pie dish. Every few heartbeats, the king will grab a bite from one platter then the other, and back again. The man is never one to stint himself when it comes to food and drink.

Armin averts his gaze, careful not to stare too long at the ample royal frame. He takes a prim bite of his trout and listens on as his grandfather answers. “On the morrow, Majesty. So you must forgive us our surprise at this unexpected but very much welcome invitation. If we seem much harried, it will be because of our preparations.”

The king waves a swan leg about to dismiss his lord’s beg-pardons. “It’s of no consequence, my good man. I imposed upon your time and so it is I who must beg your pardon. But, see, I have thrown you an excellent leave-taking feast. That warrants your king your full forgiveness, surely?” There is a round of ingratiating laughter before Rod Reiss drains his goblet and clears his throat importantly.

“Now to business,” he says, crisp and brisk all at once. The general air of relaxed contentment about the table grows anxious and expectant at the drop of a hat.

Armin schools his features into a look of mild curiosity despite the eels in his stomach. Here it comes. For the umpteenth time that night, he wishes he is seated on the opposite side of the table if only to get his fill of the king’s curios. The gilt white marble of the fireplace and its lively flames can only offer so much distraction. Prince Urklyn and his Gudrun almost make up for that, though. Their cloying display of unabashed affection is enough to make him gag. Fourteen-year-old Cousin Gunther, seated to his left, is no better off; Armin can hear his snorts and huffs of disgust every time His Royal Highness and his sweetheart turn to each other with their sickeningly sweet simpers as they feed each other morsels from the other’s fork.

“As you know,” the king begins after a healthy bite of pie, “our Procurator, may the gods give him rest, has gone on to join his forefathers in the light of the Fields. A most untimely and tragic end for a good and devoted servant, brought about by evil hearts.”

An unseasonal chill immerses the luxuriant chamber, driving away the warmth of the hearthflames. It is enough to make even the happy couple stop their simpering. His Majesty sighs into the silence, his face grim, and waves his empty goblet around. Little Yakob Halkin totters forward, clad in his own purple tunic to match the serving men, and refills the king’s cup. The pitcher is half his height, heavy with wine and cumbersome for a little boy of six, yet not a drop is spilled.

Good lad, Armin finds himself reveling in the lordling’s success as he watches him toddle back to his place amongst the servants, at the end of the line of these much older and more capable men. The boy seems to shrink back against the tied-up swags of the long purple velvet curtain he is standing in front of, as if he can somehow make himself disappear into the folds of rich cloth.

Poor lad. Most of the Halkin clan will not be going home for this reprieve. All fear for their stripling and what the king may do in their absence. Children as young as him are a rare sight in court; the nobility prefer to keep their brood at home until their tenth yeardays. Even babes in arms born at court are soon whisked off for home, where they will grow and be raised in the ways of the highborn until they come back to court a full decade later. Yakob Halkin, at six, is a precocious little courtier. Too young to be a piece in the long game. Armin recalls the excitement and the anxiety he felt during his first few days at court six long years ago. There will be no excitement for the Halkin boy. That leaves only anxiety. Not a good sentiment for a child.

“And so we are left with an empty seat in the most illustrious Conclave, and that empty seat wants filling,” Rod Reiss announces after a long swig of wine.

Armin feels his heart beat faster, hardly daring to believe it. He shoves a forkful of swan in his mouth on reflex, unable to feel the burn of the peppers nor taste the heavy juices of the meat. Granik’s grip tightens on his table knife yet otherwise he betrays no emotion but for a discreet interest.

The king turns to Lord Hagen with an air of flourishing his favor. “It pleases me to name you the new lord treasurer and Procurator of the Royal Conclave.”

And just like that, the Arlert star rises even higher. Armin looks down at his half-emptied plate. The grease from the swan and his trout has mixed and is slowly starting to congeal. What little mouthful of pie he has lies to the side of the plate, brown, oily, and brown. Suddenly, he finds his appetite leaving him. He places his knife and fork down. His House’s fortune is being made and yet it holds no joy for him. For a moment, he feels like the most contrary boy in the world.

The joy will come, a voice inside him whispers. Shock is only natural for shocking news. It is enough to know that you rise high.

Lord Hagen finds his voice at last. “Y-Your Majesty, you honor me. I hardly think I am fit for such an office-”

“Why are you not fit when I deem you so?” The king pops an olive into his mouth, chews, swallows. “I will be judge of your fitness. I see what you have done in Krolva. You run an excellent household, they tell me.” He takes another deep draught from his goblet and continues, “I say you are more than capable. You must not presume to question my good judgment, my lord.”

“I would not dare, Your Majesty,” Lord Hagen assures hastily, hearing, as Armin heard, the edge to the royal tone as the king uttered his last sentence. It is a soft edge, and mild, but an edge it is still. “I simply meant- I am glad you deem me fit for such a station, Your Majesty, lowly man as I am. My gratefulness knows no bounds. You will not be remiss in your faith in your most humble servant.”

“Excellent.” His Majesty gestures, and a serving man sweeps at once through the lilac gossamer drapes of the entryway next to the king’s collection. The royal bedroom, Armin knows, a place even fewer have set foot in. Only those who serve Rod Reiss intimately can claim the honor, such as it is, of entering such a personal space.

The servant returns moments later with a small chest, mahogany inlaid with mother-of-pearl, which he carefully sets before Lord Hagen and opens. Nestled upon its purple velvet lining is a golden chain, the chain of the Procurator’s office with its horn of plenty medallion.

“An officer is not an officer without his badge of office,” His Majesty remarks as the manservant takes the chain from its case and waits patiently for the new Procurator to remove the chain he is wearing for the night, a sumptuous piece of gold and mother-of-pearl, with its mother-of-pearl pendant of the Arlert conch. The servant drapes the new chain neatly over Lord Hagen’s shoulders and withdraws silently to his place by the windows.

The sight of the horn of plenty upon Granik’s chest does what words cannot. The truth of his lord grandfather’s rise to power has just now hit Armin, and it hits hard. Granik is advisor to the king and in his confidence. His thoughts turn to you and Eren, issue both of Conclave lords, and suddenly he feels a thrill. Here comes the joy at last. You all three are now scions of the councilmen. In a single night, he has joined the ranks of the luminaries, whom he can finally count as equals.

His knife and fork are in his hands again as he sets to his dinner with renewed gusto. That brief lull makes everything taste better somehow. How he thought the fare was too greasy is beyond him.

“How do you like the fit, Lord Procurator?” the king inquires, eyeing the chain around his lord’s neck and looking pleased.

Lord Hagen takes the medallion and examines the sigil etched upon its golden surface. “It is… a good fit, Majesty.” He releases the disk and it falls back to its preceding place upon his chest, the gold tailor-made and seamless against the gold and yellow of his embroidered vest.

“That it is.” Rod Reiss turns his attention to Armin, to his surprise. “Mayhaps our young master Arlert here can aspire to a similar chain in time, further walk the path his lord grandfather walked. With a mentor such as this, I would expect nothing less. You can be sure I’ll be keeping a close eye on you, Young Master, two eyes, even.”

Armin blinks (somewhat foolishly, he feels) and inclines his head deferentially toward his king. “I thank you for the kind words, Your Majesty. Should I ever become half as good a lord as my lord grandfather, it would be a great honor indeed,” he says, turning to beam at Granik, who returns it in kind.

“Ah, it is nice to see filial piety still good and alive in the youth of today,” the king remarks as he polishes off his pie, before turning to his son, who instantly straightens up in his seat and takes Gudrun’s hand in his own. Armin eyes their linked hands and waits with bated breath. “Speak of filial matters… I must confess I had a more personal reason for extending you this invitation, Hagen, as I think you already know. As such, I would like to discuss the matter of my son’s marriage.”

“My Lord Procurator,” the prince begins at once, a mite anxious and hasty, before soldiering on, “I would like to ask for the hand of your granddaughter in marriage. It should hearten you to know that her lord father, Lord Kaspar, has already consented.”

Uncle Kaspar sits beside his glowing daughter, doing his best not to glow himself. How long his uncle has known of his daughter’s affairs, Armin does not know, yet he does wonder. Longer than we know, it would seem. The constant deferrals and refusals of marriage offers for his only daughter suddenly became a great deal more understandable.

Armin stares long and hard at his uncle, pondering the barely contained glee on his plump face with its thick honeyed moustache, the very image of his brother Lothar before he lost all the weight. Kaspar Arlert is proving to be a more enterprising man than any of them gave him credit for. Lady Mariya had never been a robust woman and he had staked Gudrun’s hand and reputation on that. Armin can only marvel at how well he hid this affair from the hawkeyed court always hungry for scandal and secrets.

Uncle’s gamble has paid off massively. Not many can claim to have won takings as rich as royal marriage kin. Yet it is not truly his decision to make in the end. The stakes are still on. At the head of the table, the king sits with his steepled fingers pressed to his mouth, watching the proceedings with those shrewd blue eyes.

The dice seem to be loaded in Lord Kaspar’s favor.

His lord father can only listen on as his prospective grandson by marriage presents his suit. “You are the Head of my beloved’s House and so we must needs ask for your permission to wed, which I hope you will grant. I love your granddaughter dearly. I swear to the gods both old and new that I will take care of her and cherish her. ‘Til aught but death part her and me.” He smiles, loving and tender, at Gudrun, who twinkles at the words of the wedding rite.

Will you, really? Armin takes a sip of his lemonsweet to mask the derisive leer threatening to take his lips over. The Lady Mariya must be rolling in her grave right now. A woman betrayed and led on was not a woman cherished.

“What say you, my lord Procurator?” The king leans forward, expectant. Almost bullish, Armin thinks, noting the forceful cast that has taken over His Majesty’s face. “The boy makes a most compelling case. You will be glad to know they have my full blessing. And how not? You Arlerts come from good Paradisian stock, descendants of the Sea himself!” Rod Reiss laughs and takes a swig of his drink. “It is a fine match and not the first of its kind. My distant forebears deemed the blood of Nyrdos fit enough to wed, and so do I. Let the blood of gods flow anew through our lines once more.”

Armin glances once more at the happy and nervously waiting couple before him. The crystals of the great chandelier above throw rainbows over their matching cloth-of-gold raiment and their faces, so bright and alive with hope.

A matched pair. A golden, glittering pair.  

Perhaps he had judged the prince too harshly. Perhaps that look of earnest, guileless affection for his cousin is as genuine as it seems. Perhaps they truly had been lovers long before Lady Mariya, unable to wed owing to a vital and unbreakable precontract. Gods know it happens enough amongst the highborn circles. Armin has never seen Urklyn Reiss - this young man of twenty-three, a man grown - look as he does now, an anxious, eager, lovestruck boy on the verge of hearing that sweet ‘Yes’ from his beloved. Granik, the beloved in this circumstance, truly had little choice in the matter, in the end.

And so it is that House Arlert finds itself bound to the Royal House once more, after two hundred years of lull. Armin looks on at the rest of the table as they set about hammering out the terms of the marriage contract, bartering and haggling like fishwives at the market, and feels a dawning sense of immensity swallow him in its grasp.

A seat at the Conclave and the right to call themselves kin to the royal family… No one has won greater odds in a single night. We just rise higher and higher. A chill - of thrill, of dread, of something else - courses through Armin as the ground seems to fall away beneath him and vanish entirely. They are rising.

Too fast, too soon.

Any faster, any higher and they may lose sight of the earth quicker than they’d like. And gods help them if they fall.

Thousands of years ago, when this world was yet young, sand havens were godsends, places of relief from the burning heat and endless sands that held sway in much of southron Lovaya. Finding one was a matter of life and death, and this was especially true for the desert clans, those hardiest of peoples who laid claim to the hellscape as their own.

The present is a more forgiving time. The Southron Flowering had reduced the need for such havens yet godsends they remain to any traveler who braves the Deep Sands.

You adjust your grip on the bowls in your hands and make sure the fleece blanket draped over your arm is securely in place, before trudging through the camp toward your betrothed’s tent. Eren emerges from within almost at once, as though he had sensed your presence, and flashes you that sunny smile that you are so fond of.

“Dinner?” you say, proferring one of the bowls to him, and pressing on. “I thought we could eat by that glade over there,” you gesture with your chin over to the wood of palm trees that border the fringes of the lake you have camped beside for the night.

Shimmerwood, this sand haven is called, so named for the beautiful, glittering blue spheres that beset it of a night. These are no mere fireflies, as folk had once thought, but magic at its most wondrous. The spheres would emerge soon after sundown, making the blue of the lake waters come alive, a veritable crystal in all but composition. They besiege both air and water; it is always a joy to splash around the shoreline and watch the water sparkle like liquid of the bluest diamond as the little orbs fly about the surrounding palms, like the fantastical fae of yore before they vanished forevermore in the wake of the Sundering.

The progress this year had not taken you this further south, though the journey led you through Sontsovo, Shimmerwood’s highly contested Province. For as long as Vascalin had been a unified State, Sontsovo and its neighbor Rybikhna have been at loggerheads over the jurisdiction of the famed locale.

You had spotted the glade earlier that evening as your convoy set up camp. It was just visible from your viewpoint across the lake, a cozy little nook, and private. It would be nice to have some peace and quiet far removed from the hustle and bustle of the company, now larger with the addition of the desert clan you find yourselves sharing the haven with for the night.

Eren takes a bowl from you with a murmur of thanks then glances at the woods. His brow furrows. “It’s very… private. Will your guards be with us?”

You suppress the onrushing urge to grin at the way his eyes flick over you, nervous as a bride on her wedding day. You do not know who you like better: the sweet, flustered, blushing boy that he is now or the hot, sensual, teasing young man he can sometimes be at an unexpected flash. It is a wonder to you that both can live in one being at all. But that makes him all the more exciting.

“We don’t need guards where we’re going. Have no fear, Sir, your virtue is safe with me,” you chirp then carefully reach out to lace your fingers through his and tug him along. He goes willing and agreeable, but not before giving you a little scoff. You hear the amusement in it and smile.

You trek across the sands on sandaled feet, past several men and even more livestock. Camels, cattle, sheep, goats, horses, all of these you pass, the lifeblood of the nomad folk. Soon, the sights, the smells, and the sounds of the busy camp fade away as you lead your knight through a stand of date palms and into the blue.

A dreamy sigh escapes your lips the moment you emerge from the trees. You cannot recall releasing your betrothed’s hand. The blue spreads out before you, wide and sweeping, shot through with fresh green and bordered by tall palms, most heavy with sweet desert dates. A high cliff of towering sandstone surrounds half the lake. Four waterfalls flow down its rockface, dotted here and there with more palms. Everywhere and around you the azure motes fly, dazzling, ethereal, beautiful. The place ensnares your very essence and casts an enchantment upon you, one that you are reluctant to break. Shimmerwood, always and without fail, is a haven in the truest sense of the term.

You tighten your grip on your dinner and bend to unlace your sandals one-handed. You look up almost at once as you feel the bowl cupped in your hand lift away. Eren stares down at you holding both your bowls, a small smile on his face. “Wouldn’t want you wearing mutton stew now, don’t we?” he gibes lightly as he moves to place the dishes upon a long, flat stone overlooking the shimmering, luminescent lake waters.

“Thank you,” you murmur at length, now under an entirely different spell. Only Eren could have broken Shimmerwood’s hold on you.

