#who had her egg sac with her at the time

[arachnophanatic]

I’m out of good photos again so behold the cellar spider (family Pholcidae) who lives above my door.

Her name is Lucretia and she catches a lot of bees and hover flies.

#spiders #spider #cellar spider #pholcidae #there’s no way to tell but I do kind of hope she’s the one I took from my parents’ porch #who had her egg sac with her at the time #I guess it could be one of the babies too at this point lol #my photos

[azzys-secret-kink-blog]

Ghitian Breeding Program

CW: alien pregnancy, birth, etc etc 3400 words

The CF Osiris had just finished a job when Kaiz got the call. It was her turn to participate in her province's breeding program. It had been a few years since she'd last bred, and it was something she looked forward to, serving her planet in the best way she could.

The Ghitian species was largely female, with about a 95/5 split between the males and females. There were two types of females: breeders and layers. Each province had a few breeder females who oversaw the breeding programs, and handled the frequency and size of the breeding program. Most all females were drafted into the program once they came of age, sans those with health issues or other circumstances that would bar them from breeding.

A breeder female would mate with multiple males, grow hundreds of eggs, and implant the eggs into multiple layer females. After being implanted, the eggs would grow quickly and hatch within the layer female, before being born and taken to the proper childcare facilities. The children were not raised by their parents, but rather facilities specially build to raise and train them to contribute to the planet however they could.

Kaiz took her ship, a small armed shuttle, back to Ghitia. She touched down in her province mid morning and a transport was waiting for the newest batch of layers. Kaiz saw a few she'd been raised with and a few she didn't recognize, a few younger and older than her, but most around the same age. They all boarded the transport together, some of the younger ones talking amongst themselves. Kaiz heard that it was their first time breeding.

She had bred twice before, the first time she'd only been able to lay 8, but the second time shed gotten all the way to 14. She figured she could get even higher this time. Once they arrived at the breeding facility, they were asked to strip and clean themselves for the next step. Once stripped, they stretched properly, both their bodies and their loins. Then they were taken, one at a time, to see the breeder female, who would lay her eggs in them one at a time. Kaiz was near the back of the line, and could hear the mixed noises made by all the ones that went before her.

Finally, it was Kaiz's turn. She entered the room with the breeder female. Her name was Diyahux, and was a younger breeder female. Diyahux was tall, and her abdomen was massive. Like all pregnant breeder females, her insectoid abdomen stretched far behind her and supported by a huge cushion and woven fabric support bands. The room was bathed with red light and flowing fabric decorated the walls. Diyahux sat in the center on her breeder seat, and greeted Kaiz with a warm expression.

"You are Kaiz Dejslayer, yes?" Diyahux asked. Her voice was deep and comforting, and her pheromones filled the room, making Kaiz feel relaxed and almost lightheaded, but she tried to keep herself composed and professional.

"Y-yes, ma'am. I look forward to laying for you," Kaiz said. She wasn't nervous, but was having a hard time keeping it together around all the pheromones. They were starting to get to her even deeper. She began to feel the desire to be filled with eggs, and her nethers burned for stimulation.

"Come, when you are ready," Diyahux said. Her ovipositor emerged from between her legs. It was long and prehensile, and a bright green that almost glowed. Kaiz almost drooled at the sight of it. She approached Diyahux, and the larger female motioned for her to kneel on the mat in front of her. She knelt before the breeder and spread her legs, and was quickly met with the ovipositor. It entered her and slid in and out for a few moments, before probing deeper, all the way to her egg sac.

The ovipositor quickly began to swell, locking itself in place, and the first egg started to come down. It was deposited in Kaiz's egg sac, and followed by another. This continued until Diyahux had laid about 12 eggs, when Kaiz began to feel full.

"You're doing so well, Kaiz. Would you like me to stop there, or can you take a few more?" Diyahux said. Her tone was gentle, and she guided Kaiz's chin up to look her in the eye.

"N-no I-I can take more," Kaiz stammered. She wanted to get more than last time, then maybe eventually she would get promoted to carrying breeders. Normally most layer females would carry other layer females and males, but exceptional layers could be asked to carry new breeder females. Kaiz wanted to carry a breeder one day, for the good of the Ghitian race and her planet. To get promoted, one had to be able to carry at least 20 eggs, as breeder eggs were much larger than the others. It was a common goal for young Ghitians, but she took it very seriously.

"Alright, just tell me if you want me to stop." Diyahux deposited another egg into Kaiz, pulling her out of her thoughts. She almost whimpered, but she was determined to keep herself as composed as possible and not give in to the pheromones. Her egg sac stretched as yet another egg was deposited. She'd hit her record now, but felt she could take a few more. She been stretching herself since her last breeding, and figured she could carry at least sixteen eggs this time.

She endured as two more eggs were laid in her, and her egg sac almost began to hurt. "Ma'am, I-I don't think I can take any more," Kaiz said. She put one hand on her now slightly distended stomach and moaned. Diyahux pulled her ovipositor out, and some of the pressure in Kaiz's belly was relieved.

Kaiz stood and bowed slightly to Diyahux. "Thank you, ma'am."

"Oh, you don't need to be so formal! You'll be bearing my children, there's no need for all the professional talk," Diyahux said. "The guides outside will show you to your room, and you'll be given something to eat. I hope to see you again soon, Kaiz!"

Kaiz almost bowed again, but nodded instead. She exited, and was given a soft robe by the guide on the other side of the door. The guide led her to a nice room decorated similarly to Diyahux's, with flowing yellow fabric on the walls and a nice bed against the center of the back wall. Her bag had been placed on a chest of drawers against one wall, and a window showed a nice view of the city.

Currently the region was in a dark cycle, and the city was lit up beautifully. Tall spires reached towards the clouds, and ships could be seen coming in and out of the port. There was a knock on the door, and Kaiz opened it to another facility worker with a cart full of containers. She handed a container to Kaiz and hurried off to the next room. The container was full of vegetables and fruits native to the surrounding area and a few bits of meat. Ghitians were mostly vegetarian, but did eat some meat, especially when breeding. Kaiz closed the door and began to chew on a piece of fruit from the container. After finishing her meal, she checked her datapad, washed up, and promptly fell asleep.

. . .

Kaiz woke up a few hours later feeling noticeably different. Her belly felt looser and fuller. Shortly after having eggs laid into them, a layer female's egg sac would expand to make room for the larvae that would hatch and grow inside them, and it appeared to have grown quite a bit while she was asleep. She opened her robe to look at her belly, which had grown considerably, but not enough to be noticeable if she were to wear loose clothing. Over the course of the next few hours, the eggs inside of her should grow rapidly and then hatch into larvae, which would be birthed a little while after.

Soon there was a knock at the door, and Kaiz opened it to a worker with her morning meal. She handed a container to Kaiz and told her that a doctor would be in shortly to check on her progress and administer some medications as necessary. Most layers were given hormones to speed up the brooding process, as well as some other medications to make the whole thing easier and speed up recovery. True to the worker's word, there was another knock at the door after Kaiz had eaten, and the doctor entered.

Kaiz had already removed her robe, and the doctor wasted no time in her examination. She made sure Kaiz's egg sac was expanding properly, and that the eggs inside were all healthy and growing. After verifying that everything was well and good, she took out a needle and inserted it between two of Kaiz's sclerites to administer the growth hormones. She was also given a few pills before the doctor went on her way to see the next layer.

It wasn't more than a few minutes before Kaiz started to feel the effects of the medication. Her belly began to feel tight as the eggs grew within her, and she could almost feel them moving. After about an hour, her belly had reached the size of a full term human pregnancy. The hormones were affecting more than her eggs though, as her arousal skyrocketed. She could only try her best to relieve herself with her hands, but her belly in the way made things difficult. Her breathing was heavy as she moaned, looking around for something she could use to alleviate the feelings between her legs.

Suddenly, there was yet another knock at the door. A worker with a datapad instructed Kaiz to follow her to the breeder's chambers. Kaiz tried to ask what for, but all the worker said was, "Diyahux's orders."

When they arrived, the worker left her in the room with Diyahux. She sat on the bed in the center of the room, her abdomen now significantly smaller. She sat up when they entered, and perched herself on the edge of her bed.

"Kaiz, dear, you're looking well! Those eggs are growing so fast!" She said, smiling at Kaiz, before beckoning her over. "Come, come!"

"I know you must be feeling a little, shall we say, excited by the medications, and I've taken a personal liking to you, Kaiz." Diyahux's smile turned a bit more playful, and she motioned for Kaiz to come sit on the bed next to her, and she quickly obliged. Diyahux looked at Kaiz with a look she'd never seen on a breeder before. "So, are you alright with letting me help with that?"

Kaiz was surprised at Diyahux's forwardness. "Are you sure, ma'am? I'm just a layer, I mean, really, I-I could just-"

Diyahux put a finger over Kaiz's mouth. "A simple yes or no will work."

Kaiz hesitated for a moment, wondering why a breeder would want to service her like this. Layers lived to serve the breeders, and that had always been the case in Kaiz's experience, every breeder she'd met had commanded authority. But this one seemed . . . attracted to her, in a way she'd never seen before. She finally nodded.

Diyahux was delighted, and hoisted Kaiz onto her lap with ease, with Kaiz's back facing her and her belly out. She laid a hand over it, feeling the eggs inside, before her hand drifted lower, between Kaiz's legs.

She began to feel around, figuring out where everything was, before plunging one claw into Kaiz's hole. She gasped and moaned in pleasure, while Diyahux began pumping her claw in and out. Kaiz held her belly as Diyahux sped up, and Kaiz could hardly take it. She'd given up trying to stay composed in front of her breeder.

Diyahux laid her other hand on Kaiz's stomach and rubbed it gently while she continued down below. Kaiz had never felt pleasure like this before. She'd had sex with other layer Ghitians, and even other species on her travels, but none had made her feel like this. Maybe it was Diyahux's pheromones, or Kaiz's own hormones from being pregnant, but Kaiz couldn't hold herself back. She came onto Diyahux's claws with a cry of ecstasy, before leaning back into her chest to catch her breath.

"Mm. Those hormones really do a number on you, don't they?" Diyahux asked. Kaiz nodded.

Kaiz was taken by surprise when Diyahux suddenly picked her up and laid her on the bed. Diyahux laid down next to her and laid a hand back on her belly. Kaiz was still out of breath from her climax, and whimpered a bit. Diyahux used both hands to massage Kaiz's belly, feeling around the eggs and shifting them around. It drove Kaiz crazy. Diyahux seemed to enjoy watching Kaiz squirm in pleasure, and she kept massaging her belly as Kaiz gripped the sheets of the bed.

Crack.

The sound startled both of them, and Kaiz sat up and laid a hand on her midsection.

Crack. Crack.

The eggs were hatching, one by one, inside of Kaiz. The sound of the cracking filled the room, and soon Kaiz's belly was full of squirming larvae. They made small bulges all over her belly as they moved inside of her. Even after all 16 had hatched, the cracking continued as they ate their shells. The movement lit Kaiz's arousal once again, and she groaned as they squirmed inside her. Diyahux began to trace the bulges of her offspring, one by one.

This continued for about an hour, with Kaiz laying back down and clutching her belly full of larvae while Diyahux rubbed it and used her claws and ovipositor to pleasure her. The room was filled with the humid scent of pheromones and Kaiz's fluids. She had lost count of how many times she'd climaxed, until a cry of ecstasy turned into a cry of surprise as one of the larvae pushed against the exit of her egg sac.

The larva's head began to peek into Kaiz's birth canal. Diyahux looked concerned for a moment, thinking Kaiz was in pain, but it was quite the opposite. Kaiz whimpered as the larvae became more agitated, ready to leave her body. The first one was large, and reached her entrance before it was fully out of her egg sac. Kaiz pushed, and Diyahux caught the larva as it came out of her.

Diyahux called for a worker, who was there in the blink of an eye with a segmented bassinet for the larvae. She took the first one and paced it in the bassinet. The second one came shortly after.

"Good, girl, Kaiz. You're doing great," Diyahux said as Kaiz pushed out the third larva. She continued to whimper, but threw in the occasional grunt as she pushed. She pushed out larva after larva, climaxing after the fifth, and staying in a perpetual state of bliss until number twelve.

The twelfth was bigger than she'd ever laid, bigger even than she'd ever seen. It took a few minutes of pushing to even get the head of it out into the open before it got stuck. She tried to push it more, but it wouldn't budge.

Diyahux pushed on Kaiz's belly to try and get the larva out as the worker tugged on it gently. After a bit more pushing, it finally popped out all at once with a gush of fluid. Kaiz tried to catch her breath for a moment, but another larva was quick to replace the last.

Each one hit all her sensitive spots on the way down, and that mixed with the hands on her belly, she couldn't keep her composure. She was just letting herself moan and whimper in front of her breeder, her superior. No breeder would accept this kind of unprofessionalism! They were to be treated with the utmost respect! But Diyahux didn't seem to care about the social hierarchy, and Kaiz didn't know how to feel about that.

She hardly had any time to think about that, though. She had just one more larva to birth, and then all would be said and done. But this one didn't want to leave her egg sac. She couldn't push it out until it entered her birth canal, but it had to actually do that itself, and it seemed perfectly content wiggling around in the egg sac.

Eventually, Diyahux started to get worried, and called in the doctor. She suggested going in and getting it surgically, but that would be difficult and could harm Kaiz. But if the larva didn't come out on its own soon, it could be detrimental to both it and Kaiz. Kaiz was too busy with her arousal to think too much about it, but was surprised when she felt something enter her from the outside. Diyahux's ovipositor penetrated her all the way into her egg sac. The ovipositor was prehensile, and Kaiz could feel it moving inside her, searching for the larva that didn't want to come out.

After a bit of feeling around inside of Kaiz, Diyahux found the larva, wrapped her ovipositor around it, and slowly pulled it out. Kaiz climaxed again as it left her, and finally, all the larvae were out of her and in the bassinet. She slowly sat up to look at them, and that was the last thing she remembered before passing out.

