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seabirdtxt · 1 year

Note

Hello! Just recently found your blog, and I am in love with your fanfic, Glitch In Irminsul!

I honestly have no idea if I'm the first one to request on your blog, but I do hope this idea is okay with you!

May I request this: Reader who is a comedian with Cyno, Tighnari and Collei, reacting to Reader making Cyno's bad jokes (quote on quote) "better"? You don't have to find a joke for Reader if you don't wanna :)

I'm a little obsessed with their dynamic as of right now. If you do happen to take this request, thanks :D

Also idk if you wanna take Anons, but if you do someday, is it alright if I claim "🎪 Anon" as my alias? Sorry if I'm asking too much! I hope you have a great day :)

hi!! thanks so much for your request, and your patience!! 🩵 i had a good bit of fun writing this for you, i love bad jokes 🤭

WC. 1092

----- ⚘ -----

As the General Mahamatra, and having been personally assigned to your guard by Lesser Lord Kusanali herself, it is Cyno’s sworn duty to attend to every need and whim of the almighty Creator.

And when the Creator demands that you tell them your absolute worst joke, the one that nobody has ever even laughed at yet, well, who is he to deny them?

“- didn’t realize that, at that very moment, a Hydro slime was praying to meet a lone, stranded traveler.” Cyno finishes the joke with a straight face, at the exact same moment that the door to the hut swings open, revealing Tighnari and Collei with several bags of groceries in their arms.

“Oh, Cyno, not the slime joke again.” Tighnari groans over the sound of your absolutely raucous laughter at the horrible joke.

“But the Creator likes it.” Cyno protests, gesturing to you hanging part way off the table and clutching your stomach. You honestly don’t find the joke itself all that funny, but the sheer confidence with which he tells it paired with the completely deadpan expression he has is sending you into hysterics.

“They’re going to eat each other!” You gasp, trying to sit back properly on the chair. A few lingering giggles hit you when you see Tighnari’s deeply disappointed expression. “Hahaha… but slimes don’t have a mouth, do they? How would it eat the person?”

“Exactly!” Tighnari says, pointing at Cyno with the hand not holding the groceries. “It doesn’t make any sense! Slimes wouldn’t-”

“And what did the stranded traveler say in that situation?” You add, confusing both Tighnari and Cyno into silence. Cyno blinks a few times, visibly wondering if there was a part of the joke that he forgot to tell, and he’s about to ask for clarification when Collei beats him to the punch.

“Your Grace, the traveler didn’t say anythi-” Collie begins, but you’re already on a roll.

“He said, ‘it must be slime for dinner!’”

You can’t help but erupt into laughter again at seeing everyone’s reactions: Collei’s slow realization, Cyno perking up excitedly, and Tighnari imploding with exasperation.

“You see, because ‘slime’ sounds like ‘time’-”

“Yes, Cyno. Thanks. I got the gist.”

You’re still gasping for air, leaning back in the chair and bracing yourself on the wall behind you. Tighnari’s frown falters a little, your joy infectious even if the joke is terrible.

“Slime for dinner, and sand for dessert!” You add, and Cyno chuckles even as he brings out his wretched book of jokes and begins writing an annotation in the margins, which Tighnari is sure the librarian will greatly appreciate later. “Get it? ‘Cause dessert, and desert?”

Tighnari is about to snarkily reply, when a surprising sound catches his attention. He turns with a horrified expression to Collei, who has her hand over her mouth and eyes wide in disbelief.

“Oh no, Collei…” Tighnari says warningly, shaking his head, which causes the girl to snort again and she quickly puts down her groceries before she can drop them.

“I- I’m sorry, Master,” she fights through her giggles, which only spurs you and Cyno on. “It’s just… it’s so bad…”

“Come on, ‘Nari, it’s just a joke,” Cyno attempts to bring the Valuka Shuna in on the fun. “Think of it as a way to break the ice.”

“Yeah, Tighnari,” you add. “Snow fun otherwise.”

Collei lets out a full belly laugh, to Tighnari’s dismay and Cyno’s apparent confusion.

“You’ve never laughed at my jokes like that,” the general points out, and Collei can only laugh harder.

“We’re morally obligated to laugh at the Creator’s jokes, ‘lest Their Grace smite us with impunity.” Tighnari states tonelessly, completely opposing his own statement.

That’s about as much as you can take. You slide bonelessly off the chair, howling with laughter on the floor like some kind of hyena.

“Look what you did! You corrupted the Creator!”

“The Creator told that joke all on their own!”

While Cyno and Tighnari are bickering, Collei helps you off of the floor, steadying you in your chair as you both come down from your laughing. She checks you over to make sure you didn’t injure yourself on your way down, then grabs her bag and rummages through it before producing a shiny red apple.

“We brought snacks!” she announces, handing you the fruit proudly. “And we have the stuff for dinner tonight! We picked these fresh, though. They’re very sweet this season!”

You take the apple with a grin and rub it on your shirt to clean it before taking a bite.

“Wow, these really are sweet! Thanks, Collei!” You marvel at how good the apple tastes, somehow different from Earth’s apples, with a refreshing, sugary taste.

“You’re very welcome!” Collei beams at the praise. “I’m gonna go get Master Tighnari to stop griping and help me with dinner, now, though.”

You perk up at the mention of cooking. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Oh, gosh, no! You’re our guest, please let us take care of it!” Collei insists, then scurries over to the other two.

You decide to follow her just as she’s asking Tighnari for help with cooking. The botanist huffs with mild annoyance, his tail sweeping from side to side.

“I’m not sure Cyno needs dinner, Collei,” he states. “Since he wants to act childish, perhaps it would be best to put him in time-out for the evening.”

“That’s not very knife of you, Tighnari,” you say before you can stop yourself. “Why don’t you fork-give him for now so we can have dinner together?”

Tighnari squints at you, somehow sensing you’ve made a pun (or two) despite your straight delivery.

“... Are you going to stop with the jokes too, Your Grace?” he asks, his ear flicking.

“What jokes? Collei wanted to ask for your help with the cooking. How can you say no to dish face?” You sidle up behind Collei and use your pointer fingers to make her smile, which she tolerates with surprising grace. “Isn’t she adora-bowl?”

“...” Tighnari maintains his stance for a few more seconds, and then sighs in defeat. “I don’t have a counter to that. Very well, I suppose I can let it slide for tonight, since it’s for you, Your Grace…”

“Hehehe, counter,” you mumble, which causes Collei to erupt into giggles once more, and Cyno to look extremely pleased with your ability.

And Tighnari to make a noise of exasperation, throwing his hands up and stomping toward the kitchen on his own.

“That’s it! I’ve had enough! I’m leaving!”

#genshin sagau #sagau #genshin impact #genshin isekai #self aware genshin #genshin cyno #genshin tighnari #genshin collei #sagau cyno #sagau tighnari #sagau collei #sagau x reader #seabird.inbox #seabird.txt #🎪 anon

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theriverbeyond · 1 year

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tearing my hair out when will Gideon. learn she is valued not for what she can do or what job she can preform or what service her body may render but for just who she is. when will she be told she does not have to Preform A Duty in order to be loved. putting her body through the meatgrinder to make sure she qualified for cohort admission. offering her soul up for Harrow to slurp energy out of like a portable phone charger. dying on a spike. "always your sword, my umbral sovereign". the emperor's construct. anyway tearing my hair out someone help this girl thinks she is a border collie

#gideon nav #ntn spoilers #the locked tomb #listen. listen. girl needs a job and a duty she needs to feel useful but i want to gently take her hands and say NO!!!!!!!!#harrow just wants you to be there when she gets home!!!!!!!!!#trb.txt #tlt thoughts #dogs who Need To Feel Useful otherwise they will get stressed and destructive!!!! gideon :)#have i made a very similar post to this before. yes. will i make a post very similar again in the future. also yes.#gideon the ninth

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directdogman · 1 year

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In the light of getting Randy facts, could we in theory, get some Oliver ones too? For the Gays?

For the Gays?

And who exactly do you think the Randy facts were for, HMMM? alright, alright. i guess you guys can have a second character post, as a treat. so, what, you wanna see into his head, is that it?

Oliver has a deep well of confidence inside him which he pulls from constantly. This helps give Oliver the zesty enthusiasm that he's known for. As a down side though, Oliver's vast confidence can make him somewhat reckless when it comes to picking his battles.

When Oliver is with his friends and a random problem arises, Oliver has a tendency to say "aha, step aside, I've got this!" and will (slightly more than) occasionally hurt himself through his eager attempt to attempt to perform a task that he clearly isn't remotely qualified to perform. Oliver is right about 20% of the time, and it's beautiful when he is. He just doesn't know how to pick his battles. I swear, Oliver's brain is 25% border collie at times.

While Oliver doesn't exactly think wisely on his feet, his ability to work through puzzles when let think about a problem in silence is basically legendary. Oliver is a natural troubleshooter, subdividing and solving most problems with relative ease.

Oliver has a naturally poor attention span and badly struggles to commit to tasks he doesn't care about, leaving most things he doesn't care about until the very last minute. He's a skilled 3d visualizer and while his long term memory isn't great, his ability to remember a ton of tiny details, short term, while working is exceptional.

Oliver has a natural sense of direction. His brain maps alternate transport routes automatically and he usually knows shortcuts around places he often visits that others miss. Oh, I'll mention a few cross-cast relationships.

Karen: Some of Oliver's humour just genuinely does not land with Karen. It's not even, like, offensive to her, just incomprehensible. "Is this image trying to drive me insane? Is that the joke?" However, she finds about 1/3 of Oliver's humour the funniest thing in the world. Oliver is the only main cast member able to reliably make Karen laugh out loud.

Norm: Norm admires Oliver for being open-minded, honest and compassionate to others. Oliver's tendency to overextend himself and eagerly offer any help that he can think to ask (like an eager greyhound or borzoi, sprinting around in circles) when he offers help to his friends is something Norm has noticed and admires. Oliver has a hands-on attitude and a natural sense of duty/responsibility to others, which reminds Norm of his younger self.