It is putting up a good fight, though, a worthy contender to the last. Another sigh escapes you as you gaze out across the endless, sparkling blue and feel the soothing coolness of the water lapping around your bare calves. Not too cold nor too warm. The magic of the place serves as a most excellent regulator. You paddle your legs and grin at the glittering eddies you stir up beneath the depths. Tonight’s bath will be a pleasant one.

“Which clan is this one?” Eren asks, taking up his bowl from your stone seat and pressing yours on you.

“The Pejić.” A group of clansmen is settled on the lake's treeless bank opposite you. Outriders, you guess, observing their distance from the main body of their band. Your own outriders are oft stationed thus whenever camp is made. “It’s nice to see Saʂa Pejić doing well after all these years.”

The Saʂa had been deep in discussion with the Alik (as the clansmen like to call Father) in front of your cookfire when you had left your pavilion in search of dinner. No doubt they will speak late into the night apprising the other of vital civic matters - Father will come with his news of the wider realm and the court, and the Saʂa will answer with tales of the South and the state of the desertfolk.

“I’ve never been this… familiar with the sandmen before,” Eren remarks after a spoonful of stew. “They visited Lenberg once or twice during my wardship but I’ve never seen them in their natural element like this. We never crossed paths with any of them when I was escorted home for the autumn.” He takes another spoonful and observes, keen and interested.

Half a hundred clans roam the Deep Sands, from Vascalin to Krolva, as they have done since the olden days. The advent of the Southron Flowering did little to still their restless hearts. A handful had grown roots and settled, founding their own Houses and rising to further power, yet many and more held to their ancient ways, only ever stopping for a season at most in some corner of the South before moving on once more.

“They're good folk, and true.” You spoon up your stew. The meat is tender, the stew full-bodied, well-seasoned and -spiced. Kolya never misses. You eat some more, pleased. “It’s good to know that Lord Hagen is friendly with their sort. If only that was true for all of the South…” A frown creases your brow as a sudden consternation takes you over, making you lower your spoon.

Relations with the clansmen have always been ever-changeable, ever-shifting as the grains of sand will shift underfoot across the dry land they traverse. The desertfolk are not widely beloved; the Provinces of the hostile highborn are best left shunned for friendlier parts.

Even your forebears had not always been forthcoming with their itinerant subjects. Countless annals speak of countless wars waged between the Rhyzkovs and the clans. It is a fact, one of many, that shames you. Houses old in honor are also old in shame. They make much of the glory and the many attainments they have made over the millennia, yet there are just some things that do not bear lauding.

“The Paramount House is at peace with the sandmen, that counts for more than the love of some Lesser House with little clout,” Eren puts in. The profound way with which he uttered those words charms you and does an excellent job of bringing you out of the doldrums. He truly has a talent for it.

“A statewide peace would suit better… but you’re right. My great forebears’ goodwill has done much for them already.”

Somewhere within the campsite, someone has pulled out his finger drums. In a flash, the night comes alive with the music of the desert. The rhythm of a sand dance. For a moment, the yen to return to your pavilion and watch comes over you. The lake waters cling to your legs, however, watery stocks that bind you to its side. The better part of you wants to stay, stay and bask in the enchantment of this place, away from everything and everyone but your knight. Like Kaya and her paramour. Except we’re both ashore and well-dressed. The thought gives you much amusement. And just that merest bit of heat.

“We’ve had a century of goodwill between each other, the clans and most of the South. I’d love to continue that precedent and keep my predecessors’ peace.” You watch the desert outriders at their rest across the lake, their beautifully embroidered sandsilk tents as intricate as their sandsilk tunics, trading japes, whittling figures, making merry. “My people are my people, city- or sandfolk, mobile and immobile, it makes no matter. A good ruler must care for her people. At the least, I hope I can continue to bring them the peace and respect they are due.” Most of the outriders have drifted off to the heart of the camp, to mingle and revel with kin and guests alike. “Other roads might be closed to them, but they’ll always be welcome in Arsechkala.”

“You’ll make a great ruler someday.”

You give your attention back to your betrothed and still. There is a soft cast to his gaze, fond and tender, redolent of the way he stared at you as he pressed his kiss to the back of your hand a mere week ago. The pale blue light from the drifting, glowing motes gentles his expression even more. It makes your breath catch in your throat.

“I mean it. And I’ll be there to see it all.” He places his empty bowl beside him and laces his long fingers through yours. You stare, enthralled, as he places a long, slow kiss on the back of your hand, keeping his eyes resolutely, steadily, firmly on yours. Never once does he break, keeping you trapped in the blue of him, the blue and the green of those eyes, a sight more beautiful and enchanting than the lake before you.

“Ah-!”

You jump a little as he springs back in surprise, blinking rapidly at the cerulean orb that has chosen to settle (and vanish) on the tip of his nose. And just like that, his spell is broken. You tighten your grip on him, disappointed beyond belief. It is not easy keeping your ire to yourself then. You refrain from glaring outright at the pestilential motes buzzing around you. How you thought they were enchanting is beyond you. Bloody little buggers.

“Bloody little buggers,” Eren gripes, rubbing at his nose, and the sight is so endearingly comic that you giggle. The little pout he gives you makes you laugh even more, and so your disappointment ebbs away. There is no use dwelling on the regret of a lost kiss, especially not on the shadow of one. You have a whole lifetime ahead for that.

You set aside your own bowl and inch closer to him, reaching into the pocket of your cobalt vevda as you do so. “I brought sweets,” you say, holding out a couple of blood oranges you had wheedled from the cook. “Well, sweets and tarts,” you add thoughtfully, as the sharp, sweet scent of the fruits fills the space around you.

Eren takes one and proceeds to peel. “Ah, the good old blood orange. So much better than the plain old bloodless orange. It’s how an orange should be, sweet and tart and bloody.”

“You knights do love all things bloody.” You bite into a segment. The fruit is sweet and tart and full to bursting with blood-red juice, which you quickly catch in your dinner bowl before it can run down your chin and stain your skirt.

Eren frowns at you a little as he spits out a pip into his own bowl. “You make us sound barbaric.”

“But you knights do love going about hacking and hammering at things,” you beam at him but then break off abruptly with a little gasp and a whispered, “Oh, look.”

A spectral turtle has manifested high up on the side of one of the palm trees behind Eren. The sight is so fascinatingly incongruous that it drives all thought from your head.

“Interesting things, aren’t they?” Eren remarks, diverted. “I can’t say I’ve seen one on a tree before.” A cool night breeze sweeps through the haven, rustling and bending the surrounding trees slightly. Still, the ghostly turtle holds on, quite immovable.

You shiver slightly and grab the fleece blanket you have set aside for this very eventuality. The desert nights can be bitingly cold, even more so now that autumn is setting in. You throw the cover over Eren’s shoulders and wrap the other end around yourself snugly before he can so much as turn to see what you are about.

Heat suffuses you at once, to your astonishment. You know he runs hot but it takes only this night to hammer the fact home. You will be sweating beneath the fleece before long. Not that you mind. Not truly.

Eren stiffens against you as you press closer, the better to keep the quilt around you. You cannot believe how broad he had gotten over the past year. You wonder if he will grow any broader. The image is a highly attractive one. Truly.

“Y-you only brought… one?” Eren croaks, voice strained. His arm flexes beside yours.

“Mm-hmm. It was the only one they could spare.” Those halcyon nights in Reicona spent on the outer stairs of one of Highridge’s study towers comes back to you in a thrice. You brought a blanket each for yourselves then. But the lady and the squire were new trothed and still tentative with one another at the time. The lady and the knight now have grown a great deal more familiar.

The knight, stiff as a board still, shifts in his seat at the lady’s proximity. “M-mother used to say that in the dawn of time, the world was one huge ocean. There were no continents, no islands, no land. Just one unbroken world of blue.”

His voice is yet strained and higher than you are used to. You press closer, smiling. “That explains the turtle ghosts.”

“And the flying sea jellies. Nasty buggers.” His forearm is pressed lightly to your lower back beneath the blanket, you realize then. Your heart picks up pace just that bit more.

“How many times have you run afoul of those nasty buggers?”

He chuckles and all the strain in his being seems to melt into the night with the sound. “Just the once. Once is more than enough.” His voice returns at last to its customary pitch, low and soothing. Lower than it used to be, you are almost sure.

You laugh softly. “While that sounds like an exciting tale, I want to hear about your mother’s.” You hesitate for half a heartbeat then, with your heart in your throat, carefully lay your head on his strong shoulder. The scent of him further encompasses you, sweat and sand and sun and Eren, a surprisingly pleasant, heady blend that you can happily drown in.

Eren stiffens once more the moment your head touches his shoulder. His grip on his corner of the quilt tenses. “I-it’s a Paradisian legend, from the C-creed. I’m surprised Lady Theresia h-hasn’t told you…”

“She has. But I find that these tales change shape the more they change hands. Perhaps Lady Carla’s is different from Mother’s. And if it’s not, it’s still a good story. It’s been a while since I last heard it. It’ll be nice to hear it again after all this time.”

Slowly, you feel his hesitant hand slide across your lower back and come to rest on your hip, gingerly at first then firmer, surer as he holds you as close to himself as he can. “If it pleases my lady to hear the Godstale then I must oblige her.” His voice is warm, so pleasant to the ear, and his kiss, when it comes, presses light as a feather on the crown of your head.

You close your eyes a moment at that tender touch, basking in the presence of your betrothed, utterly at peace with the world. Never have you felt so safe with someone. He is… easy. So easy, so safe, so comforting.

He begins his tale and takes you into another blue, the blue of the gods and the dawn of days. Around you the orbs fly, the lake shimmers, and the night pulses with the desert’s heartbeat.

---

The water is cool, yet not unduly so, soothing and perfect for a good long soak.

A private bath is a rare and blessed thing to have on the road, and by the gods will you indulge in this luxury. You scoop up your last bowlful of river water and trickle it over your head to wash out the last of the herby lather from your hair. You watch the slow and silent current bear the foam away, swirling white scrollwork patterns upon the black waters of the ford.

Ages past, Grisha Rhyzkov, third of his name, had built the Hallowed Sphere as a bride gift for his Halkin bride. Yana Halkina was a northwoman and unused to the southron graces such as they were. Thereupon her new southron husband commissioned this sand haven, a retreat three hours’ ride away from the city, so the foreign queen could escape the hustle and bustle and bedlam of the city as it please her.

The Sphere was a wonder in its time, the best of the continent’s pleasure gardens. The place had gone to seed in the ensuing years after the War of the Ancients, however. Zoya Rhyzkova had diverted Vascalin’s funds to the war effort, in support of her Reiss liege. Unnecessary luxuries as extortionate as the Sphere were not worth precious Vascalene coin, she claimed, not during these times of unrest and upheaval. The war is long ended yet no Rhyzkov liege has seen fit to restore the place to its former glory. And so nature took it over. Only desert plants and the sands roam the once sumptuous halls - as they have for the better part of a century.

You wade through the waist-deep waters toward the cracked marble steps that lay half-submerged in the stream. Though it lay in ruins now, you can still yet see the glory the haven had once been. Gossamer drapes would have hung from these towering rounded pillars, you think, seeing, clear as day, the delicate hangings flutter all about you, light as air and sheer as ghosts. The very pillars would have been smooth and whole, the silent lilies painted on their stone columns bright, vivid, not washed out and dulled by time and the scouring sands. The silent lilies would not have been allowed to proliferate on the river as much as they have at present, and the patches of golden, prickly king’s thorn would not have been allowed to proliferate at all.

But there is beauty in ruin and destruction, you have always thought. Poignant, melancholy, desolate, yet beautiful all the same. It is fascinating to fill in the gaps from what is left behind, to wonder at what it could have been before time and fate reduced it to this shell of bygone times. The remnants could have been anything and everything once, in the flower of its existence. The mystery of the unknown, it’s that which makes it beautiful and evocative.

You place your wash bowl beside your soiled clothes, piled in a heap in the middle of the stairs, and carefully stow your bottles of wash within the wooden basin. You then sit upon one of the lower, submerged steps and tilt your head back upon the white marble step above you, serene and content. Overhead, the sky is black velvet strewn with diamond-bright stars.

So beautiful.

A soft rustling and a tiny plop from nearby make you look round. A lizard - a newt? - quickly swims away from your perch, vanishing into the clump of water weeds on the other side of the stream.

“Oi! Who goes there?”

You still, eyes widening up at the starry canopy at Pavel’s abrupt challenge.

“Oh, it’s just… me.”

You bite back a gasp and sit up, heart pounding.

“...Pavel? Ksaver?”

You lower yourself into the stream so only your head is visible above the waters. You turn to gaze up at the top of the stairs, horrified and aghast and excited beyond all measure at the sound of Eren’s footsteps coming closer, ever closer.

“Sir, we cannot allow-”

His voice comes hushed as he calls out for you.

“Y-yes?” Your voice sounds shrill, too shrill, to your own ears. You wince and clear your throat.

There is a pause.

“...are you bathing, by any chance?”

At any other time, you would have laughed at how small and strained his voice has become. Nothing could be less laughable now.

“Y-yes.”

“Alone?”

A hint of levity is starting to seep inside you now that the initial shock of his unexpected appearance begins to subside. Suddenly, it all seems comically absurd. “Yes, Eren. Do you hear Mother and the girls shouting greetings?”

“No, you’re right… stupid question, really.”

You giggle at his embarrassed tone. “Dare I ask what brings you hereabouts?” A thought occurs to you. “Are you here to make water?”

“...yes.”

“Ugh, gods.” You wrinkle your nose and make to gather your things.

He chuckles abruptly, bringing you up short. “I only jest. I wouldn't dare pollute my lady's bathwater with my foul essence," he says, dry as the desert sands.

There is a bawdy joke in there somewhere. You refrain from making it. You consider a moment, hand pressed to your neatly folded drying sheet, before proclaiming, “Pavel, Ksaver, leave us.”

The silence that falls is heavy and pregnant. “M-my lady?” Pavel stammers somewhere in his post atop the steps. “Your lord father has made it clear, you are not to-”

“It’s all right. I trust Eren with my person and my honor. I promise you, my maidenhead will come away intact by night’s end.”

Another pause comes to augment the night’s collection. You do not need to see slender Pavel and portly Ksaver to know that they are trading glances. “A-as you say, milady, but orders is orders,” Ksaver answers, firm and uncertain in equal measure.

“You don’t need to move too far away, then. Perhaps you can station yourselves at the end of the hall? You can still keep an eye on everything and keep to your duty.” And give us privacy to talk. The hallway upstairs is nice and lengthy; no words of yours should reach your guardians’ ears.

“As you will, milady,” Ksaver says at last after a whispered discussion with his compatriot. The scuff of their sandaled feet on stone resounds above, followed by a “Sir,” (this murmured to Eren), as your guards proceed to obey.

“Good blokes, and dutiful,” Eren remarks at length.

A remarkable statement, coming from one who doubted those dutiful blokes. He had been leery of those particular guards of yours once he learned of their specific duty: that of guarding you at bath. “Pavel will find you prettier than he does me, and Ksaver is a eunuch, who finds neither girls nor boys pretty,” you had told him when he raised the issue. He retracted those doubts forthwith. Which is just as well. They are good enough for your father, they should be good enough for any husband looking to safeguard his woman’s person.