. . .

She awoke, clean and larva-free, still in Diyahux's bed. Diyahux was on the other side of the room, talking to the doctor, but Kaiz couldn't hear what they were saying. The bassinet and all the larvae had been wheeled out of the room, and soon the doctor left too. Diyahux turned and noticed that Kaiz was awake and rushed over.

"Are you alright? The rest of the layers had relatively easy births, but you had two stuck larvae, and that's got to have been painful." Diyahux said, looking concerned.

It was true, Kaiz was sore, but not so badly that a few days rest wouldn't fix.

"I'm fine, ma'am, just a little sore. I've had much worse," Kaiz said. She had had worse, almost losing an arm during her time as a soldier.

"Well, you stay right there and I'll have someone bring you something to eat, okay?" Diyahux said.

"No, ma'am, it's alright, I can make it back to my-"

"Absolutely not, you are staying right here, that's an order," Diyahux scolded. "You need to rest, and you will do so right here. We don't want my favorite layer to hurt herself, now do we?"

Kaiz felt her face flush. Favorite layer?

Diyahux called a worker over and sent her to get Kaiz something to eat, and headed back over to the bed.

"They'll be back in a minute. But wow, I don't think I've even seen someone push out such a big regular larva!" Diyahux said. "Seriously, that was impressive. I think I'll be calling you back for another round soon enough, Kaiz."

Kaiz had never been praised like this for her births. She'd only gotten the usual "good work, layer" and nothing more. Her previous births had never been anything terribly remarkable of course, but still, it was nice. And more breeding meant more opportunities to lay a breeder, or at least train to be able to.

. . .

After a few days of rest and recovery, and being doted on by Diyahux, Kaiz was given the all clear to head home. Before she left for her ship, she stopped by the breeder's quarters one last time.

Diyahux answered the door and smiled down at her. "Oh, Kaiz, dear! Heading home?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to breed with you, I look forward to our next breeding cycle." Kaiz bowed.

Diyahux put a hand under Kaiz's chin and lifted her out of the bow before planting a kiss on her forehead. "And it was a pleasure to have you as a layer. But please drop the formalities. We'll be seeing far too much of each other for that," she said.

"If you insist, ma- um, Diyahux." Kaiz gave a nod and started back down the hall. Diyahux waved and Kaiz waved back before turning the corner to leave the facility.

She was excited for the next time she'd be called for the breeding program.

#eggpreg #alien pregnancy #preg kink #birth kink #ovi #fpreg #cf osiris #kaiz #birth #rapid pregnancy

[yanderes-galore]

How would a xenomorph queen be as a yandere?

Didn't even make it on the list because I wanted to do this so fast, sorry.

Yandere! Xenomorph Queen Concept

Pairing: Animal/Pet-like

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Stalking, Kidnapping, Murder, Possessive behavior, Isolation, Punishment, Drooling, Scenting, Forced relationship (?)

Well, to get a Queen to like you... you had to know the Xenomorph before she matured.

Before she was fed royal jelly to become a Praetorian, soon a Queen, she came across you.

Like a typical Xenomorph drone with their darling, the drone followed you everywhere.

To the point she felt the need to start nesting, forcing affection upon you before fleeing.

You would have known the Xenomorph for months as her life cycle matures fast.

You were still attempting to get used to her and her strange affection before she... stopped coming-

You weren't worried for her in the slightest, relieved actually.

Now you didn't have a beast coming up to you to chitter, coo, and drool at you....

You were at peace.

Meanwhile, your Xenomorph was simply gourging herself on royal jelly to mature.

She'd be a good Queen for you!

It's her duty for you and the hive.

By the time she emerges from her coccoon as a Praetorian, the pre-Queen wants to look for you again.

She misses you.

Maturing is so difficult when she isn't comforted by you and your reluctant care.

Her Queen, who she soon will not answer to, tells her to be patient.

She must be a fully mature Queen before she can successfully take her human.

Listening to her "mother", she sets out to create her very own nest.

She has drones create the nest she'll reside in... resin coating walls of a cave she picked out with you in mind.

Once set, she spends more time maturing with royal jelly... before emerging as an adult Queen, pumping eggs to make drones of her own.

Drones for her and you.

This will be your family.

By the time you overcome your fear of the Xenomorph you met, you're abducted by drones.

Knocked out, you're dragged deep into the depths of the hive.

The Queen hisses in approval when you are set in her arms, drool covering you in the scent of the hive.

Her children will not attack you... as they are yours too.

Her scent is all over you.

Having a Queen so attached to you will be impossible to escape from.

Most of the time she'll keep you in her arms, sitting on her egg sac and cooing.

She is capable of leaving the egg sac, although then she can't lay more eggs until it regrows.

She wants to have more children for the both of you, though....

She'll let you go sometimes, but you're never allowed far.

Facehuggers tend to activate by motion triggers, although due to "being part of the hive", you're fine.

She adores you, often scooping you up with her tail to trill at you.

She seems to always know where you are, she has eyes everywhere.

Drones constantly watch over you, chittering at you with respect as you walk around the nest.

Try to leave, however, and they'll tattle....

They'll screech and drag you back to their mother.

Said Queen is upset at you for trying to leave the family she created for you.

Why are you trying to leave?

She spent months away from you!

To a Xenomorph, that's a long time.

She created everything for you.

The hive, the eggs, the drones...

Your children.

Would you really just abandon them?

No... her human needs discipline.

Her drones would resin you to the wall of her nesting area.

You're stuck there, forced to accept the food they find for you while the Queen continues to lay more eggs.

She thinks with some more learning you'll be a good parent to them.

A Queen removing her egg sac from herself is painful, but if she has to, she'll leave it for you.

This is usually if you're taken from her by force.

A firing squad tries to take you?

She's fighting for this hive.

You try to warn them about the Queen's temper, yet...

They're overwhelmed by the drones and a newly detached Queen, snarling with rage.

They'll pay.

They'll pay for trying to destroy this family.

Once the squad died, trampled by the bug-like beasts, the Queen scoops you up.

Nuzzling you with her foreign mouth, she tries to comfort you.

Why else would you be crying?

That squad clearly scared you!

You're not scared of her... can't be!

She's family.

She's taking care of you like you did with her.

Isn't this what you humans do?

She wants to understand your way of love.

It's impossible, but she's determined.

She'll do whatever she can to make you feel like family...

Even if you're hurt in the process, she can't even understand your pain.

#yandere alien #yandere aliens #yandere alien harem #yandere xenomorph queen #yandere xenomorph #yandere xenomorphs #yandere teratophilia #yandere monster

[stardustlyssa]

demon headcanon drabbles part 1

i feel like demons are sort of like dinosaurs/birds in the witch world- they have much longer and more complex lineages because they are beasts like the titan. with the existence of creatures such as hooty and the monster which was protecting king’s egg, i think it’s fair to assume they served the titan both in his life and after his death for generations and hold ties with wild magic, such as the elemental forms it can take.

and like in the real world some evolve to become more psychologically complex and “human like”/“witch-like” and intermingle with witches and others remain more akin to animals or beasts. it’s a huge spectrum and how a demon or a witch that is of demonic lineage presents can vary largely because of the insane diversity of demons on the isles

with my oc aria her mother’s bloodline remained mostly homogenous or close to similar demonfolk species because they lived in isolation on the knee and guarded the path to eclipse lake for generations. her mom had a major inclination for ice and wind based magic and used it to make blizzards that kept intruders out (except for the rare cases of those who broke through or were taken prisoner for a time, like Aria’s father.)

biologically i wonder if demonfolk could be more magically inclined too- perhaps having more than one bile sac or one which is larger or structured differently based on genetics. i feel it would make sense with the outward variety of demon traits we see in the show?

and with the less spoken plot of demon hunters, i wonder if Belos or witch kind broadly imposed a dichotomy between demons that are intelligent and animal-like through the growth of their greater society. because the demon hunters are clearly not “typical” witches either… maybe this is comparable to how humans separate themselves from other intelligent species?

so many thoughts. demons are just cool and i love seeing the variety of creatures that inhabit the isles.

#the owl house #toh #headcanon #toh headcanon #drabbles

[vosh-rakh]

means and ends

author’s note: every character in here, aside from my ocs ku-vastei and llethym, and the made-up amiliah dren, is a canon character in-game, even down to the nameless “npcs”. i did a lot of research for this fic lol. some of them have different positions/roles than they do in game, mostly owing to the passing of time and intervening events, as well as some artistic liberty. i’ve been working on this fic for a long time, and it’s quite a bit longer than my usual work, but i’m very proud of it, and i hope you enjoy it as well!

- - - - -

“I hope you see the problem here, Mistress Darvasa.”

The Adebaal Egg Mine is dimly lit by glowing egg-sacs, which cast a grave light on Ku-vastei’s face. The new master of Tel Branora, Darvasa Vedas, is glad for her flowing robes, and the slight breeze passing through the tunnels, that her quivering before the Archmagister is not visible. An Argonian wearing a slave bracer tends to a nearby kwama worker, pretending not to listen.

“Yes, well, Archmagister, you see…” began Darvasa, “we had purchased them before the ban had gone into effect, so we had thought -”

“Do not lie to me, Darvasa,” whispered Ku-vastei, her voice like the steel in her hand. “I’ve seen the deeds of sale. Besides, the ban on slavery was retroactive. It is also emancipatory.” The nearby Argonian slave perks their head up slightly, unable to hide their curiosity. 

Darvasa is no longer sure she can hide her shaking. “Yes, yes, of course, Archmagister, but we needed workers for the mine, as you well know it is a major source of income for the tower, and not long before Therana’s untimely death somebody freed the slaves who had been working here previously, so we needed -”

“Yes, I know,” says Ku-vastei. She leans back a little and places her free hand on her hip. “I was the one who freed them.”

The enslaved Argonian can’t help but turn their head towards the free Argonian, and completely forgets about the kwama worker. But their attention is stolen again when the worker headbutts them.

Darvasa’s jaw dropped. “Before the ban went into effect?”

“The ban retroactively justifies my actions.”

Darvasa’s eyes close. “What shall I do, then, Archmagister?”

“Either free the slaves, or hire them as hirelings to the House and pay them fairly for their labor. I care not which, but the latter would likely benefit you in the long run.” Darvasa opens her eyes, and can barely see Ku-vastei’s lips move in the darkness; she appears as a scaled statue, leaning on an ancient spear, meting out divine judgment upon the mortals of House Telvanni.

“But…” Darvasa begins, but quickly changes her tune. “Yes, Archmagister, of course. I will hire them to the House.”

“Ensure they are treated as any other member of the House, Darvasa. And if this happens again, know that I will kill you.”

“Yes, Archmagister,” Darvasa says, bowing too low in presumed deference. 

“One more thing,” says Ku-vastei as she turns to leave. “Where did you purchase these slaves?”

Darvasa straightens into a stiff line. “Oh, please don’t make me say,” she begs. “They said they’d kill me if I did.”

“I’ll kill you if you don’t.” The Archmagister swings her spear in a small circle as she turns back, pointing it nonchalantly at Darvasa from a distance. But the physical threat isn’t necessary - the words themselves drip with such authority that the young Mistress can’t help but fear them.

Darvasa bites her lip and nearly collapses from how her legs shake. “Yes…yes, Archmagister. I bought them from…”

-

“Tel Aruhn?” Aryon asks as he and the Archmagister retreat to Tel Uvirith. “That’s impossible. We took care of the market there personally.”

Ku nods, remembering the bloodshed as a vivid red pinpoint in the recent past. “She wouldn’t say anything more.” She wipes ash from her eyes, kicked up from her shuffling through the dunes. “Apparently she had nothing to do with the purchase directly. We’ll have to investigate further.”

“You’ve shown unusual…restraint, in dealing with this so far, Archmagister.” Aryon walks ahead of Ku-vastei, proceeding backwards as he studies her face. His fierce brow furrows over his fire-red eyes. “You haven’t killed anyone yet.”

Ku smiles faintly. “We can’t be a House of murderers forever, Aryon. One of these days we’ll resolve most of our issues peacefully.”

Aryon grins, but there’s a concerned note to his voice when he asks, “Am I speaking to the true Hortator? Ku-vastei, bringer of fire and war?”

“In the times before slavery, Black Marsh operated similarly. War was an import from Resdayn.”

“I’m not sure history supports that claim,” Aryon says, returning to his place alongside Ku-vastei. “War is an integral facet of all cultures.”

“Regardless, perhaps it needn’t be.”

“Ever the idealist, Archmagister.” Aryon pats Ku-vastei on the back, but she doesn’t recoil from the touch. Strange future, she thinks, in which an elf - any elf - can touch my back without losing their hand. 

-

When they arrive at Tel Uvirith, they are greeted by the Erabenimsun scouts who delivered Ku-vastei’s guest. 

“Ilmeni Dren,” says Ku-vastei, bowing her head slightly. She glances at the Erabenimsun, who depart for their camp.

“Archmagister,” replies Ilmeni, who had been examining the fungal walls of the tower. She wipes her hands of the external dirt and turns to curtsy in the Imperial way. “Your reputation precedes you, both as Hortator and Ku-vastei, muthsera.” She says Ku’s name with a curious lilt, not quite the bizarre intonation of an elf attempting to speak Jel, but not quite the natural pronunciation of a born-speaker. It seems to suggest something beyond mere familiarity, but Ku-vastei can’t fathom what.

“As does yours, ‘lighter of the Twin Lamps.’ I hope we can work together to free Telvanni, and hopefully one day all of Morrowind, of the curse of slavery.”

“We’ll see, muthsera,” says Ilmeni, before turning to Aryon. Strange. That same hidden meaning. Oh well, Ku-vastei figures. I’ll discover it eventually. “And you are, muthsera?”

Aryon extends a soft, gloved hand. “Master Aryon of House Telvanni, oftentime companion to Ku-vastei. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Dren.”