Stabby and Shooty: Stabby: "You can't mug him. Really. We tried and he said no." Shooty: "It's true, you can't. He knows the game." Stabby: "Yeah, he knows we're not actually gonna hurt him if he says no. Someone must've told him." Shooty: "Nah, I reckon he just... didn't think we were capable of taking him when he saw how we were built. Even two on one, bro, the odds aren't really in our favour. Like, we're not exactly BUFF." Stabby: "Yeah. Shit. Yeah... Anyway, nah, still haven't gotten a dime from the guy. But, whatever! FUCK HIM. HIS loss, bro." Shooty: "Yeah, his loss, bro!" Stabby: "..." Shooty: "...You can't deny though, the guy has style." Stabby: "YEAH. Can't deny, the guy's pretty stylish."

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wordsinhaled · 2 months

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based on @griffonskies suggestion that merlin would be a border collie if he were a dog -

i'm imagining a canon era scenario in which merlin is experimenting with shapeshifting magic (maybe in the same stretch of time when he starts practicing transforming to and from dragoon) and he decides to try transforming himself into a border collie. the spell is meant to be time-limited so he'll turn back into himself after some reasonable period of time, like say, three hours, but the first time he tries it he gets a little overzealous and he gets stuck. the spell doesn't wear off. this is fine, he thinks, it'll wear off by nighttime. except it doesn't. (spoiler alert: it takes, like, a fortnight to wear off.)

of course this means merlin the person seems to disappear entirely from camelot, from one day to the next. at first, gaius covers for him, assuming merlin's up to his usual shenanigans ("merlin's at the tavern, sire") - but eventually, after merlin doesn't appear after a day or so, even gaius gets worried. it's the middle of winter, after all, where would merlin go? when gaius brings up his concerns to uther, the king appoints another servant to be gaius' interim assistant "until the boy is found."

arthur plays it off, but he's increasingly concerned when merlin doesn't surface to report for his duties for the second day in a row. after three days, he wants to dispatch scouts to ealdor, thinking maybe something befell hunith and merlin went home without telling him, but of course uther isn't willing to sacrifice good men to the inclement weather just on the off chance arthur's servant decided to abandon his post. so arthur's miserable missing merlin, he's worrying himself sick and not eating, he's sending the knights out on longer patrols than usual for this time of year. the knights all love merlin too, so they offer to go look for merlin themselves and find no sign of him either

and suddenly there's this dog that keeps lingering around his chambers, looking increasingly pathetic and cold. merlin didn't want gaius to know what he'd been up to, at first, so he'd been sleeping in the stables while transformed, but it's freezing, and he misses arthur, and the spell is sapping some of his strength the longer it wears on, and he gets tired of hiding, and besides, no one's going to know it's him.

arthur can't help but let the dog into his rooms. maybe he even talks to the dog. can you blame him, if the dog looks like it's listening attentively? so before he knows it he's on a tirade about how insufferable merlin is— how could he run off like that, and what if he's in danger, and arthur is going to give him extra chores when he turns up again ("i said when, you hear, because of course nothing's really happened to him, i know he'll be back any day now, and when he is he can polish all the knights' armor for a week straight, not just mine")...

and so, merlin finds out arthur's actually pining for him, because arthur starts to grudgingly confide in this strangely perceptive dog, and brush the dog's coat by the fire, and maybe give the dog nice ear scritches, and joke to the dog that it's probably smarter than his idiot servant by far—"you wouldn't run off into the wilderness in the dead of winter without telling a soul, now would you? of course not. and it wouldn't matter, would it, if i didn't find him so...—aargh."

in the end, maybe the spell finally wears off at random, and leaves merlin sprawled on the flagstones where he'd fallen asleep the night before, as a dog, on a pile of arthur's blankets. arthur wakes up and finds him like that. the dog is gone, and arthur is none the wiser, just terribly relieved merlin is back...

#bbc merlin #merthur #this brainworm got to meee

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fuckyeahdindjarin · 1 year

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A Palomino Christmas

Jack Daniels x f!reader

|| Palomino universe oneshot, out of chronological order as I haven't finished the series yet. Can be read as a stand-alone. ||

{ Fuck Yeah Holidays | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: E

Summary: You spend Christmas at the ranch with Jack. You thought the present you got him was inspired until you see him wearing it - the cowboy way.

Inspired by snowsuit anon and this adorable post (and a super cute nickname for a pony) sent to me by @aynsleywalker.

Warnings: !Ski suit action!, drinking, mention of food, gratuitous descriptions of the male bulge body, dirty talk, safe unprotected sex, feelings so fluffy. These holiday fics are for fun, so not as *rigorously edited* as my regular stories, please forgive any mistakes or plot holes!

Word count: 4.5k

Dedicated to @guiltypleasure-girl who I'm so grateful to have made friends with this year and who, imho, draws the best Jack in all the lands. If you don't already, follow her art page @guiltypleasure-art for the most gorgeous fanart ❤️

It’s always busy in the Stateman’s main kitchen on Christmas morning. The smokey burn of firewood warms the cozy space as the radio blares holiday tunes. Poppy presides over the operations at the head of the table - everything is planned down to the T and everyone has a role.

On any other Christmas day, Jack would be her sous-chef, the one she relies on to keep everyone on schedule and in their place.

But alas, today is not any other Christmas day.

The normally put together cowboy ambles around the place like a headless chicken, leaving a trail of half-completed tasks in his wake. Tequila, in uncharacteristic discretion, follows two steps behind.

He turns off the tap that Jack’s left pouring into the already full kettle, draining the excess water and putting it on the boil.

There’s one slice of bread in the toaster, while another lies forgotten on the table, which Teak slides into the free slot and pushes down the lever.

Jack pulls a jar of pickles from the fridge unseeingly, putting it on the table and walking away in search of a mug under three sets of watching, worried eyes. Teak replaces it with his friend’s favourite strawberry jam without a word.

While the oblivious cowboy’s back is turned, Teak motions his hand and forth across his neck in a slicing motion, mouthing nope emphatically at the occupants of the kitchen table.

On his cue, Poppy clears her throat and speaks up, ‘Jack, sweetie, why don’t you go check on the horses after your toast? The stable boys want to leave work early today after doing their morning rounds.’

‘Yeah, sure,’ he answers absent-mindedly, staring down into the empty mug in his grasp as if he’s lost his train of thought.

At that very moment, the toaster pops and Jack practically jumps out of his skin, stepping on Jameson’s paw where he’s lying on his rug in front of the fire, prompting an indignant yelp from the border collie and winces from around the table.

‘Sorry boy,’ he apologises and picks up his toast - burning his fingers - and stumbling over his feet to set his plate down. ‘Mornin’,’ he nods to the others without really registering who’s there.

Jack proceeds to butter his toast with such singular focus that he doesn’t notice when Tequila fills his still empty cup with coffee, only to knock it over immediately when a phone buzzes and his hand flies out to grab his. Ginger and Poppy trade concerned looks as he jumps onto his feet with another apology, snatching a tea towel to clean up the mess.

Eggsy, on potato peeling duty on the other side of the table, isn’t so diplomatic. ‘You’re jumpier than Bambi this morning, cowboy.’

Jack grunts noncommittally and chews on his toast, not rising to the bait.

‘Don’t be so nervous mate, we promise we’ll be on our best behaviour.’

Teak snorts from the kitchen counter where he’s making his PBJ. ‘I don’t know about England, but around these parts, lying on Christmas day is frowned upon.’

Eggsy replies high-handedly, ‘Can’t speak for you, Tequila, but I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

Ginger chuckles as Teak sits down at the table with his sandwich. ‘Ha! I’ll believe it when I see it.’

Jack points a forceful finger at the boys, one after the other. ‘I swear to the baby Jesus Christ, if you two don’t behave yourselves, there will be hell to pay.’

Eggsy snickers. ‘Never thought I’d see the day. Ol’ cowboy Jack falls heads over heels for a bird -’ he screeches when the coffee-soaked rag hits him in the face, which sends Teak into hysterical laughter. ‘Oi! What the fuck, man!’

Ignoring the ruckus, Jack dusts the crumbs from his hands and shrugs on his jacket, grabbing a thermos and filling it up with fresh coffee. With a hurried later, he strides out of the warmth of the kitchen and into the frigid morning air.

Thermos tucked under his arm, Jack rubs his palms together, warming his fingertips with his breath as snow crunches beneath his well-worn boots. The ranch is blanketed in thick snow, a picture-perfect postcard landscape as it is every Christmas. The morning mist has yet to burn off, but he can tell by the peek of blue through the clouds that it will be a fine day.

If your flight is on time, you should be on your way by now. He’d wanted to pick you up from the airport, but you insisted that there’s no point in him driving all the way there when you already know the way. Depending on the conditions, it shouldn’t be long until you arrive.

His list of chores isn’t long this morning - the stable boys will be on duty until lunchtime - but still, he wants to tick all the boxes before you get here. Striding into the heated stables, he says howdy to the grooms and whistles, smiling as dozens of faces appear at the doors, ears pointed forwards in attention, snickering and whinnying at him.

This never gets old.

‘Mornin’ ladies and gentlemen,’ he calls out, wandering down the stalls, rubbing a velvety nose here and pulling on a furry ear there. ‘Who’s ready to stretch their legs this fine mornin’, huh?’

Starting at the end of the stables, he unlatches Bourbon’s door and ushers him out of the stall, then crosses the aisle to let out Tanqueray, Champ’s elderly but still supremely poised Friesian, who clops leisurely towards the exit. Zig-zagging back and forth, Jack whistles, jostles and chats to the horses, all smartly dressed in warm rugs, as they file out down the corridor and into the courtyard for a bit of morning exercise while the stable boys mucked out their stalls.

‘No loitering, ma’am,’ says Jack sternly when Poppy’s mare, Pie, idles in the middle of the building. He gives her a firm pat on the rump to get her moving and whistles at one of the cheeky Shetland ponies who’s snuck into someone else’s stall. ‘Half-Pint! What did I say about stealing your friends’ treats? Shoo, now!’

