Tumgik
#A malleable creature if you will
reksink · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
The many ranges of a ghost
3K notes · View notes
venterry · 2 years
Text
btw character im trying to make proper drawings for is literally these except bigger and like. solid gold. with wings
Tumblr media Tumblr media
also her name is ENVY and she turns into creatures
34 notes · View notes
linklore · 12 days
Text
ok the potential argument of centaurs having more weight on their forehand = more potential pain is kind of. wrong??? i know human torsos are kinda heavy but theyre not really any heavier than a horse's head and neck considering the amount of muscle in them, and most of their weight is carried on the forehand anyway. they're built for that shit already, and if a centaur is also moving properly biomechanically (aka not being heavy on the forehand) they're not really gonna have that many issues. i understand wanting to figure out anatomy logistics, and i agree, its interesting, but in this case it just doesnt make sense to give them more problems
0 notes
augustinewrites · 1 year
Text
cw: jjk manga spoilers (up to 221), blood, sword fights heh + note: it's finally here, and somehow it's worse than shibuya!
Tumblr media
“is he gonna be mad?”
“satoru?” you snort lightly, taking another bite of your frozen yogurt. “he’s just going to ask if you won. he might try to take the sequel of that new book set you got as punishment— but i’ll see what i can do.” 
across the table, megumi huffs, leaning back into the plush booth. you’d picked him up early from school today, the reason being yet another suspension. his second since he’d started the school year. you suppose that’s the reason for his sullen disposition and existential crisis. 
“am i a bad person?”
you glance up at him in acknowledgement, but take a moment before answering. he stirs the frozen yogurt around in its cup, looking rather glum.
there’s a delicate way of going about these types of things. children (especially teenagers) are complicated creatures. they’re still at their most malleable, your words and actions shaping their very future.
“i don’t think you’re a bad person, megumi,” you answer softly, setting your spoon down. 
“but i…i keep doing bad stuff,” he argues dejectedly. “and— and i was mean to tsumiki—”
“hey. no one’s born wanting to do bad things,” you tell him. “and when they do…it’s usually more complicated than we think. there are bad situations where sometimes we have to do bad things. even if we don’t want to. even if we’re not proud of them.” 
“but how do you know that i’m not?” he asks again, and your heart aches. 
“because i know you,” you smile. “i’ve known you for eight years, megumi. yeah, i think you could afford to try using your words instead of your fists once in a while, and be a little nicer to your sister…but i know everything you do comes from a good place.”
megumi doesn’t reply, staring out the window with that pensive frown of his. all you can do is wonder if you and satoru have done right by him. if you’re doing right by him now. (such is the life of a parent, you suppose.)
all you can do is hope. 
“hey,” you grin, holding your hand out to him. “promise me something?”
_____
you stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding being gutted by a sword. gasping, your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the material sliced right above the small, almost imperceptible bump of your stomach. 
your megumi would never hurt you. your megumi, your sweet, gentle boy who still muttered the song about bunny ears as he tied his shoes. who always offered his sister the last bite of cake, even though you knew he wanted it for himself. who cried the first time his shikigami were injured in battle. 
but this isn’t megumi.
you barely dodge the blade again, ducking and sending your demon dogs out to slow him down as you sprint down the alley. your heart shatters at the sound of a high-pitched whine, but you can’t stop, you can’t look back—
“going somewhere?”
you skid to a stop in front of him, staggering back as quickly as you can. 
megumi— no, sukuna stands in front of you now, holding a sword you’d taught his vessel how to make, how to use. 
“please,” you beg, thinking of tsumiki’s body a few blocks away. thinking of gojo in the prison realm. you can’t lose anyone else today. “please let him go.”
“i don’t think so,” he grins, sick and twisted as he slowly makes his way towards you. “if only he’d unlocked his full potential sooner. if only you had.” 
“he’s just a child.” you say, voice trembling. you look around. there’s no use in running. he’s gotten much too strong.
but you’re not ready to die either.
he wasn’t patient, lunging first and taking the offense. it’s a struggle to meet him at every swing, deflecting blows that send tremors down the sword’s point of impact and reverberate through your arms. 
playing defence is the smart move. you’d wait for an opening or a drop in his own defence. then your goal would be to disarm him and attempt to grant yourself an advantage. 
(in theory, at least.)
when your swords lock once more, he forces them to the side, kicking you square in the chest. the impact knocks you onto your back. before you can get up, he’s on top of you, driving his sword into your shoulder.
the pain is so blinding, so white-hot and tortuous that you almost immediately pass out when he pulls it free and tosses it out of your reach. 
sukuna is in your face now, lips peeled back into a smirk as he laughs, the top of his finger slowly dragging down your face.
“putting you down now would be letting this brat off too easy. doing it slowly, however—”
“get off her.”
your heart skips a beat. that voice. 
there’s a flash of recognition in megumi’s eyes. just a for a second. 
“satoru?” 
“is that any way to treat the person who washed your underwear for almost ten years?” he tsks, hands in his pockets as he steps into the alley, quite literally kicking the king of curses off of you.
he sweeps you off the floor as gently as possible, your stomach flipping at the familiar sensation of being teleported.
you’re not in the alley anymore, you’re up on the roof of a building. as soon as satoru sets you on your feet, you look up, studying his face. the eyes you love so much stare back at you. 
the emotions you’d kept bottled up since he’d been gone pour out at once. proof of your heartache, anger, pain, and loneliness spilling over your lash line.
suddenly there’s too much space between you and you tentatively take a step forward. 
“it’s you,” you breathe. “it’s really you.” 
he says your name softly, and arms you’d longed for envelop you. you feel safe, if only for a moment.
“you need to get to ieiri,” he whispers, a hand cupping your cheek gently. “go. i’ll stop him.”
you both close your eyes, as if the words hurt.
_____
“promise me you’ll always be good.” 
megumi sighs, but places his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.
“i’ll see what i can do.”
4K notes · View notes
hyunsvngs · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 - vampire!changbin x human!reader
wc: 3.2k
cw: vampire!changbin, human!reader, they r in love ur honour, 18+ smut MINORS DNI!!
synopsis: changbin may be a vampire with supernatural strength, but there's nothing he loves more than to let you take control.
a/n: based off of this post and this ask :3 ENJOY.... please heed the smut warnings tho!!
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
sw: blowjobs, blood kink, petnames, mommy kink, dom!reader, sub!bin, maybe slight strength kink?, MUZZLE KINK!, dirty talk, riding, unprotected sex, creampie
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
you can’t believe you’ve got a man this delicious. a man so pliant and malleable too despite his otherworldly, supernatural status. changbin would never use his vampiric strength on you, no - he’d much rather lay down on the bed and let you do what you want to him. 
you’d begged him to turn you when you fell in love. to be able to use your strength on him, you said, trying to convince him. he’d only retorted with a quick “i let you do what you want anyway, sugar?” and well… he wasn’t wrong.
he invited you into his home quicker than any man ever had. he sweetened you up, took you on traditional dates where he turned up at your door with a bouquet of blood red roses, and even sweet talked your mother enough that she approved of him and let you stay at his house. she didn’t know he was over a hundred years old with two pointed teeth, obviously, but what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
the seo estate is magnificent. the gardens are surrounded by an impenetrable stone wall, looking to be as fresh as the day it was built, and changbin has multiple bedrooms to himself. you’d gotten a bit upset - “binnie, doesn’t it get lonely here?” you said, bottom lip quivering, but he’d only slung one muscled arm around you. “i have you now, gorgeous.”
that was another thing about your man - he’s reassuring, and you always feel safe around him. you know that if you prodded at him a little more and begged him hard enough that he would truly change you and turn you into one of his own, if not purely because he cannot see spending his life with anyone else. 
he lays beneath you now, and you’re lost in your own thought with how much love you can have for someone who would be known as a creature of the night. his tummy quivers with an exhale, and you realise your fingernails have been digging into his pecs through the black silk shirt he’s wearing. he shifts beneath you, slacks tight with his erection, and you grin at his reaction.