“Oh, dispose of the pleasantries, would you?” Ilmeni smiles warmly, taking Aryon’s hand. “Nobody’s called me ‘Lady’ Dren in years. You can just call me Ilmeni.” She flashes a glance at Ku-vastei. “Or beeko, if it suits you.”

“Not so fast,” says Ku-vastei, returning a wry smile as she leans heavily on the Spear of Bitter Mercy. But hearing the Jel word disarms her slightly. She doesn’t feel the need to be quite so reticent around this particular Hlaalu.

“I understand not all is well in House Telvanni,” Ilmeni observes, taking a careful step back to lean against the wall of the tower.

“Yes. Why I’ve summoned you,” Ku says. “Not only has someone purchased slaves, but someone has been selling them, too.”

“Have you any suspects?”

“The buyer has been identified, and dealt with.”

“Dealt with?” Ilmeni narrows her eyes and crosses her arms. When Ku first met her, she wore commoner’s clothes, but she seems to have elected to dress for the occasion of meeting the head of a House, wearing a spotless blue robe.

“She’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking,” chimes in Aryon before Ku can react. “She’ll be freeing the slaves soon, if she hasn’t already.” Aryon seems to understand the mystery behind Ilmeni’s attitude whereas Ku-vastei does not. She’ll have to ask him about it if they get a spare moment, away from the Hlaalu.

Ilmeni sighs. “And the sellers?”

“Someone in Tel Aruhn,” Ku-vastei grumbles. “The old slavemistress is dead, as are her compatriots. So we’re not sure.”

“Dead?” Ilmeni asks.

“Yes. I killed them.” Suddenly, it dawns on Ku-vastei, and she smiles wickedly wide, her reptilian face almost snarling. “Is that a problem?”

Ilmeni looks down and shifts awkwardly from foot to foot. “That is the way of the Telvanni,” she says, then, under her breath, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“It is our way,” Ku says, not hearing quite what Ilmeni said but guessing the meaning, “and we’ll be sticking with it, for now. Just think of it like the Tong.”

Ilmeni looks up glumly. “I still don’t approve of the Camonna, no matter how reformed it may be under our new Grandmaster.”

“I meant the Morag,” says Ku-vastei. “I am Grandmaster of that order, after all. I know about honorable killing.”

Ilmeni gasps. “I thought Eno Hlaalu was Grandmaster?”

“Eno retired.”

Ilmeni steps forward. “Do you mean you -”

“No.” Ku raises a hand to stop the Dren’s advance. “He retired.”

“Oh.”

Aryon pinches the bridge of his nose. This is going to be a long day.

-

They teleport into Wolverine Hall’s courtyard with a crack as the air makes way for their presence. Aryon and Ku stomach it well, but Ilmeni wavers for a moment, then politely asks for a bucket. A nearby guard politely obliges. Aryon and Ku politely ignore her retching.

They walk slowly through Sadrith Mora, Ilmeni gawking at the mushroom homes, and at great Tel Naga. Some of the town’s residents give reverent bows to Ku-vastei, while others hide behind doors. As they pass near the Gateway Inn, they overhear an argument coming from the adjacent marketplace:

“I need these potions now!” exclaims a Dunmer, a mainlander from his lack of the coarse Vvardenfell accent. 

Elegal, a Bosmeri trader Ku-vastei recognizes from her time spent in the city, smiles patiently and plants his hands on his table, his shoulders tightly bunched together. “Sera, I simply do not have any. You should have planned ahead.”

“But…I must have this potion! I have to see Master Neloth!” the Dunmer repeats, gesticulating wildly, exasperated.

“You could try the alchemist. Or apothecary. Or healer.” Elegal steps from behind his table and walks around to his irate customer. “I’ll even show you to one of them, if you’re lost.”

The mainlander quickly steps towards Elegal, shouting louder. “They won’t deal with me! Without your damn ‘Hospitality Papers’ that your Thrice-damned ‘Prefect’ won’t give me!”

Elegal smiles thinly. “Perhaps old Angaredhel doesn’t think you worthy of our hospitality,” he says, looking up at the Dunmer.

“You n’wah!” The Dunmer winds up his arm to sock Elegal in the face -

But something catches his wrist. A scaled hand firmly wraps itself around his cuff, keeping him from landing his blow.

“Oh,” he yells, spinning around, “and who is this animal laying hands on me - Oh.” He stops when he sees Ku-vastei, in her robes of Archmagister station, still holding onto his wrist. “Oh, by the Three.” He sways for a moment before his legs give way and he falls to his knees. “Please forgive me, Archmagister, I had no idea - I never meant to cause any trouble, I just needed to…” He stops his pleading, closes his eyes, and awaits his judgment, his hand still caught by Ku-vastei.

But something is gently placed into it, and his fingers pushed to wrap around it. He opens his teary eyes and looks blurrily up at Ku-vastei. “Archmagister?”

“Rising Force potion. Made it myself,” she says. “Apologize to this man, and then go do your business with Neloth.”

The Dunmer swears by every saint he can remember, thanking Ku-vastei and apologizing profusely to Elegal. Then he awkwardly walks away towards Tel Naga.

Aryon smiles, but Ilmeni wrinkles her face. “Not quite the Archmagister - nor Hortator - I’d heard tales of,” she whispers to him.

“She can be a gracious leader when she wants to be,” Aryon replies. “What kind did you expect?”

“I expect,” she said, quickly finishing her thought before Ku-vastei returns, “that we will find out today.”

-

Ku-vastei, Aryon, and Ilmeni pass through the circular gate at the Gateway Inn and proceed to the docks, where they charter a ship to cross the clear blue waters to Tel Aruhn. When they arrive, they are greeted warmly by Magister Endase Avel and a small entourage of her subjects, come to see the Archmagister of House Telvanni.

“Welcome, muthsera!” exclaims Endase, her yellow, red, and golden robes exquisite in the bright sun of the Zafirbel Bay. “It is a pleasure to have you here at Tel Aruhn, Archmagister Ku-vastei.” She spreads her arms wide with entreaty, then reaches out a hand. “To what do I owe the honor of this visit?”

Ku-vastei says nothing, but glowers at the new Magister. Aryon picks up the slack: “We’re here for an inspection, Endase. To ensure that this tower is complying with the ban.”

Endase smiles. “Yes, yes, of course, Aryon. And you are?” She gestures vaguely towards Ilmeni. 

Ilmeni opens her mouth to speak, but she stops after Ku-vastei shakes her head. So she simply says, “An associate of the Archmagister’s.”

Endase tilts her head curiously, but doesn’t prod further. “Very well.” She points in the direction the former site of the slave market. “I shall lead the way. You may inspect the underground, as well. I assure you everything is very above-board here at Tel Aruhn.”

As soon as Endase turns her back, Ilmeni wrinkles her face and leans in to Ku-vastei’s ear. “Don’t trust her. She’s a snake.”

Ku laughs quietly. “How would you know?”

“Plenty of people like that in House Hlaalu. Not hard to spot if you know what to look for.”

-

The inspection is spotless. No signs of slaver activity, not a single bracer to be found. There are even some Argonians and Khajiit in the honest employ of the tower. Ku-vastei seems satisfied. Aryon wears a patient smile throughout. But Ilmeni keeps her arms loosely crossed the entire time.

When all is said and done, Endase asks, “Could I trouble you with tea? You must be dehydrated after your long journey.”

Ku-vastei almost accepts the offer, but a subtle glance from Aryon persuades her not to. “No thank you,” she replies. “I have other business I must attend to here. Privately,” she quickly adds.

“Of course,” says Endase, whose painted face is marred by a slight frown. “Don’t let me keep you.” Then she casts a spell, and flies to her tower. The crowd disperses somewhat.

Ku-vastei turns towards her companions. “Well?”

Aryon says nothing, and turns towards Ilmeni. She shakes her head. “It must be offsite somewhere.” She looks around, as though she’d be able to see a hidden slave market at a glance. “Ask some of the locals. Especially the beastfolk. They might be more open to answering your questions.”

Ku-vastei’s eyes scan the scattering throng. Tel Aruhn is a diverse place, home to many different peoples, but few beyond tower-servants seem to be beastfolk. But she catches a pair of eyes unmoving, making direct eye-contact. Slitted eyes. She begins to push her way through the bodies, making her way to them.

She finds a smiling Khajiit, tiger-striped and -maned, his arms wide open. “Ah, yes, S’Bakha has been expecting you,” he purrs.

“Expecting me?” Ku-vastei does not yet take up his offer of a hug.

“Well, this one knows exactly what you are here for. It is not difficult to guess. S’Bakha was a slave once, you know. S’Bakha worked hard all the time, and for what? Nothing at all. So now that S’Bakha has dropped his bracer, he rests. He lays around and lounges until his belly rumbles, and then he finds a tasty fish to eat out of these bountiful waters. It is good to be lazy, S’Bakha thinks.” 

(These waters are far from bountiful, Ku-vastei mentally notes, being filled with mostly-inedible slaughterfish, but allows the Khajiit to tell his lie as he sees fit.) 

“That is good to hear,” says Ku-vastei when S’Bakha takes a moment to breathe, smiling. “But please get to the point.”

“Of course, Ku-vastei,” S’Bakha grants, dipping into a brief bow. “The point is that while laying around all day, people forget S’Bakha is there. Or they think him asleep. And they speak as if he is not there. Many secrets they speak, and S’Bakha hears them all.”

“And pray tell, what secret do you have for us,” Aryon asks, “and what will it cost us?”

S’Bakha turns to the newly arrived Aryon, and shakes his head furiously. “Wise you are, elf, to question S’Bakha’s motives. But S’Bakha asks nothing in return for his generous offer of help.”

He pauses for a moment, and Ku-vastei is about to prompt him again when he continues, leaning in to whisper: “S’Bakha’s secret for you is this. They are kept and sold at a place they call Nammu along the mainland coast to the west of here. Tell none S’Bakha sent you, or he will surely be killed.”

Ku-vastei rubs her chin in contemplation, her tail swishing leisurely from side to side, brushing against Aryon and Ilmeni’s ankles. “Oh,” she begins after some time, “I don’t think that will be a problem. Because you’re coming with us.”

“Eh?” S’Bakha spits, his fur pricking up and his own tail setting straight. “You know S’Bakha can’t swim like you Argonians, right? Not even like a dark elf. Not very…smooth.”

“Oh, that won’t be an issue,” Ku-vastei says with a wicked smile.

-

S’Bakha had expected she meant they’d be taking a boat. Instead they walk on the water like sainted thaumaturges, and S’Bakha takes each step tenderly, like each one might fall through the taut surface of the sea. But Ku-vastei and Aryon, confident in their spellwork, stride across like it was a well-worn road. Even Ilmeni has played with water-walking potions in her youth, and is accustomed to the feeling. 

S’Bakha begins to wish he’d kept his mouth shut.

They stop at a couple of islands along the way to renew their spells and rest, taking shade against the midday sun under Emperor Parasols. S’Bakha frets with his tail, at times cradling it like a newborn. 

“Worried, S’Bakha?” asks Ku-vastei, watching him intently.

“Yes, actually,” answers S’Bakha. “S’Bakha imagines it is quite difficult to laze about with his guts scattered around him.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone who might come after you will be taken care of,” Ku-vastei says, while Ilmeni frowns at this phrasing, “before day’s end.” 

“That is,” Ilmeni adds, “assuming you’ve told us the truth.”

Ku-vastei glances wearily at Ilmeni. “I’m sure he has, of course.” Her eyes glide over to meet S’Bakha’s, who shies away from the contact. “Haven’t you, S’Bakha?”

“Of course,” S’Bakha quavers. But he remains silent the rest of the way.

-

They come to the mainland coast just as their most recent spells wear off, and S’Bakha says, “Here.” 

“Here” is a small pool of water, disconnected from the sea, interspersed with large stones breaking the surface. There is a small cliff on the far side, but its face is sheer. There is no apparent entrance.

“S’Bakha,” Ku-vastei says, “What are we looking for?”

“S’Bakha doesn’t know,” he says. “It should be here.”

“Well, it’s not.” Ku grips her spear tightly in her claws.

Ilmeni stands to the side and looks around. “Hm,” she whispers, and she takes a cautious step towards one of the stones in the pool. Her foot lands firmly on its surface, not sinking at all. So she steps towards the next, and the next, until she finds herself at the cliff face. Ku-vastei is busy arguing with S’Bakha, but Aryon notices Ilmeni’s stunts and places a hand on Ku’s shoulder. She spins around on him, nearly poking him with her spear, but he simply points towards Ilmeni, who is now running her hands along the cliff’s surface, searching for something.

“Is there anything there?” Aryon calls out. “Some button perhaps?”

“Not that I can find,” Ilmeni returns. “But it looks like there should be something here.”

“S’Bakha told you so!” the Khajiit exclaims, earning him a scathing glance from Ku-vastei.

“‘Should’ doesn’t mean that there is, Ilmeni,” Ku notes.

“Perhaps there’s some kind of illusion, or enchantment upon the rocks,” Aryon says. “Endase is a skilled enchantress, after all.”

Ku-vastei tilts her head in acknowledgement, and runs her claws in front of her eyes, leaving behind a pale purple glow which slowly dissipates.

When she can see again, plain as day, she sees a door embedded in the rock.

Ku-vastei treads the stepping stones towards the door, meeting Ilmeni there. She tries the doorknob, but can’t find it. “Yes,” she says, “an enchantment. Not an illusion.” She starts to rummage through her bag.

“Do you have a solution for this in there?” Ilmeni asks. 

“Sometimes,” Ku begins, pulling out various items, “a sloppy enchantment can be undone by a spell similar to soul trapping. I’ve done it once or twice to even the odds in battle against troublesome belts and rings.” Finally she retrieves a soul gem, its azure surface almost completely transparent. “Ah. This should do. You may want to step back.”