The stables empty, the echoes of hooves on the concrete ground fading, with Scotch being one of the last to exit. Looping back to make sure there are no dilly-dalliers, Jack’s surprised to find the palomino, who would normally be leading the charge towards the grazing fields, still lingering at the barn doors.

‘Whatcha doin’, boy?’ he calls out.

Scotch tosses his head and steps to the side -

And you appear.

With the biggest grin, you run towards him and fly into his arms.

Your cheeks are wet, the spray of snow powder melting when it hits your skin. It drifts all around you as Scotch eats up the white ground, the thundering hooves muted by the soft cushion of the untouched, overnight snow. The mountain air is sweet and pure and stingingly cold, you can barely feel your face anymore - but it might just be from how hard you’ve been smiling.

You feel like you’re in the middle of a Christmas movie. The lush, green landscape you remember so well from your trip months ago is now all coated in wintry glory, but you still recognise the contours of the land and the mountains. It’s your first time in the saddle since - the whistle of the winds in your ear is a song you remember all the words to, the burn in your out-of-practice muscles all over a familiar old friend.

And you’re happy.

Slowing Scotch to an easy trot as you approach the end of the trail, your breath mists in front of your face as you look down over the ranch, a scene straight out of a classic snow globe, thin wisps of smoke drifting from the chimneys of the wooden lodges dotted across the property.

Gently manoeuvring the palomino to a halt and giving him a pat on the neck, you turn to smile at Jack as he walks up beside you on Whiskey. ‘I’ve missed this so much.’

‘Me too,’ he answers, warm eyes on you.

You give him a sidelong glance. ‘You’ve been here the whole time, cowboy.’

‘I know. I’ve missed you being here.’ He reaches over and pulls your gloved hand towards him, presses a kiss to the back. You want to shuck off the leather and cup his whiskered jawline in your palm, push the well-worn hat off and twine your fingers into his hair -

Later. There will be time for all that later, preferably in front of a roaring fireplace.

You break the moment with an eyebrow arched in a challenge. ‘Race you to the stables?’

Jack grins. ‘You’re on, darlin’.’

Christmas dinner is in the main lodge, which you didn’t use during your trip in the summer. The intimate space is exuberantly decorated in red and gold, a huge, freshly cut pine tree stands proudly by the antique fireplace, a merry fire burning. The table is beautifully laid, silverware immaculately polished and fine china sit alongside holidays-themed napkins. A magnificent feast lines the length of the mahogany dining table comfortably seating eight.

But any kind of decorum stops there.

As the hours tick by and bottles of wine and sherry are emptied, the meal has descended into what Jack warned you in advance as ‘typical Kingsman chaos’. According to the cowboy, the whole Kingsman team comes to the ranch every summer for their annual company retreat, but only Merlin, Eggsy and Harry fly over for Christmas. And while their contingent is small, havoc is an inevitable conclusion where any number of the Kingsman are involved.

Desserts are still being passed around the table - sticky toffee pudding, pecan pie and Yule log - when Teak and Eggsy start to raise their voices and slap the table about British and American Christmas songs. They’re currently yelling - not singing - carols at each other, with Jameson barking excitedly in the background.

Tequila throws his hands up in frustration at Eggsy’s rendition of Twelve Days of Christmas. ‘Why is there a partridge in a pear tree? What the fuck is a partridge?’

Champ and Merlin are having a more civilised but no less intense debate about pies - specifically mince pies versus pumpkin pie as a holiday dessert.

‘Next year, old chap,’ declares Merlin. ‘I’ll bring mince pies with me and you’ll be eating your words, just you wait.’

Jack whispers in your ear. ‘He says that every year, but never does.’

You chuckle and turn your attention to Harry, who’s now insisting that they should put Love Actually up on the big projector screen after dinner, whereas Ginger and Poppy are lobbying for Elf.

‘Why not The Holiday? It’s literally the perfect American-British movie,' you pitch in, which launches another furious tirade of debate at your end of the table.

Jack mumbles under his breath. ‘Because they’re idiots and pointless, festive arguing is a winter sport around here.’

His arm is warm around your shoulders as you giggle into your mulled wine. ‘Is it like this every year?’

‘Yup,’ he answers, really popping the P. With a mild touch of embarrassment, he holds your amused gaze and asks, ‘Too much?’

Tipping your face upwards, you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

‘Just enough,’ you assure him as the corners of his eyes crinkle in the warmest smile.

You didn’t have time to drop off your suitcase at Jack’s cottage, which is a short drive from the ranch, when you arrived in the morning. Instead, with Champ’s blessing, you commandeered one of the guest cabins, all empty in the off-season - which is just as well. By the time midnight rolls around, it’s clear that no one is in any state to make their way back to their respective off-site houses.

Harry and the ladies retired to their borrowed rooms a little while ago, leaving you and Jack to round up the stragglers. You check on Teak, lying face down on the sofa, bundled up in his winter quilts in an aborted attempt to leave. A few steps over, you drape a blanket on Champ and another one on Merlin, who are passed out on armchairs which look comfortable enough to sleep in, socked feet up on matching ottomans. Eggsy is cuddling with Jameson in front of the fire, and Jack feeds the logs to make sure it burns till morning.

It’s bleak outside. Jack shields you from the worst of the winds, tucking you into his side as you trudge across the snow, the early start you’ve had catching up on you. Thankfully, the heating is already on in the cabin when you get there, and he starts a fire as well while you get ready for bed.

When you pad into the bedroom in your pyjamas, teeth brushed and makeup washed off, Jack looks up to see you holding a neatly-wrapped present, a shy smile on your lips.

Standing up from the fireplace, he dusts his hands and reaches for you, palms settling on the small of your back, leaning down to graze his still cold nose against yours. ‘Is that for me, darlin’?’

‘Maybe,’ you reply coyly. ‘Do you want to do presents now or tomorrow morning?’

‘Let’s do it now, I have to feed the horses early tomorrow,’ answers Jack, pecking you on the cheek. ‘Give me five minutes.’

The bed is cold, and you have to steel yourself to burrow into the icy cocoon of the thick covers, missing Jack’s warmth. He doesn’t make you wait long, re-appearing in just boxers, and a big box in hand, switching off all but the bedside lights.

Sliding under the duvet, he yelps when your icy feet tangle into his longer legs, making you laugh. His bare skin heats you up instantly as he wraps one arm around you and pulls you into his broad chest. You feel him hum when he asks, ‘You want to go first, darlin’?’

Blinking up at him, you answer nervously, ‘No - you first.’

He pushes the box your way and you sit up, pretending to shake the package to gauge what’s inside. Jack chuckles, his strong forearms dark against the beige quilt wrapped around his middle. Only his fingers give away his nerves, picking at loose threads in the fabric as you carefully unravel the wrapping paper.

Lifting the lid of the box, your lips part and you stare wordlessly at what’s inside.

‘Jack,’ you breathe. ‘It’s beautiful.’

Gently, you pull out the cowboy hat in tan suede, the smell of fresh leather comforting as you turn it over in your grasp, marvelling at the craftsmanship in the dips and swells of the construction.

‘Try it on, darlin’,’ he says, his shoulders relaxing in relief at your reaction.

You do, and of course, it fits perfectly. Shuffling onto your knees, you crawl closer to kiss him fully on the lips, tilting your head to the side so that his face fits under the brim of your hat. ‘Thank you, I love it.’

Jack arches an eyebrow. ‘You might want to check the box again, darlin’.’

Sitting back on your haunches, you send him an almost accusatory look. ‘You can’t give me two presents, cowboy.’

He shrugs with an insolent grin. ‘I’m a grown man, I’ll do what I like. ‘

Your eyes alight on the black velvet case at the bottom of the box, and you draw it out with careful fingers as if it will break. With one last glance at Jack, you gingerly lift the lid, feeling the hinges creak.

Jack watches you closely, his own breathing suspended as you stare down into your hands, thoughts whirring in his head. Is it too much, too soon? Is he comin’ on too strong? Would you even like it?

After the longest ten seconds of his life, you look up at him with soft eyes and brows drawn, a crack in your voice. ‘Jack.’

He gives you a lopsided smile and reaches for the box. ‘I went back to the same silversmith who made my belt buckle and asked him to make this.’

The chain is delicate in his big, weathered hands. It takes him a couple of tries, but he eventually manages to pry open the hinge of the clasp and holds out the necklace towards you in a question. ‘May I, darlin’?’

Turning around, the bed dips behind you as Jack shifts closer, cool silver kissing your décolletage as he fastens the clasp behind your neck. Your gaze drops downwards, the tip of your index finger testing the weight of the solid sterling pendant in the shape of a flask, Statesman emblazoned in delicate lettering -

A much smaller but exact copy of his belt buckle.

His words draw you out of your thoughts. ‘You like it?’

‘I love it,’ you correct him, twisting around to tackle him into the mattress, your knees around his waist as you loom over him, knocking off your hat so you can kiss him properly. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you.’

The pendant dangles from your neck, tickling him on the chin as he winds one big hand into your hair, his eyes following as it sways. ‘It looks good on you, darlin’.’

The warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest starts to recede as your eyes land on the present you got for him on the bed. The giddiness you felt when you found it is a distant dream, instead, anxiety threatens to take root deep in your head. If you got something from Amazon tonight, is there any chance that they could deliver tomorrow -

‘Darlin’. You’re thinking too loudly,’ says Jack soothingly, chucking you gently under your chin. ‘What’s wrong?’

You shake your head. ‘I got you a really stupid present. Let’s forget about it - I’ll get you something else.’

His brows draw together in concern as he grabs your wrists and pulls you flush against his chest so that there’s nowhere else to look but at him. ‘Don’t say that, there’s no such thing as a stupid present. Whatever you got me, I’m sure I’ll love it.’

You inhale deeply, chewing your bottom lip. ‘You mentioned a few weeks ago that your leather jacket and fleeces are too bulky and it’s hard to move around in all the layers when it's cold.’

He nods encouragingly. ‘That I did.’

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you reach out and drag the package towards him. ‘Well, I saw this at my local shop, and thought it might help.’