“you like the pain, binnie?” you muse, digging your fingernails in just a bit harder. changbin whimpers, eyes fluttering shut, and you see his fangs poke out and dig into his plush doll-like bottom lip. not hard enough to draw blood, no, but just enough to the point you know he’s enjoying it. you grind your hips down and his hands fist in the black sheets on his bed. 
the candlelight flickers around you as you adjust yourself, your nightgown spilling off one shoulder and exposing your shoulder to him. when you grind down again, his eyes flutter open, pupils dilated. “i want you to tell me what you want, changbin.”
his eyes flicker to your shoulder, and you giggle when they slowly crawl up to your neck. changbin hums, fingers twitching as if they want to grab you, but he won’t. he’s a good boy. 
“i want-“ he huffs, one of his shorter, human teeth biting at his lip. “i want you. i want to- i want you to ride me, sugar, and will you let me- will you let me drink from you again? god, your blood is the sweetest thing i’ve ever had.”
“mm, maybe,” you respond, but you know you’ll let him. you just need him to beg a little bit more, sweeten you up a bit. “i’ll ride you, binnie. will you let me have your cock in my mouth first?”
“god, really?” changbin groans, eyes flickering in excitement, and you nod. your hand runs down his tummy, past the shirt and to the zipper of his slacks. it bulges out with how hard he is, and you use your fingernail to push it down, the slow noises of the unzipping filling the room.
you’re sure changbin’s going to scream if you don’t hurry up, so you’re quick to lift your hips up and pull his trousers and boxers down muscled thighs together. his cock is hard, unbearably so, slapping against his stomach and leaking against the fabric of his expensive shirt. the head leaks beneath his foreskin steadily. you want it in your mouth, but you have to make him work for it first - you wrap your hand around the base, lifting his cock off of his tummy, and then you’re stripping his cock at a rapid pace. 
“oh! oh, ah- ah,” he’s wincing, and you know it’s dry, but you can’t help but hurt your boy sometimes. tears bloom in his eyes and you can see that it truly must take his superhuman strength to stop his hips from fucking up into your fist, his hands almost tearing his sheets clean off of the bed. “gorgeous, sugar, your mouth- your mouth, please! please, fuck, i-“
changbin cuts himself off with a sharp keen when you flick your fingernail over his nipple, through his shirt. “what do you call me, binnie?”
he must be stupid with it already because he blinks at you, a tear falling down one soft cheek. he stammers a few noises out, your hand still ravaging his cock, and then it hits him. “mommy! ah, mama, mama! mommy, please, please, give binnie your mouth.”
“there you go, good boy,” you coo, hand moving from his chest to his hair. you pet just above his ear, and he leans into your touch, humming happily. you don’t comment when he turns his mouth to your palm, nipping just slightly with his teeth, but you do reward him with a soft smack to his face. “stay still. no biting, bunny.”
he whimpers when you finally begin your descent down his body. you kiss him through his shirt, and then you finally push the material up to his waist to see him in his entirety. you’ve still got a tight grip on him, and he stands prominent in your fist, his leaky tip just barely peeking out. your tongue darts to dip into his piss slit, and he really does rip the sheets a little this time, along with a strangled noise coming from his lungs.
it’s easy to deepthroat changbin’s cock. his girth is so delicious that it stretches your jaw a little, but you’re able to get his length to your throat with no issues whatsoever. you do so, engulfing his cock into your mouth, and when you start bobbing your head he’s done for. he wails with it, little murmurs of your name falling from his lips, and when you let your eyes flicker up to him he’s really crying.
“mama! oh, oh, my- binnie’s cock feels so good, mama, it’s- hnnng, oh!” he’s babbling as if he can’t believe it, as if you haven’t done this a million times, and you move your hand to his sac. his balls are heavy, full and swollen with his pending release, and you massage them with your thumb until he positively can’t control the bucking of his hips. you let him fuck your throat once, twice, and then you slap his balls hard. “sorry! sorry, mommy, binnie’s sorry.”
you let his cock slide out of your mouth, and it lands with a wet slap against the thatch of curly, pitch black hair at his base. “i said to stay still, bunny,” and your voice is hoarse, but he nods, chin quivering.
“‘m sorry,” he mumbles, and you can see how his cock jumps with his nervousness. “will you- will you still let binnie drink? and ride me, and-?”
“and what, baby? cum inside me?” you tilt your head to the side in question, and you swear you see changbin blush. he nods, bottom lip jutting out, and you can’t help your laugh. “we’ll see. be a good boy for me, okay?”
he wasn’t expecting you to move up his body again, but he’s pleasantly surprised when you pull your nightgown up. the white satin remains on your body, just barely held up by the curve of your hips, and you hold his cock upright. you’re soaking wet between your legs, and changbin moans out when you run his length through the folds of your pussy, just barely catching on the swollen bud of your clit.
“binnie,” you say, breathless. “binnie, tell me how much you want it.”
he’s instant with his response. “so bad! so bad, sugar, feel how hard i am? binnie’s that hard just for you, will you let me have it?”
“just for me, mm?” you ask, and he nods. you lift up just a tad, holding the hem of your nightgown up, and then you’re sinking down onto his cock in one go. his girth stretches your hole beyond belief, even with the added thickness. when he bottoms out, your toes curl, his cockhead resting in that one gummy place inside you that he’s taught you to love. “ah, there we go. that’s good, yeah?”
“s-so good, mama,” his voice is choked, and he lets his eyes flutter shut again. “so good. tight pussy, ‘s so good.”
“it’s all yours, baby,” you moan, and he nods frantically. you’re quick to start moving your hips, too horny to keep the facade going, and changbin’s hands move to grab the pillow either side of his head. your ass slaps against the tops of his thighs, wet noises ringing throughout the entirety of the stone-built room - and probably further out in the estate, but you can’t fathom the concept of changbin’s groundskeepers hearing anything. at a particularly well-angled bounce of your hips, his cockhead rams deliciously into your g-spot, and you know you’ve cracked it, continuing your grinds in that exact position. 
“is it good?” changbin asks, breathless, and he finally opens his eyes. his eyes land on your tits, bouncing in your nightgown, and he shuts them again as if he’s been branded with a silver cross. “sugar. i can’t even look at you, i’ll bust.”
you giggle, leaning forward to grip onto him for purchase. your hands land on his pecs again and you whine when your clit grinds against his pubic bone, fast and feverish, and you don’t reprimand him when his hands finally move down to your ass. he’s held back for so long, and you both know that it’s only so long that he can take not being able to touch you.