Ilmeni complies, stepping out towards the edge of the pool. Ku-vastei first taps the soul gem on the surface of the hidden door, mutters something Daedric, then steps back, soul gem raised in the air; it seems like an incredible effort, like the wall is pulling against her arm. Violet flecks suspended in paler light are ripped from the cliff face and absorbed into the soul gem, revealing piece-by-piece the door hidden beneath, until all is laid bare, and the soul gem glows with a milky lilac light.

“Some enchantress this Endase is,” Ku-vastei snickers.

“So shall we take care of this?” Aryon asks, having crossed himself to the other side of the pool by the door.

“S’Bakha is not going in there,” the Khajiit says, waving his hands in negation. “The leader is a battlemage, called Galmis Dren, who is dark in the craft, and -”

“Galmis?” Ilmeni interrupts. “No, you are not ‘taking care of’ my cousin.” She remembers back to when she heard Orvas was killed by the fledgeling Hortator, and remembers how she imagined what it would be like if it had been her father, instead. 

She steps forward to confront Ku-vastei and repeats, “No, you are not killing Galmis, like you did to his father. You can arrest him, like a civilized person.”

“Your ‘cousin’?” Ku-vastei observes with a smug smile. “Does slavery run in the family, then?”

Ilmeni says nothing, holding her ground as she steps towards Ku-vastei again, only inches between their faces.

 “Ah,” says Aryon. “The late Orvas’ eldest son. A high-ranking member of the Camonna Tong, if memory serves.”

“This killing is the way of your people, Ilmeni,” Ku-vastei says, ignoring Aryon and placing a hand between herself and Ilmeni. “He chose his fate.”

Ilmeni stares furiously into Ku-vastei’s eyes for a long time, but finds no relief. So, her eyes wet from the strain of not blinking, she turns her head away.

“Since you two will be staying behind, we’ll need to make sure you’re well protected,” Ku-vastei says, smiling at her easy victory. “Aryon, your Helper will do the trick.”

Aryon nods and extends his right hand. His glove glows yellow for a moment, and then suddenly, in a cloud of xanthous smoke, a trio of atronachs appear, representing each Daedric element. “Protect Ilmeni and S’Bakha, please,” he asks of the three, who each wordlessly bow to the best of their forms’ ability.

“Do not follow us or try to interfere in any way,” Ku-vastei says as she holds the doorknob, glancing at Ilmeni, “or I’ll kill you too.”

“Ku.” Aryon rests a hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off. “Let’s just get going.”

-

The cavern is dark, dimly lit by the rare sight of a torch ensconced on the stone walls. Ku-vastei takes the lead, Aryon following soon behind. 

Not far down the initial corridor, their footsteps bring attention to them. “Hello?” calls a woman’s voice. “Mistress Endase? Here for your inspection so soon? I thought it wasn’t for another…”

The two delvers reach the bottom of a decline, revealing themselves to the Redguard. She yells something in what Ku vaguely recognizes as Yoku and draws her sword. Ku springs forward, launching herself at her attacker. The Redguard slashes at Ku, but only ends up cutting her robes and clattering against the fine Orcish maille hidden beneath. Her jaw drops in shock at this reckless defense, and Ku uses the opportunity to pierce her throat from between her teeth.

There’s another defender, a Dunmer archer on a raised platform to the right, who seems to have been caught off guard practicing her archery on a stuffed target. She yells something in Yoku, her accent poor even to Ku’s untrained ear, and draws her bow, pointing her arrow at Ku-vastei. But Ku-vastei ducks nimbly to the side and avoids the shot. The Dunmer reaches for another arrow, but can’t find one in her quiver. She runs to the target to retrieve more, but Aryon flings a fireball at her before she makes it halfway there. She stumbles, sways backwards, then falls forward against the practice target.

There’s a bridge from the raised platform that connects to another tunnel on the right, but Ku-vastei is more interested in the tunnel directly ahead of them. “Split up?” she asks Aryon. He nods, and begins climbing the stairs to take on the rightward passage.

Ku-vastei plods forward through the tunnel, quickly meeting another defender. He’s unarmored and armed with only a pitiful dagger, and she’s able to dispatch him with a swift thrust from a distance. She continues on before reaching a massive chamber, with a ceiling so high Ku-vastei can’t see it in the darkness. From the center of a small lake rises a massive pillar, wrapped around with stairs towards a platform near the top. 

“Come and get me,” a voice calls out from the spire, “you n’wah!”

Ku-vastei obliges the request, sprinting to the top of the tower. She’s nearly out of breath when she arrives, and sees a man who can only be Galmis Dren, his face obscured by a Dwemer helm. He’s holding a Khajiit slave by the collar over the edge of the platform. He wags his free finger. “Think long and hard about approaching me, n’wah,” he says, and Ku-vastei can hear the wicked smile calling out from beneath the helmet.

Ku-vastei stops in her tracks for a moment, calculating. 

She marches ahead anyway.

“Bad idea,” Galmis tuts, and lets go of the Khajiit, who falls screaming towards the water below.

Then Ku-vastei runs towards Galmis. He begins to cast some spell, but it misses as Ku-vastei runs past him, and leaps from the ledge into the darkness.

She dives, trying to catch up, but sees the terror on the Khajiit’s face as she plummets and falls beneath the surface of the water. Soon after Ku-vastei breaks the surface herself, and beelines her way to the bottom, where the Khajiit’s slave bracer has weighed her down. She wraps her arms around her frail furry body and starts to kick her way up to the surface.

Once she arrives, she swims over to the platform where she first entered the chamber, and lays the Khajiit on her side, letting her cough up water from her lungs. Finally, the Khajiit finds the energy to speak: “Thank you, muthsera.”

“Are you alright?” asks Ku-vastei.

“Yes, this one will be fine,” she says, before coughing up another bit of water.

Satisfied, Ku-vastei runs back up the tower, but does not find Galmis. She takes the short way back down and swims back to the platform where the Khajiit is. By this time, Aryon has arrived, accompanied by a small gaggle of assorted slaves. 

“Aryon,” she begins, her entire body burning from the running and climbing, “Did you see him leave?”

“No,” Aryon says simply, tending to one of the slaves. “But I could have missed him.”

Then they both look at each other as Ku-vastei says, “Ilmeni.”

They run to the exit of Nammu, the slaves barely able to catch up, the Khajiit who nearly drowned supported by a couple of her fellows. But when they finally get outside, they find S’Bakha, the three atronachs, and Ilmeni, who sits against the cliff face with her hands covering her eyes, unscathed.

“Dammit,” Ku-vastei says. “He must have teleported.”

“Where to?” Ilmeni asks, sounding somewhat relieved as she stands up.

“Wolverine Hall, if he Divine Interventioned. Perhaps Vos if Almsivi.”

“Or,” Aryon notes, “he could have Recalled to a preestablished Mark.”

“We’ll never find him,” Ku-vastei says, banging the butt of her spear on the rock below, startling the slaves. She sighs and scratches her chin. “Did you at least find the key?”

“Yes,” says Aryon. “One of the others had it.” He hands it to Ku-vastei. “I think you should do the honors.”

As Ku-vastei begins to unlock each slave’s bracers, she mentions, “I need to speak with Llethym. He needs to explain why the Camonna Tong are bringing slaves to my House.”

“I suspect I should speak with the Grandmaster as well,” Ilmeni adds.

Aryon nods. “I’ll get in contact with your Mouth, Ku-vastei. He can arrange the meeting.”

-

“Fast” Eddie Theman, Ku-vastei’s Mouth, does indeed arrange an audience with Grandmaster Llethym Hlaarothan of House Hlaalu rather swiftly. After dealing with Endase and getting the tear in her robe mended, Ku-vastei meets him at his office in the Hlaalu Canton of Vivec.

She knocks on the door, and is welcomed in. There are two seats arrayed before a grand desk, behind which sits the Grandmaster. He’s a thin mer, who Ku-vastei knows is capable of a lot of second-story work and assorted illegality, as how else could he have reached his position in the House? Perhaps the Duke Vedam Dren thinks him a noble figure, but even nobles can be deceived. Possibly flattered by Bug Musk, or some enchantment, or simple Illusion magic. None of these are beneath Llethym Hlaarothan’s moral standards.

In House Telvanni, you tend to just kill off anyone who gets in your way. And that suits Ku-vastei just fine.

“Welcome, welcome!” bellows Llethym, startling his other guest, already sitting in one of the seats. She turns to see who has arrived, and -

“Ku-vastei!” Ilmeni Dren shouts, her face wrinkling in displeasure as she turns her head back slightly towards Llethym, but never breaking eye-contact with Ku. “This was supposed to be a private meeting, Grandmaster.”

“Nice to see you, too,” Ku-vastei says, smiling. 

“Well,” says Llethym, smiling sheepishly, “I thought I’d knock two racers out with one stone.”

“I’m ever so glad you took our wishes into consideration,” remarked Ku-vastei.

“Plus,” Llethym adds, “I hear you two aren’t on the best of terms.”

“Says who?” say Ilmeni and Ku as one.

Llethym clasps his fingers over his desk. “I’m not one to reveal sources, of course.”

Curse Eddie, thinks Ku-vastei, and Aryon too.

“Listen,” begs Ilmeni, “I don’t think there will be any sort of ‘reconciliation’ between us. She tried to kill my cousin.”

“Ah. Galmis Dren, of course,” Llethym says, stroking his stubbly goatee, his eyes wandering. “Firstborn of Orvas Dren. And of the late Amiliah Dren. A charming woman,” he says, not elaborating.

“A wicked aunt,” Ilmeni mutters. “And a long dead one too, thank the Three.”

“Listen to you,” notes Ku-vastei, “wishing ill upon the dead.”

“At least I’m not a murderer.”

“You of all people should know what it takes to end slavery. Or were you too soft? What did your ‘Twin Lamps’ ever truly accomplish?”

“Much,” Ilmeni says, rising from her chair. “And it’s enough. Nobody had to die for it.”

“Slaves have had to die for it. And it is never enough, not until every slave is free.” Ku-vastei’s fingers twitch at her sides, tempting magic.

“You would start a war over this, like you did before,” says Ilmeni, her voice rising. “You know the Dres would never give in peacefully. And the Indoril would support their rights. It would be Vvardenfell against the mainland, and you won’t stop until any who oppose you are dead. Even after the terrible losses of the Arnesian War, you would do it all again, just to satisfy your bloodlust.”

Yellow sparks begin to apparate at Ku’s fingertips, her claws wreathed in golden flames. Llethym notices where Ilmeni does not, and says, “Now, now. Let’s be civilized here. Enough quarreling.”

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash on the door behind Ku-vastei. Then another, and a shout. Ku-vastei wisely takes a few steps back. Then another bang, and the door comes flying towards Ku-vastei, who catches it impaled on a summoned spear, catching on its kagouti-wings.

Behind that door is Galmis Dren, eschewing his usual robes for full battle armor, his full helm for his indignant face, and his axe for hands full of furious fire. Ku-vastei slides the door off her bound weapon so that she can see. “You again,” she says with a dramatic sigh. But her eyes are alight, and her entire body taut with energy. She jumps forward to strike, but even her conjured Daedric spear can’t penetrate his dense armor, scraping harmlessly to the side. 

Galmis smirks. “You ruined my entire operation, n’wah,” he says, raising his flaming hands for the assault, “and you killed my father. And now, you die.”

Ku-vastei wishes she’d kept the door. She reaches out a hand with a ward, but she’s never been much good at Alteration. It’s a feeble aegis, and as soon as the blaze hits its violet surface, it begins to show cracks. She pours all of her remaining magicka into the shield, but it’s not enough. It explodes into a thousand scintillating shards, and the force of the blast pushes her back onto the floor, unconscious, sending her spear flying across the room.

Galmis steps forward, standing over Ku’s disarmed form, and prepares to land the coup de grace -

“Wait!” Ilmeni cries, reaching out towards Galmis. But to her surprise, Llethym is already up and standing next to him, placing his hand on Galmis’s Dwemeri pauldron.

“Son,” he says, “that’s enough.”

“Who are you calling son, ‘Grandmaster’?” Galmis tries to wedge a hand between him and Llethym, but seems to struggle in the armor. “I have no father. Not anymore.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Galmis,” says Llethym, his angular face turned unusually soft. “I’m sure you’re aware of the old rumors. That your mother Amiliah wasn’t always faithful to your father.”

“Lies,” Galmis says, still focused intently on Ku-vastei. “Nothing more.”

“They weren’t. You see, long ago, but not long before you were born, I met a charming woman. She didn’t call herself Amiliah Dren, but I knew -”

“Shut up!” Galmis cries. “This isn’t about you.”

“- I knew that she was Orvas Dren’s wife. Our love was brief, yet long enough to -”

Galmis turns towards Llethym’s masterfully paternal visage. “That’s not possible,” he says, his face contorted in rage and grief. “I know who my father is.”

“Did you never wonder why he hated you so? Why he treated you as least among his children, even though you were firstborn?”

Gears turn behind Galmis’s eyes, and his expression softens somewhat. “That’s not…no. I refuse to believe this!”

“Believe it or not,” Llethym says, placing a delicate hand on Galmis’s face, “you are my son. Have you never looked at yourself? How little you favor your ‘father’?”

Ilmeni, so enraptured by the scene playing out before her, notices something minute that few others would have. She notices a gesture behind Llethym’s back, a half-closed hand and then a pointing. Old Hlaalu sign-speak. Her father had taught her as a child. She closes her eyes, contemplating what he was asking her to do. But then she glances at Ku-vastei, lying on the ground unconscious, and knows she has to.

She slowly raises her right hand towards Galmis’s face, and lets loose a gout of bright blue flame.

He screams immediately, pulling back from Llethym and clutching his incinerated face. He starts to cast wildly, blindly, charring the walls and ceiling, but misses Ilmeni and Llethym entirely. His screaming slowly fades into pained croaking as he collapses to the ground, writhing in agony as he chokes on the smoke of his own flesh. Finally, silence falls, and all that remains of his face is a blackened skull, smoldering azure.