Jack gives you a reassuring smile and leans back into the pillows, grabbing the present excitedly. He pulls you against his side, as if he’s trying to squeeze all the self-doubt out of you, the gift draped across your laps as he starts to unwrap it.

You’re a bundle of jitters when he rips off the wrapping paper with impatient fingers, and the lightweight and puffy blue fabric comes into view.

Jack shakes out the neatly folded one-piece. ‘Is it - a ski suit?’

You nod and point out the black contrasting detailing on the front of the suit. ‘It's light and it's warm. Look at the western design with the single point pockets - I couldn’t not get it for you.’

Jack chuckles, the sound warming you as his arm tightens around your shoulders. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. So simple, yet so clever.’

‘You like it?’ you ask in the smallest voice.

‘I love it,’ he grins, drawing you in for another kiss. ‘Thank you, darlin’.’

Finally assuaged, you sag against him, a yawn creeping up on you as the tension in your body recedes. ‘You want to try it on now?’

Tucking you in, he says, ‘I’ll try it tomorrow, it’s been a long day for you, darlin’.

Putting your hat and his ski suit on the bedside table, Jack turns off the light, his body immediately seeking out yours under the sheets, claiming every inch of you with a leg between your thighs, front plastered to your back, palms under your ratty pyjamas top, splayed across your naked skin.

It’s been too long.

Nose tucked behind your ear, his arms full of you - finally here after months of feeling your phantom weight in his embrace - the night slips away as the snow falls outside.

It’s too warm under the covers when you wake up, even though Jack’s side of the bed is empty. You stretch lazily, the clock reads 8am but the fire is still going strong, he must have stoked it when he got up.

You decide to make some coffee and wait for him to come back before venturing to the communal kitchen for breakfast. While the water boils, you smile as you fiddle with the necklace sitting on your chest, warm and reassuring against your skin.

The smell of caffeine fills the cabin as you sip from your mug, and before long, you hear Jack stomping up the stairs, humming a country tune in his raspy baritone as he approaches the door.

Pouring him a steaming cup, you say, ‘Hey, I made you some coffee -’

You trail off when you turn around.

Your morning brain can’t quite grasp the picture in front of you. Jack’s still wearing his cowboy hat, his nose red from the cold. Vaguely, you realise he’s wearing the present you gifted him - and you congratulate yourself on the fact that it fits him like a damn glove.

The ski suit accentuates his broad shoulders and tapers in at his waist in a flattering cut, the zipper drawn all the way up to the hollow of his throat. He’s replaced the detachable belt that came with the ski suit with his own, the flask bottle buckle popping against the blue.

But the bottom half - that you have trouble comprehending. It takes you a beat longer to realise why.

He’s wearing full-length cowboy chaps over it.

Chaps are essentially leather trousers with the seat cut out, and Jack's wearing them with his belt looped through the straps. You know he only uses them when it’s muddy, to keep his jeans clean. He didn’t wear them at all on your pack trip, but you’ve seen a peek on Facetime in the rainy months in between. And now that you're seeing them in person, you decide that like them - a lot.

Your gaze, slow as molasses despite being completely unburdened by shame, slides all the way down to the triangle of blue framed by the negative space in the brown chaps where - for the lack of a better expression - his prominent endowment hangs heavy at the apex of his strong thighs. Not that you’re trying to look, but you can see the very heft of him through the fabric.

Jesus H. Christ. It’s too fucking early to be sinning.

When Jack realises that you’re staring, he says somewhat apologetically, clearly oblivious to the merry tangent your mind has gone off on. ‘Sorry, I know I’m not meant to wear it this way, but I didn’t want to get it dirty -’

You shake your head hastily. ‘No, it’s not that. It’s - perfect.’

Something breathless in your tone catches his ear, and he tilts his head to the side, one large hand coming to rest on his hip, thick fingers spread obnoxiously wide over the side of the chaps. The beginning of a cocky smile lifts the corner of his mouth. ‘Yeah, darlin’? You like it?’

Leaving your mug on the counter top, you bite your lip and give him your best teasing grin. ‘Why don’t you turn around so I can take a better look, cowboy?’

He arches an eyebrow at your boldness, but decides to indulge you. Voice dropping an octave, he rasps, ‘Better take a seat for this, darlin’.’

You grin and do as you’re told, turning the kitchen chair around so that you’re facing him, running your eyes up and down his frame as he steps into your space, narrow hips swaying to a beat you can’t hear. Hooking his thumbs into his belt, he suddenly turns with a dramatic flourish and arches his back, granting you an unrivalled view of his behind framed by the chaps cut off at the top of his thighs, the ski suit tight against his pert bottom.

‘Enjoy the view, darlin’?’ he asks, grinning over his shoulder at you.

You swat him on one cheek playfully, and when he swoops suddenly into your lap in a classic burlesque move, you squeal, ‘Jack!’

Bending his knees, he grinds into your thighs as you laugh, the ski suit soft on your skin while the leather chaps scrape against your bare shins. Turning around, he reaches up to tug the suit’s zipper downwards in a slow, deliberate course, and he purrs, ‘What say you if ol’ cowboy Jack gives you a proper show, hmm?’

You inhale sharply as the white wife beater underneath comes into view, and you reach up to help him push one side of the ski suit off his shoulder, revealing the firm line of his left arm.

‘Thought that was more of Teak’s thing,’ you quip, licking your lips as your eyes skim down his front to settle on the weighty bulge now straining against the front of the suit, your eager fingers pulling him closer by his belt buckle.

Gripping the edge of the table, he traps you into your seat, his stare dropping to the matching pendant resting on your now heaving bosom, taking in your blown pupils as he grins. ‘Anythin’ for you, darlin’.’

‘Aren’t I the luckiest girl,’ you muse, taking off his hat and flinging it onto the table, his hungry stare alone pinning you in place when you drag him down to you by his lapels.

Warm lips part yours and he delves into your mouth, kissing you deeply. The promise of more leaves you chasing him as he draws back with a drawl. ‘You’re about to get a whole lot luckier, darlin’.’

The thick material of the ski suit is almost pillowy as your fingers dig into his shoulders to steady yourself. It rubs gently on your nipples as you rock against Jack, arms wound around his neck while his desperate hands cup and knead the plump swell of your ass, dragging you up and down his hard cock.

‘That’s it, you’re ridin' me beautifully, darlin’,’ he growls into your ear, exhaling hot and heavy as he nips your collar bone. ‘Missed you so much.’

His chaps are slippery under your bare thighs from your slick, and you clench at the sensation of being completely naked on top of him when he’s still fully clothed, only his belt and zipper undone so that he can fuck up into you, the rickety kitchen chair groaning under the weight of the two of you.

‘Missed you too,’ you whisper against his lips, crying out when he hits a particularly deep spot inside you. ‘Yes, yes, harder, Jack.’

Leaning forward, he takes one breast into his hot mouth, one eye on your necklace that’s sticking to your sweaty skin before licking you between your tits and over the silver pendant, the salt sharp on his tongue. He hums, ‘You wear it so well.’

‘I won’t take it off, ever,’ you swear, throwing your head back when he scrapes his teeth against the column of your neck, so full of him that your knees quake.

‘Good,’ growls Jack, thrusting harder into you, making your breath stutter. ‘Keep me with you, darlin’ - always.’

You smile, fingers curled into his hair, stealing a tender moment as your noses bump and eyes meet with the easiest promise you will ever keep. ‘Always.’

Notes: Am I allowed to pick favourites? I'm not? I'm doing it anyway -- this is my favourite out of all the holiday fics, no question! I'm so soft for cowboy Jack and his darlin' 🥹 We've been spending time with just the two of them so far in the series, so it was really fun to explore the group situations, especially with the Kingsman involved!

I hope you enjoyed this fluffy interlude. Wishing you all a very merry Christmas and thank you so much for reading ❤️

#jack daniels x you #jack daniels fanfic #jack daniels x reader #jack whiskey daniels #jack daniels #jack daniels x fem!reader #jack daniels x f!reader #kingsman golden circle #fuckyeahholidays #‘tis palomino season

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filmbyjy · 8 months

Text

COLLIE DUTY

SYNOPSIS > being the new CEO to the ‘Sim Corp’ was hard and stressful. jake didn’t have much time to spend with layla and so he decides to get a dogsitter, you. though, you were originally already his secretary. how will dog sitting bring you two closer?

EIGHTEEN - jake’s rizz

WARNING: uh. idk if there is any? let me know I’ll edit this chapter to add it in

MASTERLIST | PREVIOUS | NEXT

you couldn’t lie, your heart dropped the moment jake sent those very mysterious and ominous texts. it scared you and you did not look forward to the final results. what if he was going to scold you again? no, what if he was gonna cut your pay? you needed to buy a new outfit for your sister’s wedding soon. actually, you didn’t have to buy a new one, you have plenty of outfits that would look nice if you just figured out a combination to put together. however, where is the fun in that? new clothes always made everyone look fresh!

as a wise man (named park jongseong) would say. either ways, you shouldn’t worry about this. you looked straight down your phone and shot a quick ‘okay, sir’ text to jake. which you realised, why are you even putting effort to the man who was blatantly being mean to you? right, he has the authority and the source of your income. now, imagine jake being your sugar daddy-

wait. where did that come from? god, you were long gone.

you had quickly put on your shirt and pants, threw your hair in a ponytail (or if you have short hair, just a half ponytail) then left your home with your valuables. the drive to jake’s house wasn’t that far, he lived in a gated community with a really sweet security guard guarding the gates. his neighbours were a sweet elderly couple who lived with their cat and dog. very cute. they were super adorable too. when you started working from home at jake’s house, the elderly couple actually thought you were jake’s girlfriend.

they meant no harm but it still got your heart tugging a little. they apologised for the slight mistake and kept complimenting you and jake about how sweet he was and that you and him would definitely look like a cute couple. either ways, you made it and parked at the street outside of his home. a two-storey home that not only looked cozy but was cozy inside too. well, until you enter his office and room. that place is completely so cold in some way. maybe it was the way the furnitures were just industrial and his bed was a huge king sized bed where he was alone.