“That they are.” You entertain the idea of moving farther away from the stairs just so you can get a glimpse of your betrothed. And give him a glimpse of you, another voice whispers, filled with wanton mischief. You desist. “So… what brings you here?”

A sigh, and the rustling of cloth. Eren has sat down somewhere near the steps. “If you really must know… I was chasing a newt.”

The answer is so unlooked for that you blink. “A newt?” An image of the little swimmer darting through the river waters flashes through your mind’s eye. “I’m sorry to inform you that your quarry has escaped into the watery beyond.”

“Dammit.” Another sigh. “Well, if you see one, would it be too much to ask for some assistance? If you could catch one for me, that’ll be great.”

“What would you want with a newt?” Something swims past and you tense, poised to strike, only to slump back in your seat. Only a fish.

“...reference.” This said after an unduly long silence.

“Reference.”

He must have heard the skepticism, for he adds, “Lydia wanted a newt. As a good brother by marriage, I should oblige her, yes?”

“With a wooden newt or a live one?”

That makes him snort out a little ‘Heh,’ which makes you beam. “Why aren’t you bathing with them? You’ve done so the whole journey.”

“Exactly. Private baths on the road are rare and blessed things. I wanted to have a nice long soak without Mother or Darya or Lydia harrying me along. I want to moon around in the water, you know?”

“Sweet and pretty Kaya, maid of the mere, heedless of the man she ensnared with her beauty ‘neath pure moonlight.”

Your mouth goes dry as the desert. And yet there is all this water. You lower yourself a little back into the stream at the sound of his voice. You had not wanted him here, had been dreading his presence ever since your betrothed stumbled in without notice.

Perhaps you should’ve kept your guards around, after all.

“And sweet and pretty Kaya screamed bloody murder having, at last, clapped eyes on the strange man come upon her at her bareness.”

He laughs, light and airy. “I don’t think that’s how the tale went.”

“It should. At least, if I were Kaya. That is how my tale will go.” Your shoulders relax a little at his tone, returned to its accustomed pitch.

“Where is that scream?”

And just like that, the tension is back.

“I think you’re more like Kaya than you let on, my lady. I would hardly call that sweet little peep you gave me earlier a scream,” he says, with his voice like silk.

“You’re not exactly strange to me.” You swallow and shift. The heat would have been unbearable were you not submerged. But now that you think on it, the water is not as cool as it had once been. “And you saw- see nothing. And will see nothing.” Tonight. You clutch at the tops of your thighs, kneading the skin.

The hum that escapes him is the most sinful thing you have yet heard. You shift again. “Ever? Will I see nothing ever?” Heat bursts up your face and you open your mouth to let fly a retort when he continues, “Such a sad tale we make. Great Forebear Anselm was a luckier man than I, to get a glimpse of his beloved’s exquisite bareness.”

You find your tongue once more. “I didn’t say you won't-”

“Oh, so I will get a glimpse?”

You gape at the quick riposte. And at the low, smooth laugh that follows. Sin. This is the sound of sin.

“I’ll hold you to that. My lady.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “I might yet coax a scream from you someday.”

Who is this man? You turn to stare up the steps, mouth ajar and brow furrowed. Your entire face is burning. Is this truly Eren? Now you are tempted, tempted to wade out and see if this polished silver-tongued orator is your betrothed and not some other man. He certainly sounds like Eren. At the worst, you could have a devilish skinchanger on your hands, out to take your virtue.

Part of you wants to curse him. Part of you wants to lead him on, to climb up these steps, dripping and naked as your yearday, and draw out that flushing, stuttering, fumble-tongued boy that you can tease so easily. See how he likes that. Nothing will turn the tide against him better than that. Nothing is more like to rid you of him, Eren at his most sensuous.

Eren at his most sensuous is a most dangerous man, and dangerous to your constitution. And with you so exposed and so vulnerable… You dig your nails into your thighs, frowning. All of your trained refinedness flew out of the window tonight. You can’t have that. It will not do. It will not do at all. “How deep into your cups did you get?”

“I emptied half my waterskin during dinner. And it wasn’t filled with wine, either,” he answers, forestalling your rebuttal. “I have a wineskin for that, love.”

You glance down at your sunken lap, cheeks burning at that endearment new-heard from his lips.

“I don’t need to be drunk to proclaim my interest. Is that such a strange thought?” Suddenly, he is solemn as the grave.

Yes, when you’re coming on as strong as this. “You wouldn’t be saying such things to my face as I am now. Your silver tongue will tangle worse than yarn.”

“I seem to recall a certain game of qaxan where I did say such things to your pretty face. The silver tongue that you take so much interest in did not have a problem getting under your skin.”

“Was I wet and naked then, Sir? I don’t recall that I was.” The waters of the Silent Ford are crystal-clear despite its ceaseless current, slow as it is. You can see your lap, and your hands pressed to the soft skin of your thighs. Naked, so very naked. With the water this clear, there is no hiding anything. “You’re brazen when you're not facing me. Say what you said earlier to my face as I am now. Without stuttering, without fumbling, without blushing. Tell me how much you’d love a glimpse of my bareness. Look into my eyes and tell me how much you love the sight of me when I come to you as I am now, with water running down my naked skin.” You dig your toes into the fine gray sand, watch the current snatch away the gray clouds you have dug up. The words pass through your lips, unbidden and not entirely unwanted, “Tell me how you mean to make me scream.”

You bite your lip, hard, as your eyes widen. Slowly, you place a trembling hand over your mouth, that loose and traitorous mouth that had exposed you so. How you dared to say that to him, you do not know. Whatever had possessed you to do so was a potent force and irresistible.

The silence that follows is even more pregnant than the preceding one, straining and fit to burst. And then… “Are you sure you want to hear all that, my lady?” If you thought you had known how deep his voice can go, you are sorely mistaken. Gooseflesh prickles your skin as his words sweep over you like a physical caress, intent and sensual as a lover’s. “How much I want more than a glimpse? How my hands will take the place of that water running down your skin? For you can be sure I won’t be keeping my hands to myself.”

You start a little as you feel something touch your legs. A couple of small, silvery fish are placing tentative kisses on your calves. It tickles, the way their tiny mouths press against your flesh. You wonder how Eren’s mouth will feel against your skin, if he will be tentative as these fish or bold, hard, firm as only Eren Jaeger can be.

Your fingers slowly crawl higher up your legs, the tips dipping between your thighs.

“We’re treading dangerous depths here, my lady.”

His voice has reached such low and dangerous depths. Your eyelids lower until you are staring at your lap with a half-lidded gaze. Your forefinger presses softly, carefully upon the top of your mound.

“Are you sure you want to know-” your lips part in a silent gasp- “the things I’ll do to make you scream?”

You snatch your hand away from between your legs, quick as a flash. The splash of your movement echoes into the night and wakes you from your trance.

“Oh, to see your face now…” he murmurs with his voice of spider silk. “I do love that face you make when I get a rise out of you.”

You want him to be silent. You want him to keep talking. You want… You want.

"There’s a fire in you, my lady, and I would draw it out."

You cannot understand how the boy of Shimmerwood is the very same man who torments you so tonight. The boy of Shimmerwood is easy and safe and comforting. The man of the Hallowed Sphere does not feel easy and safe and comforting.

A soft huff of bemused amusement escapes you as the fog of lust makes its gradual exit. Whatever that all was is a bawdy farce of the utmost absurdity. Perhaps this is why men love to fuck so much. Bottling lust in is enough to drive one up the wall. Would that I could take my pleasures as easily. Your sordid affair, such as it was, with Roman made your lord father sharp to such matters as regards to you, however. He will have no young man warming your bed before you are wed. Even your own betrothed will not have the privilege, practically married though you are in the eyes of gods and men. The constraints of honor and decency have reduced you to only teasing and pulling at each other with words to ease the strain.

You wrap your arms around yourself and stare at the crop of silent lilies blooming across you, their silver-gray petals eerily blurred around the edges and glowing with a strange ghostlight. Floral ghosts. “It would seem that we both love to get a rise out of the other,” you muse, a quiet observation meant more for yourself. “It makes for an interesting ebb and flow.”

“My lady should emerge and get dressed, else she’ll turn into a pretty prune.” Your body draws up tight on instinct as he speaks but relaxes once more at his tone. Eren at his most sensuous has seemingly vanished at last, leaving you with Eren. Just Eren. You turn to stare up at the steps once more and smile.

The first stroke of the soft linen of your drying sheet across your skin comes as a sharp shock. It feels almost… abrasive. It feels strangely good. Further gooseflesh rises across your body as you hurriedly wipe down, bewildered at how responsive you have become to touch. Wiping across your breasts is a torment, a most pleasurable torment. Your nipples, already hard from the chill night air, harden further at the light brush of the cloth, and you bite your lip at the pleasure that flares hot through your chest. The quickest of swipes makes do for your cunt. There is a place you do not want to linger on.

You looked down at your breasts in slight dismay as you gather your things on the steps. The thin cornsilk of your nightgown does little to hide their aroused state. Putting on your rose-satin bedrobe does nothing to help matters. The little buds poke persistently at the thicker fabric. You sigh and hold your belongings to your chest, determined not to let them betray you to your amorous betrothed. You’d suffered enough traitors from this body of yours.

Eren is sitting cross-legged on the cracked stone floor near the edge of the stairs, hunched over with his arms crossed over his lap. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him, as it almost always does these days. Southron fashions truly do him justice. And he wears them with the ease and familiarity of a local. It is fashion for the men of the far South (the common sort mostly) to wear their vidnoye sans a tunic underneath, and in this Eren adheres to. His scarlet-trimmed dark blue vidnon jacket is lying half-opened over a bare chest. The way his mother’s key lies draped over the smooth, muscled skin is enticing. A large part of you wants to run your hands all over it and all over him. Learn every dip and ridge and line of his beautiful body.

How the gods came to bless you with a man so desirable is a marvel indeed. He stares up at you as you emerge. You can see the light of the nearby lanterns reflected in the dark pools of his eyes.

“Looks like I will be polluting your bathwaters,” he says without preamble in a tone one would use when talking about the good weather. The manner of his current stance is made much clearer to you then.

Immediately, helplessly, your eyes dart to his crossed arms, the only things keeping you from seeing the… evidence of his interest. “Oh.” Oh-so nice and eloquent, that, mutters a snide voice in your head. You cringe inwardly. This night has reduced you to something else entirely. Where is Rhyzkova when you need her?

He notices the object of your attention almost at once and glances down at his lap. The smile he flashes you is wry and crooked. “Since this is entirely your fault, I would ask you to take responsibility but…” Eren turns his head to look down the long lamplit hallway at your faithful guards, who are traipsing across the corridor, having seen their charge finally arise. His expression is almost petulant.

“A good ruler must always take responsibility but I’m afraid I’ll have to defer.” The looks you give each other then are heavy with mirth and something else, something a deal more loaded. You consider a moment then hand him your drying sheet all careful-like, making sure your breasts are still well-covered by your bath things. “Take care not to soil it too much.”

“I have better breeding than that, my lady. Ask any Jaeger laundress. Not a spot on my sheets anywhere, no matter the day’s… provocations.” His earlier roguish suggestiveness returns to color not only his voice but also his gaze. “And she is a most provocative lady indeed.”

“Are we now speaking of ladies? Here I thought we were speaking of days’ provocations. But she’s not so provocative as all that, surely?” You can get used to this… flirtation. It is a tentative acknowledgment of the carnal desires you had skirted around with before and, gods, is it freeing. The trained little lady would be affronted by such lewd cheek; the wanton tart with the stronger presence is thriving and wanting more. “I’m sure she’s done nothing to inflame so much passion. Or give rise to such risings.”

Eren laughs, your sheet draped across his lap, and would have answered had your guards not come up to you at last. “All finished now, milady?” Ksaver inquires.

“Oh, yes.” You try to force down the disappointment the arrival of your men gives you and are not quite successful. Would that they had walked slower. Another minute and you would have heard Eren’s most stimulating sally.

“I’ll leave you to your business, then. Perhaps you’ll finally catch that elusive newt while you’re at it,” you tell your betrothed, glancing down at his upturned face, before making to leave with the guards. You hesitate a moment then reach out to touch the crown of his head, running your fingers through the soft, dark strands of his hair, before moving on. “Have you a good night, Sir.”

Eren catches your hand, surprising you, and presses a kiss on your fingers. “Good night, my lady.” His dark eyes gleam up at you as you walk away, fingers tingling from the warmth of his breath.

You turn to look back at him before you disappear through the sand-blasted columns that border the place. He is staring back at you likewise; he raises a hand to wave farewell with that sweet smile you love so much. You return both smile and wave and walk off.

The smell of the sea is the first thing that strikes him.

Beside him on your Nightsilver, you look up and snuff at the air. A smile lights up your face, beautiful as sunrise. “The smell of home.”

Eager as he is, your excitement feeds his own, filling him with so much elatedness it is a wonder he is not floating his way to the city. But, more than anything, it is gratifying, cheering, enchanting to see you as you are now - just you, just a girl coming home after a long time away. It is lovely and charming and beguiling. And no hint of Rhyzkova in sight. The thought thrills him more than he can say.

“It’s been years since I’ve last smelled the sea… I didn’t realize how much I could miss it.” The past couple of progresses had not taken them to the far South and its glorious coastlines. Eren spurs Goldmoon into a faster trot; at once, you follow suit. You move ahead of the column, steadily outstripping the ponderous Rhyzkov wheelhouse.

And by gods is it ponderous. He has been doing his utmost best to get the both of you out of it as much as possible. His first foray into the confines of the vehicle was rather awkward. At least it was for him - he had never been in such close quarters with his future marriage kin before. But they proved pleasant enough and soon gave him ease. Pleasant as they are, though, being stuck inside the wheelhouse only makes him restless. It doesn’t even have proper windows; the ornamental lattice over them was wrought so closely together that he can barely see anything out of them.

But having better windows will only make the vehicle just that tad bit more tolerable. Traveling the country is so much better on horseback. Better yet, having you to himself vastly improves the experience. Besides, you look better, more in your element ahorse than cooped up in that great wheeled cage.

You stop just before the company of standard bearers. The crimson banners in their hands snap and flap in the wind, displaying the golden winged orb of their masters’ House high and proud.

“Years, huh… I can’t imagine staying away that long.” You glance around at the groups of commons, mostly farmers with their wayns packed with produce to sell at market or offer to the gods for the approaching Alyfeis. They move aside to let their overlords pass with respectful inclines of the head. You nod to a handful as you breeze through the paved winding road to the city walls.

“I envy you your proximity to the sea. Land-locked Shiganshina has its charms but it’s still that, land-locked.”

“Well…” You stare down at the reins in your hands, tucking your head in further beneath your lesos. The color of flame it is today. You look almost sweetly, endearingly shy. “You won’t be away from it for that long anymore. Soon.”

He has never grinned wider. Nor blushed harder.

The capital’s city gates are nowhere near as spectacular as those of Reicona’s. But then, no city has walls that will ever match those of home. He supposes the great sandstone pilasters flanking the entrance are impressive enough, with their sculpted winged orbs perched atop the columns, but the Pillars of the Falcon outstrip them in magnificence by leagues. A pang of something akin to wistfulness steals through Eren at the thought. It will be some time ‘til next he sees the Pillars of the Falcon.