“ah, that’s so- fuck, binnie,” you moan, teeth digging into your bottom lip. you’re reminded of your previous plans when his fingernails scratch at your ass, his back arched like a cat. “mm, binnie? y’wanna taste mommy?”
in any other situation with any other man that would have completely different connotations, but changbin knows what it means. he shoots up into a seated position, eyes half lidded, and his head darts to the juncture between your neck and your shoulder.
“c-can i, mommy?” he questions, moaning when your hips grind down on him harder. “can i, please?”
“more, binnie,” you respond, and he knows what you mean. his tongue laves over your neck, and then he places a wet, open-mouthed kiss over the column of your throat. that’s where he’s going to bite you, and he’s tenderizing you like something he’s going to eat. you suppose you are.
“mama,” he whines, long and drawn out. “let me taste you. please, god, i’m thirsty, mama. let me, please?”
you sigh with your pleasure, and you finally halt your hips, stopping the boy underneath you from being jostled too much. his hands knead at your asscheeks while you pretend to deliberate.
“alright, honey,” you coo, voice soft. “you can bite.”
changbin’s fangs protrude from his mouth, and then he’s biting you. it’s slow, the way his teeth begin to bury themselves into your skin, and the moan he lets out is high pitched. changbin’s always messy when you let him do this, and despite the fact he starts to drink your blood instantly upon it hitting his tastebuds, it’s already started to drip down your shoulder. 
you pick the right time to start moving your hips again. he’s sighing and moaning as he drinks, and you begin a slow grind on top of him. changbin’s cock positively throbs inside of you, and you clench down approvingly, making him grip you just a bit tighter. 
he drinks and drinks until you’re lightheaded with it. when he pulls away, you’re a little dizzy, but not enough so that you can’t take in the sight of him. his chin and lips are covered in bright red blood, and it’s dripped down to your white nightgown and stained the fabric a dangerous colour. changbin moans in approval when he sees it, and his mouth goes to your nightgown to try and lick the excess up messily. fortunately for you, he licks over the pebbled peak of your nipple, and he’s fixated on it as soon as he catches it. 
the nightgown becomes drenched with not only your blood, but his spit too. he doesn’t let up, swirling his tongue around your nipple through the fabric, and you’re left to run your fingernails through his hair teasingly. he whines against you when you pull his hair back to your neck, before he’s quiet, lapping at the two pin prick holes in your skin soothingly. something about his venom over the wounds feels euphoric, and you can’t help yourself when you push him back down onto his back to ride him hard.
he looks debauched. his eyes blaze a crimson shade with his feed, and your blood is smeared all over the bottom of his face - streaks adorn his sharp chin and his fangs look like they’ve been dipped in it. he licks over his upper lip with a grin, and you can’t help but to smile back before you’re bouncing.
“fuck yeah! yeah, mama, yeah, ride me,” he murmurs, eyes flickering over your body like he can’t believe you exist. you can’t believe he exists, but you know you must look the picture of his wet dreams in your nightgown. the fabric over your breast is so drenched it’s see through, and your blood still drips a little bit from your neck. in the middle of grinding on his chubby cock, you let your thumb collect some of the red liquid on your thumb, and you press it into his mouth.
changbin whines. his hands move to your waist and he sucks your thumb like he would your strap, moaning around it like it’s the best thing he’s ever had past his plushy lips. you fuck the digit in and out in rhythm with your pace on top of him, and his cock leaks inside you so warm you feel it, flooding your gummy walls and leaving you breathless. 
with a strong grind on his cock, changbin’s fangs nip at your thumb, and you have to pull your thumb away for another little love tap on his cheek. his eyes roll back into his head, and you giggle. an idea hits you, and you know you just have to do it.
your hips halt, and you grab changbin’s curls tight, pulling his head back. “i think we better get your muzzle, bunny.”
“no! no, you let me drink, what- why?! why, why?” he wails, but you know he enjoys it. he just likes kicking up a little fuss when you get mean like this, and you ignore him to reach into the bedside table to grab the offending item. it’s only small, covering the bottom half of his face with black leather and miniature metal bars over his mouth, but changbin cums his fucking brains out every time you equip it over his gorgeous face. he’s still babbling when you loop it over his curls, pulling the strap tight and letting your pussy clench down at the sight of him so submissive, so pliant. 
“mm, that’s it. stay there like that, that’s it,” and you lean back, hands gripping his thighs. you’re feeling a little lenient, so you let changbin push your nightgown up with calloused palms and watch the space where his cock enters you over and over. he’s going to cum soon, you realise, and you’re going to have to make the most of the time you have right now. changbin snaps his fangs at you as if he’s a puppy about to bite, and you clench down on him with a sharp keen, pussy gushing down to his pubic hair. 
you reach around yourself with one hand, fingers rubbing messily over your clit, and it makes your pussy tingle deliciously. changbin’s still making strangled noises, legs thrashing behind you, and you can hear him mumbling quietly.
“please, please… let me drink again, sugar? mommy. mama, please, please-”
his hips cant upwards and you jolt. your pin prick wounds on your neck are healed from the after effects of changbin’s vampire venom, but you flick your fingernail over it, causing the wound to start oozing crimson essence again. changbin’s nose scrunches up beneath the muzzle as he inhales, and you wipe your hand over your bloody skin before you’re just barely letting your fingertips slide through the metal bars on his restraints.
“s-smell it, changbinnie,” you coo, chest heaving with a flush as you get closer to your orgasm. your hand speeds up on your clit when he nips softly at your fingers, and when he cants his hips up again he’s flooding you with hot cum. his own chest heaves as he cums, cock throbbing inside of you, and you whine. 
“fuck. fuck, sorry-”
“stay fucking still, bunny,” you groan. “you better not go soft on me. make mama cum, c’mon.”
and he does. he wraps his muscled arms around you, the material of his shirt scratching against your nightgown, and then he’s thrusting into you. it’s awkward, and he’s only half hard, but the show of strength is the only thing you need to push you over the edge. you shake and gush through your orgasm, arms moving to wrap around changbin’s neck, and you feel his chest rumble with a groan as he feels you throb around him. 
when you flop off of him, pussy messy and swollen with your sex, he stretches with a loud groan. you huff in response, and he sniffs. the unspoken communication makes him let out that loud, affectionate laugh that you love.
changbin’s out of breath next to you, limbs akimbo, and you giggle at his soft cock resting against his pubic bone. you pull the straps of his muzzle loose and let it drop onto the pillow, and changbin grins at you.
“the muzzle was such a good idea,” he says, elated, and you let him push himself into your space and lay his head on your chest. your nightgown is still covered in blood and his spit, but he doesn’t care, making little happy noises against you. “i love you, yeobo.”
you can’t help but smile, sated. “i love you too, changbinnie.”
718 notes · View notes
starshipsofstarlord · 5 months
Text
How To Weaken a Man
Summary - you were going to get what you wanted, Daryl however was going to have to wait. He was deserving of a taste of his own medicine, after him constantly being in charge, it was time for a change (3.3k)
Warnings - 18+ MDNI, smut, brat taming, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex, teasing, daryl being a total boob man, hair pulling, spanking
daryl dixon + norman reedus works main masterlist
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
It was an obvious distraction, or at least Daryl thought; it was in fact life threatening for you to be wearing a low necked vest that accentuated two of the greatest curves of your body.
He was going to die. That much was clear.
The archer dryly licked his lips as he avoided studying your silhouette, knowing that if he aimed his eyes in your direction, he wouldn’t be able to focus on Rick’s plans to reinforce the walls of Alexandria to stop another swarm of walkers breaking through.