Llethym attends to Ku-vastei, helping her to stand as Ilmeni falls to her knees. She feels wetness on her face, and reaches up with her hand to discover her eyes as the source. Llethym explains to a shell-shocked Ku what had just happened, and Ku thanks the two of them for saving her life. But Ilmeni doesn’t reply, staring into the far distance over her shoulder and trying very hard not to look at Galmis.

Llethym approaches her, kneels beside her, and places a hand on her shoulder. “You did the right thing, Ilmeni,” he soothes. “He was going to kill Ku-vastei, and probably you and I, if you didn’t intervene.”

“I didn’t know you knew magic,” Ku-vastei says, keeping her distance.

“My family is blessed by Azura,” Ilmeni says. “Skips a generation. Landed on mine. And his.” She glances towards Galmis, but quickly averts her eyes and looks up at Llethym. “How did you know?”

“I wasn’t lying to Galmis,” Llethym says. “I am the boy’s father. So I know a thing or two about the Drens.”

“Don’t you feel any remorse at all?” she asks, incredulous. “You just had me kill your son.”

“I never knew him as my son,” Llethym says simply. “Why should I have some special attachment to him?”

Ilmeni looks at Ku-vastei, who shrugs. “You’re both the same,” she says, “aren’t you? Or is that kind of callousness just what it takes to lead?”

“In a sense,” Ku answers.

“But we still care for the people we serve,” Llethym adds. “Enough even to kill for them.”

Ilmeni shakes her head, but begins to understand anyway, and wishes she didn’t.

“Ku-vastei,” says Llethym, “if you please. Tell an Ordinator there’s been an incident in my office, and that we have a corpse that needs removing.” Ku-vastei nods and leaves the room. The Grandmaster returns to his seat at his desk, and sips his tea. “Stinks to high-heaven in here.”

#tes #tesblr #oc: ku-vastei #oc: hlaalu llethym hlaarothan #my writing #telvanni #hlaalu #ilmeni dren #master aryon #i doubt any of these other characters have populated tags lol #even those are a crap shoot #morrowind #argonian #dunmer #khajiit

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 59 - apple cutting

So about the episode title: I know a recluse is someone who lives a solitary life, but there is also a genus of spiders out there which is called recluse (for example, the brown recluse, probably the most famous one of those).

"I’d do things without actually deciding to do them. Like it was just muscle memory moving me, or a string gently guiding me." - <.<

"It was never bad or dangerous stuff, just… things I wouldn’t normally have done, like brushing my teeth." - Good guy Web.

"It felt like if you picked a line, any line, you could follow it through to the center, to some deep truth, if only your eye could keep track of the strands that had caught it." - This kind of sounds like the way Jon later describes the Web in S5, when he tries to See its plan.

This is actually only the second time the table itself makes an appearance in a statement. The box without the table was in MAG 8, but all the other times were within the Archives, it being delivered and talked about, OG!Sasha in Artefact Storage, Not!Sasha and Jon in Artefact Storage.

"Agnes came to the house two months before my birthday, in the middle of winter. Ray had never mentioned her, never held one of his little meetings to introduce her. She was just suddenly in the house one day, and no one really thought to question it." - Haha, just like Dawn suddenly being dropped as Buffy's younger teenage sister. There's most likely a lore reason for that in TMA as well, especially in a stronghold of the Web.

"Then, without warning, I wasn’t waiting anymore. I had turned around, put down my suitcase, and started walking back toward Raymond Fielding’s house. I didn’t want to go back." - Oh god, something like this happened to me once. It was some kind of sleepwalking. I could see everything I did through my eyes, just like normal, but had no control over my body. I stood up, out of bed and my room and down the stairs in complete darkness. I didn't want to, everything in me was like "oh no pls, I don't want to go downstairs". When I reached the end of the stairs I finally regained control and fled back into my room.

"Their bodies seemed warped and bloated in a way I didn’t recognize. But that’s only because at that point in my life, I had never before seen a spider egg sac." - Ha, like in Steven King's The Mist.

"Inside was an apple, green and fresh and still wet with morning dew. I knew I was going to eat it" - So that's how the Web fills people with spiders? Ivo Lensik in MAG 8 also found such an apple in that box and out came spiders.

"All at once, my cheek erupted in pain. It was like someone had pressed a hot branding iron into my face, and I could swear that I heard the flesh sizzle as I let out a scream and fell to my knees." - Thanks Agnes. Is this the first time we hear about the Desolation directly defeating the Web?

"I had willed it myself, and whatever power had been gripping me, tugging me into its web" - <.<

"But now they’re building there. They’re breaking ground that should be left burned and empty. And I’ve started to dream again." - God, I love this…

"Between Ronald Sinclair, Ivo Lensik, and Father Burroughs, it appears there’s still much to learn about Hill Top Road." - Well, there indeed is!

"Supplemental. Everyone’s avoiding me." - He sounds so sad :(

"They share furtive glances when they think I’m not looking. I don’t like it. I feel like they’re planning something." Oh boy, they ARE planning SOMETHING^^

Oh man that sleep walking experience sounds terrifying I hope you're okay 😳

Also hfjdjsmjdk I'm so happy I'm not the only one who noticed the web taking a break from its nefarious plans to force kids to... Brush their teeth. Somehow that's so funny to me.

Perhaps teeth are important to the web when it sends the spider filled victims out to the world to do its bidding when they need to seem friendly...

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #mag 59 #lycanlovingvampyre

[ao3feed-nace]

The Mystery of the Misdelivered Dinner

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/KpP1hyt by troubledpancakes Ace had been living in Nick's building long enough that 206 had been the only 206 when he'd moved in. But when Nick decided to do a little "renovation" three years ago, 206 became 206A and 206B and now he shared the little cul-de-sac of a hallway with a fiery redhead who's name he only knows because of their mail slots in the lobby. He'd gotten a few of her junk mail inserts in his box, and the occasional Columbia Alumni Association letter that he could easily just shove into the correct slot—but misdelivered food was an entirely different ballgame. The first time it happened, it was Chinese—entirely too much Chinese food for someone with that girl's stature, but who was he to judge how many egg rolls a woman needed at 11 PM on a Wednesday?   Nancy & Ace are neighbors. Words: 5183, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Nancy Drew (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M Relationships: Ace/Nancy Drew Additional Tags: Neighbors, AU read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/KpP1hyt

#nace fanfiction #nace #nancy drew cw

[isamajor]

Whumpril 2023 - days 11 to 15

11 -  Nightmares

He was paralyzed. Lying on the ground, unable to move, among egg sacs and corpses wrapped in spiderwebs. The big frostbite spider began to crawl on his body, and Nebarra felt its legs on him and even trying to remove his helmet. Then, the spider began to talk.

« I've been looking for you. Got something I'm supposed to deliver - your hands only. »

Somehow, the Altmer could once again move and he tried to run away from the courier-spider but the latter would catch him up.

Nebarra woke up, shaking and panting, curled into a ball into his bedroll. It was a nightmare. (105)

12 – Friendly fire

Lucien was becoming a very powerful mage. It was fearsome to see the young man, with his big blue eyes and his friendly face, being able to unleash a complete inferno on ennemies threatening his or his friends' lives. But, alas, he was often as clumsy he was powerful. And sometimes, his friends who were too close to an enemy would suffer of his spells. Inigo would roar in pain his tail was on fire, his fur was singed or his whiskers burned. Kaidan would groan that's why he hates mages, unable to control their magic. (97)

13 – « I think I need to sit down »

These dwemer ruins were bigger and deeper than they expected. She wanted so bad to explore them ! To discover new things, and perhaps build a more complex automaton with the Dwemer's knowledge she would perhaps found here ! But for an instant Remiel forgot the deadly traps of these ruins. She had been hit by a spinning blade. Her vision went blurry. She only could see the red smeared on her palms.

« I... I think I need to sit down ? » she muttered,

« Remiel is bleeding out ! We need to help her. Quick! » shouted Xelzaz, catching the Breton before she collapse. (100)

14 – « I said I'm fine »

« Steady on there, Kaidan. You've lost a bit of blood. »

Kaidan sighed, a little annoyed, replying to Lucien he was fine. The cut wasn't that deep, even if the blood smeared on his whole leg. He knew Lucien was just worried about him. He always was. About everyone. As if the team wasn't worried for this milkdrinker, so fragile and clumsy. The Imperial brandished a health potion in front of his face.

« I said I 'm fine. »

Kaidan's voice was a bit harsher this time. It wasn't the first his first wound. He would get through it. (102)

15 – Flinching

He hated caves. The sounds echoed distortled on the wet walls of the cavern. Gripping his sword with his two hands, Telmiltarion moved forward carefuly.

« I... I heard footsteps. » whispered the Mer to the others. Maybe was it the sound of his own footsteps he had heard ? A rock rolled next to him and the tall man flinched and whined.

« Ahh... just... just getting jumpy I guess... », he apologized, while he had felt his heart almost jumping out his chest. He hated caves. He always had bad feelings inside and wasn't numb to the feelings urging him to leave this place. (102)

#whumpril2023 #skyrim #skyrim custom followers #whumprilday11 #whumprilday12 #whumprilday13 #whumprilday14 #whumprilday15 #nebarra #lucien flavius #remiel #xelzaz #kaidan #telmiltarion #nightmare #arachnophobia #injuries #blood #nightmares #friendly fire #i think i need to sit down #i said i'm fine #flinching #blood loss

[xinambercladx]

"Oil Fashioned Love Note"

@sinisterexaggerator passed this writing request to me, saying I should write it since Duros' oil sacs and their romantic purpose being my headcanon. So I obliged, and this was way too fun for me, tbh. Enjoy Part 1! ------------------------------------- Chapter 1: Lovesick Duros (part 1)

Cailom Macaim was a young Duros bachelor who grew up on a star ship. His parents were travelers of the stars, and even when his mother laid her fertilized egg, they refused to settle on the orbital cities to raise their little grub. He was a man in his own right now, and the ship that was his home began to feel claustrophobic. It became clear to him it was time to leave the nest and strike out on his own.

His parents had taught him everything he needed to know for space travel, business skills, and communication with various species. His father grasped his hands tightly and gave an encouraging shake. His mother gifted him a sack with carefully packaged goodbye treats. Spiced clot cakes, his favorite. He breathed deeply one last time the recycled air he knew so well, then he stepped out on the sandy beaches of an alien world. He was certain he’d be fine.

This small port town on Mon Cala was nothing special. But the cold pouring rain, the salty smell of the sea, and the roar of crashing waves made an impression he’d never forget. Cailom didn’t shiver. The spray and rain threatened him, but the space suit was immune to the water and kept him dry and warm.

The locals were so unlike him. Mon Calamari had large eyes and bulbous heads with claw like hands. Quarren were squid-like with tiny mouths, but somehow seemed more… frightening. Perhaps it was their small, suspicious eyes. Cailom’s skin was as blue as the sea, while these people were as uncolorful as the sandy floor. These uncolorful folk weren’t so bad. As the months went by he found sailors willing to take him under their wing, teaching him the art of sailing and fishing. The high sea rocked and swelled, and his spirit was filled with adventure every day.

Yet a part of him was empty. Some days he would breathe the salty air and feel invigorated, only later to huff and escape into his bunk, feeling low. Perhaps he was homesick. He had never been on his own before. He had made friends here, began a new life among them.

Something is missing, he thought.

He peered at a hologram of his parents. They smiled with their fangs unbarred, pleasantly, and held each other as couples do. His heart ached. He turned over and had one last thought before falling asleep, Time to go. He found what he was looking for many months and many planets later, winding up on Jedha. He didn’t know it, but he had been restlessly searching not for freedom, but for her.

Cailom stopped in his tracks. He held his breathe, as if it would be a wind that would blow away what he hoped was not an illusion. In the heart of Ni Jedha was a market, and holding a wicker basket filled with fresh vegetables was a young Duros woman. Her eyes were a delicate crimson, almost pink, and her microscales was a lovely purple. It was a full week before he gained the courage to speak to her.

She noticed him when he approached the stall adjacent to the one where she stood. It was the closest he had dared. It was now or never. He took in a deep breath and turned to say hello. She had turned her head, already looking at him, swinging her basket playfully. She lifted a delicate long fingered hand and blew him a kiss. The shock nearly sent him reeling. He gulped. It was definitely now or never. He walked up to her and smiled.

“I was beginnin’ to lose hope you’d ever say hello, Traveler,” she teased. “I thought you’d jump behin’ the black melons again when I blew dat kiss atcha.”

“I have it right here. It fluttered over like a butterfly,” he said, raising his hand holding nothing but an air-blown kiss. “I’m Cailom Macaim. I’d love to hear your name?”

“Zani,” she said, peering up at him with those big rose petal eyes. “Zani Lam.”

They spent that afternoon together dodging the bustling crowds, and learning about eachother. She was a daughter of immigrants from New Teyana. She had the distinct spacer accent, but he found it charming. It was another week before he asked her out on a date. They hit it off far better than he had hoped. Her walk had a sway to it, with her hips begging for his hand to rest on the side.

It was another week before he had the courage to rest his hand there while they walked through the market together. She let him. Cailom couldn’t believe this beautiful woman was by his side. He couldn’t take his eyes away from her. He had dated many girls before, most of which were either human or other common spacer alien species. Non had enraptured him like this. His favorite thing about Zani was her laugh. He would crack a joke just to hear it, but also to see how she’d raise her long fingers to shield her fangs from view. For having lived in a space ghetto, she was incredibly modest and shy.

One night when he walked her home, he held her hand tightly. She hugged his arm, and although Duros females lacked bosoms, she pressed her ribcage against his elbow. It was terribly distracting. He took it as a signal that she might actually like him. When they reached her front door, there was a tension in the air.