He does not mourn for too long, though. The sights drive everything but awe out of his being, the moment they pass through the inner walls. There is just so much to take in.

The last he had been in Arsechkala was a couple of years ago when the court took its progress to the greater South. He had been only once before that, in another progress, his first time in the other southron capital, Lenberg’s sister city.

He recalls being struck by how different everything was between the two, Lenberg and Arsechkala, the new South and the old. It is not the South of his childhood, that fact is little in doubt. Has it changed much these past couple of years? Perhaps. Perhaps not. He takes it in with fresh eyes filled with wonder.

Everything he sees about the place seems new yet familiar all the same. Pillars and pillared buildings are much in abundance in every square and plaza. The packed dirt ground underfoot throws up little puffs of dust as their convoy marches along. Scores and scores of people go about their business, the Arsechkai in their lesostok and their vevdaya, the catchall term for the loose, shapeless garment of the South, cinched at the waist with belts of all styles and make. He has foregone one today in favor of a dark green tunic trimmed with gray (in the southron style, of course). He prefers wearing vevdaya mostly on formal occasions; floor-length ones are too cumbersome for exploring, and the shorter knee-length ones make him feel a child. The freedom one gets from a tunic and a pair of pants is still unequaled.

A steady stream of Rakiva assails him from all sides. The convoy slows for a time so they can skirt some road accident. A cart full of figs and a cart full of the pottery Arsechkala is famous for had somehow crashed together. Broken shards of glazed clay lay everywhere amidst scores of sweet figs. The two tradesmen manning each wayn are cursing each other as a small crowd of onlookers starts to gawk and gather. Eren can understand one word in every five yet he knows the curses the vendors spit at each other well enough. A handful of passersby furtively help themselves to the tumbled figs and hurry off before the fig seller can get wise to them.

They move on to the riverside market. Fishwives are everywhere crying the day’s catch as buyers of every ilk mill around, looking for the choicest purchase. Small and slender paddle boats ply the waters carrying goods of all sorts. Lenberg is a city of pools and waterways and rivers, the far-famed City of Fountains. The only waterway Arsechkala has is this river Goldtide, which empties itself into the Cobalt Sea by way of Sandpiper Bay.

For all the differences the two capitals have, though, much still stays the same where southron conventions are concerned. Of course, southron fashions remain alike either way of Lovaya, with the barest hint of disparity in certain design elements. The pervasive heat is also common to both, yet with the onset of autumn, it is not expected to put in much of an appearance in the next few weeks. Even the smells of the cities are redolent of each other. There are scents and spices not present in one or the other but the salty scent of the sea is prevalent as to overpower most everything.

It is the smell of his childhood, and it is fresh and bracing and heady. Enlivening.

No further incident holds up their progress through the city and before long they are coming up to Goldhaven’s massive sandstone walls. They had sent a bird earlier to inform the household of their coming and so they find the gates already open. The guards on either side of the entrance stand to attention and salute as the procession passes.

Eren stares around at the sprawling courtyard, as interested as he was the last time he had set foot on the place. It is not so much a courtyard as it is a small town. Highridge’s own yard is as large yet the little buildings make Goldhaven’s seem that much larger. To the right of the path leading up to the castle is the servants’ commune, he knows. The left is where the barracks are, home to the Rhyzkov garrison. This setup has always fascinated him; he has yet to see another castle made so.

Servants and soldiers alike are darting out of their cottages to welcome their masters home. A great rumbling boom resounds through the ward as the castle gates are pushed shut. Eren vaults down Goldmoon immediately and hastens over to you before you can dismount yourself.

You throw him an amused glance before sitting sidesaddle and extending your hands out to him. He ignores them entirely and reaches out for your waist. At once you stiffen in his hold. Your surprise delights him. The way you reflexively grasp his shoulders as he lifts you off your mare delights him even more.

He gently steadies you and holds you a while longer, gazing down at you affectionately, wanting to snatch this small moment before the bustle of activity sweeps you up once more. Your touch feels good, light as it is. And there is that exquisite expression again, that look that he loves, the look of soft, tender awe, as though you would see through the very heart of him, as if you are in awe of him, of all people.

But your family is coming up, and grooms are hurrying about, and servants are busy unloading, unpacking, unburdening… The moment breaks, and you step away from each other. You reach out to twine your fingers with his. Eren tightens his grip, happy as a jester.

“Went ahead, did you now? A pair of wanderers I have in my hands here,” Lord Alexander smiles, eyes twinkling down at your linked hands.

Eren is once more struck by how much of a big man his future father by marriage is. He can only imagine how hard a punch from the burly lord will be. Not that Eren will ever hurt you. Never. Never.

“I trust the journey has been well? Not too tired?” Alexander asks Eren, who shakes his head.

“No, my lord, I thank you for asking. I still have a few more leagues in me, in fact,” he quips, grinning as you laugh.

Lord Alexander chuckles. “Ah, the glories of youth. Would that I still have mine… In any case, it would be remiss of us as hosts to not see you well-rested. My child, if you could be so good as to escort your betrothed. Paul should be on hand to assist.”

“Of course, Father.” You smile at Eren and tug him along to climb the stone steps leading up to the castle proper (definitely not as long as Highridge’s, he thinks, glancing askance at you and smiling to himself). A gilded man and woman each flank the top of the stairway, both clutching a scepter in their left hand and a winged orb in their right.

Goldhaven’s halls are entirely unchanged since last he’d seen them, with its passages of warm red stone and marble, gray and white. The vaguely familiar steward, Paul Kolas - red of hair, green of eye, and thin of frame - directs you to the guest wing and henceforth to Eren’s allotted chambers for the duration of his stay.

“Only the best for our most esteemed guest,” you remark as Eren looks around, more than impressed. That this is the best of the guestrooms he does not doubt. A large iron brazier stands in the middle of the room, unlit and filled with coal (“Sea coal. Only the very best,” you inform him).

Great rounded pillars lead out to a balcony with the most stunning view of the sea. Eren finds himself heading straight outside, as though his legs have wings. “Your view is so much better than mine,” you say, a little wistfully as you sit on the green velvet daybed that lies beside a tall potted plant. A flock of pigeons is roosting on the banister, cooing and paying their intruders no heed. “But I suppose the city and the Greatshield’s silhouette could be pleasing to the eye in certain lights.”

“Gods, it’s beautiful.” Eren leans against the parapet, feeling the wind ruffling his hair, and takes in a deep whiff of the cool salt breeze. Never has he felt so alive.

“I’m glad the young master thinks it’s so.” Mister Paul enters the room, polishing his knuckles nervously. “I hope the green is to your taste,” he adds, and Eren glances around to see what he is about.

They certainly did not stint on the green, he thinks. In addition to the daybed, everything that can be tinted with the shade is tinted in it, from the long linen hangings of the pillars to the sheets and curtains of the bed, which stands in its place upon a slightly raised dais to his right.

“We hoped it would-” the steward begins, only to be cut off by his mistress.

“-give you a taste of home.” You stand from the daybed, your lesos now pulled back from your head to lay draped about your shoulders. “As I said, only the very best for our beloved guest.”

“And for the future lord consort,” Mister Paul puts in, clapping his hands together and beaming all over his thin, freckled face.

You and Eren carefully avoid glancing at each other.

“Well,” you clear your throat and move to stand beside the steward. “If you want to bathe, the bath is over here,” you gesture to a wooden door some ways away from the bed. “Come see me after you’re done,” you throw over your shoulder as you make to leave with Mister Paul. “Meet me outside the presence chamber.”

And so he is left to his cleansing. Which he is most grateful for. The sweat and stink of horse must be abolished. Sir Levi is a stickler for cleanliness and it has absolutely rubbed off on him. As it did all the knight’s squires, Eren had been told - the cleanest men in Lovaya are almost certain to have been under the greatest (and cleanest) living knight of the realm’s tutelage at one point, it is often jested. While Eren does not mind getting into the thick of things like any other respectable soldier, he does not feel entirely at ease in his own skin until he’s scrubbed himself down. Preferably with water, if it is close to hand; with sand if he has no other choice.

The cold water pouring down from the beak of the copper birdshead above him feels incredible after all that time spent beneath the heat. He finds a bar of soap - something flowery and herbal - on its dish atop the raised edge of the small pool he is washing in. The scar on his right arm is still quite tender, over a month old though it is, and he scrubs over it gingerly so as not to further inflame the flesh.

This certainly is his largest and most impressive scar to date. Anointed knight as he is now, he wonders if he’ll accrue more of its kind. Most like. Not that the prospect daunts him. He’d never shied away from pain as a squire. Being a knight won’t change that.

His fingers trace the red puckered flesh, standing stark and sharp against the smooth skin. Sir Erwin would’ve gotten likewise marked had his arm survived. The gods and their strange games. To have Sir Erwin Smith, the Lord Commander of the elite Royal Guard himself, lose an arm; to have him, Eren Jaeger, a mere squire, go through the same thing and come out whole and intact is an irony of the cruelest sort. Even their assaulted arms are the same, the sword arm, the lifeblood of the warrior. Eren cannot imagine going on without it. He would not have handled the loss half so well as Sir Erwin.

His fingers slip down his arm and thread through his wet hair. He scrubs, slowly at first and then more vigorously, working the lather through his scalp. No use dwelling on unpleasantness. He is back in the South, back by the sea, with the promise of a whole season spent with his lady. Who is waiting for him. Thoughts of your comely smiling face make him hasten his bath - quick but thorough, a voice that sounds a lot like Sir Levi echoes inside his head. Hasty he may be but Eren will leave no patch of skin unscrubbed.

He finishes his wash feeling a good deal more refreshed. And smelling strongly of floral herbs. The water drains in the bath’s small empty pool (thank the gods for piping) as he slips into a short-sleeved dark brown tunic, with its ornamental bone-white belt, and black pants. He slides on a new pair of sandals and trudges off, heading to his lady.

Two years away have chipped at his memory of the palace. To be sure, he had not needed to visit Goldhaven’s presence chamber before. Eren stops a couple of crimson-clad servants to ask them, in his best Rakiva, for directions to the hall, which they are happy enough to provide. They could’ve spoken slower, though. In the end, he understands enough to know where to go. That wasn’t too bad. He had as well practice his Old Tongue; fluency will not come if he doesn’t at least start.

Black and gold greet him as he steps into the presence room’s antechamber, which is open to the sea. The smell of salt is strong here, as it is in the rest of the palace. He will not be free of it even within the confines of this building. Not that he wants to be. The pillars these southerners love so much are much in abundance here, beautifully wrought in black basalt and expertly fluted. Eren slowly turns round in a circle, admiring the arched ceiling with its gilded meanders and circles and triangles. He is about to head over to the nearby balustrade and bask further in the sea air when the sound of footsteps approaches.

He looks down and gapes.

Skin. So much skin, is his first thought. Breasts, is his next. His mouth snaps shut, dry as bone. Were southron fashions always this revealing? he thinks, wracking his brains frantically for memories of the southron women of his youth, the southron women of two years ago, and the manner of their clothing. Only vague impressions come back to him. The Rybikhon do not dress like this, that much he is sure of.

“Ah, here you are. Well-refreshed, I hope?” you say, with your glittering smile and pretty, pretty face.

And such pretty, pretty breasts. He wants to punch himself. Eren opens his mouth to reply. Only a faint gurgle comes out.

“Eren? Are you all right? You look-”

Whatever else you said vanishes as his eyes greedily take in the glories of your body. You are not clad in the vevda, that much is certain. While they come with all manner of sleeves, sometimes dispensing with them altogether, vevdaya never have straps. Not like this dress. Not like this sheer and gauzy dress. And its deep vee of a neckline.

Has he ever seen such pretty breasts? He cannot recall as such. Your court gowns do not do them justice, by the gods. They will fill his hands perfectly, he can tell. Soft and shapely they look; he would love nothing more than to bury his face between them and feel the warm satin of your skin beneath his lips as he presses kisses everywhere and anywhere he can reach. The alabaster fabric is near translucent enough that, in a good light and with a good eye, he will be able to just make out your nipples. He wonders how responsive they truly are… He wants to take them into his mouth and suckle them to hard peaks, hear your encouraging moans of pleasure as you run your hands through his hair and press his face closer to your breasts…

Oh. Fuck.

Eren wrenches his mind away from those sodding dangerous thoughts as the budding tension rising between his legs makes itself very, very known to him. He casts about, panic-stricken, for another thought, for an image, anything to set his head straight. Think of Zeke fucking Elva, something shouts at him, and he snatches at it wildly. At once, his mind’s eye is full of his brother’s cheeks, clenching and unclenching as he pounds away at his lady wife.

His desire and his manhood wilt in a flash. Eren suppresses a sigh of relief and a shudder of disgust. Disgust is better than desire, though, in public. Desire can be indulged much, much later, in private. He wonders how many times he will have to indulge it, though, if this is but a taste of your preferred homegrown fashions. How is he expected to survive a whole season of this?

Zeke’s ass. Zeke’s ass. Zeke’s blond, hairy ass.

He wants to weep at what he has to resort to to keep his cock limp in your presence. No, no, he will get used to it. As he did when first he’d lusted for you. He is not some beast of a man, easily tempted by the baser pleasures. And he has never been, it should be an easy thing, and simple, to temper his carnal thoughts as he can do so effortlessly with womankind.

But then, you are not just any other woman.

He helps himself to another peek at the lush curves of your breasts. Gods, he truly is a beggar for your flesh.

The snapping of fingers beneath his nose makes him recoil.

“Eren!”

You frown at him, hands on your hips. “Glad to see you back on earth. Headworm get in your ear?” You cross your arms over your chest. He wishes you hadn’t. “What’s gotten you so up in the clouds?”

You.

Your eyes flicker down to your chest and back up at him. He quickly averts his gaze, his nose and cheeks burning. A chain of golden winged orbs cinches that cursed dress about your waist. His eyes trace every one as he tries to ignore the deafening silence in the hall.

“Oh.”

He does not like the sound of that Oh. Nor does he like the look of that smile on your face, when he dares to glance up at you once more.

Eren tenses as you slink forward and loop an arm around his. He swallows as the scent of apples and winter roses assails his senses. The plain gold band you are wearing on your upper limb presses against him. But for that, you feel so deliciously soft and warm. Zeke. Zeke. Zeke.

“Where shall we head to this fine day?” you say conversationally, steering him forward and away from the antechamber. “I thought to keep our excursions within the palace for the rest of this afternoon. Don’t want to tire either of us out too much, we just got here. And we still have your welcoming feast tonight to attend. Do you have any place in mind? I’ll play the gracious hostess and oblige you.” The sly and vulpine smile is back. “Father asked Lord Grisha for permission to stud Goldmoon, did the Magister tell you? Goldmoon is such a beautiful steed, we’d love to sire our own line from him. I would love to see him breed with a sand steed. Imagine how beautiful the foals of that union would be! The Saʂa is truly a generous man.” The Lord Pejić had given them the pick of his stable as his guest gift when their convoys parted ways at Shimmerwood; the Rhyzkovs, in turn, presented him with the choicest animals of their livestock to augment his herds.