This was important! It was the same thing he kept reminding himself, as he listened to the chiding voices eliciting ideas, and he was consuming the words through his ears, until your own unmistakably broke in, causing the man to gulp.
He was weak, despite being one of the strongest survivors in the room, and your body was his kryptonite. Sure, it was a warm day, however he was mentally cursing your choice of attire.
Your decision of clothing was cruel, more so as you leant across the table, talking away as you watched as Daryl stared at the ground. The act made you smirk - you had clearly affected him, and whilst that hadn’t been your original intention, you were still sure as hell going to take it as a victory.
He had to look, he could never help himself and this time would be no different. The man was stuck in his ways, and whilst he was attempting to postpone caving to them, you knew his weaknesses far too well.
And you felt pride swell in your chest as your lover slowly drew his wolfish eyes in your direction, tracing the outline of your body with his intent pupils, the meeting was almost over, and he was aware that he would soon be met with his demise. And then his control would too be gone, vanquished to less than dust due to your vixen like ways.
But you wouldn’t be as kind as he anticipated, you were going to make him wait until he had turned into a completely feral man, whom would do anything to touch your flesh. It was a taste of his own medicine in which he would receive, and boy was it going to be sweet!
Blindly you plucked your bottom lip between your teeth, grazing it with the edges of the porcelain within your mouth as you maintained eye contact, for just a moment longer, until you returned your attention to Rick, brushing your tied up hair that had grown out a little longer than before across to your opposing shoulder, exposing your right collarbone.
You were a damn tease, Daryl thought, suddenly wishing that he hadn’t insisted that you had gotten your ass up and out of your house to attend this meeting. And then it clicked in his mind, this was your revenge.
He had practically dragged you here, and now he was the one suffering from the effect of his own actions. Perhaps he deserved it, he sure as hell knew that you had a tendency to be sly when it suited you, surviving had moulded you into a malleable creature who could adapt to her surroundings. And you were adapting into a distraction for him, he gruffly shuffled in his seat, adjusting his legs beneath one of the tables in the room to soothe his growing erection.
It needed to go away, sooner rather than later. The last thing he wanted was to be humiliated by his apocalyptic peers for being attracted to his damn wife. It’d be something he’d never hear the end of, and some of them such as Eugene, were annoying enough without picking fun at things that were out of his control.
And so he cast his eyes away once more, prioritising his line of sight upon the floor, and more importantly, out of your direction. “Okay.” He heard your voice speak out, and as he briefly glanced at you, he noticed how you were now stood upright, with your arms folded across your chest, pushing your breasts subtly together. “Me and Daryl will see what materials we can find, we’ll take a truck and see if we can salvage anything from nearby.”
“Sounds good.” Rick nodded at you, completely clueless to your underlining schemes, as both you and the archer had done the same previously when you were upholding yourselves in the prison. And that, now that Daryl remembered that past experience, was of a similar nature.
You had seemed completely innocent the first time you had suggested that you and Daryl trekked out to scavenge for building supplies, however that hadn’t been your only goal. Due to the ever growing population of survivors that had been allowed to thrive beyond the fences, it was difficult for you and the brooding man to ever get some alone time, so when you had seen an opportunity to, you took it.
It appeared to be brewing from the same source within this instance, considering that work within Alexandria was infinite, more so now since the walkers had effectively flocked through. There had been some makeshift barricades put in place for the time being, however there was need for it to be reinforced to the maximum security so that the parade of the dead didn’t force themselves through an encore.
He expected you to wait as the attendees of the meeting, however you left with the rest of the flock, leaving him to his lonesome as he then was in an empty room, with the exception of Rick who confusedly watched him. “Are you okay brother?” He enquired, a soft frown attuning to his features.
“Fine.” Daryl responded, thanking whatever force above that his problem had returned to its unaroused state. He clapped his palm on the table as he stood, nodding to his friend before he bid him a short goodbye in the words, “I’ve gotta catch up ter y/n/n.”
Rick was silent as he watched his friend leave the room, chasing after his wife which made the man smile. It was a strike of luck that they were both here, and that they had each other to rely on, even when it came down to something as simple as finding anything useful to reinforce the borders of the place that had become their entire group’s home.
The man however didn’t know that this was just a fraction of a drawn out game that the woman was playing, although Daryl could see right through you as you swayed your hips with every step that you took towards the gates, Daryl’s crossbow on your hip prompting the notion that the two of you weren’t going home before your trip and resolving your lust for revenge.
“Oh. You’re finally here.” You stated, practically undressing him with your eyes as you looked Daryl up and down, prior to shoving his weapon into his own hands, and picking up your own where it was laying in the trunk of the pickup.
“Yeah. I ‘m.” He responded, squinting as he looked down on your conniving form, untrusting of your avid bluntness towards him. After all, the only thing that he was guilty of was dragging your body down the mattress to ‘entice’ you to comply with your attendance of an important matter. “What’s wrong with ya?” Daryl asked, watching as you coyly cocked your head, an almost invisible smirk stringing itself on the corner of your lips.
“Nothin’. Now come on Dixon, I know a good place…” you lightly patted the side of the empty truck, swinging the drivers door open, not feigning any attention to the small furrow of his brows. “Get in, today you’re my passenger princess.”
Before Daryl had time to argue with your assumption of being the one behind the wheel, you had already slammed the door behind your figure, giving him no space to argue. Otherwise he was certain there’d be whispers among the Alexandrians if he were to haul you to the other side, as none would have the confidence to defend one Dixon against the other.
“Passeng’r princess my ass.” He mumbled as he trudged to around the front of the vehicle, making sure to slam the opposing door shut after he had seared himself. “Yer up to somethin’, and I dun know if I like it.” Daryl spoke to you, crossing his arms as he watched you turn the keys in the ignition, and without much wait, you were already steering out of the gates after they had been opened for your departure.
“You’ll like it, trust me.” You shot your husband a wink, seemingly knowing exactly the route of your journey. He silently sulked in the seat, kicking his legs slowly out as he decidedly chose to ignore you and focus his eye sight out the window. He was mildly ignoring you, and his behaviour only made you more eager to get him in the position that you wanted.
He said nothing, muting himself for the entire drive, with the exception of a grunt every time that you placed your hand on his thigh, which ended in him shrugging you off. You leant forwards, taking a risk and driving off road, which made the vehicle jut up and down, and with each disturbed movement, your chest rapidly rose and fell in a pattern of bounces.
That was what drew his curiosity, and he realised as soon as he noticed your breasts lifting out of the truck’s rocky accord, that this was all still your attempt of teasing him. His elbow rested against the bottom of the window on his side, as he brushed some of the hair that was falling in his face to the side.
“The hell ain’t you on the road?” He huffed, aware that your route of feminine prowess could cause a flat tire. As he glanced to the back seats however he noticed a spare shoved behind his chair, and so once again, you continued to be one step ahead of him.
“Told you I knew a good place, you should have more faith in me baby. It’s an old garage, we can strip the walls there,” or yourselves, you thought pointedly, slowing down the speed in which you were going as you grew closer to the coordinates that you had visited a couple times to bring home additional fixtures for his bike.