There was hope in her eyes, and he noticed they flitted to his mouth for the third time that night, and for the third time, she’d look away as if she were a child having been caught stealing a piece of candy. He didn’t miss it the fourth time, barely a minute later. He reached to catch hold of her cheek before she could look away and gently held her there.

He leaned his head down, touching his rostrum to hers. Then he kissed her, gently, sweetly. He parted lips for a breath, but she pulled him back, tugging on his space suit collar. He rattled gently, and she replied with her own, a slightly higher pitch.

What a cute rattle, he couldn’t help but think, daring to deepen the kiss. ------------------------------------------------------------ "Oil Fashioned Love Note" on Tumblr: Chapter 1: Part 2 ------------------------------------------------------------ Original Oil Sac Headcanon Post w/Cad Bane on Vacay <-click

xInAmberCladx's Fanart Archive <-click

#Duros #duros culture #romantic practices #duros biology #oil sacs #writing prompt #MaleOCxFemaleOC #star wars #duro #new teyana #traveller #Cailom Macaim #Zani Lam #rogue one #jedha #jedha city #fanfiction #alien romance #two blueberries falling in love!

[ghoodles]

Spidersona!!

More info below!

- Bitten by a genetically modified spider, not radioactive. It wasnt exposed to any radiation, its cells were just altered while it was being developed in the egg sac

- Southern as hell!! [Thats a constant in all their varients, no matter where they are they are southern]

- She didnt want to be Arachne, while testing out their powers for the first time he got involved in a mugging and it all escalated from there.

- Oscorp /neg

- Wanted to go into alchemy and coding before he got bit

- Has the comics and stuff in their universe, but no actual Spider-Man, up until now

- Their canon event was their house burning down and them being presumed dead. The ring on their casual outfit is from her mom. Everyone is still alive and well, he just.. cant talk to them anymore, at least its.. not the same.

- Organic webbing in legs. How did she find out? He tried to see if he had organic webs, didnt, fell, tried it again, and bam, leg webs.

- Because of being upside-down a lot, they get nauseous easily while being Arachne, and usually keeps medicine to stop it

- They also cannot handle too much heat, so most of their suit is made out an easily breathable material that allows them to cool off

- Multiple earth varients!!

423-A is this one, 423-B is a stocker in a grocery store who accidentally became an anomalous spiderman due to The Spot chucking them into another universe, and 423-C, who was an alchemax intern until she got involved with The Spot and the collider her version of Doc-Ock, Octavia, built. They then sort of ended up becoming like him.

- She views Noir as a father figure, sometimes it slips out but he always covers it up

- Had intrusive thoughts before the bite, got a bit more frequent afterwards

- There is actually a lot of varients of Sparrow in earth-90214 (noir world) and their varients

- Also in earth-138 (hobie's world)

- Neither of them are spider-people though

- Actually scared of animals if they dont know them well. Doesnt matter if its a small bunny, they're terrified

- Doesn't like the momentum of swinging, but it got them to his city quickly, and they cant drive, so..

- Lived in a suburban area about 15 minutes away from their actual city

- Light sensitivity, also has horrible depth perception when hiding their extra eyes

- It took them forever to find a good mask idea

- Was invited to the Society a couple of days after his canon event, which happened a couple of weeks after being Arachne

- Was given webshooters by Peter to try and make webslinging easier

- Also goes by Cherry! (My mom called me this as a joke after i dyed my hair and the name actually kinda stuck..)

- Misses their cats dearly. They know its him, but he cant be there for them.

- Essentially just myself but if i was spider-man

- Doesnt exactly have a living space after their event, considering that theyre 15 and unable to get an apartment due to that fact

- Mostly just chills in the society in the nights because of that

- Stays up till ungodly hours just writing or thinking

- Terrifed of Miguel. Like, genuinely fucking terrifed.

- Doesnt do well with loud noises, especially yelling, at all. Would have their headphones on them at all times, but they burned.

- Gets headaches when things get too loud or stressful

- These headaches can turn into migranes, and on those days she just lays in the society all day and tries to keep themselves still so it can be bearable

- List of flags!

1- Lesbian

2- Asexual

3- Queerplatonic! On the Aromantic spectrum, she wants to do romantic things, but with her friends!

4- Genderfluid

- I didnt add the flag but yes, this means that he is on the Aro/Ace SPECTRUM, he, like myself, can still feel romantic attraction (i think)

- Clumsy swinger with his legs, it can never get the hang of it

#spidersona #im normal guys #cause we love spiderman #atsv #across the spiderverse #Sparrow 'PS' Wilson

[two-wheeled-therapy]

FINAL RIDES OF 2022

As I took the week between Christmas and New Year’s Eve off, I had some time to dedicate to my scoots.  Thursday, December 29, I set aside to work on the SAC Cycle.  The clutch had been finicky lately, and it wasn’t holding fluids, though no apparent leak could be found.  I planned on putting her up on the jack and trying to find the culprit.  I hadn’t ridden her yet this month, so I was looking at a “cheat” ride - basically filling up the master cylinder with fluid, pumping the clutch till I got some action, and taking her for a quick 1.5 mile ride around the block before putting her on the jack.  Before doing that, I opted to check all connections and tighten everything down.  I was surprised when I took off the cover of the master cylinder, she still had fluid . . . I topped it off, and tried the clutch . . . it had action . . . As it was a beautiful day, I figured I would go for a quick 10 mile spin around the Manassas Battle Fields and focus on the clutch feel to see if it acted up again.  As the miles ticked away, the clutch felt rock solid . . . so I kept on riding.  All told, I put an additional 69 miles on the SAC cycle and brought her odometer up to 109,100 to close out the year.  All told, over the course of  22 rides, I put 3,528 miles on her in 2022 averaging 160 miles per day I took her out.

December 30 was a planned ride day for Jipci.  The forecast called for a great riding day, and it didn’t disappoint. 

Knowing this would be my final ride of 2022, I got up early (for a guy who has been off all week).  I realized I left my riding pants in the back of my truck, so running out in the near freezing cold, I grabbed them so I could drape them on a chair over an air vent, so when the heat kicked on, the warm air would blow on them.  As I knew I had a long day ahead of me, I made a simple but hearty breakfast - what in my family we call a Hunter's Sandwich - Because I grew up eating them while going hunting with my dad.  The simple concoction of a fried egg, ham, cheese, with a slice of raw Bermuda onion, some ketchup, and a shake of hot sauce on Dave's hearty multi grain bread was exactly what I needed to go with my morning coffee and get the day started out right.  I made one f or me and one for my son. After wolfing that down, I got my gear together and put on my now warmed up riding pants and boots.  With my helmet, battery chargers, and Hydro flasks (one with coffee, one with water), and a few "just in case" snacks, I jumped in my truck and headed off to my shed where Jipci was waiting for me.

Getting to the shed, Jipci started right up. Since I installed the Fuel X controller, she has none of the historic Himalayan hard cold starts or stalling after she got started - She was as ready for this as I was. With 4,029 miles on the odometer and the thermometer saying it was 36 degrees outside, we were off on our final ride of 2022.  The original plan I had was to head over and pick up some of Skyline Drive.  I have had Jipci now for 14 months and have yet to experience the vistas and views from her saddle . . .  Needing to change my glasses, and since I forgot to start my route in Rever, I pulled off in the Moo-Thru at the intersection of Routes 28 and 29 to make my final adjustments and decide what route I was taking.  It had already warmed up a bit in the half hour since I left the shed.  I knew I was in for a fantastic riding day.  One of my destinations was the site of a “Drop” in the Virginia tag-o-rama on advrider forums.  I wanted to get there to get the “Grab” before anyone else grabbed it.  If I got the Grab, I get to pick the next Drop for others to try to get.  But if I was in for such a day, so were other inmates (inmates are what the users of the forums are called - and once you get to know some of them- you will understand why) who were lurking, waiting for such a day to make a run for the elusive "Grab!"   Thinking I would shoot down 29 to 33 and take 33 over to Skyline, then run Skyline down to 250, I figured I could reach the Grab by around 1:30 PM.  I took a quick picture of Jipci at the Moo-Thru and sent it off to a group chat of guys from my Blue Knights Chapter because they know how I am about Ice Cream and Riding, and because it gets under Bob's skin when I do that - OK that was the first reason I sent that.

 As I headed south, I kept marveling at how beautiful this day was.  The forecast had called for Partly sunny skies, but there wasn't a cloud in sight.  As I rode south, the voices started telling me . . .  If it's a nice day for you, it's a nice day for other inmates . . . Someone else is gonna beat you to the Grab . . . Passing a few other riders out enjoying this perfect riding day only made the voices stronger, so to placate them I finally said - Fuck it!  Get the grab first, and hit Skyline on the way back home . . . It made perfect sense. Skyline wasn't going anywhere . . . The Grab could elude me . . . Somehow, I remembered the address . .  1581 Maidens . . . I plugged that into my Garmin and followed her instead of my trial run of Rever.  Having already passed by 522, I took 15 down to 250 then cut east to 522.  As I turned on 522, I knew I was close and I passed a bike heading the opposite way.  As I waved I thought, wait a second was that guy smiling, or laughing at me?  Was that an inmate? Did he just get the Grab and is now running home to post it? Sumofabitch!!! I got to get there!! 522 ran into 6, and it was a quick ride to Maidens Rd.  I made it!  But . . . wait a second . . . The sign doesn't look the same . . .  I pulled in the lot and rode back looking for that purple sign with white lettering, but it was not to be found, so I turned back to the road, parked Jipci and pulled out my phone.

I was surprised I remembered my password - Until today, I had never logged into advrider forums on my phone.  But the Gods were smiling on me as I not only had signal, I actually remembered my password!  Looking at the Drop, I compared what was around the sign to what I was seeing. The fence, the trees, the little white sign in front of it . . .  Yup this is it . . . they just changed the sign . . . I also saw that, if I did pass an inmate heading home to post the Grab, I had beat him!   Clicking my photo and quickly figuring out how to upload it from the phone, I had the Grab!  Success!!!! So 106 miles to the Grab . . . now for the amazing ride home and on to Skyline Drive.  As I was this far south, I figured, why not kill two birds with one stone . . . Let me take 6 west and pick up a bit of the north end of the Blue Ridge Parkway and get Skyline Drive in!   Visualizing where I would put the stickers for the BRP and Skyline on Jipci, I headed west.  I hadn't ridden this stretch of 6 for about 10 years, but it was as great a riding road as I remembered.  Following that for a bit I jumped over to 20 as I thought about trying to find a nice place on the BRP or Skyline for the Drop.  Then something caught my eye . . . I passed by it before I could process the photo opportunity, but as my brain caught up, I decided to turn around and get some pictures.  Not sure if this would be my Drop or not, I wiggled back through some nice roads following the signs . . .  to . . . nothing there - WTF!!! Figuring it may just be a bit further than the signs indicate, and since the roads were nothing short of amazing, I pressed on.  Until I finally decided to enter the destination into my Garmin.   It wiggled me through some more amazing roads and brought me back to the same place of nothing . . . but a little sign I didn't see before . . . I read it and followed the instructions and was there in no time.

I took the pictures at Trump Winery for the same reason I sent Bob and the other guys the picture of the Moo-Thru . . . To get under someone's skin.  Yeah I can be a jerk like that ;-)

After grabbing some pics there, I headed back towards the BRP and Skyline Drive . . . Taking the ramp to them (I was entering right at the Southern Point of Skyline and Northern Point of the BRP), I was confused by all the cars parked . . . everywhere.  Reaching the top of the ramp, I looked north towards the Skyline drive entrance and saw the barricade and sign "ROAD CLOSED"  Shit!  I turned south and found another barricade and sign for the BRP.  Technically, I was on the Parkway and there was a sign . . .   so I grab a pic then tried to decide where to go from there.

I dropped down the west side of the mountains and headed north on 340.  I figured I would take that to 33, take 33 up to Skyline and jump on there for the ride up to 211.  I would get the drop along the way.  With this plan firmly in mind, I headed up and turned into the entrance of Skyline Drive at 33.  There was a a very cute and polite Park Service lady in the booth, and as I started to take out my military ID and park pass, she just pointed to a sign posted on the outside of the booth "SKYLINE DRIVE IS CLOSED".  She said I could come in and park and hike or walk about, but I was out for a ride, so I did a U turn and headed out.  Apparently Skyline Drive was hit hard by the storms and the downed trees and what not led to the closure of both of these magnificent roads.

I took 33 down into Madison and worked my way over to 29 to head home.   My wife and I had a night to ourselves, so I may as well get home and enjoy the time with her.  Along the way I stopped at my "back-up Drop" location.  The Graffiti House in Brandy Station.  Pulling in I took a couple of pics.  I was disappointed that the house was closed for the season, as its history is pretty awesome.  From the web: http://brandystationfoundation.com/

A two-story frame structure located directly beside the railroad tracks, the Graffiti House is believed to have been constructed in 1858. According to local tradition, the building was used as a hospital site by Confederate soldiers following the Battle of Brandy Station and other local battles. Union soldiers used the house during the Winter Encampment of Brandy Station in 1863-1864. The Graffiti House is named for the signatures, inscriptions, and drawings of Civil War soldiers who drew on the walls with charcoal and pencil. Much of the graffiti that still survives is on exhibit in the house.

After those photos, I ran Jipci back to the shed . . . Putting her away for the year, her odometer read 4,346 . . . So on the 30th of December, I got her out for 317 miles.  Ironically, this is the 2nd highest mileage day I had on her all year . . . Over 2022, I had ridden her a total of 2,974 miles over 25 days, averaging 119 miles per day that I took her out for a ride.

As I closed the shed door for the last time in 2022, I reflected that while this was a relatively low year in terms of mileage, it still was a great riding year as I broke new grounds and experienced new things on two wheels . . . all this will be covered in my upcoming year in review . . .  Until then . . .  RIDE ON!