“Perhaps we should nip down to the stables, hmm? Look over the new mares the Saʂa gave us and choose which one your stallion gets to mount,” you go on, then to his horror, press your breast against the arm you are clutching.

You are as soft as you look.

But with his cunt-struck delight comes a hint of annoyance. “Now you’re just teasing me.”

You giggle and pull away, to his horror and relief. “Perhaps a little.”

“Careful, my lady. Push too far and I’ll push back. You won’t like it if I do.”

“Oh, I like it well enough.” You gleam at him, all tacit challenge. “Not exactly the first time I’ve driven you up one too many walls, is it? You have the most delectable manner when I do.”

He stops abruptly in the middle of the nigh on empty hall you are walking through to slip his arm out of your hold and tangle your fingers together. Slowly, purposefully, he saunters forward. Slowly, helplessly, you amble backward until at last he has you cornered and pressed up against a pilaster.

Eren looks down at you, watches that lovely, delectable expression take your face over. Oh-so delectable. He leans forward, close but not too close. “You haven’t pushed me far enough yet, love. Carnal words are the least of what you’ll get when you do.” Your luscious lips part and all at once you are close enough for him to smell the mint in your breath, for you to trade air. Any further and he will be able to taste the coolness on your tongue.

Footsteps echo down the hall and he pulls back as though he has been scalded. Your hands remain entwined.

“M’lord. M’lady,” a washerwoman curtseys, as best she can with her load of clothes. She eyes your linked hands, yet says nothing but, “Have you a g’day.”

“You as well, goodwife,” you answer, cool as mint. You turn to Eren once the woman goes on to her duties. “And so, where shall it be, Sir? Do you have someplace in the castle in mind? Or would you be led by me?” The inviting look on your face remains.

A corner of his mouth curls up. “Please, lead on, my lady. You can lead me anywhere.” You beam, a more guileless smile and girlish, and tug him along.

He is liking this bolder, more open flirtation of yours. At the very least, there is no doubt now: you desire him as much as he does you. With any luck, you will be speaking freely of it in a more serious context.

And he likes this back and forth, the ebb and flow as you called it that night in the Sphere. He has always liked watching you squirm - gods know you've teased and made him squirm and look the fool countless times. Some part of him likes that, though, the teasing and the squirming. Less for his dignity but more for the way you are when you are at it - so passionate, so spirited, so animated.

Eren glances at the back of you, swept along by your current. Being home seems to agree with you. Lovely. Charming. Beguiling. This autumn will be his best one yet. And it can only get better from here.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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A/N:

AOT'S BACK, BABY!!! Absolutely perfect to smash that writer's block that is the bane of every writer's existence. It's a bittersweet thing to see Eren my beloved on screen again. Sweet because ❤Eren❤ and bitter because... well, he's not exactly in the best of circumstances, is he? Compensating by giving him happiness in this AU (fornowtreasurethiswhileitlastsbahahahaha)

An absolute beggar for your flesh Eren is - boobs man, legs man, just a plain old YN man, actually, he's desperate, he'll take anything, even your ankles.

Nerdy worldbuilding info time! They tell time differently from us, obviously, but how does it work? There are only 12 hours in a day for Lovaya, each named for the twelve sacred beasts of the Creed. One hour for them is around two hours for us. I based this on the Chinese Zodiac time, which names the hours for the Chinese Zodiac, as the name suggests, and is also divided into two hours each. ASOIAF has a similar timing convention, though I'm not sure if GRRM actually based his times on the Chinese Zodiac. And trivia done!

Another long chapter... I have a feeling this arc would have them cause this is honestly my favorite arc of the story that I planned out (wartime arc aside, which I am so asjfdkjdshfksdjhfs excited to get into but! I have to lay everything down properly so, we'll get there, we'll get there...) Til the next update!

Tagging: @alekstraszas @lukepattersin @jakes-babygirl

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren x reader #snk x reader #aot x reader #eren jeager x reader #Eren Jaeger #eren yeager #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan

[outofangband]

Common Symbols and Motifs in Heraldry, clothing and art part 2/?

Part one: Elves of Aman World Building Masterlist

I’m going to do the Sindar on this post though I might do the Falathrim separately and the Nandor and Avari on the later ones then go to humans! So I might increase the number of these more.

I will also probably add to this list just as I have the other one

Sindar of Doriath

Nightingales Generally ascribed meanings: the Queen Melian, song, love and devotion, bonding, joy

Bracken fern and fiddleheads fern Generally ascribed meanings: geometry and order

Beech Leaves: Generally ascribed meanings: Abundance, generosity, resourcefulness

Holly leaves Generally Ascribed Meanings: honor, defense, resilience

Oak leaves Generally ascribed meanings: Friendship, loyalty

Niphradel and snowdrops Generally ascribed meanings: purity, youth, innocence, cycles

Elanor Generally ascribed meanings: light, growth, curiosity

Bluebells Generally ascribed meanings: spring, fleet footedness

Elm leaves Generally ascribed meanings: the king, service, steadfastness

Sindar of Mithrim

Nettles, stem, leaves and flowers Generally ascribed meanings: nettles are used in the northern Sindar culture in a variety of ways including fiber for fabric, eating, and medicinal teas. Their appearing in heraldry, art and symbolism is usually believed to mean resilience, the change of winters to spring, and the earths resources

Clouds Generally ascribed meanings: the heavens, tranquility

Outline of mountains Generally ascribed meanings: history, family, honesty

Wolf's Bane Generally ascribed meanings: Lore, knowledge

Blue bellflower: Generally ascribed meanings: color, joy, exploration

Trout Generally ascribed meanings: home, water

Lake birds (herons, swans) Generally ascribed meanings: grace, flight, legacy

Lake birds (ducks, loons, teals) Generally ascribed meanings: cycles of life and predation, respect for land

Fir tree Generally ascribed meanings: shadow and light, truth

Sunflowers Generally ascribed meanings: joy, sun, day

Sindar of Nevrast (non Falathrim) Aquatic birds one (ducks/shelducks/grebe/teals/eider/sea ducks) Generally Ascribed meanings: stability, peace, family

Aquatic birds two (cranes/egrets/herons) Generally ascribed meanings: grace, skill, aptitude, seeking

Aquatic birds three (loons, crakes, rails, etc) Generally ascribed meanings: song, mystery, change

Ripples on a lake Generally ascribed meanings: the world, the ages, time

The clifflines of Nevrast: Generally ascribed meanings: strength, wisdom

Marsh grasses: Generally ascribed meanings: roots, abundance

Sea Lavender Generally ascribed meanings: the lands and sea, gentleness

Sunflower or daisy

Generally ascribed meanings: resilience, loyalty

General among the Sindar of Beleriand:

hummingbirds generally ascribed meanings: pollination, flora and fauna, wonder

butterflies and dragonflies generally ascribed meanings: change and transformation, fragility and beauty

willow trees generally ascribed meanings: peace, connection to Ulmo, mystery, prophecy

Obviously this isn't a complete list as many, many species of flora and fauna have their own meanings! Please feel free to ask about any or ask any world building questions! I hope this is ok!

Next post

#the silmarillion #musing and meta #dorith #nevrast #mithrim #sindar #beleriand

[nikkeisimmer]

Happy in Hylewood - Introduction

(since the Watcher is going absolutely nuts with the building of his "modern" house in the Legacy) *************************************************************** Narrator: Nikkei_Simmer’s mind has just taken a long walk off the map.

With so much to do (building a house; creating 10 security guard sims, etc etc etc…) before he can continue with his legacy, he’s going to stick his sims on Hylewood and let them fend for themselves.

Also his alter-ego or his id (in terms of Freudian psychology) has come out to play… for those of you who are coming back to the Sims 3 side of the EA forums or are browsing my Tumblr and haven't run into my more deranged characters, in the form of Evil_Haruo. Evil_Haruo comes out to play whenever the Watcher likes to cause chaos in his game…Keep in mind that Evil_Haruo doesn’t like anyone and is probably plotting all of his fellow Sims' demises, rubbing his hands in glee at the chaos he is going to cause…and cackling.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Sims, Good_Haruo, River and Bebe have all gone out to the beach to fish for their dinner.

Who knows what Evil_Haruo is going to do for dinner if he doesn’t get his hind end out to the pier or someplace and fish for his dinner. Otherwise he’s going to go hungry and that’s not going to make Evil_Haruo a happy camper. In fact he may even go about stealing a fish from his fellow Sims in order to get something into his stomach.

Or maybe not, he decided that he was going to go fish (and not the card game either).

With this particular game, the Watcher is going to add in a Sim every day for a week, he has started with four sims. Good_Haruo, Evil_Haruo, and he will have 11 by the time he is finished adding Sims to his game. With the Watcher…that will be 12 sims in total.

The Watcher is just going to sit and observe the chaos and hope to heck he doesn't go completely bug-cranking nuts.

The Watcher decided he was going to go pick flowers. At least it was something to do and he wasn't much of a fisherman anyways. At least he didn't get hayfever, unlike the real Watcher. Those flowers always make him sneeze.

Evil_Haruo was hanging out by the water wheel…fishing. He really wasn't too good at it. He'd only caught two goldfish and a toad. Toads were not great for eating. And there was no elixir consignment shop. Which meant he had to keep that noisy croaking thing in his pocket. Man, his pocket was going to start stinking up the joint.

River was having much better luck at the fishing. She had four minnows, a rainbow trout and four toads.

Bebe on the other hand had been fishing for some time now and she had amassed only two minnows, a rainbow trout and a toad.

Surprisingly, Haruo, the angler of the group, hadn't caught much other than a sea-sludge and an anchovy. The sea-sludge isn't edible as far as the Watcher knows.

And the Watcher thinks that fishing is boring anyways. A bunch of tossing hooks in the water and hoping that something finny is stupid enough to bite…and get caught. But that's probably because he hasn't managed to hook anything yet. Maybe it might be more exciting if he actually managed to catch something. But anyways, he did make over §8500.00 today just from picking flowers. At least that ought to get him enough to buy a fish off his sims to eat.

******************************************

#sims 3 #sims 3 gameplay #ts3 #river mcirish #sims 3 storytelling #river and haruo #haruo chikamori #Evil_Haruo Chikamori #Nikkei_Simmer the Watcher #Bebe Hart #Sims 3 - Total Insanity Rules #Happy/Happily Insane in Hylewood

[saturatedboy]

Draco Malfoy x Original Male Character

You can find my work on my AO3 account

4K+ words

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Late August, the trees around had begun to turn. Their life of green leaving them for the deserted orange and brown that flaked like crumbs. Their rustling became apparent by the crisp air that waved through them, knocking some to fall. It’s interesting what you find when you stare out into the fields close by. It’s a wonder, a truly wonderful sight to see.

It’s a shame I won’t see these trees until a while once again.

Knock. Knock.

Two soft knocks rattled against my door, a soft playful smile pulling up my lips. “come in”.

A house elf, no taller than 2 foot walked in. Its slim arms bare to see, scatters of scars lingering about his sun-kissed skin like tinsel wrapped around a Christmas tree. Except I knew those scars held no merry stories nor happy. Just like they were in his arms, they too were permanent sketched into my memory. His eyes hardened as he saw my rested figure. Such deep brown, filled with age and caution. The elf walked further into my room, the study room to be exact, and bowed his head with his ears casting down. “The Lord and Lady request your presence down in the Dining Hall sir. “

A sigh escaped my lips, my smile faltering against my face. “Thank you for the message, I will escort myself. You’re free to leave.“

The elf nodded, bowed once more and turned on its feet. As it walked, I caught a glimpse of its rags falling down its shoulder. The door opened, then shut, with a soft click. I couldn’t help but let my eyes cast downwards onto the blueberry blue window seat I had sat on, originally wanting to bask in the glow of the early cold. My casted eyes soon darted to the window where outside fields upon fields were seen clear as day. The odd sheep in the distance and horse brought life into the greenery accompanied by the dying trees.

A wonderful sight indeed.

Moving, I slid off the seat where I was then settled onto the pine wood floors, feeling a shiver spread through my body like an electric current. “that’s nice” I spoke to myself, groaning at the sharp pain that had made itself comfortable in my back. Placing both hands onto my lower back, I pushed forward with my hands and pushed my upper back back, hearing a satisfying crack. Heaving a heavy sigh, I made my way around the large desk that occupied the room and brushed past the two chair that were situated in front of it.

The last time that chair was occupied was during my early years, where a 7 year old me sat with his head hanging down. The larger seat across the desk was where mother sat with her face stretched back into a sneering snarl. Disappointment laced in her eyes.

I found myself quickly by the door where the house elf originally walked through. Gripping the silver handle, I pushed the door open and entered the large hallway where blue and silver were vastly covering the area. I could feel the cold brushing past my bare arms, my body still dressed in my nightly clothes of grey shorts and a white t-shirt. I felt the hairs on my arms prick up, sensing danger before I first heard it.

“Corey!” ‘Mother seems pleased. Not’

I walked down the hallway, passing the portrait of my own family which was framed by a metal frame. Engraved on the bottom was ‘Legacy of the Beetrout family’. My mother was on the left, her brown hair pulled into a professional bun with a scowl present on her face. Next to her on the right was my father, a toothy grin plastered onto his face with eyes twinkling. His large arms rested above the boy who was in the middle, who smiled softly. That was boy was me, Corey Beetrout. Pronounced Bee-trout.

“Corey! I can hear you.” Right, task at hand. Luckily I arrived to the door that lead into the large dining Hall. Big enough to hold at least 20 people. As I pushed the doors open, I was quickly greeted by my father who was always a pleasure to be around and still is.

“Come my son. We have excellent news to tell you.” Truth be told, he’s the father anyone would be jealous to have. Understanding, intelligent and patient, the list goes on. Not to mention he is a sweetheart to basically anyone who needs help.

I ascended further into the dining hall, walking past the numerous wooden chairs with high backs that sat either side of the strictly elongated table. 9 chairs on each long side, 1 on each shorter end. I reached the furthest end of the table, pulling the wooden chair out and gently sitting onto it, making no move to push myself in. I faced my father who was sat across from me, beaming. I gave him a small smile as acknowledgement then moved my gaze to face her. She sat at the head of the table, her nose upright as she stared down at me. Her sudden movement made me want to jump slightly as she folded her hands onto the table, her wedding ring glimmering in the early light that lunged through the wide windows that were behind my father’s side of the table.

“I’m sure you remember what we discussed last month?” mother asked, her head pointed towards me. I nodded stiffly, staying quiet.” Then I’m sure you will recite what your task is to me. “ I bit my lower lip, rolling the flesh between my teeth. I let it go quickly and straightened my back, keeping my gaze on her eyes.

“I’m to attend Hogwarts, the school of witchcraft and wizardry. Upon my attendance, I’m to not make any mistake in disappointing my family. This is a privilege to be allowed to attend. “ My mother nodded, pleased with my recital.

“very good. This is your only chance boy, homeschooling is becoming too much for your father and I but do not think we won’t hire someone. I’m doing this for your father, since he adored the school so much-“

“darling” the older man practically whined, “it’s where I met you. How could our boy not attend the place where his parents met. Corey let me tell you, she was such as catch for me, and still is if you know what I mean. “ I made a disgusted face towards my father. I’m fairly sure I do not want to hear the details again how he and my mother met. Speaking of her, she coughed into a fist to bring my attention back to her. Her faced seemed to be tainted with love, a soft pink lighting up her cheeks.