“Do have faith in yer, when ya ain’t focused on seducin’ me in the middle of nowhere.” Daryl knew that he wouldn’t be able to deny you for the entire time whilst you were alone. It was never his strong suit, and he could feel a primal pit in his stomach stirring as he imagined all of the ways that he would put you in your place and remind you that you weren’t as clever as you were convinced you were.
Most nights when the two of you had the chance for some alone time, he would have you writhing beneath his fingertips, physically drooling and being vocal in your need for more. “Seducing you?” You laughed, your mouth crooking as you contained a maleficent smile. “I hardly have to seduce you Dar.”
He felt him sinking into his seat as he grunted softly towards you, as he was all too aware that it was the truth. After all the hunts that he would return from, he would come home, and prove how much he had missed you, even if that meant awakening you from your slumber to lay some love on you.
“Whatev’r.” He replied, throwing open the door on his side when you had pulled over, and heading straight to the garage that was no doubt located to help lost travellers between towns. “Can’ blame me for findin’ ya attractive. But ya can blame me fer punishin’ ya later for this behaviour.” He threatened you, allowing you to catch up to him, before he undid the latch on the small garage, hoisting the metal door open.
He had his crossbow ready, in case there were any walkers lurking within the depths of your location of impure fantasies, noticing there being bikes tossed on their sides, numerous parts missing. “This where ya find all my parts?” He quietly questioned, as you held your own weapon next to him, eyes scanning every inch of the undisturbed atmosphere.
“Obviously.” You responded, going through the entire mass of the abandoned workplace, until the both of you were certain that there were no undead inhabiting the interior.
“We should’ get tha’ door,” Daryl gestured to the entrance that you had closed behind your entry, however you gripped his arm, taking a couple steps back until you were cornered by the benches that were decorated with askew tools. “Ya don’ think that’s a good idea, princess?”
“Not yet.” You confirmed, seating yourself up on the workbench, pushing some of the metal utensils out of the way as you lay your gun down flat on the cold side, eyeing Daryl as though he was your last meal. He looked obscurely at you, gulping as he walked between your legs, crossbow slung over his shoulder as his rough and expended hands played with the bottom of your tank top, his azure gaze now locked onto your chest.
The top of your bra was visible, the fabric of your shirt having heaved itself down as you pulled yourself atop of the unit to sit, as you swayed your legs mindlessly, brushing your boots upon the side of his legs. “And why’s that, huh?” He asked, all knowing of the reason, unfazed by the mud that was now being sketched along his trousers.
“Because I want you.” You answered him, eyes boring into his face as you blocked your vision for only a moment to bring your shirt over your head. “And I know you want me too.” His hands had crawled searingly up your sides, to your back where he unclasped your bra and tossed it onto the ground, leaving your breasts bare for him to take in.
Daryl could feel himself ignite into a state of arousal again, as he covered your chest with his palms, squeezing at the supple flesh. It had been all he tried to keep off his mind during the excruciating meeting, and now he was finally alone with you, everything he wanted right in front of his eyes.
“I always wan’ yer.” He replied, leaning forward to press his mouth against your own, circling your nipples with his thumbs, his brows shooting up as you wasted little to no time in pushing your tongue into his mouth. He released a groan, drifting his hands down to pinch at his thighs, but as he did so, he felt a sharp tug to the roots of his brunette locks.
You had just pulled his hair. “Well if you want me that bad Dixon, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” You demanded, your fingers still entangled in his hair as you pushed the man’s face down your sternum, his lips tracing every millimetre of your flesh until he reached your hardened buds, excitedly enveloping them within his mouth.
“I’ll do wha’ I wan-“ you had cut his argumentative rapture of dominance short as you once again pulled sternly at his roots, forcing a whine to escape the burly hunter. He was going to do what you wanted, and clearly your insurance of enforcing your husband was working.
“Well, what I see what you want is to make me your very happy wife.” You enticed him, holding your hands upon your partner’s shoulders to descend him to his knees in between your legs. The peripheral that you had was one that lived within your personal fantasies, and something that you had never revealed to Daryl. But it appeared that he was on board with your reversal of roles, as he pawed desperately at your jeans, and you aided him by unbuttoning them, the two of you working as a team to pull the worn denim down your legs.
“I do.” He bespoke, pressing hungry kisses along the inside of your thighs, his nose running along the damp cotton of your panties. “Want to make yer the happiest wife in the world.” Daryl slid your underwear to the side, revealing your already wet core to his glazed irises, as he hardly gave you a moment to order him around before he dove straight in, tongue first.
“Fuck, Dar.” You keened, running your hands down to have both of them gripping wantonly at his hair. “You’re so good at that.” You reassured him, pushing him between your legs further, your thighs squeezing either side of his head. He suctioned your clit between his lips, causing you to lean your back against the wall behind you, your head lightly hitting it too as you lived through the pleasure that ran through your veins.
You were growing closer to your release, however despite your body prompting you to chase it, your mind made you push Daryl away, and when he looked up at you, there was disdain written in his eyes. With shaky legs you managed to slide down from where you had been sat in your ecstasy, and pushed Daryl in your place. “It’s your turn now baby.”
He rubbed at the scratchy hair at his chin, accidentally spreading your wetness across the lower half of his face, as his chest rose and fell as he watched you until you were now on your knees. His hand ran through your hair, patiently waiting as you unbuckled his belt, and proceeded undressing his legs until all of him was on display, his hard cock bobbing on its own accord in your face. “Do-“
He had no time slot to give you commands, as you had already engulfed his cock within your hollowed cheeks, allowing the tip to hit the back of your throat. His hips followed your rhythm, chasing after the warm and suffocating pleasure that your mouth provided his length with, and as he gazed down at you, he felt proud. You of all the surviving population within the messed up world were his wife, and from before you had gotten married to the present, you always had the habit of surprising him.
Daryl knew that he could be a difficult man to put up with and understand at times, but you never needed an explanation to know what was running through his mind. He felt disappointed as you removed your lips from around his cock, however he had learnt previously from your attitude not to voice. Instead he was just going to do what he wanted, and as he watched you stand, in the midst of a second, he had you bent over the workbench, in a vulnerable position and at his famished mercy.
He clicked his tongue, as he leant over your form, one hand beneath you cupping your breast, as the other warningly stroked your ass. “As fun as tha’ was sunshine, I ain’t gonna let yer be a fuckin’ brat whenever ya please.” His voice was husky with his southern accent as he spoke dangerously in your ear, his cock pressed up against your backside, as you huffed frustratedly.
“I’m not a brat.” You rolled your eyes although he couldn’t see, however your entire body jumped in surprise as he clapped a hand firmly down on your ass, and your breathing increased. “I-“
Much like how you had been silencing Daryl’s defences, he had repeated your actions, exonerating a moan from your throat as he slid his cock through your walls, filling you up perfectly. Any confidence you had from previously having power over him had vanished, as it was all too clear that Daryl had gained back his control.
“Yeah, ya are. Bu’ you’re my brat.” Daryl grunted, finding satisfaction when he heard nothing in reply other than your moans and the sound of his name tumbling from your lips. A smirk found prize on his lips as a thought slunk into his mind, and his hand raised, tugging at your hair. “Now be a good girl and do as I say.”
818 notes · View notes
puppetmaster13u · 5 days
Text
Hear Me Out
Yokai Amity. What are yokai? Japanese spirits. And not just ghosts, a majority of mythical creatures? Yokai.