#final ride #kawasaki #Kawasaki Motorcycles #Kawasaki Vulcan #Vulcan #kawasaki vulcan 1700 #vulcan voyager #vulcan 1700 #Voyager #kawasaki voyager #Kawasaki Voyager 1700 #Voyager 1700 #Royal Enfield #Royal Enfield Himalayan #royal enield himalayan #himalayan motorcycle #himalayan #advrider #Adventuremotorcycle.com #advmoto #Blue Ridge Parkway #skyline drive #Trump Vinyard #Graffiti House

[slipscout]

but lets not forget that since Luz had a hard time adjusting her diet to the demon realm food(is it the bile sac? who knows), she ate mostly griffin eggs while she was there.

and then imagine the hexsquad showing up to Camille’s doorstep, her feeding them food and them just absolutely ruining their stomachs because they’re not equipped to handle human-realm food. like.

Camille probably fretting to Luz, “oh my god was my cooking that bad???”

hunter going “wow 5 minutes in and i just got poisoned,”

amity smiling very politely because damnit she will make a good impression and she WILL like this food Luz’s mom made

Gus and Willow are both stomach cramping on the couch

poor luz running tums and water and ginger ale between everyone and going “no, they’re just not used to human food. I had a hard time eating there, too.” and Camille is not only reminded that Luz spent the ENTIRE time in a realm that she literally wasn’t equipped for, making it back, bringing several human(oids) back with her, and explaining that they just lost everything to a child-god.

#isnt that just a little fucked up?? #imagine losing your family and home in less than 24 hours #and you get to deal with a stomach ache ontop of it #debilitating #i’d just sob the entire time like that is so much to bear #toh kings tide spoilers #toh ep 21 spoilers #toh #the owl house #the owl house spoilers

[hannagoldworthy]

Flames and Moths

(I first wrote this in October 2019, for the @silmarillionwritersguild challenge, "In Rare Form." One of the prompts for that challenge was wingfic, and this was the idea that blossomed in my mind for it. That was well before I joined tumblr, and before I got back into the Star Wars fandom, but since I'm coming back from a bit of a spell of writer's block, I thought I might clean this up a little and post it for a new audience. I hope my followers enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.)

As the dust settled near this nameless Mannish settlement in Thargelion, Caranthir took inventory of his losses.  There were few as far as he could see, mostly of horses; his cavalry charge had taken the Enemy’s servants by surprise, as he had hoped.  The Men were not so fortunate; all but the youngest of the males had been slaughtered, and, now that they had the time and energy to devote to grief, the females were wailing aloud.

It was not so loud a wail as had been raised in Alqualondë; these people were well acquainted with death.  Still, the smell of the blood and ash, the sound of the weeping, the sheer mess of evidence of this, Morgoth’s greatest outrage against Creation, raised Caranthir’s gorge against his will.  He was, mathematically speaking, excellent at fighting; dealing with the emotion afterward was the hard part.

“Go,” he uttered gruffly to his captain, as he watched an old woman beat her wings rapidly in a valiant effort to balance the weight of the armored body of what appeared to be her son.  “Let us help them with this, at least.”

Loborgûr followed his gaze, and went to aid the woman immediately.  The rest followed her example swiftly, Caranthir not included.  It seemed as if he was attempting to walk through wax, or to breathe water; he found himself collapsed at the burned side of what had once been a hastily-made house – more of a big lean-to than anything.

A great mass of brown hair was directly in front of his vision; for a moment, he thought it a person, albeit one who had not groomed in quite a long time.  Then, his eyes finally began to clear, and he noted that, aside from the color, the mass appeared similar to a spider’s egg sac.  Or, at least, it might have been similar once; when the building had burned, so had the sac, partially.

Pushing his illness to the side as much as possible, Caranthir approached with his sword drawn; he had personally dealt with spider infestations in the past, and knew not to trust that all of the eggs had escaped an unmonitored fire.  However, just before he could make an exploratory poke at the least damaged piece of the sac, another sword clashed with his.

“How dare you?”  His vision was entirely clouded with red and, for once, it had nothing to do with his temper.  The woman in front of him had not been able to tend to her curly red hair due to battle, and it flew in a wild cloud about her head.  Her face was flushed, with exertion but mostly with anger; he almost felt he was looking in a mirror.  And, most importantly, she had cast her crimson wings out behind her in a violent display of aggression toward him.

She was lucky that he was so discombobulated.  Had he been well, he likely might have jumped into a fury of his own.  As it was, he could barely grit out a reply between clenched teeth without wanting to hyperventilate.

“My apologies, miss –”

“That’s Lady Haleth to you.  And I sincerely doubt that your lord would like to know about you killing a defenseless man while he slept.”

He had never directly killed anyone while they slept, but in the first days of the sun Aredhel had taken especial pleasure in describing how she had once lost an entire brigade at rest to the Helcaraxë’s fickle serenity.  His cheeks burned with shame; that happened quite a lot these days.

“I am the lord,” he said, quietly, the words falling flat even to his ears.  “I had no idea –”

“No idea?!  I and my people may be new to this area, my lord, but we were under the impression that your people had previously encountered ours.  Or did Balan’s men take to hiding their wings since they crossed the mountains?”

He had known Men possessed wings, but little else; Finrod had been maddeningly close-lipped with his half-cousins regarding his pets.  Caranthir’s scattered brain was forced to freeze almost entirely, trying to make the connection between the hair sac and the wings.  Painfully, he remembered that Celegorm had kept an insect collection as a child, guarding it more jealously than he did any gem.  Before Curufin’s birth, Caranthir had been Celegorm’s sounding board of choice; there was an indistinct memory involving unorganized yammering about certain life cycles amongst creatures that Caranthir had once indiscriminately described as vermin.

Haleth squinted dangerously in his direction, now silent; evidently, he’d grown accustomed to tuning out pointless rants while his brain was at work.  “Hey,” she ventured, the edge beginning to seep out of her voice.  “Are you…all right?  You look like you’re about to puke.”

“Or faint,” he murmured, before clearing his throat to start again.  “It’s a cocoon, right?  Not an egg sac.”

She lowered her sword for the first time, and her wings fluttered indecisively.  “My people prefer the term ‘chrysalis.’”

He decided he could make her that concession, and bowed as deeply as he was able.  “My condolences, then.”

The girl blinked indelicately, and spun on her heels to study the chrysalis herself.  When she reached the same conclusion he had – the man inside was certainly dead of suffocation at least – she fell to her knees in grief, her wings falling behind her in a dejected, impromptu cloak.  Unbidden, she reminded him of his mother, weeping there in the mud, covered in blood, ash, and dirt; he had not seen his mother since before Alqualondë, but the memory tainted everything he could recall about his former home, and he knew his mother had wept.  Cautiously, almost unthinkingly, he approached, making sure that Haleth knew he was knelt beside her before tentatively placing a hand on her shoulder.

“I had been so sure orcs would not notice them,” she sobbed.  “That we would have at least a few men left.  I hadn’t counted on the fires.”

“…Are there special circumstances in disposing of a body in this state?”  Caranthir bit his tongue as soon as the words left it.  He was always too analytical when attempting to be helpful.

Oddly enough, she smiled tearfully at him.  “Not really, but thank you for asking.  Can you help me take him to the square, with the others?  He is rather tall for me to carry alone.”

“Very well.”  He took care to only cut the chrysalis from the wall, leaving most of it wrapped around what remained of the body to serve as an impromptu shroud.  A bit of wing poked out of the wrappings; emerald green and pocketed with char marks.  Swallowing his gorge down again, Caranthir wordlessly followed Haleth to the square, hoping to not make himself an even greater disgrace before he got there.

***

The morning following the burial was a dismal affair, and once again, Caranthir found himself taking inventory.  The old ones were mostly gone save for that one indomitable woman whom he gathered was Haleth’s grandmother; her parents, twin brother, and sister-in-law had not survived, leaving only one child, Haleth’s nephew, who had scarcely learned to walk.  All male warriors had been killed, even some too young to be due to grow their wings.  Many female warriors were dead, and most of the surviving ones were already growing their hair out for their own chrysali; ready or not, they would sleep at the summer’s highest heat, only to return in autumn.  They would not be able to rely on the male warriors coming out of their chrysali after their early summer transformation, for none of those had survived.  The defense force would consist of a scant few already-winged women, and children too small to hold a knife, or hunt or forage unaided.

It was already a lean year, even for his people.  But, if he wanted to avoid having yet another memory to regret, there really was nothing for it.

“Our fortress can support your people for the summer months, if you are willing.”

Haleth glared.  “We did not come this far to subsist on charity.”

With the dead buried, he was not as unwell as he had been, and glared right back at her.  “You neglected to ask permission to settle here; I’d have been well within my rights to drive you and yours back over the mountains from whence you came.  It was my charity that allowed you to stay.  Certainly you can impose on me a little longer, if I am willing?”

She looked about to argue, when her grandmother smacked her upside the head with one sapphire wing.  “We would be honored to accept your invitation, your grace,” the old woman snarled.

Haleth glowered helplessly.  “Honored,” she bit out, scowling as he smirked in mirthless triumph.

***

She did not glare when he found her before the sturdiest oak tree in his garden a month later, hugging her knees and staring blankly at the chrysali of her kinswomen.  After a few scant weeks in her company, he knew enough of her mind to know that she heard when he carefully sat down beside her, though she made no sound to greet her.

For a few minutes, they sat in silence, though it was hardly companionable.  Not for the first time, Caranthir wished she had encountered any other of his kin rather than him.  It seemed that every other brother or cousin would have either been fierce enough to defend her tribe more quickly, wise enough to know what to say to comfort her, or frightening enough that no orc would have dared attack so openly on their land.  But he was none of these things, and so his tongue was tied; yet, he stayed with her, for it seemed cruel to leave her alone in this state.

“My betrothed was in one of those chrysali,” she said at last, startling him out of the self-defeating spiral where his thoughts seemed to stray more and more.

There was a sharp pause as he collected his thoughts, far too long a pause before he managed a small, “I’m sorry.”

She shrugged.  Her eyes were tearless; he found he recognized her expression as being too exhausted to weep.  After far too long a pause, wherein he thought the conversation finished, she broke the silence again.

“We grew up together, though he was younger than me.  When I came out of my chrysalis, I found him settled there with his sword.  He had only slept or eaten when his family prevailed upon him, so keen he was on protecting me.  I promised to do the same when his time came.  I failed him.”

What was he supposed to say?  That she had failed no one?  That she could hardly have known about orcs and their fell fire which water could not quench?  That her betrothed would likely never blame her, any more than her people did?  Those were all pathetic nothings, something that only Turgon or Finrod could make wise, and then only tenuously.  Caranthir had no wisdom, only knowledge, and even there he could see how woefully behind he was becoming, day by painful day.

“I was betrothed once,” his mouth said, unbidden.

The woman beside huffed incredulously in the time it took him to bite his disobedient tongue.  “Let me guess,” she said, her sardonic tone practically enough to tan a hide.  “I remind you of her.”

He snorted.  “Hardly.  She was quiet and disliked conflict.  You remind me more of my younger brother.”  Specifically, she was the surviving redheaded twin who had looked to him for comfort and found nothing; but his purpose was to give comfort, not seek it, so he left that tale alone.  “My point is that I lost her to an accident, and…well, I know how you feel.”

The comment felt inadequate, but she seemed to take it for what it was worth.  “Does it ever hurt any less?”

“…No.  Not that I’ve ever noticed.”

Haleth smiled sadly at him, and nodded, turning back to the oak to begin her vigil again.  The conversation was truly over, it seemed, though the silence this time was certainly easier to bear.

***

It was during one of these night watches, a week later, when he saw the moon gleam through her wings as she paced up and down, rocking her orphaned nephew to sleep.  The light glimmered against the grass, deep red interspersed with black, as though through stained glass.

He looked up at Haleth, and an indescribable feeling came over him at the sight of her.  Once, he had wanted a sister, when his brothers had paired amongst themselves and he had been left solitary, as usual.  In his daydreams, he had imagined such a girl would have resembled Haleth; impetuous but gentle, strong but kind, red in hair and in face.  Looking at Haleth brought that old longing back, of someone he could simply be with and nurture, care for and protect…love, with the simple, marrow-deep instinct with which he loved all his brothers.

But Haleth was not as small as she had been.  She had grown, somehow, without him noting it until now; he could see it in the set of her broad shoulders, the almost casual beauty of her face, the resigned calm of her expression as she looked upon her nephew.  She was a lady, in war and in peace, and in the face of her strength his fretful tongue once again leapt ahead of his brain before he could stop it.

“I’m proud of you.”

She stopped and frowned quizzically at him, and he blushed and wished the ground would swallow him.

“I mean, I’m proud to have known you.  Honored.”

Haleth smiled, and it took his breath away before he could dig his grave any further.  “I���m proud of you too, Caranthir.”

***

“You’re sure you want to leave?”

Haleth nodded, though her eyes were fixed upon her people as they gathered up what remained of their possessions.  The young women had emerged a week before, and he saw her concern for them and their fragile wings; he also saw her concern for the lateness of the year with every glance she threw toward the sky.  “We did not ask your permission to settle because it was never our intention to stay.  We only stopped when our young men could not hold off their change any longer.”

It was odd, how natural it felt to tilt her chin up toward him, so that she could see the sincerity in his eyes as he said, “You don’t have to leave.  I could easily give you land here…not where you were, of course, but good land.”

She smiled ruefully, taking his hand from her cheek and holding it in both of hers.  “I know, and I am grateful.  But, aside from your kindness, Thargelion remains an evil memory for my people.  And, if we are to get anywhere more suitable in time to be ready for winter, we must leave as soon as possible.”

The lives of Men were fleeting, he knew, but he had not expected to lose her so quickly.  Even still, she was her own woman, and if she would not stay, he would not force her.  Trusting not his voice – for, fickle thing, it stuck in his throat and would not be removed without tears – he kissed her hand, and released her.