“oh, (name) sweetie.” the elderly lady smiles. you smiled and bowed at her.

“hello Mrs.Matilda, are you out here to view the outside and just chill?” you asked her.

she laughs, “oh dear, it’s as per usual. my husband is currently sleeping so i don’t want to disturb him. you look different in a casual outfit, you look so sweet and innocent. are you here to babysit layla again? i am sure, jaeyun is home today though?”

“ah, umm he asked me to see him so i am here for him today.”

“oh? you youngsters have a very different way asking people out for dates. back in my day, my husband just surprises me with a bouquet of flowers and asks me out.” she laughs heartily.

“oh, umm. he isn’t asking me out-”

“Mrs.Matilda, you’re awake.” jake says. you turned to look at him. he smiles at Mrs.Matilda. his outer appearance looks way different than how he is normally at work. in fact, he really looked like a puppy. his hair down with bangs covering his forehead. the way he tilted his head in curiosity and the pout he had, god he was so adorable.

“oh, jaeyun dear.” Mrs.Matilda smiles at jake. jake goes over to hand her some biscuits.

“my mom came over yesterday and made these. she wanted to give it to you yesterday but you weren’t around when she wanted to pass it you.”

“oh my, thank your mom for these. my husband will definitely love this even more.”

“any time.” jake turns to you. “let’s go in.” he grabs your hand and pulls you in gently. your eyes widened because he literally intertwined your hand with his. hands clasped and everything. not a single warning???

Mrs.Matilda smiles as she watches this and you could only look at her confused as jake pulls you inside his home.

jake brings you inside his home and you were instantly greeted by Layla. She wags her tail happily once she sees you, she also barks happily and tries to jump on you. it makes your heart burst at how adorable she was.

“aww, what good girl~” you cooed at layla as you gave her a bunch scratches and pats seemingly forgetting jake was there.

jake on the other hand, seemed to have just watched you. it gets his heart racing a little. seeing his two favourite girls-

ehem, his favourite girl and uhh. okay, who was he lying to? his favourite girl and the girl he likes interacting.

“oh, right. why did you call me here?” you asked jake.

jake’s brain short-circuits. he just realised you weren’t in your normal secretary smart outfit that you usually wore. instead you were in something casual. you looked so domestic. very wifey material.

“uh. right.” jake points to heaps of papers. “I need help clearing that. I-I know this is your day off but-”

“don’t worry. I’ll help. I understand it’s hard being a CEO and clearing all this approval letters and stuff.”

“right. I also need help with this project i’m working on with umm jay. he said he placed the research in the file so like I just need some help reviewing it. since it’s better to have two pairs of eyes to like get opinions.” jake says.

“mmm, alright. let’s get to work, I guess.” you say.

just as you scanned the many files and papers on jake’s desk, you can’t help but feel him stare into your soul. it was obvious he was staring at you but for what? you didn’t know.

“mr.sim, are you okay? is there something wrong with my face?”

jake’s eyes widened, “no not at all. I just umm…can you not call me mr.sim when we’re alone like this?”

it went dead silent after he said that.

“umm but you’re my boss?”

“we aren’t technically in the office right now and we’re the same age?”

“yeah, but you’re still my boss.”

jake sighs, “okay then. as your boss, I want you to just call me jake when we’re outside of the office.”

you wanted to say something but jake cuts you off, “I will cut your pay if you call me mr.sim or sir when it’s just us.”

you quickly shut your mouth after. you knew was joking about cutting your pay but like in some way, it sounded really real.

“okay, s- jake.”

“mmm, good girl.”

you froze.

DID JAKE JUST CALL YOU A GOOD GIRL??

a/n: OHOHOHO >:) sim jaeyun you naughty naughty 😈

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no-less-than-a-god · 3 months

Text

Of Harvest, Of Celebration, and of Rest (part 2)

part 1 here

Before the sun had risen, the farm was nothing but stirred soil and ungrown seeds; now, it’s overflowing with gourds, vegetables, and fruits alike. The entire flock has taken to the field, marveling at the crops and watching the farmers, still in their ritual robes, take to their duties and pick as many plants as they can reach.

“Leaders!” a child shouts at the Lamb and Narinder. The Lamb turns, and watches a small border collie run up to them between two rows of pumpkins that almost swallow him in height. “Did you see it? Did you see the crops shoot up out of the soil? It was amazing! There was nothing, and then, BOOM-”

“Nic,” a voice calls from behind the child, and his jaw snaps shut with an audible click, a guilty look spreading across his face. “What did I just tell you?” It’s his mother that is scolding him, a gray wolf with a scarred muzzle. She stands among pumpkins, dressed in ritual robes, and holds one of the orange fruits in her arms. Beside her stands a second collie similarly dressed, holding half a dozen eggplants in one arm and two small children—a wolf pup, and a fox kit—in the other, both too young to walk around the overgrown farm without tripping.

Nic, the child follower, glances between his parents and little siblings before looking back to the Lamb and Narinder, and bows his head, clutching his small robe between equally small paws. “She told me to ‘not bother the Leaders while they work’…sorry.”

“You are forgiven, child,” the Lamb replies, and Nic looks back up, bright and starry-eyed. “I myself have not seen the crops sprouting as a result of the ritual, but I believe in earnest that it’s a sight to behold. Your excitement is not something to apologize for. Return to your parents, they are awaiting you.”

The pup spins around and runs back to his parents, joyously screaming incoherent barks the entire way.

“You wonder why the flock you tend to are so dependent upon you,” Narinder quietly comments as the child becomes out of earshot, “when you do not discipline them for even the simple matters, like speaking out of line.” His tail curls in amusement from behind him, and the Lamb huffs in their own show of humor.

“Hypocrisy is not a vice you should harbor as a leader,” is what the Lamb retorts back as they reach to the front of their cloak, unlatching it from beneath the thick collar around their neck; the bell attached to it jingles ever-so-slightly as it’s jostled, releasing a whispering chime into the dry air. They disrobe as they continue their remark, not bothering to turn back to Narinder, “Wasn’t it just the other week you coddled a follower, even after they stepped on your robe while exiting the Temple?”

“I still advised them to be more careful of their surroundings.” Narinder watches as the Lamb’s fleece is pulled off from them, revealing a toned back and arms to three red, observing eyes. His tail curled pleasurably. “Was that not discipline?”

The Lamb looks back, folding their cloak while doing so, eyes narrowing. “As there was no punishment or compensation, I’d say that wasn’t.”

“Shall I put the next robe-treader into the pillory, then?” Narinder follows the Lamb as they step towards a nearby chest to place their attire upon, a teasing and fanged grin speaking on his face from beneath his veil. “Would that suffice?”

The Lamb places their fleece on top of the chest and faces Narinder, crossing their muscular arms across their chest. They say nothing for a moment, just giving him a knowing, glittering look, before changing the topic. “Will you help the farmers with their harvest like I, or will you loiter like the others?”

The two begin to walk again, towards rows of cabbages and beetroot. “You misspeak, Lamb. Others are helping the farmers.”

“Then that means you will as well?”

“A respectful god must provide for their followers. Do you take me for such a pitiful thing?”

Together, the two gods begin to pick vegetables with the rest of the flock, dislodging beetroot and cabbages from the soil and overgrowth for followers to come by and carry back later with carts and baskets. Some of the younger, more romantic followers ogle at the rare sight of the Lamb without a cloak, but look away quickly when catching the covered but still-intense glares Narinder sends over the Lamb’s shoulders.

“Your admirers are bold today,” Narinder muses, plucking a ripe beetroot from the soil. Dirt splays onto his white robes, but he pays it no mind. “They’re staring.”

“Let them,” the Lamb gently replies, raising a hand to brush wool away from their eyes with the back of their wrist. “Their looks aren’t causing harm.”

“But alas, they’re surely not working if they’re staring. I thought you wanted the harvesting to be completed before noon?”

“We’ll be alright, we have efficient workers.” The Lamb pauses, looking up and meeting Narinder’s eyes from under his veil. One of his ears twitch, uneasy, at the sudden eye contact. “Unless, that’s not the truthful reason for your discontent with the ones who stare.”

Narinder’s ears pitch back, and his tail begins to twitch at the tip. He says nothing, neither confirming nor denying the accusation made against him.

The Lamb doesn’t let the current conversation drop, a sharp smile slowly growing on their lips. “Is the one formally known among all as The One Who Waits, jealous?”

“I am not jealous of you, Vessel.” Narinder’s tail is thrashing, and he’s sneering. “I care naught for such-”

“Do not pretend to misunderstand me,” the Lamb interrupts, their smile growing almost sinister. “You know what I meant.”

Narinder squirms under the Lamb’s eyes, claws almost puncturing the beetroot in his hand. He wants to throw it to the ground and stalk off in offense, but he’s not a child.

“You imply I grow jealous of your own flock?” is Narinder’s jab back. “How cruel to accuse me of such. Tell me, what is it I am jealous of? Being made docile and dumb?”

The Lamb breaks their gaze, resuming to pull up the next vegetable in their row. They move to the next crop, and shift on their knees until they’re face-to-face with their fellow god of death.

“You are jealous,” they tease him, “that others can look upon me with such rapture without worrying of reputation or respect.”

“I wear a veil,” he jeers back. “If I so choose, I could look upon you however I wish, however long I please.”

“And yet you stare down our followers for doing the same.”

“Because they are being inefficient with their work.”

“Because you do not like them staring at what you deem yours alone.”

Red eyes squint into small crescent shapes as a fanged and dangerous smile breaks across Narinder’s face. It’s an expression that would send a normal follower to an early grave if the god had not a veil across his face hiding it, but it’s an expression that the Lamb themself takes pleasure in seeing.

“You are alone mine, Vessel,” he purrs, dark and deep. Possessive. “Lest you’ve forgotten?”

The Lamb’s gaze bores into Narinder’s. “I shall never forget, not once. I just felt the need to remind you, however.”

Narinder’s face drops slightly, growing confused. “Remind me?”