So how did this happen? Well, like most things, it can be blamed on the ghost portal in the Fenton Basement. And a lot of ecto contamination. Because while they're a small city? They're also in the middle of nowhere, meaning a lot of their foods and crops, they grow themselves. And the ectoplasm? Started sinking into the ground first. Y'know, where every plant grows and then both humans and animals proceed to eat it? Made even worse when those like Overgrowth or Vortex came through? Yeaah, it'd be a miracle if they didn't get contaminated and no surprise that most don't notice their humanity slipping with time with how it's happening to everyone.
Which kind of makes the situation Danny has found himself kind of hilarious? At least to him. The trenchcoat dude seems to be having an aneurism or something similar.
"So... not a meta?" the tiny vigilante child clarified again, head tilting from where he stood at the head of his group. Honestly Danny was enjoying this from his place sprawled across the park bench Honestly Amity had spoiled him with benches designed for extra limbs.
The blonde man seemed absolutely done with everything, hands twitching as though about to cradle his head in his hands or grab something. "No," he wasn't shouting but it was close. "For fuck's sake- your all lucky not to be cursed or worse-" He turned towards Danny. "Why the fuck didn't you?"
The hainu shrugged, wings doing more of the motion than the rest of him. "They're babies-" Or at least one of them was, borderline liminal as they were. "You play along with toddlers." Honestly he saw why his old rogues found this fun, even if he'd never go as far as they did.
The entire team of vigilante children bristled, one opening their mouth to protest before trenchcoat-soul-dude glared at them all before turning back towards him.
"Though what the fuck do you need that for that you'd steal it- not that any artifact like that should be in a bloody museum and not locked away where idiots can't get to it."
He snorted, the sound more dog-like. Or really more yeti-like, what with how he was taking lessons from Frostbite which meant large chunks of time in the Far Frozen.
"Technically I don't need it, my kid does," Danny held up a finger, marveling slightly at the clouds. It was quite different compared to Amity, what with how everywhere was so ecto-infused that the sky was effected.
"And what does a hainu need with-" the trenchcoat man motioned to the cursed object, which honestly wasn't that bad. But...
"Oh no, he's not a hainu, he's furaribi." Danny honestly wasn't surprised that Jordan wouldn't turn out the same as he, de-aged or not. Not that he was memory-less or anything, cores didn't lose that easily, but he did still have the physical brain of a child.
"Adopted?"
"Nope," he hummed, going over the list of things he still had to do today before returning to Amity. Sam had asked him to get a few more flowers to test how ecto would effect them and he had to pick up some computer parts for Tuck.
"How the fuck."
"My sister's a kitsune, my other sister is a shirouneri, my mom is a shishi, my dad a baku, godfather's an itachi, my boyfriend a raiju, my girlfriend a kirin, and my other girlfriend a yosuzume," he ticked off his fingers, not seeing anything wrong with it. Not like people could get into Amity easily after the whole GIW thing.
"... what the fuck does your family tree look like, mate, because that should be bloody impossible."
Danny shrugged, giving a sharp toothed smile. Yeah, the realms didn't care about that with how malleable ecto was.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(In case it's not clear: Hainu Danny, Furaribi Dan, Kitsune Jazz, Shirouneri Danny, Lion Dog Maddie, Baku Jack, Itachi Vlad, Raiju Tucker, Kirin Sam & Yosuzume Valerie) (Also feel free to come up with what everyone else might be) (Highly recommend yokai.com for a quick summary of each creature)
163 notes · View notes
florencemtrash · 7 months
Text
Flame, Shadow, Beast : Shadow
Azriel x Reader x Eris
Summary: Years after Eris frees you from his father’s prison, you’ve managed to find a new love, new friends, and build a life for yourself in Autumn. But when a certain Shadowsinger stumbles upon your home, dragging in painful memories of betrayal and longing, you’ll have to face the things you left in the past and make choices about the future you want.
Warnings: Angst (specifically a very angsty Azriel)
Flame, Shadow, Beast: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
Tumblr media
Azriel gripped his glass so tightly in his fist he wondered if it would shatter. 
Another year gone. Another year without you. Another year where the guilt ate at his stomach and heart so fiercely he wondered if he was hollow on the inside. 
Azriel! WAIT! No! Please, no! AZ! HELP ME!
“Azriel.” Cassian’s voice brought him back to reality, a reality where he sat at an empty booth looking murderous as he tried to drown out the past with his ninth drink of the night.
“Cass.” He said stiffly. His voice was as steady and clear as if he hadn’t drank at all. Cassian could never tell if it was because the alcohol didn’t affect him, or because he was incredible at faking sobriety - either was possible when it came to Az.
“This is the fourth night in a row.”
“You’re perceptive. You should take my job.” Azriel’s voice was so dead and emotionless it frightened him.
“Stop this and come home.” Cassian said, almost begging. 
Azriel grit his teeth and said nothing, downing the rest of his drink and silently gesturing to the bar for another one. When the drink came, Cassian snatched it up first. Maybe the drinks had affected him, because on any other day, Azriel could strike faster than lightning.
“Rhysand has a job for you.” He said, pulling on the small collection of words guaranteed to bring some life to his brother.
Azriel’s spine snapped straight and Cassian flinched at how quickly his brother - brooding and sarcastic as he may be - was replaced by The Shadowsinger. 
“What’s the job?”
Find Bryaxis. Those were the two words that had sent Azriel flying into the night sky and across all of Prythian, chasing after the demon that had eluded them since the end of the war against Hybern.
For over a decade they’d all held their breath when it came to the ancient creature. For over a decade they’d been plagued by more pressing matters than a beast who seemed content to remain hidden and out of mind. Still, Azriel hadn’t forgotten about him. No, he was like a loose thread on a piece of clothing - forever destined to tug and unravel at Azriel’s shortening patience and sanity. 
Nesta had felt something. Something she wasn’t sure of - Bryaxis looming over all of Prythian like a shadow before curling up into a sliver of smoke and disappearing for good. 
They’d written to Elain to see if she had seen anything through her Eye, but she’d also been experiencing blind spots in her vision. The future was always full of events, some malleable and some concrete, but it was more unclear than ever before - like someone had shattered a mirror and she was left to string the pieces back together.
Azriel shook his head, emptying his mind of thoughts of Elain. It would do him no good. Thoughts concerning Elain were painful enough now that she’d left the Night Court… they were made even worse because they always traced their way back to you. Like how rivers must always find their way back to the sea, Azriel found himself drawn back to memories of you, so bright and full of heat they blinded and burned him. Your smile, your laugh, the grim determination on your face as you stared him down during sparring matches. You’d been his anchor without him even knowing it. 
And now you were gone. And it was all his fault.
Stupid, stupid fool. He hissed at himself.
Threads of information concerning Bryaxis were sparse and limited, but Azriel chased after them all, finding himself deep within the gleaming workshops of Dawn, the silent and cherished libraries of Day, and the sea-whipped bellies of Summer Court ships before finally tracing Bryaxis to the Autumn Court.
This has to be handled delicately. It is imperative that no one discovers you. 
Azriel saw Rhysand’s familiar graceful penmanship, read the words, and immediately crushed the note in his hand, casting it into the dying fire. The paper folded and crumpled from the heat before turning to ash.
He huddled down in the mountains that crossed the line between Winter and Autumn, grateful to be free from the cutting winds. Beyond the frozen lake were rolling hills of bejeweled forest. He wouldn’t risk flying now. From here he’d travel through shadows and by foot, getting as close to the Forest House as he dared.