An hour later, she would turn back toward him – he knew because he knew how her wings fluttered when she looked over her shoulder, even though she was miles away.  But she only looked back once, and only for a moment; for that moment, his heart was in his throat, hopeful that she had changed her mind.  Then, she turned back, her heading fixed upon the great dark expanse of Doriath, and he found he could not be happier for the resolute power of her will.

#the silmarillion #wingfic #oneshot #caranthir #haleth #platonic ship #I sometimes ship them romantically #but in this context a sibling relationship seemed more appropriate

[wordpimp]

Gilgamesh

When you said we weren't alike I never really believed it.

Oh, but didn't you?

They were seeing what the hill could swallow. The fire in the hill, that the neighbors had built for the night. Pizza incense oven, habemus papam. Soft and warm wooden, burning and warming the air around it. A faint smell of bourbon. Ginger. Some thin crowd stood around, murmuring. A light gossip.

Music from a patio speaker, propped up against a table with snacks and coolers. Good music. Dust settled down, but you couldn't see it in the dark. There's always a fine dust that setttles, everywhere. You breathe it in, it settles inside you too.

Don't you feel excited by time, the day ahead, the distance you've gone?

Charlie nodded. I guess so. A bonfire was good at least. Standing or sitting, a drink to occupy the mind from being occupied with other things. She had a lot on her mind lately. Couldn't say much about the days, but the ends of them, that was nice.

Dani brought an apple with her.

Red delicious, purple too. Coke bottle icee, it looked erotic in the night. Comely.

Charlie had a doll, it slept with her, it had for years, but she was ready to let it go.

The doll represented a cousin, at least she thought it did.

Would you like to see it?

She did not want to see it. Slime of varnish, wet decay, brown fungus. She walked with him into the woods though. It would've been rude not to. When they reached the mossy bank it was already dark so there wasn't much to see. Her memory of that summer was vague.

Things that people often did when they were eight, or ten, or six. And then much later. Desire to be certain, to derive some knowledge from a situation, bc it turned them against themselves, or it was primal, or they didn't laugh enough, or it was too much for them to hide for so long.

Shit I told my therapist abt this didn't I? He can't fix it. There's nothing to fix. I'm fine. Aren't we fine Dani?

Dani thought that they probably were. It wasn't the end of the world that people thought it would be. This was a party. There was a ritual aspect, to be sure, but homegrown. Fiery banner in a cul de sac, block party, gathering beacon of last days of summer, autumn then november. First it would be autumn then november. It was traditional as it got. She guessed that some priest was graying in another time and place, that they would bless the proceedings. Scary sacrifice.

Dani and Charlie both had baubles and relics hidden under their beds and in drawers with their panties and magazines, porno tapes they had watched with boys, queer ones especially. Charlie's first boyfriend had been into that. Same sex, group sex, any sex.

They each picked an item to bring for the party. A kind of going away party. Goodbye summer, a horror themed season. Witching season.

Dani rubbed her apple. It was warm in her pocket. Cashmere nest, red egg wet fruit. She hadn't meant to bring it actually. It was an odd reaction to an odd request. But she needed something to burn, something to give away. Propitiate the flames make them dance. The apple would do that, if heated up sufficiently. Blue and green in the flame. She grabbed it instinctively from the pink basket on the kitchen counter. Pocketed, exact change, cab fare.

Charlie had a name for her doll, she called it cousin baby, but in the dark tonight, she called it robert, after her cousin who went into the woods with her when they were ten. He was dead now. He would've been twenty-five this year, same age as her.

Around the fire the murmurs of others with their offerings. Rabbits and owls, panthers and goats, pigs and deer. No human face tonight. Another rule.

Dani was a deer, a mule deer. Charlie was a wolf.

Bloodthirsty, prone to violence, solitary, sweet docile tender innocent. A pig oinked, a boy dressed as a pony twirled up and down a carousel. Held hands.

Here, grab a sparkler.

Charlie pulled one of the thin metal rods from the cardboard package, handing it to Dani. Then she grabbed another for herself. They lit the sparkler ends and pulled their lawn chairs next to the fire.

#prose

[ourlittledinosaur]

The Scariest Moment of My Pregnancy!

New Post has been published on http://ourlittledinosaur.com/the-scariest-moment-of-my-pregnancy/

The Scariest Moment of My Pregnancy!

My Very First Prenatal Exam

Shortly after finding out I was pregnant, my husband and I joyfully skipped off to my first prenatal appointment. We were both so excited and ready to see our very first baby, in our very first sonogram, AND, as my cousin had informed me, hear our very first baby’s heartbeat!

We waited patiently, but also anxiously, in the exam room for the doctor. Once she arrived and talked to us a bit, she had me prepare for the ultrasound. As the image appeared on that black and white screen, she said nothing. My heart raced as I waited for her to explain what was on the screen.

Time has made the details a little hazy, but she basically told us, “I can’t confirm the pregnancy because all I can see is a gestational sac.”

I asked, “But doesn’t a gestational sac mean I’m pregnant?

“She said, “I can’t confirm that.”

So many thoughts went through my head at once. What?! I might not be pregnant? I don’t understand! How can there be a gestational sac without a pregnancy? She went on to tell us that they would be doing a blood draw on me that day, and then again two days later, to check my HCG levels. “In two days, the HCG levels should double from the number determined today,” she explained.

We listened, then went over to the room to have my blood drawn. Then we left, pretty deflated, and much changed from the bubbly couple we were just an hour ago, when we had arrived at the office.

Now, We Wait…

Two days later, I went back in for the second blood draw. They later called me to tell me the results from the first day. It would be still another two days before we would know if the levels had doubled.

Two days later, it happened to be Friday, and I was at work when they called to tell me my levels. The nurse who made the call left a voice message asking me to call her back. Simple. Calm. Nothing at all to imply urgency. She called a second time, and left a similar message. I noticed and listened to these messages once I had my break at about 4:30 pm. I immediately called the office, which was to close at 5:00 pm but the recording informed they were now closed until Monday. I went ahead and left a message that I was returning the nurse’s call, and that was that for the weekend. I was disappointed that I didn’t know what the levels were, but there was nothing I could do about that, so I continued on through the weekend.

On Monday, the nurse calls me again, saying my levels did not double and I needed to come in right away because I might be having an ectopic pregnancy. “I can schedule you for 9:00 am today,” she said.

“I can’t come in this morning,” I replied. “I have to work.” She was clearly thoroughly agitated that I wasn’t taking her more seriously.

She said, “This is very serious as your tube could burst!” She then emphasized how she had called several times on Friday in an effort to reach me. I pointed out she had only called twice and that there was nothing in her messages to indicate an urgency to the situation. I also informed her I had tried to call back well before the office closing time. I assured her I would be in the following day and she scheduled the appointment, telling me that if I had any pain to go to the emergency room.

Was This All Too Good to Be True?

I got off the phone and felt a little dazed. What was happening? Was it really possible I was going to lose this baby I’d only gotten to know of for a couple weeks?

I called my husband and let him know the situation, and then did a little online research about ectopic pregnancy.

“An ectopic pregnancy occurs when a fertilized egg implants somewhere other than the main cavity of the uterus. Pregnancy begins with a fertilized egg. Normally, the fertilized egg attaches itself to the lining of the uterus. An ectopic pregnancy most often occurs in one of the tubes that carry eggs from the ovaries to the uterus (fallopian tubes). This type of ectopic pregnancy is known as a tubal pregnancy. In some cases, however, an ectopic pregnancy occurs in the abdominal cavity, ovary or neck of the uterus (cervix). An ectopic pregnancy can’t proceed normally. The fertilized egg can’t survive, and the growing tissue might destroy various maternal structures. Left untreated, life-threatening blood loss is possible. Early treatment of an ectopic pregnancy can help preserve the chance for future healthy pregnancies.” -Mayo Clinic

Ok, so what’s the treatment?  Removal.

Now, I’m not here to debate the moral dilemma this situation creates. I will however, tell you that my immediate response to reading this was NO, I WILL NOT! (Before I continue, I just want to say that I did not have to actually make a decision as the pregnancy was not ectopic, so please don’t take my initial response as advice or even as a suggestion, if you are in this situation.)

Giving it to God – Act of Faith as Small as a Baby Blanket

Throughout all this, in my spare time I had been making a baby blanket. My great-grandmothers both crocheted regularly while they were alive and I was determined I would crochet a blanket for this baby, because I knew they would have if they were around. I wasn’t very good at it though, and my stitches were very inconsistent. I turned that blanket every which way trying to get it big enough, and…ummm…square. Truth be told, it was (and still is) the most dilapidated blanket I have ever seen. But it is precious to me and this is why.

I began the blanket in my excitement about the pregnancy… before the doctor’s appointment… before the drama. In my anxiousness, I continued to make the blanket, and as I made it I prayed over and over again for the long-awaited baby I just knew had to be in my womb. As I prayed and made the blanket, I listened and sang “Oceans” by Hillsong United over and over again, and made this my prayer as well. It’s a beautiful song. It’s a song of faith. It’s a song of trusting in God. My continuing to make the baby blanket was my act of faith; my token between God and I, that I trusted Him.

If you have never heard “Oceans”, I’ve included it here.

You see, I knew that no matter what happened, my all-knowing, ever-present, almighty God was with me, and He could grant me the life of my child. Yes, I knew that He could also choose not to, but I prayed that He would, and deep down within me I trusted that this baby would be carried to term, and get to use the blanket I was making.

The Sweetest Sound

After all the tests had been run, my husband and I went back in to the doctor’s office for another sonogram. As we pulled into the parking lot, I asked my husband to pray for us. “Pray that we can see the baby in the right place and that we will hear the heartbeat.” He did just as I asked.

We checked in. We sat. We waited. Finally, we were taken to a dim room with the sonographer, not the doctor. I remember well how notably sweet and pleasant this woman was. She seemed unaware of the shadow that had been cast on this occasion the previous week. As she moved the equipment around in the goop on my belly, my husband and I had our eyes glued to the screen. Right as the image came up on the screen, we heard it! The sweetest sound that brought tears to both my husband’s and my eyes: our baby’s heartbeat! 

“There’s your baby, ” the pleasant woman announced! We looked at each other and laughed softly as we realized the other was crying too.

“Is it in the right place?” I inquired, as I smiled, listening to the pitter pattering “da dum da dum da dum….”

“Oh, yes,” she answered, brightly. She continued to explain to us the baby’s current size, that the baby was about 7 1/2 weeks gestation, and then gave us an estimated due date. The heaviness on our hearts was lifted, and replaced once again by the overwhelming joy we had experienced just a few weeks early when we discovered I was pregnant.

“Thank you, Lord, for granting us the life of this child. Thank you, thank you, Lord.”

We proclaim how great you are and tell of the wonderful things you have done.” ~Psalm 75:1~

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#Conception #Pregnancy

[manicmangoes]

02/01/2023

I haven’t written in so long! But, I couldn’t stay away and I’m getting back to it. Another journal entry today. I need to get over my fear of creative writing. I have this fear that my writing will be shallow/cheesy/etc. and won’t be good, but I think the only one that would even think that is me, and why do I have that negative self talk?? Also, who cares about my writing if it makes me happy? And what if what makes me happy is cheesy, fun creative writing? I shouldn’t and won’t be embarrassed of expressing myself and my creativity. Anyways, tonight I went to a movie with my mom. It was a pretentious film-festival-type movie, the type with credits at the beginning of the film, the kind of movie with so much dialogue it feels like a play. I was a little disappointed, because the film has great reviews and Oscar-buzz. But…. it wasn’t really our cup of tea. It felt like a dragged out 10 hour film, despite the actors best efforts to pull us into their world. So I guess not all art is for everyone, and that’s ok. Certain movies might not be for everyone and that’s okay! On the way home from the film, my mom and I lamented over the hours of our lives we would never get back, and our conversation drifted over various topics. The movie, which is called “Tár”, was a psychological thriller/Greek tragedy I guess you could say, about a classical conductor that falls from grace. The movie was so desolate that we had to have the radio off for a solid part of the car ride. The film really dragged and after 2 1/2 hours of it we just couldn’t tolerate any more music, orchestra or not. It would’ve physically hurt us. Eventually we put on some 70’s music, and conversation drifted to my mom growing up back then and how her house had a crank to turn the TV antenna on their roof. It’s so crazy how different life is now! We also talked and laughed about a memory I have from when I was in middle school. We were living in our rental house at the time at the end of a cul-de-sac, and I was riding my bike around at the end of our street. Foolishly, I wasn’t wearing a helmet. I can’t remember what I got caught up on, but I’ll never forget flipping head first over the bike and somehow simultaneously pulling the bike down on top of/with me. I cracked against the pavement like an egg and was immediately bloodied up; scrapes, lacerations, and road rash all over me. Through the haze of pain, I can still remember seeing my mom watching the whole scene unfold and seeing her face morph into one emotion: “Oh SHIT’”! She sprang to action and got to me in what seemed mere milliseconds, and luckily I wasn’t too banged up that I needed to see the doctor. As we talked about this integral memory of mine in the car, I was kind of shocked to hear that she couldn’t recall this moment at all, even though it’s still so ingrained in my head all these years later. I found it so interesting that a core memory and moment I experienced is something that for her wasn’t even memorable. I’m sure there are other core moments in our relationship she remembers, but it’s interesting to me how we hold onto different pieces of our experiences with one another. We use them to form a “picture” that displays the relationship we have with someone. Different memories = different pieces = different “picture” = different relationship dynamics. I didn’t choose to hold onto the memory of my fall, it’s just stayed with me for who knows why. Different moments, different art, different movies, and different writing have different effects on all of us. I think it’s important to share because you can illustrate and explain your experience to others when you do, and you can also hear what other people hold onto and see how their “picture” and relationships can look significantly different even when it’s the same shared experiences. Talking and sharing allows us to be able to share moments we might have forgotten and make our “pictures” of one another clearer and bring them into focus.

#manicmangowrites #stream of conscious writing #movies #memories #relationships