“since its been a while, I suppose you may join now. Think of it as a reward for bringing honor to your family’s name after the gathering at the Partino Palace. “ I nodded once. “now go pack, we leave towards the express in a few days. “

‘time to relax’ I think to myself as I slip down onto the redy-brown booth of an empty compartment. The space was small, big enough to only allow 6 people in. It could’ve been smaller. I closed my eyes and listened to the chattering and walking of other students pass by that I could only presume were Hogwarts students, or about to become one. I’ve heard so many interesting things about Hogwarts from my father, I could not help but feel the excitement brewing into my bones, aside from the stories of him and mother. I had my own wand already, homeschooling requires to also learn magic and potions. Just as my body relaxed into the surprisingly soft booth, the compartment door was slid open. Hitting the door stopper with a sudden bang.

I sprang my eyes open and glared at whoever believed that was a good idea-‘god I act like her’. A blonde boy, hair tousled and sparkling grey eyes practically begging for sleep had his hand on the now open doorway. The boy was dressed in a black dress-shirt with black dress pants. His tall figure stood in the open space, his shoulders shaking as though he just ran for gold.

Upon my staring, which I believe I had every right to, he narrowed his own eyes at mine, like we were In a competition for rudest glare. But then they soon changed. Growing slightly wide as a smirk etched its way onto his face. “well, who may you be? I hope you’re not some mudblood because you’d be wishing you were dead in the next 5 seconds for staining my seat with dirt. “ his voice was deep, masculine to the edge.

I rolled my eyes however, annoyance growing within my chest. ‘rude already’ I moved on my booth, planting my back flat again the trains side with the window and pulled my feet up onto the cushion seat. I was now sat facing him still in the doorway.

“The names Corey Beetrout, not that some blonde wanker like yourself would know. “ I tutted at him, snarling my vocal vocabulary. “and I’m not a mudblood- not that it be any of your business anyway. “ it appeared he did not so enjoy my answer, as he walked into the space and took the seat across from me, practically forcing me to move back upright with feet touching the floor. He kept his gaze hardened, as he leaned forward.

“So what are you? A half blood I presume” I let out an offended laugh.

“ha! As if! I’m a pure blood- Lord anyone would think you’re a complete idiot. I’m THE Corey Beetrout. “ He leaned back, arms crossing over his chest and gave a shrug.

“Never heard of you. Can’t be that important. “ I laughed again, a simple ‘hah’ but none the less laughed at his comment.

“Let me guess who you areee” I drawled on, scanning him completely from bottom to top. My eyes however caught the snake ring on his left hand. “Blonde, a prick with attitude. Oh, you’re a Malfoy alright. Like father like son. “ Without any hesitation, he stood with violence and banged his fist next to my head , only having his upper body leaning down to be face to face with me.

“You better fix your own attitude Beetrout. I don’t take kindly to people like you. “ I felt his breath hit my face, a minty freshener filling my senses. Although his threatening actions caused me to lean into the cushion seat, I could not help but rather push a finger into his forehead. ‘what a drag’

“Dude it’s my first day, I’m not looking for trouble so back. The. Fuck. Off” he seemed to get the message however, sitting back into his own seat and softening his gaze. Though I inwardly smiled, he still held the stance although sitting down, of an annoyed individual.

“So a pure blood you are. How come I’ve never heard of your family before? “ I shrugged my shoulders in response. My family’s name was pretty well known so how it missed his head I’d never know. “Beetrout hm, well I’m Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. “

“Good to meet you In unexpected circumstances. “ I pulled my hand out, waiting for him to shake it. He did unexpectantly against my better judgement. How sweet, his hand was sweaty and clamped easily around my own. What filth. He withdrew his hand first and swept his blonde hair out from his eyes. He was the first to speak again.

“So you’re new here then. What year will you be attending? “ I pressed my lips in a thin line, remembering what father had told me.

“I'll be in sixth year I believe, however I’ll have a first year introduction week so I’m used to how the course is done and sorted. “ his eyes seems to grow softer. Maybe the sleep was catching up to him like those eye bags darkening his eyes.

“Looks like we’ll be in the same year then. Maybe even in the same house if you have what it takes. “ I shook my head softly, heaving a sigh.

“I'll most likely be placed into Ravenclaw. My whole family are Ravenclaw.” His eyes widened and his mouth became agape, only for him to cough and focus his muscles back into his hardened features.

“Maybe that’s why I haven’t heard of you before. All purebloods I know are in Slytherin. “ I let my focus drift to the outside world we were travelling across. The fields became more yellow as we sped past them.

“Maybe so. If not then you must be pretty dumb if I say so myself-and that is coming from me.” Malfoy ‘hmph’ and too looked at the fields we were passing.

“So the Beetrout family. Sounds like a family who worship bees.”

‘oh Malfoy, if you only knew’ I let a sigh pass my lips, eyes settling back to his that had drooped a significantly large amount. “It’s my father’s last name. My mother’s maiden name was Sickle.” Oh look at that, the silver in his eyes lit with astonishment.

“the Sickle? “ he questioned, brows furrowed. I gave a nod, blowing a strand of hair out of my own eyes. “I think we will be great friends.”

“Friends you say? You hardly know me~” I teased, watching how the corner of his eyes crinkle with delight.

“I just know it. Once you’re used to Hogwarts, ill introduce you to my friends. They’ll be joyed to know another pureblood has joined- not to mention the son from the Sickle-“

“Beetrout” I corrected him.

“Yeah yeah, BeeBopp whatever. Point is, you’ll have your people in no time. “ something about the way he had said that left a chill crawl up my spine. And I usually enjoy the cold.

After some time, we had sat comfortably, the silence and quiet chatters from the other compartments filled our own space with life, something that we both seemed to lack at the given moment. I looked up from my potion book and saw Malfoy too was reading, though instead he was reading a DADA book. “I thought DADA was stopped? “ Malfoy looked into my eyes the darted back on his page.

“We have a new teacher for it.” Was his only response. I quietly nodded, closing my book and setting it next to me on the booth. I soon let my head drop onto the glass, feeling the jiggling of the train rattle through my brain. “say, why did you join so late?” I shrugged.

“I was home schooled. Mother though it be best I learn- and I quote- from the best”

“well from what I know, the Sickle family are powerful sorcerers… so why are you coming to Hogwarts if you can do magic without a wand? “ I pulled my lips back, rolling the flesh of them between my teeth.

“I’m not a sickle, I’m a Beetrout. Only the Sickle family members are sorcerers. “ Malfoy rolled his eyes, his annoyed expression from earlier coming back.

“Surely you have Sickle blood running through them veins. “ Copying his actions, I gave a bland response.

“I can’t. Simple. “ I watched as he huffed and leaned back, his eyes finally closing and his expression softening. No longer was there a wrinkle between his brows. “father believes I’m a late bloomer, but my mother on the other hand” I grimaced, the memory from when I just turned 7 blossomed into my mind. “my mother is disappointed in me since she found I was unable to conquer anything.”

There was not a word uttered for the next few moments, the idling chatter came back to fill both of our senses. “you have mommy issues, I have daddy issues,” he opened one of his eyes, staring right at me. “looks like we aren’t so different Sickle-“

“just call me Corey.” Malfoy gave an amused laugh.

“Earlier I was hiding from my friends.” I quirked a brow to his response. He closed his eye back. He huffed through his nose “I honestly want a year of peace and quiet, without anyone annoying me or trying it on with me. However, “ his eyes were striking as he opened them both, a smirk being plastered onto his face. His lips stretched and paled slightly. “I think I can make some exceptions.”

“To the first or second part? “

“you’ll need to find out. “ This time, I was the one to close my eyes.

“find out ‘ey? There’s a lot I need to find out this year”

The train continued on its way, no more shared comments between the Beetrout or Malfoy, just silence. They both however spoke to themselves, without the other realizing the true hidden nature of the beginning of what one would call, a friendship.



‘I feel warm-its different’

‘It’s colder-it’s better’

#harrypotter #male characters #dracomalfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco x reader #draco x ravenclaw!reader #draco x original male characters #ravenclaw

[pondering-gales-left-orb]

Ximira was preparing relentlessly for the Fair all fall and the time has finally come! he didn't want to continue his cringe fail legacy so he took his best items and headed to the fair, made his display and played the fair games while Lewis judged the displays! and guess what Ximira won!!

but fear not the cringe fail did not go away like he thought he would because he got told by a scary looking dude that he is a s strong as a trout fish..... poor Ximira

#stardew valley #stardew valley oc #stardew valley spoilers #stardew valley farmer #stardew valley 1.6 #oc: Ximira

[ye-olde-sodor]

Crack Ship appreciation post (The Gorb x Danger Loaf #10) because I need more stuff on this blog and I want to talk about them

You know that moment when you start shipping two characters as a joke and it either dies down or snowballs out of control? A month or two ago, I was looking more into 10's class (the BR class 42 aka the Warship class) and I noticed a few similarities between him and Gordon.

-Both engines started out as goods engines before they were transferred to express services due to exceeding the expectations of their makers and BR. On top of this, both are considered to be very fast engines. (Gordon with around 100 mph (160 km/h) and 10 with 90 mph (145 km/h) in a surprising twist).

-Both suffered a massive loss of their siblings. (10 has two preserved siblings while Gordon has Scott and his cousins). I head cannoned that the preservation of steam is why 10 was so aggressive to steam engines in the first place, and when you look at the numbers you can see why.

-Finally, as a funny side note, both have Moon Moons in the family. Zebra for 10 and countless others for Gordon. (Gay Crusader, Dick Turpin, Papyrus, Sandwich, and many more). I personally find it funny that 10's siblings have all the majestic and powerful names while poor Gordon has a sibling named Salmon Trout of all things.

So what do all of these comparisons mean? It means we have a potential for these two to have a lot to talk about and eventually bond over. But how exactly does the regal and formal Gordon fall for this idiot anyway? Simple...it's his carefree attitude.

Gordon is incredibly fond of his image, even with his various blunders he still sees himself as an important and regal engine. We know he's secretly a goof, but he almost never lets it show. Many people head canon that he needs to keep up this charade because he was quite literally built into the image of being this high and mighty being. If he can't keep that pristine image up, then he's worthless in the eyes of the Gresley's and to BR.

Now let's compare 10. He's the crazy Florda guy who's doing all sorts of things just because he can. He doesn't care about his image, nor what people think of him. He's always been the outcast, even more so after his class was withdrawn, so he adapted to work on his own and to do his own thing. He doesn't have the same problems as Gordon. He doesn't have a name or a legacy to keep because there's nothing left to keep.

Put the two of them together, give it some time, and you got yourself quite the duo. They'd make for an interesting friendship, but how would they fair as a couple?

-As I mentioned in my SS Gordon post, I'd imagine 10 being more open to relationships then Gordon. It's safe to say that the Mainland doesn't take too kindly to engine romance, but it's even more likely that it would still exist. 10 would absolutely believe in love to some degree, and would later convince Gordon that it exists too.

-Going back to that post, I mention that Gordon was drawn to 10's free and goofy personality, and eventually allowed for him to express his own funny, laid-back personality. The two of them would act both as foils and as complements for their characters. Gordon is the more controlled of the two and keeps 10 in check while 10 helps Gordon ease up and to have some fun.

Head canon wise, I could go on about these two for hours lmao

-It was absolutely 10 that fell for Gordon first. Gresley's always had a reputation for looking like marble statues, but he never believed that it was true until Gordon showed him the ins and outs of pulling the express. He was even more interested in him when he learned that the old kettle was actually able to keep up with him!

-The both of them are secret literature nerds, with 10 specializing in poetry and Gordon specializing in gothic/Victorian literature.

-If they were human, 10 would be much larger than Gordon, and Gordon would absolutely take advantage of that with constant cuddles and lap sitting. The only downside is that he needs to stand on something or be held up by 10 just to kiss him.

-Staying on theme with human head canons, 10's many hobbies would involve engineering and inventing. This, in turn leads him to making all sorts of wacky stuff, such as a car that has two steering wheels and a button that presses itself. Gordon is usually the one who has to bail him out whenever these inventions blows up in his face (figuratively and literally).

-They're dorks. Big, silly, loveable dorks who would gladly beat the other in a friendly competition or race and listen to the other brag about it for hours.

-Gordon is one of the few engines who knows 10's real name, and he's never told anyone what it is, much to the dismay of any nosy engines or humans.

-While 10 is open about his previous life as a bounty hunter, he's ashamed of it and wants nothing more than to make amends for it. Gordon insists that he already has, but even Gordon's words aren't enough to help him. It'll take years of support (and maybe some ghostly visitors) for him to finally let go and move on.

-The two of them would often switch jobs on occasion. If 10 was too tired to take the Midnight express then Gordon would take it, and vice versa. You can imagine Topham's shock when Gordon offered to take one of 10's goods trains for him after his engine failed. It was at that moment that he knew something was up between those two, but it would take years for it to click.

-While 10 is the more affectionate of the two, they usually keep it behind closed doors (again, to keep nosy engines or humans away). Having said that, he'd be the more likely of the two to display some PDA when no one was looking.

-The Mainland was known for separating and even scraping engines who showed some sort of romantic interest in each other. This, in turn, made all engine couples fiercely protective of each other, to the point of being aggressive towards those who suggest separation. While the two are protected under Sodor's various Antitheft and Antiscrap laws, Gordon and 10 are still weary about Mainlanders. The pair are considered to be some of the most aggressive engines on the island. Gordon more so than 10 in a surprising twist.

-Nicknames for Gordon include: Big Blue, Babe, Baby Blue, Speedy, Blue Streak, Shooting Star, Jekyll

-Nicknames for 10 include: Claw for brains, 10, Bread loaf, Hazard Stripes, Love, My Love, Dear, Hyde

-There was a case where Gordon referred to 10 as Jekyll in front of Percy on accident, and now everyone is convinced that it was 10's name. He felt horrible about it until 10 thought it was so funny that he just rolled with the mix-up. Besides, he preferred the name Jekyll over Cockade.

TL; DR These two are the textbook definition of Opposites Attract and I am absolutely making fanfics of them in the future (both on here and on my AO3 account).

#ttte #ttte gordon #ttte diesel 10 #these two are the ultimate otp. In this essay I will- #I just think they're neat #ttte shipping #sir this is a crackship friendly blog #crackship #crackship taken seriously #gor10

[thepettymachine]

Welcome to Starlight Shores

✅Move to Starlit Shores or Lucky Palms

#sims #sims 3 #ts3 #ts3 gameplay #ts3 legacy #trout g1 #trout legacy #hixcompletionistchallenge #random legacy challenge

[tardyharpy]

Jasper Trout, innkeeper at the Hog's Head Inn

#hogwarts legacy #hogsmeade #hogs head inn #harry potter #jasper trout

[waifuofbath]

1, 3, and 8 for the Patho ask game!

1. Favorite main character?

Artemy. Hands down.

Awkward person (in many ways) that is verging on big and has certain issues regarding their parents and the legacy they have to continue? That speaks to the depths of my very soul in ways I cannot even begin to parse down here.

So yes, I like him the best out of the three.

3. Dumbest way you've died so far?

Hitting a plague cloud and afterwards being bit by a rat. It was stressing.