If his intuition was right (and it so often was), if Eris knew Bryaxis was within the borders of his court, he would keep him close. Close enough to monitor, close enough to kill if need be. But what The High Lord of Autumn would want with Bryaxis, Azriel had no idea.
With the issue of succession dealt with and Eris planted on the High Lord’s seat, there came less and less of a need to continue relations between Autumn and Night, at least between Autumn and the Court of Dreams. After the war and until a month ago, nearly all of Eris’s dealings had been with Keir and the Court of Nightmares. Rhysand wanted to change that, and that meant if Azriel wanted to search for Bryaxis in Autumn, he would have to do it in secret. Eris would sooner pluck out his eyes than let any member of the Inner Circle scour his lands voluntarily.
Azriel traveled from town to town, inching ever closer to the Forest House, which curled up beneath the earth like a sleeping giant. That was the issue with the Forest House - hardly anyone knew the size of it, and that meant Azriel could be walking above a watchguard stronghold and not realize until it was too late. 
Something stirred within him when he reached one of the Forest House border towns. Everywhere people seemed brighter, livelier than when Beron had been alive, but this place… this place was filled with an uncharacteristic casualness and joy. The marketplace bustled with activity even in the early morning. Plump fruits, freshly baked bread, and sticky treacle candies wrapped in wax paper were laid out with care on hand-built carts decorated with golden chrysanthemums and sunflowers. 
You would have loved this place.
No. This wasn’t what he’d come for. He’d come to distract himself with work and to find Bryaxis.
Azriel slipped up the trees and settled in between two arching branches, straining his ears to hear the talk that went on below. His shadows slithered out to gather information his senses couldn’t reach.
“Faula’s with child, can you imagine! After so-”
“Thirty?! Why, how could you charge so much! The High Lo-”
“Four dozen eggs, two pounds of flour, six slabs of butter, and-”
“Will Our Lady be coming?” 
Azriel’s ears pricked up, blocking out the hushed conversation that went on around the pair of females who sat on milk crates and peeled apples under the cover of a thatched roof. The crisp sound of a knife sliding between fruit and peel followed by the thunk of a cored apple dropping into a barrel was a soft rhythm to Azriel’s ears.
“To ours?! Good gods, Rebessa, to think that she’d spend the harvest here.”
“She lives close by. It’s not as though we’re strangers to her and she’s wonderfully kind!”
“I hear she’s been invited elsewhere.”
The female gasped, her hand flying up to her mouth. “Elsewhere?”
“Elsewhere.” 
“Do you think he’ll-”
“Shhhhh. You mustn’t say anything. I’m not even supposed to know.” 
“Well how’d you find out?”
“Syndra says he’s been visiting jewelers and carpenters every week. He could be preparing a new room… or a bridal chest.”
“About time! And will he be going with her?”
“He follows wherever Our Lady goes.”
“Shame. He was unnerving, but welcome. Haven’t lost a sheep or hen in ages.” 
They continued on, whispering between their bowed heads of matching ruby-colored hair. Autumn Court members were crafty and secretive by nature, an unfortunate byproduct of existing beneath the thumbs of one brutal and cunning High Lord after another. But it would seem their tongues had loosened in the years since Eris had come into his power.
Our Lady. 
Elsewhere. 
He.
Azriel rolled the words around in his mind like a rough-cut stone in a tumbler, then set off to find the “he” who followed this Lady wherever she went.
As he slipped through the village, searching for a home that would be fit enough for a Lady of Autumn, there were two things he noticed. First, the stirring in his chest had grown stronger, like the pulling of the sea as it went out with the tide or the beating of a firefly’s wings against glass. Second, for a town of this size, even one that lay so close to the Forest House, there were only a handful of guards left to trot around atop their horses and an additional handful that patrolled the paths to the fields on foot. Whoever this Lady was, she offered them enough protection and power that Eris would willingly leave it vulnerable - at least in appearance.
Azriel’s nerves sparked with interest, his heart thrumming with the adrenaline that came with staying hidden. It was like a game of sorts. A game of how far he could go, how deep into a court could he burrow, how many secrets he could steal from tight lips without getting caught. 
When he came across the cottage beyond the borders of town, nothing but the faint trail made by footsteps and horse hooves hinting at its existence through the break in the treeline, he was unimpressed. No wave of power rushed over him. No hunting dogs or other monsters were posted at the door. The only thing that strengthened, and had continued to strengthen as he neared this place, was that fluttering tightness in his chest. 
He couldn’t tell if it was his instincts on edge or a bad omen of what was to come. 
There was a flat, empty stretch of land from the treeline to the front door. He called upon his shadows, drawing his power over himself to hide as he slinked across the grass soundlessly. His feet knew where to step, his lungs knew when to take breath, until suddenly he was at the side door. A peek in through the window confirmed his suspicions. 
There was no one here. 
He pressed his fingertips to the walls of the house, feeling the magic splinter outward like a ripple on a still lake. It was an unassuming, but powerful spell that wrapped around the house like a second skin. But Azriel was craftier than that, poking for weak spots in the magic and finding an opening in the chimney. 
He broke through the veil of magic, slipped into the darkness, and emerged on the other side inside the house. 
It was the smell that dropped him to his knees, the scent of witch hazel, rosemary oil, and oranges, clean and bright and warm all at the same time. 
It smelled like you. 
All thoughts of his mission and staying hidden at all costs were wiped from his mind. Now he searched for you.
He walked as if in a trance, finding pieces of you everywhere. He found you in the half-drunken mug of tea sweetened with honey and lavender syrup on the kitchen counter. He found you in the embroidery on the curtains - dainty flowers and vines used to patch up the holes and scratches with a personal touch. He found you in the fingerprints that stained the outer leaves of the books on the table. 
All these small things spoke a truth he hadn’t dared hope for in over a decade.
You were still alive.
He whirled around, searching the space with desperation for any further signs of you. But the house was empty and still, pieces of furniture missing like you’d been preparing to leave.
You slipped into your house, pressing a finger against your lips in warning to Bryaxis.
Stay silent. 
The monster obeyed, his neck twisting to the side at an unnatural angle as his body grew in size, shadowy flesh warping and stretching until he’d taken the form of a bear. 
Your eyes turned black. Power whispering at the edges of your mind just waiting to be called upon. You flexed your hands, calling your sword from the ether and feeling its familiar weight drop into your palm. 
There was a stranger in your home. A male from the looks of his build and height. He rummaged through the drawers by the door, deft fingers pulling out letters and keys while his other hand gripped his weapon.
You aimed the sword in the center of their back, tracing their spine with your eyes and pressing it against the space between two vertebrae, right at the root of their lungs.
“Drop the sword.” You commanded, pressing harder. The blade sliced through the layers of leather armor with ease. A wrong move, too deep a breath, and you’d slice through their spinal cord and leave them paralyzed on the floor.
Azriel’s heart hammered away in his chest and the feeling there twisted and ate away at him. Turn around. The voice commanded. Look at her.
His hold on his sword went slack, the metal singing before it clattered onto the floor. Without being asked, he unsheathed Truth-Teller, dropped it to the floor and slid the weapon back towards you, holding his breath as your boot stopped the ancient blade in its tracks with a solid thump.