“Yes,” they reply, and turn back to the crops. “Because you have grown so jealous of others, you have forgotten your own importance to me, and that has made you as inefficient and lackluster at harvesting as the followers you’ve been glaring at.”

“I am no hypocrite, Lamb.”

“Then get back to work, and forget about them.”

Narinder growls, spits curses at both the Lamb and the flock, but does as he’s told, paying no more attention to the Lamb’s ogling admirers.

He would have stormed off, agitated at the Lamb’s gall to scold him, but he stays; he hasn’t forgotten that his vessel is growing with fatigue, and that his help is needed.

Wordlessly, Narinder harvests the rest of the field with the Lamb and the rest of the flock with minimal complaint, not paying any mind to those he was glaring at before.

----------------------------

The harvest celebration began as something small, beginning the year the ritual first succeeded after four years of continuous hunger. The relief and joy of food was something to cause celebration for, and the followers had festivities for a week straight.

Devotion to the Lamb had skyrocketed during that time, and everyone was happy, so the Lamb allowed them their unofficial holiday.

Over time, as the ritual became a yearly necessity to manage the growing flock, the harvest celebration was passed down from older followers to new. It slowly shortened to a single day by the gentle but firm guidance of the Lamb, and the flowing of joy and festivities became more explosive to compensate.

There are dances, songs, all originating from cult members that have long since passed. Deriving from cultures of the past and combining, the melodies and shimmies are now something entirely unique to the cult, a culture of their own making, continuously evolving as these traditions are passed from one follower to the next.

The preparations, however, have mostly stayed the same.

A structure is being built near the farm, a wide ring of stones and wood that will become a bonfire when the sun settles back into the horizon; wood is strung together with silk and twine into tables for an upcoming feast the cult’s chefs are hard at work preparing; decorative banners in autumn colors and other delights get scrounge up from the backs of storage units to haphazardly pin up around the compound. The followers are high-strung with energy, and are busy as bees.

But not all are preparing for the festivities. The farmers, among others, have been tasked with helping the Lamb in their own preparations. The cult currently has masses of food, but if they’re not stored quickly, they will all rot before winter. It’s their job to preserve the crops.

At first, the cult resulted in using salts, and then turned to pickling produce in barrels, the knowledge of these preservation tactics picked up from travelers the Lamb has met among docks and markets. Now, with the support of a chilling curse produced from Narinder’s claws, the overflow from the salt and pickling barrels are piled in a special storage hut, chilled on the inside with a powerful and icy curse. It’s not as efficient as the other methods, as the ice crystals that adhere to the crops makes them less flavorful and strange to cook, but it keeps them from rotting before they can be used in the following months.

“I will need you to check the healing bay,” the Lamb is instructing a small and stout raccoon, “You will need to tell me within the next day or two if you and your fellow healer are getting low on any supplies. Food may not be an issue this upcoming winter, but sickness is still a threat. It would be beneficial to make sure nothing runs out.”

“Yes, leader,” the raccoon replies, her small hands fidgeting in front of her chest. “Am I to be requested for anything else?”

“If time allows, it would also be optimal to begin checking the insulation in the shelters. If you fear you are not knowledgeable to gauge the condition of the shelters yourself, one of the woodcutters might know. If not, seek me out. I will not mind the intrusion.”

“Yes, leader!” The raccoon bows, gripping her robe anxiously in his hands, and she quickens off.

The Lamb continues directing: a red panda is tasked with asking his peers if they’ll have suitable clothes to warm themselves, and to advise the Lamb if more blankets or clothes will need to be provided. A red fox is asked to help a farmer, a cat with pale yellow fur, load picked crops onto carts to corral off to the kitchens and storage. A stag with a single antler is tasked to check with his daughter, a chef, to see if there is any restocking needed to be done in preparation for the upcoming cold.

By the time afternoon branches into evening, the rush of devising has settled into a calm flow of final touches, and a pause of breath can finally come to the Lamb as followers pile together around tables to enjoy the feast the chefs have worked hard on to make, using fresh fruits and vegetables from the morning’s harvest. They stand back, arms crossed from under their fleece, observing the work their followers have performed over the past day with a note of pride, and are able to take their first deep breath since after the ritual had ended.

Narinder finds his way to the Lamb’s side, a bowl clutched between his hands. He eyes the pumpkin and cauliflower soup calmly as his tail slowly curls around the back of the Lamb’s legs, and he takes an experimental sip of the food from under his veil.

“They’ve done well,” is what he says after a moment. “The soup is good.”

The Lamb smiles. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Your flock’s festivities are always more exciteful after a famine,” Narinder notes, his third eye tracking the movement of a follower talking, their hands moving dramatically as they speak. “I still recall the one thrown after three years without harvest. Most of your followers ended up collapsing out in the fields instead of retiring to their beds that night. I can’t tell if those qualities are something I admire about them, or sneer at.”

“I admire it.”

Narinder’s tail wraps closer to the Lamb. “I inquire that you speak more. Allow me to listen to your reasoning, and let me judge the perspective you bring.”

“Lives are short, for our followers,” the Lamb begins, softly. “Even for those that reach elderhood, they too eventually will die. Such short lives. Do you think, then, that it would be better to focus on the delights, or the things that bring distress?

“They celebrate more after famines because they choose to focus their lives on savoring the better moments. And I have noticed, over time, that our followers who do so are more loyal, more happy. They are more satisfied with the lives we have paved for them, and as a leader it makes me happy.” The Lamb looks to Narinder. “That is why I admire their resolve to celebrate.”

Narinder brings the bowl in his hands up to his mouth. “I understand,” he replies, and consumes more of the soup that had been prepared for the feast. He looks back to the Lamb with all three of his eyes as his bowl lowers. “You have explained well, my Lamb, and I cannot lie and say that I don’t agree. You see their determination, their optimism, and let that in turn empower you. That is something that I cannot help but admire.”

“You’re beginning to stray from this conversation, Narinder.”

“Nay. Admiration is something of which this conversation is about.” He gives the Lamb a small, mischievous smile from under his veil. “It wasn’t specified that your flock was the only subject to be conversed about.”

“Such a foul god.”

“If I’m so removed from divinity to reach the title of a foul being, then why tarnish your own godliness remaining by my side?” Narinder takes another drink of his soup, satisfied with his jab.

“Because my devotion for you has long since corrupted me.” The Lamb’s sudden, honest words cause Narinder to freeze in place, and he listens with sole attention as his equal continues. “My loyalty to you turned me from flesh to blade, and it will be something I will never grow to regret. Even if you truly fell from grace, becoming something so foul you tarnish whatever you touch, I would remain with you.”

Narinder swallows, ear twitching unconsciously. “You are vile.”

“I only speak the truth.” The Lamb is smiling at Narinder, and he turns away, suddenly finding focus in finishing his food and brushing the dirt from his robe. His tail remains around the Lamb, however.

There is silence between the two as the flock begins to finish their large meal. By the time most of the followers are done, the cult’s energy has been rejuvenated, and excitement builds as the last of the sun has set, where the bonfire is finally lit.

It’s the stag, the elder with a single antler, who begins to sing around the fire, one of the festival songs. He sings of growth and rest, of death and life, as others join in from around the fire. It’s not a neat performance, many voices ringing off-key or slightly behind, but there’s heart in it.

There are a few followers who have instruments, picked up along crusades or bought from markets, and they join into the song with their harmonies. Those of whom that don’t sing or play seek partners and begin to dance along to the unlaying beat of the music. The family of farmers, the one containing the child Nic, are trying to teach him and his younger siblings the dance as best they can; it’s not going well, but the attempts are bringing smiles and laughter.

“Leaders?” a cat approaches, her golden skull necklace catching in the light of the bonfire. “Are either of you planning to partake in the festivities? It would be suitable for a break after today’s hard work.”

The Lamb sighs with a small, tired smile, but stretches out a hand regardless for their follower to take. “Lead the way, Piper.”

Narinder watches as the Lamb is guided into the fray of celebration by the tortoiseshell. He is not one for dancing and singing, so it’s not expected among followers for him to join in. The Lamb, however tired they might be, does.

He lets two of his close as he lets himself be overcome by joyous sounds of laughter and song; his third eye remains on the Lamb, watching their fleece flow around them as they spin and dance among their followers. Narinder may not dance, but he does allow his tail to sway behind him in rhythm with the rest of the cult.

He is part of them, after all.

At some point, the Lamb is stopped by two followers, a doe and a rabbit. They seem to exclaim something in jubilation to the Lamb, and they bow their head slightly to the two, saying something in return. The two followers, looking beyond ecstatic, turn to each other and embrace with a kiss.

Narinder is happy for the two, even though it’s not something he plans to admit aloud. It’s been many years since the cult has had a wedding. It would be nice to have one again, even despite the extra preparations it entails.

The music and dancing continue far into the night, and Narinder slowly moves around the fire, circling the flock. He has long gotten rid of his empty bowl, and now takes to observing the cult. When a cow begins to sway from exhaustion rather than from song, it’s Narinder that discretely steadies her, and directs her to the shelters for rest. When a bear appears to begin limping from overexertion, it’s Narinder that quietly interferes for him to sit, and then to rest.

The moon is high in the night and starry sky when the cult’s energy finally settles. The children and the elders are the first to leave, their energies depleting first. Then the exhausted farmers and chefs retire, and then the worshippers. The ones with laborious work are the last to return to their shelters, but they still leave before the morning is too early.

The Lamb and Narinder are the only two left when the bonfire is only embers, and one last bucket of water quells it into nothing but ash to clean away in the future sunlight.

Wordlessly, the two gods return to the Temple, and enter it one after the other. The Lamb leads them to a small set of stairs in the back of the Temple, hidden behind a thick curtain, they ascend to the small loft built in the rafters.

It’s not a big space: There’s a bed that takes up the majority of the room, a chest for the Lamb’s numerous fleeces, and a window stained red to look out of and upon the rest of the compound. But it’s enough.

The Lamb shrugs off their cloak, tossing it, and crawls into the bed, grabbing their half of the crown to sit it on the chest beside their bed. They get comfortable, throwing a thin blanket over their body, and they settle, exhausted.