Very stressing.

Second place goes to the moment when I actually realised that you could fall from the Stairways to Heaven.

8. Best side character? (You can only choose 1!!!!)

Lara.

Little Trout.

But it was obvious I was going to say this, wasn't it?

I love her. Both in Classic and 2, even with all the differences. I feel so close to her regarding many, many things, and I care her and I want her to be happy post-game.

#alys answers #pathologic ask meme #Yes I love them your honor #inkpot demigod

[icleanedthisplate]

Dine-Out Meals of June 2023, Ranked

I ranked the following based on taste alone. I made no consideration for ambiance or the general dining experience or whatever. I included meals I got to go. I included food trucks, catered meals, and fast food.

Sushi reigns supreme this month over a list that includes more hotel food and fast food than usual.

Should you be interested in the pictures or reading the few words I had to say about each meal, click on the home page and scroll down or see the archives.

Sushi & Sashimi Combo Entrée. Kassai Sushi. Denver, Colorado. 6.26.2023.

Sushi Rolls (Kemuri, Furakaki, Zarigani). Kemuri. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.18.2023.

Sushi & Sashimi Combo Entrée. Kassai Sushi. Denver, Colorado. 6.20.2023.

Hickory Smoked Chicken Dinner. Babe’s Chicken Dinner House. Frisco, Texas. 6.7.2023.

Farm to Table Cobb w/Atlantic Salmon. Root Down (Airport). Denver, Colorado. 6.23.2023.

Chicken Leg Quarters, Black-Eyed Peas, Cabbage. Platnum BBQ (River Market). Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.2.2023.

Chicken Leg Quarters, Black-Eyed Peas, Cabbage. Platnum BBQ (River Market). Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.29.2023.

Chicken Wings (shared), Gettin’ Figgy Wit It Burger, Sweet Potato Fries. Park Burger. Denver, Colorado. 6.27.2023.

Charcuterie Board, Fig & Goat Cheese (Shared Apps), Caesar Salad, Rabbit Gnocchi. Cattivella. Denver, Colorado. 6.21.2023.

Signature Sweet Hot Burger w/Fries. Copper Grill. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.16.2023.

Summer Seared Ahi Salad, Tomato Basil Soup. Modern Market Eatery. Denver, Colorado. 6.22.2023.

Catered Party Buffet. Cache (Catering). Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.1.2023.

Avocado Toast, Acai Bowl (Shared all). Fidel & Co. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.18.2023.

Catered Lunch (Curry Chicken Salad Sandwich, Spicy Bahn Mi, Brownie, Cookie). The Root Cafe. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.14.2023.

Spicy Chicken Deluxe Pizza, Caesar Salad. Pizza Café. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.12.2023.

Grilled Trout w/Veggies, Beans. Flying Fish. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.15.2023.

The Reaper (Turkey Burger), Sweet Potato Fries. Big Orange. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.25.2023.

Hummus Fattoush Wrap. Fidel & Co. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.19.2023.

Hummus Fattoush Wrap. Fidel & Co. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.30.2023.

Jimmy’s Salad w/Salmon. Nardello’s Pizza Tavern. Mount Pleasant, Texas. 6.11.2023.

Oishi Roll, Dragon Roll. Horu Sushi (Legacy Hall). Frisco, Texas. 6.9.2023.

Fried Artichoke Hearts (shared), Cobb Salad. Didi’s Downtown. Frisco, Texas. 6.10.2023.

Shared Plates (to go). Orient Express. North Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.4.2023.

Shooting Star Skillet w/Blueberry Pancakes. Red Rooster Café. Denver, Colorado. 6.21.2023.

Spicy Chicken Deluxe Combo. Chick-fil-A. (Airport) Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.20.2023.

Grilled Chicken Sandwich Combo. Chick-fil-A. (Airport) Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.28.2023.

Seafood Dumplings (shared), Miso Ramen w/Chicken. Red Bowl. Little Rock, Arkansas. 6.26.2023.

Lunch Catering (Taco Bowl). Qdoba (Catering). Denver, Colorado. 6.23.2023.

Lunch Catering (Chicken Alfredo). AC Hotel Dallas Frisco. Frisco, Texas. 6.9.2023.

Lunch Catering (Tacos). AC Hotel Dallas Frisco. Frisco, Texas. 6.8.2023.

Salad Bar. The Café (Perot Museum of Nature & Science). Dallas, Texas. 6.10.2023. (No photo.)

Baja Fish Burrito. Illegal Pete’s (Colfax). Denver, Colorado. 6.27.2023.

Half Rack of Pork Ribs, Half Chicken w/Fries, Salad. The Magic Time Machine Restaurant. Addison, Texas. 6.8.2023.

Breakfast Buffet. Residence Inn by Marriott. Frisco, Texas. 6.11.2023.

Breakfast Buffet. Residence Inn by Marriott. Frisco, Texas. 6.8.2023. (No photo.)

Breakfast Buffet. Residence Inn by Marriott. Frisco, Texas. 6.10.2023. (No photo.)

Breakfast Buffet. Residence Inn by Marriott. Frisco, Texas. 6.9.2023.

Breakfast Buffet. Renaissance Denver Central Park (Lounge). Denver, Colorado. 6.22.2023.

Breakfast Buffet. Renaissance Denver Central Park (Lounge). Denver, Colorado. 6.23.2023.

Breakfast Buffet. Renaissance Denver Central Park (Fifty300). Denver, Colorado. 6.28.2023.

Turkey Bacon, Cheddar & Egg White Sandwich. Starbucks. Denver, Colorado. 6.21.2023.

Turkey Bacon, Cheddar & Egg White Sandwich. Starbucks. Denver, Colorado. 6.27.2023.

Grilled Redfish Salad. Flying Burger & Seafood. Caddo Valley, Arkansas. 6.7.2023.

Chicken Wings (Sweet BBQ), Chop Chop Salad. Brothers Bar & Grill (Central Park). Denver, Colorado. 6.22.2023.

#june 2023 #food ranking #food blog

[musemash]

Gallery: 1 It's Apes-Ma! It's Old Fart! No, It's The Blimp! 2 Don & Jan Van Vliet In 1971 3 Safe As Milk Promo 4 Strictly Personnel Masquerade 5 The Captain's Day Job 6 Hitting The Big Time 7 Trout Mask Picnic 8 Shiny Beasts Of Thought 9 Trout Mask Fan Art 10 Don's Gift To Gary Lucas

THE ARTIST FORMALLY KNOWN AS DON VAN VLIET – playlists by Aeon 999 / revised & expanded Feb 26

Today marks the birthdate of the truly legendary DON VAN VLIET – the artist formerly known as the founder of the MAGIC BAND. Accordingly, MFF is presenting a two-part homage to CAPTAIN BEEFHEART, which features: the best available live performances; all of his official recordings; lots of alternative takes; a variety of entertaining poetry readings; and galleries from his major art exhibitions.

A MONUMENTAL PRODIGY OF IMAGINATION – a retrospective by David D. Fowler

For one fleeting, golden moment, the most uncompromisingly experimental album in the history of rock music outsold hit recordings by the Beatles, Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones.

The album was TROUT MASK REPLICA; and the occasion was the death of its chief creator, one Don Van Vliet – better known as the formidable Captain Beefheart. The good Captain sailed his stalwart ship into the next world’s ocean on December 17, 2010.

By that time, Trout Mask had long ago earned its status as an iconic work of art – a wild and rigorous concoction of surreal lyrics, crazed blues and free jazz explosions, imposed on a foundation of highly structured electric polyrhythms. It was the product of a creative confrontation between the brilliant and sometimes tyrannical Van Vliet, and the innovative virtuosos of the Magic Band.

To the best of my knowledge, Beefheart ceased recording music in the early 1980s; but the legacy of the music has been perpetuated in recent years, by further performances and recordings featuring members of various incarnations of the Magic Band.  

Don Van Vliet was a monumental talent, on the order of Igor Stravinsky, Pablo Picasso, and James Joyce – and he excelled in the art forms of each of those masters: music, painting and writing. While best known for the musical output of his Beefheart persona, Van Vliet had two other key artistic phases.

He first drew attention as a child prodigy, crafting clay sculptures of animals on a community TV show. He pursued music in his early 20s; and after close to two decades of performing, recording, and struggling with record companies, he abandoned music and the Beefheart moniker – and started a new career as a painter, under his legal name.

In this final phase, which lasted for more than 25 years, he achieved a high degree of recognition for his quirky subject matter and vivid use of color; and for the first time, he managed to make a decent living from his creative endeavors.

But it is primarily Van Vliet’s music which has secured his status as a 20th century giant. In addition to Trout Mask, his most unconventional work can be found on albums such as LICK MY DECALS OFF BABY, SAFE AS MILK, MIRROR MAN, SHINY BEAST, STRICTLY PERSONAL, DOC AT THE RADAR STATION, ICE CREAM FOR CROW, and the original version of BAT CHAIN PULLER.

He stretched artistic boundaries in a unique and refreshing way. The resulting audio conglomeration incorporated explorations of complex and jaggedly dissonant melodic inventions; densely evocative flights of poetry; spontaneous and uninhibited jazz improvisation; quirky and unexpected bits of humour; and fiery blues vocalizing that took no prisoners.

In the process, he influenced some of the more significant figures of the past several decades, including performance artist LAURIE ANDERSON, art rock goddess PJ HARVEY, Talking Heads mastermind DAVID BYRNE, Pere Ubu trickster DAVID THOMAS, Public Image Limited maverick JOHN LYDON, and renaissance humanoid TOM WAITS,

Probably the best presentation of his musical output is a CD box set of rarities entitled GROW FINS, released in 1999, which provides an excellent overview of Van Vliet’s 16-year stint as the Captain. It contains many unreleased gems from his earlier years, and a good variety of live tracks spanning his entire career.

It also includes a CD of backing tracks from the Trout Mask sessions, which reveals how extraordinarily disciplined the music actually was, under the surface chaos. The big selling point is an enhanced CD of performance footage from the late ‘60s and early '70s. The creativity of the man’s work was awe-inspiring, and this fine release does him real justice.  

Another way to remember the man, of course, is through his paintings. The finest showcases of his paintings are in two books: STAND UP TO BE DISCONTINUED; and SKELETON BREATH, SCORPION BLUSH. Many of his visual works can be viewed online by going to the fan-created collections in our BEEF ART section.

I readily concede that much of Van Vliet’s more eccentric musical expressions can be an acquired taste. But once the unwary pilgrim stumbles upon and succumbs to the siren lure of his gentle, dulcet tones and soothing maladies (um, melodies), she or he will run the risk of becoming forever enthralled.

Some of the very finest pearls of Beefheart’s musical imagination can be found in the BEEF BROTH, BEEF ALTS, and BEEF STEW playlists. They include lots of outstanding concert recordings; intriguing outtakes; imaginative videos by PlasticDada II, and various other fans; and numerous collaborations with FRANK ZAPPA.

Also featured are key folks I like to call 21st Century Quakers. I'm referring to gifted musicians who have continued to perform Van Vliet's challenging music – such as NONA HENDRYX, FREDDIE WADLING, JOLENE GRUNBERG, and MIKE WATT. Most notably, I appreciate the work of JOHN FRENCH, MARK BOSTON, DENNY WHALLEY, and other members of the revived MAGIC BAND – as well as alumni such as GARY LUCAS, MORIS TEPPER, BILL HARKELROAD, and JEFF COTTON.

At the bottom of this page, you'll find a link to our companion post, featuring Van Vliet's complete discography; a comprehensive collection of his off-kilter, confounding, and/or endearing media appearances; and a generous selection of his fanciful paintings. You'll also see a link to our birthday tribute to Beefheart rival and friend, head MOTHER Francis Vincent Zappa.

In conclusion: Methinks y'all (and your squids) will have a fast and bulbous time eating dough in a polythene bag with a tapered tin teardrop that is tight also. Just dig it! (You earn 10 points if you get this dreadful joke, and at least pretend to laugh).

BEEF BROTH Captain's Mic Drop https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4ozX5EZmcy4 Fast 'N' Bulbous 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V3ZSMQE3V0w Van Vliet Medley https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2McQ-N1l0B4 Harp Boogie http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bt70hrY9Fuk Metal Man Has Won His Wings https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cLM4o7nKcq0 Coming To A Closet Near You https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CzL8P8724jw Pachuco Cadaver 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qy4lpTF-fk0 The Grand Wazoo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quxCl-kZ8xo Mirror Man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O9UKANkpPLI Gimme Dat Harp, Boy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2jFiMh6d-hs Obeah Man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lBOOTySmj0k Sun Zoom Spark 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cEafOsLZZk Diddy Wah Diddy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XcdG_sXZjA Party Of Special Things To Do https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e5Usyg14EkM Old Folks Boogie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCApNYi4cL8 Fast 'N' Bulbous 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDHdloTgZKw --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Natchez Burning 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=szbim_pFxh8 Car Noise https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6q1BMsLJDCg Somebody's Leaving https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qBIRpkKseag Guitars, Wood Guitars https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdWhgK628Ho Key To The Highway https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWnwICQGPr0 Sit Through This https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R0vRDn-qaL8 Flat Mattress https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dP44r_ICH84 Seam Crooked Sam 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VtDqqY6CV5c Seaweed Beard Foam Bone Tree https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UFWL5-RvLO8 Triple Combination https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zmpmz4Zt95I The Word Crawled Over The Razor Blade https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-pY9a5J1Kbw Well Well Well https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cJy6ieYHcTc Pena https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rh5qo4ejHSE The Host, The Ghost. The Most Holy-O 1 https://vimeo.com/89037131 Dachau Blues https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dFPdraK3XNY Veteran's Day Poppy 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a4NnsCklX5E Natchez Burning 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S3Or6rLZP9Y --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Black Snake Moan 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DTzsIbNoOMo Evening Bell Worktape https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BBqO-KqsdSc Deputy's Horse https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m0VkaI1TM5M Ah Feel Like Ahcid https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B2p32jKnkZM Tiger Roach https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MK8enLm4W64 Smokestack Lightning / Kandy Korn 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cZXlKiHclIY Run Paint Run https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzZelEsfBac Steal Softly Thru Snow 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I-kH_aNnNiA 25th Century Quaker https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MdnaOQLfIyc The Tired Plain https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=256q00qdiRg Hard Workin' Man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpi2neOCSl4 Fallin' Ditch https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8z5Cp54QZr8 Electricity 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0NYSeJMA4oU Skeleton Makes Good https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nb9-f2yU-q8 Moonlight On Vermont https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQXmnpYuN9M Bat Chain Puller 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TCtJyG-WTmw Big Eyed Beans From Venus 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wt29TUmLed8 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Black Snake Moan 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NNRduVbuW88 Cathy's Clone https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ye_kp4OevlI Hot Head https://vimeo.com/395584038 Alley Cat http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ly71qrLAe4g Sure 'Nuff 'n Yes I Do https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pec4N0rSOOc King Bee https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AtB2g6A7Ucw Scratch My Back https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vSVxoiztNz4 Somebody Walkin' In My Home https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i8OOsBVIxiY Grow Fins https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yQE852F4_qk Same Old Blues https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tp1UKckH1yk Click Clack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcYtqr_Xfro Dirty Blue Gene http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9dw6ler-Cd0 Willie The Pimp Remix https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=06fgnvzCa3w Vampire Suite https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISHXDNXKvUQ Black Snake Attack https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MNiFuIVqinU --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Frying Pan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z6EDwkkXwdI Little Scratch http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vTQmbIXkUuA Upon The My-O-My https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dq6fCOGyVJg Ella Guru https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sew2ybdrTLY Moonchild https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sp_a8N_y0EU I'm Glad https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRmVi8kOJ8M New Electric Ride https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J3llLBYeymM Kiss Me, My Love http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRFXMF18nB8 Magic Be https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1m19JSrFHg This Is The Day https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o0VqoaBlfsM Observatory Crest https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jWozNJm5nrA Lazy Music https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vEW_SNluF94 Further Than We've Gone https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YD1RWUut6ZM Here I Am, I Always Am http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wIuAmzTPdYY Blue Jeans & Moonbeams https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fUoz9o2nXz4 Autumn's Child https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=26AsA5L6AoY --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Suction Prints https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eOthSHzWZVs Parachoke Stare https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RK_kWk_TLwA Moody Liz Acetate   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BYTD7wZVU8 The I Saw Shop https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qkEoIyfTOnc Flaming Autograph https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeWWVzxHN6A Gill https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2qh9k1YUr9o Semi Multicoloured Caucasian https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KTFoS6Oe8Fk The Sand Failure https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6GjEonVafn4 Flower Pot https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O74AMcKUMP4 Away From Survival https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwYjgfXXVc4 When Big Joan Sets Up https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMGv2ssIIbc Doped In Stunned Mirages https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JeTbfqhG0m8 Mellotron Improv 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Q5JzEbkOz8 The Dust Blows Forward https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WeqYapIndxw Betty Boop In Blunderland https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TZGsceyrr7o Veteran's Day Poppy 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U3NMpOgyJNc --------------------------------------------------------------------------- One Nest / Harry Irene https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LJNC1nrVPhE Drink Paint Run Run http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tIwsi-Nu7gk Space Age Couple https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rTc96RwgeqU The Sheriff Of Hong Kong https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k45z4SU-ncs Pompadour Swamp https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AuRRDE4KCiY Circumstances http://youtube.com/watch?v=Bsr7YQj4b00 Zig Zag Wanderer https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xh7dJo0e6Uo The Clouds Are Full Of Wine https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QItDTQigeeM Abba Zabba https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SbgbRPMBMg Doctor Dark https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-QEXOELrRSM The Witch Doctor Life https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E9042-woelM Japan In A Dishpan https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfYYtqvcl9Y The Blimp https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gZXykocNnyM --------------------------------------------------------------------------- One Red Rose That I Mean https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rU2JE7L124A Bad Ronald Baked A Wooden Hairpie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Jk__MA_QD4 I Wanna Find A Woman That'll Hold My Big Toe https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8dM2eLYi5nM Rollin' & Tumblin' https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CS-iJtRFpZo Decals Plunderphonics Mix https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d3qIHJKkuac Crazy Little Thing https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pe0NnUPSqfU Pachuco Cadaver 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYSJ2PYrpzA When I See Mommy I Feel Like A Mummy https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TmlwNrA7RfY Ricochet Man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TAZw1QLwkUA Smithsonian Institute Blues https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g8LLN0NEwQg Petrified Forest https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8vTnosQE6_o Three Months In The Mirror https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PRJbA1dY9pM The Past Sure Is Tense https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G3LZ1kj9sqs --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Blues Jam https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7VKwxjW83A4 Hard Workin' Uncensored Man https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFGbegLCyo8 Ashtray Heart https://vimeo.com/385867940 Plastic Factory https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PXVb1R5sXsY Kandy Korn 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzZv5iaz28E Dropout Boogie https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6tZJF-n-LM4 There Ain't No Santa Claus On The Evening Stage https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DkfcToGzybM Hoboism https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXlID_8vjHw The Torture Never Stops https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_aOyLYPuiI Electricity 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lh-x5AUhSNw Owed T'Alex https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_I0MedAbx-o Clear Spot https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kZq6K1CpLaI Yellow Brick Road https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_F4DXfBg4g Seam Crooked Sam 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=val6I22f7F8 Light Reflected Off The Oceands Of The Moon https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3PSqSQlaSSA --------------------------------------------------------------------------- One Man Sentence https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qJ2QCH3l5E8 Sun Zoom Spark 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQNi6E-8W2Y Woe Is Uh Me Bop https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-ESXjJgkTKQ Safe As Milk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Jm5-GUZYoWc Debra Kadabra https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3kEjC_Wlp8 Odd Jobs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cQYLA_Qr3vE The Man With The Woman Head https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HqrHMb45wag Neon Meate Dream Of A Octafish https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dppxcIAFucQ Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWecfOKZCNY Making Love To A Vampire https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zv51T8oG62M Beatle Bones 'N Smokin' Stones https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQLkIx0GaFA Spitball Scalped Uh Baby http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ItqUIxoHnIg Tarot Plane https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-1b5Plddvwg On Tomorrow https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9iUa-3tycdo Golden Birdies https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=byX84Y0NABw --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Apes-Ma https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNqKMXmpZ-I Ant Man Bee https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KQ6q9BH0XCQ Flash Gordon's Ape https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y-mKosxyRkU Bill's Corpse https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lryi22ZK0RM Tupelo, Mississippi https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-fR49nSI74 China Pig https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LP24gbCSm1s Funeral Hill http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6q2ZI6P2eZY Dachau Well https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=os_ycO0qCSY Trust Us https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tbcUBJosySM The Host, The Ghost, The Most Holy-O 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K3BVm6BWRDw Bat Chain Puller 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=L_dYmf7GLpA 1,010th Day Of The Human Totam Pole https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2N6wza7I404 Veterans Day Shoes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LMXcU-6oJdE Big Eyed Beans From Venus 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzXlvwTcLUU Don's Beatle Tribute https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oV5Bd8Eu0ko

BEEF ART I Love Your Paintings, Don https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mkFT3KKE2IM Captain Beefheart Radar Station http://www.beefheart.com/art/paintings/ http://www.beefheart.com/category/paintings/favourites/ Anton Kern Gallery https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fIwNOCPezs Fan Galleries https://www.pinterest.co.uk/gjukes1/don-van-vliet-captain-beefheart/ https://www.pinterest.ca/zjjenks/don-van-vliet/ https://www.pinterest.ca/timdayhuff/don-van-vliet/ https://nl.pinterest.com/bertdorrestijn/don-van-vliet-paintings/ ARTnews https://www.artnews.com/art-news/news/prices-climb-steadily-for-works-of-artist-musician-don-van-vliet-1594/#! Beefheart Portraits & Tributes https://fineartamerica.com/art/paintings/captain+beefheart

BEEF ALTS Trout Mask: Whitney Studios Session https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxvsN0TEWqQ Mu https://rockasteria.blogspot.com/2012/11/mu-band-from-lost-continent-1971-7274.html https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZRCsnrhVGdU&list=PLhEBA51qbhIpWANrnj-ZRi5u6qlC26vs_ Best Batch Yet, Bowery Poetry Club, NY 2011 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=op7MS5zEYJg&list=PLA7E943FA6036B60A&index=1 Magic Band: Mallard https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOYp5OGIFc0 Journal Of The Plague Years 1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d8yBucM_L68 Safe As Milk Acetates & Demos https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bj7cy_APh5E I May Be Hungry, But I Sure Ain't Weird https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A-leH1SXfQo&list=PLDBC95E0F22FC7EF4 Dissecting Beefheart: Isolated Tracks https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yLWoIXJYYmA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jGHpl87PgEU&list=PLws2A2PIdGTOhSZ7LiOl_UovpO5UsSFn9 Decals & Spotlight Rehearsals https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-IzGswfAW3k --------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Alternate Decals https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WiGB0bV-FiA Spotlight Kid Outtakes https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCdwDSfsVFY Fast 'N' Bulbous: A Tribute To Captain Beefheart https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrhWNxYv9PI&list=OLAK5uy_nMfFbD0OC2xmrjMHddB3Abbv7XD3ZR0wA Trout Mask Instrumental Remix https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8c3rwchYymY Beefheart Night At The Knitting Factory 2008 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E4_kyLI2swc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CeFxfG3A_Xw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=laQ7EB4Mk_Y https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RPbfG4shgsU https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wLvMueZ-sGA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ILs0Z179kzQ Clear Spot Instrumentals https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRw1gIYKgSo Mallard: In A Different Climate https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=brUjlN8psmY Bat Chain Puller Album + Bonus Tracks https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1SpO1pjBKAg Journal Of The Plague Years 2 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1oz44JKu-s8 Shiny Beast Sessions https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gxmXjbMwBno --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Gary Lucas: Improve The Shining Hour https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_n1GZrOZuK30qTCRFpa6xZgKvU4tjMei0M Ice Cream For Crow Rehearsal https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NBZn9hydOAo Drumbo: City Of Refuge   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YJrQSL7tvPI Neon Meate Dream Of A Octafish https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UBW6OKxCRxw&list=OLAK5uy_mw_i0rkEQQrwHyCrY_HTvP6O5tyBLEVJE Moris Tepper: Moth To Mouth https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_m7ZfLVr3QrPmnCHns7RVA55_HIls53j0s Fast 'N' Bulbous: Pork Chop Blue Around The Rind https://cuneiformrecords.bandcamp.com/album/pork-chop-blue-around-the-rind Zoot Horn Rollo: We Saw A Bozo Under The Sea https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCkL6b6NkrQ The World Of Captain Beefheart, New York 2018 https://www.villagevoice.com/2017/11/09/how-nona-hendryx-captured-the-world-of-captain-beefheart/ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADn643PUCeg Jeff Cotton: The Fantasy Of Reality https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_mxO61KkGWF9tCyZtfhECxl6lzBJyR1Hss Trout Mask Replica: Full Remix 2022 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0GDC88xkwwQ&list=PLws2A2PIdGTMdnMyNrNcCKDqsfW11tmZn

BEEF ZAPPED The Captain & The Mothers: AMERICA'S HAD TOO DAMN MUCH TO THINK https://vimeo.com/799920521 1 Lost In A Whirlpool 2 San Ber'dino 3 Alley Cat 4 Find Her Finer 5 Willie The Pimp: 1987 Remix 6 Poofter's Froth, Wyoming 7 200 Years Old: Extended Edition 8 Orange Claw Hammer ------------------------------------------------------------------ Mothering The Captain: MUFFIN MAN'S DARK NIGHT OF THE SOUL https://vimeo.com/799923390 1 I Was A Teenage Malt Shop 2 I'm A Band Leader! 3 Charles Ives (The Blimp) 4 Lost In A Whirlpool: Vocal Only 5 Advance Romance 6 Willie The Pimp: Live Version 7 The Torture Never Stops 8 Muffin Man ------------------------------------------------------------------ Captain Of The Mothers: THE GRAND WAZOO'S JUBILEE BLIMP https://vimeo.com/799931229 1 Improv: El Paso 1975 2 Metal Man Has Won His Wings 3 The Blimp (Charles Ives) 4 Improv: Boston 1975 5 The Grand Wazoo 6 Tiger Roach 7 The Man With The Woman Head 8 Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top 9 Debra Kadabra 10 The Blimp Demo 11 Improv: Radio Broadcast 1975 12 The Blimp Redux

BEEF STEW Magic Band On The Wall, Manchester 2014 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xk2gzXQ9-zc Classic Beefheart Interviews https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrZC_xVXcSo&list=PL8flSFeCsFvLg9_cUnwfnyw3ZmzGgiPJF Where The Action Is 1966 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BCLnoBSh5kk Avalon Ballroom, San Francisco 1966 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4oXLsMoUo4 BBC Sessions, 1968 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2RyWJTCZ7T0 Freeman's Dancing School, Kidderminster 1968 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wNd3b0dp5sw Cannes Beach, 1968 https://www.facebook.com/eric.herrscher.9/videos/2591648864183907/ https://www.facebook.com/watch/?v=224356918568725 Festival Actuel, Amougies 1969 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xOTbaeO9yIU Pepperland, San Rafael, 1970 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SzhIXjRF4B8 Ungano's, New York 1971 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_UOPME-c3o Agora Theatre, Cleveland 1971 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PD5r_fT7HS0 Ludlow Garage, Cincinnati 1971 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tdgbmz9XxLI Pacific Coliseum, Vancouver 1971 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZmEh_12jYw --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Beat Club, Bremen 1972 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G0d0rsW9p3I Royal Albert Hall, London 1972 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=549qyiiRzQ4 Bickershaw Festival 1972 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8HmiLA-1n68 Rainbow Theatre, London 1973 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0VOyqW7RJzk Cowtown, Kansas City 1974 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q0wGohHIzXI Providence College 1975 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6xU0GzKOakc County Coliseum, El Paso 1975 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-B9wATulss Music Hall, Boston 1975 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XvmHdcCLWRM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sZfQnyVe58w International Amphitheater, Chicago 1975 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsTHgW3mSnI Roxy, Los Angeles 1975 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qBM8ofok25I Knebworth Festival 1975 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qmOiNnUVK-g --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Winterland, San Francisco 1975 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DxsTopAuw3k Keystone Korner, San Francisco 1976 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WzH6SEpdS2I Golden Bear, Huntington Beach 1977 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cL8egsX41U8 Nouvel Hippodrome, Paris 1977 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lyRTU4Dl_eU The Bottom Line, New York 1977 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E2RRqc3fN4o Keystone Korner, San Francisco 1977 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eNb9bL-MEus Red Creek Inn, Rochester 1977 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cec5yeyOIME My Father's Place, Roslyn 1978 https://pastdaily.com/2022/09/29/capt-beefheart-his-magic-band-live-at-my-fathers-place-1978-past-daily-soundbooth/ Golden Bear, Huntington Beach 1978 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-T7xx_ckLso Loughborough University 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3jbJTmSj6OQ Elysées Montmartre, Paris 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zpsS8nHocp4 --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Paradiso, Amsterdam 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bq2Z1V0cwVo Whisky A Go Go, Hollywood 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_cdE8NI-bdU Mudd Club, New York 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hnMh5c6X3BQ Bayou Club, Washington 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F19XrELoJVw Rotter's Club, Liverpool 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=chd6DMHFghY The Venue, London 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O6ZvM12L6vA Vrije University, Brussels 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KZOjZ9x9w0k My Father's Place, Roslyn 1980 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NLpXKk6VmSU Country Club, Reseda 1981 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T0NWCW1xBDk Commodore Ballroom, Vancouver 1981 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1G7Zz8mEX0Y Golden Bear, Huntington Beach 1981 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPK0Z2a8G04 Don's 40th Birthday: Showbox, Seattle 1981 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zbfthHENGY

THE CAPTAIN WHO SAILED DEEP INTO UNKNOWN SEAS https://musemash.tumblr.com/post/637810156655263744/gallery-1-shiny-beast-2-royal-hind-doer-3-beezoo THE INVENTOR OF THE MOTHERS AT 80 https://musemash.tumblr.com/post/638167879770128384/the-inventor-of-the-mothers-at-80-by-david-d

Gallery Credits: Image #1: @stuff_by_mark Image #2: Jim Marshall Image #9: David Fraiman