“Rest with me?” is what the Lamb eventually asks, cracking their eyes half-open to look upon Narinder. He says nothing, but he takes his own crown off, placing it into a small nook above the bed, and he too crawls into bed. He lays facing the Lamb, settling close.

“You forgot something,” the Lamb whispers after Narinder has gotten comfortable, and they shift closer, laying against Narinder’s robes. He hums, and allows the Lamb to reach up to his face, grabbing the band encircling his face and gently removing his veil.

Narinder’s pupils are dark and round, and are looking upon the Lamb. They smile back, and twist to place the veil with their half of the crown. When they turn back, Narinder allows the Lamb to reach out again, running the hoofed fingers of their hand into the fur on the top of his head, on the back of his neck.

The Lamb’s tired smile grows as Narinder begins to purr, the rumbling in his chest and throat felt throughout his body and into the Lamb’s. It’s a soothing sound to the Lamb, and they finally succumb to sleep minutes after.

Still purring, Narinder reaches out and cuddles close, curling himself around the Lamb. Sleep doesn’t come to him, unneeded, but he allows himself to rest with them regardless until dawn is upon the land once more.

I did nawt mean for this half to get so long but you know what? I'll take it! I hope y'all enjoyed this continuation of part 1 <3

#fickle thing #cotl #cult of the lamb #narilamb #loredump

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fuck-customers · 3 months

Note

Fuck Fart⭐️Drivers. I get it, a lot of you are desperate. Maybe you’re new to the state or country, fresh outta jail, fresh out of a shittier job. But fuck you by association anyway. Because what you are is a scab. I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true. That’s not what I hate you for, though. It’s the fact that so many of you ALSO seem to feel entitled to parking spaces right up by the building so you can sit and wait for THIRTY GODDAMN MINUTES to go start picking your order and want to argue with me when I politely ask you to move. “This is the first time anyone’s ever said anything to me” IT IS A NEW ERA, MOTHERFUCKER. I ran this joint for TWO YEARS before the pandemic and swapped duties a few times, and due to policy changes (read: we are actually following policies now) I am delighted to run around the backroom and outside occasionally like a city-dwelling border collie on its off-leash run at the local dog park once more. I am herding you, sheepshit. Move it.

Posted by admin Rodney.

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weixuldo · 1 year

Text

unconditionally// ch 21

anakin x f!reader

(A/N: the first 1/2 of the LAST chapter!!! and let me just say it’s a looong one, sorry again for the wait! but im still dedicated to writing! it’ll pick up again in summer heheh hope you enjoy and there r more notes at the end!!)

and with this ring… i give myself to you

warnings: swearing, anxious thoughts, amputation recovery, emotionally draining?

__________________________

6 Months Later…

The cool autumn air shook the beautifully colored leaves from the trees as you pulled into the parking lot of Anakin’s physical therapy center; just in time to pick him up.

After graduation you ended up moving in with him and the kids, to which they were delighted to have you with them every day.

Honestly, not much changed since you two were basically already living with each other before your argument in the winter.

Though, his attitude towards you became more gentle and caring than you could possibly imagine. He spoke to you and valued your opinions more than ever and when the rare disagreement would happen, the two of you would sit down and seriously talk through the issue giving both of your perspectives.

Your relationship with the kids also strengthened; now they saw you as part of the family (even though you were not yet married to their father).

During the summer, since the kids were off for break, you would go on little day trips with them while Anakin went to therapy.

Anakin’s therapy had been going quite well; he was able to stand without assistance and walk to the end of the strip holding onto the bars. His main goal was to walk you down the aisle at your wedding, but that was dented when he had to get unexpected surgery on his hip.

Since one of his stumps was a little longer than the other, he had been relying too much on his right leg when doing physio. So his hip was buckling from the inordinate amount of pressure being put on it.

His surgery was a minor one, just reinforcing his hip bone and adding a few screws in to hold it in place, but it still set his progress back.

The swish of the automatic doors blew a soft burst of air into your face as you entered the facility. You looked around the waiting room for your fiance but surprisingly, he wasn’t there yet.

That's odd.

Just as you were beginning to take a seat, you heard his voice thanking his therapist for the session.

He guided his chair with his bebionic hand and smiled at the staff as he passed. His white t-shirt was pretty sweaty and some of his sandy locks were sticking to his forehead.

“Ani” you called as you watched him survey the room in search of you.

His eyes met yours, he smiled, and headed towards your direction. Once he was by your side he offered a sweet smile and brushed your arm with his hand.

“Hi babe, how was your session?” you asked as the two of you headed to the car.

“It went well, I’m almost to my next milestone” he said.

You congratulated him with a kiss on the forehead and the two of you continued home.

____________________________________

In the weeks leading up to your wedding, the house had been a little bit of a mess; planners, papers, decorations, and other random designs floating around all surfaces of the house.

Not to mention the new addition to your small family, Anakin’s new service dog, “R2”.

Originally he didn’t really want a service dog because he thought it would be too much work, but once he met the blue merle border collie candidate, he couldn’t resist.

The young dog was energetic, yet reserved; he enjoyed playing with the kids when he was “off duty”. But as soon as his red vest went on, he was in full service mode.

Anakin named the dog after the last letter and digit of the license plate of the car he had his accident in; he wanted to give the dog a meaningful name that gently reminded him of all he had been through.

R2’s tasks were mainly retrieving Anakin supplies or picking up things when they would slip through his hands. He also would help Anakin through panic attacks and alert him if anything was wrong.

In the past months, R2 had been comforting Anakin during his phantom pains and would help you comfort Ani after a nightmare by nuzzling his snout into Anakin’s lap.

Currently, Anakin was showering, R2 was taking a nap, the kids were playing upstairs, and you were getting your overnight bag ready to go to Ahsoka’s. The long awaited day was tomorrow, you were finally going to marry Anakin.

The two of you decided you wanted to do a little bit of a traditional wedding and not see each other ‘til the wedding, so Ben was staying over with Anakin and Luke, while you and Leia were heading to Ahsoka’s.

The sound of the shower finally turned off and you moved towards your room with a smile. The warm steam seeped out from under the bathroom door as you approached it, with a gentle knock you opened the door.

There Anakin was in his chair, towel draped over his shoulders and his damp hair, flopped over his forehead. He sported a custom waterproof arm specifically for the shower and dabbed his face with the towel as he met your soft eyes.

“Hello beautiful” he addressed as he finished drying off.

“Hey handsome” you smiled, before leaning down to kiss him.

“Ben should be here any minute, so i’m going to head out with Leia soon, so I just wanted to come say bye to you one last time before tomorrow”

He took a moment to study your face before speaking again, “Y/N, I’m so excited for you to be my wife tomorrow, you truly don’t know how much I’ve longed for this moment”

“I think I do, Ani” you smiled back, giving him a peck on the cheek.

He sighed and drew you in for one last sweet kiss before Ben rang the doorbell; your cue to head out.

You rested your forehead on Anains before kissing his cheek, “Until tomorrow, my love”.

He held your hand to his lips and kissed once more, “I’ll be waiting for you”.

With a smile you parted ways, greeted Ben, and headed to the car with Leia.

_____________________________________

A sweet aroma of cinnamon and cedar filled your senses as you entered Ahsoka’s house. She had been burning incense to provide good luck and fortune for your big day tomorrow.

“Hey, Sky gal! Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asked happily as she drew you into a big hug.

You laughed and held her tightly, “Yes, I cannot wait”

“That’s the spirit!” she quipped before crouching down to Leia’s level, “And you my dear, are you ready to be the best flower girl?”

Leia giggled and nodded ambitiously, “I’m so excited for Y/N to be my mommy” she smiled.

A mother…

You never really thought too much into how your relationship with the kids would change, technically, yes, you would be their stepmother.

But recently, it hadn’t hit you that they saw you as a maternal figure. Of course you cared for the kids more than anything, but it was an odd feeling to hear them refer to you as their mother.

All the same, you responded to the brown haired girl with a calming voice, “I'm excited too”.

Ahsoka and you sorted out some last minute venue things as Leia got into bed; once she was asleep you and Ahoka began the luxurious self care routine she had planned. You started with face masks and exfoliants, followed by moisturizers and toners.

Everything was right in the world as the two of you sat on her king-sized bed in fluffy bath robes, watching random movies, and snacking on chocolate covered strawberries she had made earlier that day. Once you were thoroughly relaxed and your hunger satisfied, you headed off to bed.

You thanked Ahsoka once more and entered the guest room. Across the small room you saw your garment bag hanging next to the full length mirror. Ahsoka had been holding on to your wedding dress because you didn’t want Anakin to see it before the big day.

Sleepily you unzipped the bag for one quick glance at your attire for tomorrow and a big smile found its way onto your face.

You couldn’t wait.

_____________________________________

You arrived at the venue with Ahsoka and Leia a few hours before the actual ceremony was set to start; the three of you hurried into the room set aside for getting ready.

Soon after you got situated and started getting ready some of your bridesmaids started arriving; you didn’t have too many, but you did ask some of your friends and a cousin or two to accompany you.

“Y/N!! I’m so proud of you!” one of your childhood friends exclaimed as she rushed over to hug you.

You laughed light-heartedly as she gave you a kiss on the cheek.

Once everyone arrived you began to get ready. As much as you hated to admit it, getting ready with all the girls was so fun. Everywhere you looked there was someone doing their makeup or helping another girl with their hair. You also saw Leia’s excitement as the older women doted on her and complimented her cute dress.

Ahsoka finished up her eyeliner and washed her hands before heading over to help you into your dress. Once she met you she smiled.

“Oh my, Y/N, you look like a dream!” she said as she lightly brushed your cheek with the back of her hand.

“Thank you so much Ahsoka, for everything.” you responded with a light blush on your cheeks.

Her manicured hands found their place over her heart as she looked at you adoringly.

“I know we haven’t known each other long, but I’m so honored to call you my friend and I know you are so good for Anakin”.

You felt your emotions stir at her mention of your future husband. Instead of allowing your emotions to spill over, you took her into a loving embrace.

Everything was falling into place with less than an hour to spare. Not to say you weren’t getting last minute jitters; your subconscious anxieties began to break into your mind and you became a bit nervous.

What if he changed his mind? Were you too young? Was this the right decision? Were you ready to commit? Why were you over-thinking? Does overthinking mean you aren’t actually happy? Or is that just more overthinking?

Your restless mind raced with thoughts until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It's time” a beaming Ahsoka said, offering you a hand to stand.

As you stood the train of your dress flowed perfectly under you and the veil trailed nicely as you walked towards the doors. As you smoothed out the lace and embellishments, you heard the familiar tune of the song you chose for your procession.

Indeed, it was time.

_________________________________

The doors of the venue opened to reveal the long silk runner for you to walk on to meet Anakin at the altar. Through your veil you could see the attendants on each side of the aisle, the rows were full of family, friends, and people you hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. It was a little overwhelming with all eyes on you.

The weather was perfect, the sky partly cloudy and the greenery of the venue in full bloom. As the music continues you made your way to your future husband.

An excited Leia walked in front of her brother with a wicker basket of assorted flowers. The crowd collectively awed at her when she tossed the petals. Close behind her was Luke, proudly carrying the rings in a small glass box.

Finally you reached your destination at the end of the aisle so meet a smiling Anakin. As you took your place beside his chair at the altar you felt a sense of relief, you were here with him and it felt right.

He looked at you as if you were a goddess, his eyes only on you with such a look of awe. He was faced towards you in his chair and you met his gaze through the veil as you blushed.

His hair was combed back nicely; the longer strands curling slightly at the ends. His suit was tailored to fit his body perfectly; his shoulders looked broad and strong.

Through the veil you could smell his familiar cologne and that further quelled your anxieties.

You were ready.

Once the music stopped and the crowd sat, Ben came up from his place as best man to help Anakin to his feet. The two of you had planned to have him stand at the altar because you would be there if he needed, and he was able to stand by himself for longer periods of time now.

You couldn’t help but get butterflies every time he stood to his full height; his prosthetics made him slightly taller than the 6 '2 he was before the accident.

Once he was situated the officiator began,

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today….”

To be quite honest you toned him out, instead focusing all of your energy into trying to get the clearest look at the man in front of you through the lacy veil. You couldn’t quite make out his whole expression but you could tell he was happy.

Soon the officiator initiated the next part of the ceremony, “And now the couple will share their vows”.

You began with yours, just something small you prepared, from the heart.

“Anakin, I cannot express to you how much you mean to me…I can’t believe that only a year and a couple months ago, we didn’t even know each-other existed. You have become such a pivotal part of my life and I’m so honored to have you in my life and to love you”

As you continued the soft smile on his face widened and his blue eyes became caverns of emotion.

“And with this ring, I give myself to you… as your partner, your number one supporter, and your wife”

You placed the gold band onto his mechanical finger and looked back into his eyes as he began his vows.

“Y/N, sweetheart. Darling. My love. This past year has been a rocky one. But you have been there every step of the way, not just for me but for my kids too, I truly don’t think I would have survived without you. Every time I wanted to give up and accept death, you were there to help pull me through. You gave me strength when I had none, you cared for my children when I couldn’t, and gave me love the whole time. You taught me I could feel love again, you showed me that when I couldn’t even love myself. And for that I am eternally grateful, you have my heart, F/N.”

You blinked away the tears as you gazed into his vibrant eyes.

“I am so blessed to have you as my wife and I promise I will always love you…..unconditionally”

His beautiful blue eyes, now endearingly an ocean of emotions as he gazed upon you.

It took him longer to get the ring on your finger than you did with him because he was having difficulty gripping the small band of gold, but once he did he slid it onto your finger in the most tender way possible. You could tell he had practiced this motion before the ceremony because his fine motor skills were not usually this accurate. Your heart swelled at the thought.

Once it was on the officiator continued to the final part.

“Anakin Skywalker, do you take F/N L/N, to be your lawfully wedded wife and to cherish her through sickness and in health?”

“I do” he smiled down at you

“And F/N L/N, do you take Anakin Skywalker to be your lawfully wedded husband and to cherish him through sickness and in health?”

“I do” you responded, voice dull of adoration.

“Then, with the power vested in me, I Pronounce you, Husband and Wife. You may kiss your bride. Congratulations”

With the resonance of those words in your ears Anakin stepped closer to you and slowly reached his hand up to your veil to pull it back. He was careful not to mess up your hair or bump your face.

You beamed up at him as he got a clear look at your sweet face. It felt as if time stopped, it was only you and him. He mapped every inch of your face as if it were the first time he was seeing your beauty. He was so in love.

Gently, yet passionately the two of you joined in a longing embrace and sealed your vows with a kiss.

Finally, you were his and he was yours.

***

(a/n: omg u guys, thank you so much for sticking with me through this journey… i cannot express how much each and every one of you mean to me!! this started out as me anonymously posting a fic idea and now here i am w 500 something followers and over 6,000 reads 🥹🥹 i love this story so much and it’s bittersweet to come to the end, but don’t worry i’ll do an epilogue heheh)

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bonefall · 8 months

Note

You've single handedly dragged me back into the warriors fandom with your warriors overhaul and as a consequence I've been dragged back to my ocs, so I decided to give clanmew names a whirl for the biggest one I've got, sheepstrike!

During a particularly hard leafbare, the prey in the moors wasn't enough to sustain windclan, leading to a starvation event similar to the great hunger seen in goosefeathers curse. With many of the weaker cats already having died, the clan was growing desperate, and a then generically named curlyfur (fofwarrlfaf, curled fur, named for a curly fur genetic mutation) stepped up with a risky plan: sneak into the twoleg farm and steal one of the sheep once they were let out in the fields. While the clan cats would normally not do something to potentially provoke the twolegs, at this point they were desperate enough to try, which lead to an eventually successful raid. While the raid was a group effort, the windclan cats attributed their survival to the cat who came up with the daring plan. Curlyfur was then given the honor title Sheepstrike, which I've translated as baabakorren, baa meaning sheep and bakorren meaning to use/make use of. While her original name focused more on the actual acquisition of the sheep, her clanmew translation ended up focusing more on the use of the body, as the sheep not only fed the clan but also kept them warm with the use of its wool, and gave them materials to make future tools with the use of its bones.

Her name would have been easier to translate, but I took it a step further and decided to try and keep the alliteration as a fun little challenge. Maybe it's a fun little naming quirk of the windclan leader? Who knows? All I know is I made things needlessly difficult shuffling through the clanmew lexicon finding any verb that started with the letter b and shoving it against baa to see if it fit.

(I also gave naming her littermate Cornflower a whirl and ended up with Mooheqmwaron, mooheq meaning corn and mwaron meaning bloomed. As a young kit and apprentice cornpaw was rather skittish, but after a bit of socializing she grew into quite the social butterfly, becoming a popular figure at gatherings. The prefix corn was used because of her yellow coat color and her clans close location to a farm, and the suffix flower/bloomed was used in reference to the fact that she grew into herself and metaphorically became a bright and beautiful flower. Her original name is also a bit of a fun jab at cornflour, since I picture her having a grand old time with kitchen duty, specifically the baking of tunnelbuns)

If people keep sharing cool OCs that draw inspiration from BB, I'm going to have to find some way to boost them. Some people understand the assignment and absolutely knock it out of the park!

Speaking of sheep-killing... I am actually planning a minor subplot in BB!DOTC relating to sheep. I think I may have mentioned it in passing at some point, but in a nutshell, there's a point after the formation of ThunderClan where Thunder Storm and the Gang are negotiating with the River Kingdom, Shadow's Clan, and the Wind Coalition.

To stay on their good side, the Wind Coalition employs them for a while to teach them the secret of killing sheep, something that Tribe cats know how to do. But they quickly find out that the reason the Wind's Runner sent them to do this isn't because they're better at killing sheep, but because there is a vicious collie and she wants to see what they do with a sudden challenge.

As a result of what happens here, sheep become much more closely managed and killing them becomes too hard to do casually for future generations. WindClan also carries an important cultural memory from the event; that stealing from humans means more dogs on the moor.

(Also the border collie's name is Hamish, for no particular reason. I just think it's a cute name.)

But anyway! Onto some new words for you!

The word "mooheq" is actually made during the Sundrown Patrol! Corn was only 'discovered' and named after the Clan cats settled at the lake, because of passing through so many farms to find Sanctuary Lake. Before then, all of the strange, unnatural-looking plants grown by humans are called Yoshepe.

It's why they don't have words for most farm animals (chickens, goats) or any other common crop, like tomatoes, potatoes, or lettuce. Only particularly noteworthy human products are given names, like the unsettlingly red domestic rose or medically valuable catmint.

So for Cornflower, if she's from a time before the Lake before they invented Mooheq, I've gone and gotten three plants for you. Two to keep a "direct" translation and one to hopefully keep the "vibe"

Cornflower (Centaurea cyanus) AKA Bachelor's Button = Kerrma This plant (and the next one) are actually named for a very interesting reason; they're 'parasites' of cereal-crop fields. Before industrialization, they carved out a little niche as grain impostors, and humans would unwittingly sew them along with the crop. Kerrma is blue and fluffy, valued for its beauty.

Corn Cockle (Agrostemma githago) = Mwirrma While Kerrma is pretty, safe, and a bit more 'delicate,' Mwirrma is an unkillable weed. Poisonous and seen in cornfields, roadsides, and disturbed areas, this pink flower is seen as a reminder to "be careful" when doing something as risky as visiting a human grain field.

Sunflower (Helianthus annuus) = Awlpon I was actually ready to rule against having a word for Sunflower in base Clanmew, then I learned that sunflowers can naturalize themselves in this area, in addition to being a very common crop. So this is one of the few human crops that Clan cats have a name for. It's yellow, it's grown by farms, it's bright and cheerful and faces the sun. If none of the other two tickle your fancy, here's one for Cornflower's vibes!

#clanmew

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