You hadn’t recognized him. How could you? It was unnatural to see him in undyed leather armor and his raven black hair was tucked beneath a matching hood. The rich browns of the amour whispered of Autumn. He must have stolen it shortly after crossing the border into your court. But Truth-Teller? There was no mistaking it.
You grabbed him by the back of his jacket, spun him around, and slammed him against the wall before ripping off the hood with a snarl. The cool touch of your blade against his throat and between the slats of his ribs couldn’t stop what he knew was coming. 
The bond burst to life and burned within his chest, swooping and singing like a bird off a cliffside. It was a breath of fresh air. An answer to all his maddening questions.
“Hello Y/n.” His voice rang out in the house, deep and dark and all too familiar. 
You froze, eyes blowing wide open as you tightened your hold on the knife and sword until your knuckles turned white. 
Aside from the clothes he didn’t look any different from the last time you’d seen him. Same black hair, same hazel eyes that shone a million different colors, same beautiful, sculpted face spoiled by an uncharacteristic look of shock and awe. 
He looked the same as he did on the day he handed you over to Beron. 
You for Elain. 
You in exchange for the female he loved.
The betrayal still stung like salt rubbed into a fresh wound. 
Fury set your blood boiling and you answered its call, drawing back and slamming your fist into the side of his jaw so hard you felt something crack and split.
Azriel fell to the ground, catching himself on one hand as the other flew up to his jaw. 
Dislocated. 
He popped it back into place, wiping his mouth and seeing his hand come away red with blood. 
Azriel’s heart threatened to stop in his chest. His eyes crawled over the sight of you, hungry and desperate for every inch of proof that you stood before him. Your eyes were alight, brighter than any fire the world could set ablaze. Everything about you was wide and full of feeling as you stood above him, 
Inside his chest, the mate bond continued to purr happily, refusing to be silenced.
“Y/n.” He said again. The words fell like a prayer from his lips. “You’re alive.” 
“No thanks to you.” 
Bryaxis growled in agreement from your side, lips pulling back to expose teeth stronger than metal and smooth as porcelain. Azriel’s eyes flickered down to him in surprise before going back to you. 
“Bryaxis. You’re his master now.” A flash of pride warmed his chest. Leave it to you to take control of one of the most dangerous monsters in existence. Cassian would lose his mind when he found out.
Again, the creature growled, this time in disgust.
At the mention of the creature you’d come to consider a worthy friend you snapped out of your stupor and pointed the sword at his chest, just beneath his sternum, pressing down. Any more force and you’d break skin. Angle it upwards and push and you’d reach his heart.
“Y/n, please.” He begged. It was another shock to your system. You’d never heard him beg for anything. 
“What do you want?” The words came out hard and trembling.
“I came to find Bryaxis and bring him back to the Night Court. I… I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” 
“Obviously. And yet you’re in my house. Uninvited, might I add.” There was an edge to your voice that hadn’t been there before, a harder gleam to your eyes despite everything else remaining the same. There were some scars that did not write themselves onto skin.
“I… How did you survive?” 
Your lips tightened and turned pale, “Are you shocked? Disappointed?”
Azriel flinched. Your words may as well have been another blow to his face. The flesh around his jaw was beginning to bruise, shifting from an inflamed red to a mottled purple. 
“No!” Azriel lifted his hands up in surrender. “We searched for you. We searched for you for weeks… You have to believe me.” You searched his eyes for an answer, expecting to be met with his usual unreadable expression. But you found the exact opposite. He seemed… lost. Like he didn’t know what to do with himself. If you didn’t know better you would say the Shadowsinger looked frightened.
“I’m sorry.” he gasped, “For everything.” 
It was too late for apologies. Far too late. You told him as much.
“I know,” Azriel swallowed thickly, “I know.” He said again, quieter this time. Something within him dimmed.
“Bryaxis isn’t coming with you.” You said, breaking the silence and finally taking the pressure of your sword off his chest. Azriel moved back onto his feet as swift and strong as a river. “Now get out.” 
You turned your back to him, shrugging off the uncomfortable feelings that weighed on your shoulders. You’d be happier when he was long gone.
“You can run back to Rhys and tell him you failed.”
“Y/n-” His hand brushed against your arm, willing you to look at him again. And you did. You whirled on him in an instant, shoving him back with the hilt of your sword.
“Don’t touch me.” You growled. He flinched again like he’d been burned. 
“I’m sorry, Y/n. I-” He scrambled for words that wouldn’t come. Anything to hold on to you for a little while longer, “Why didn’t you come back to the Night Court? Why didn’t you come home?”
A stupid question to which he already knew the answer.
“That was never my home and there’s nothing left for me there.”
Azriel shook his head, hair shining like a raven’s wing in flight, “That’s not true.” 
I’m there. He sent his pleas through the bond. I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been waiting for you for years… for my whole life. 
“It is true.”
“And there’s more for you here?” Azriel asked quietly. “You live here on your own, no friends, no family.” 
“I didn’t have friends or family in the Night Court either.” You weren’t going to tell him about Eris or Halvor or the others. He didn’t have any right to that knowledge, “You proved that when you traded me away to Beron.” 
Azriel tipped his head forward, closing his eyes to the feeling of shame that weighed him down.
Azriel! WAIT! No! Please, no! AZ! HELP ME! 
“It was Rhys and I who made the decision. The others didn’t know. Don’t hate them for what we did.” 
Your laugh came out like a sharp bark, “I have a hard time believing that.” 
If the circumstances were different, he might have pulled down the neck of his shirt and shown you the thin scar on his shoulder, courtesy of Nesta stabbing him with a kitchen knife after she’d learned what he’d done. She would have gone for a second attempt if it hadn’t been for Cassian. He’d dragged her away screaming and crying. 
“It’s true. I swear it.” Azriel whispered.
You didn’t say more, didn’t give him the satisfaction of continuing the conversation. His eyes burned into you, moving across your body with a lover’s touch like you were a well and he was looking to drown.
Before you would have melted under his gaze. Before you’d wanted nothing more than to see him look at you this intently. Things had changed.
“I’ll give you an hour to leave these lands. If you’re not long gone by then, I’ll send Bryaxis after you.” 
The creature bristled with excitement, teeth bared in a terrifying smile.
“Y/n-” Azriel begged. “Please. The others-”
“I don’t care about the others.” Your voice cracked and you hated yourself for it. 
“I don’t believe you.” 
“I don’t care what you believe or don’t believe.”
“Y/n…” He knew you were serious about your threat and that time was ticking, but he needed to see you again. He needed it like flame needs oxygen. “The others didn’t know…” 
To your surprise he dropped down to one knee in front of you, eyes tilted towards the ground.
“I hate what I did to you. I hate that I hurt you and.. And I know…” He swallowed thickly, “I know I don’t deserve any kindness or forgiveness, but at least let the others see you… Let them visit,” He added after a short pause, “In Autumn, if that’s what you want.”
“Get out, Azriel.” 
To hear you say his name broke the dam on old memories, painful and numerous. Memories of you screaming out for him to help you when Beron’s men strapped the ashwood chains around your wrists and ankles. Screams begging him to take you home. Anywhere other than Autumn. Anywhere other than under Beron’s thumb.
Azriel! WAIT! No! No, no, no, no, no. Please, no! AZ! HELP ME! 
“Please. Consider it.” Azriel murmured. You turned away from him, looking at the engraved clock on the wall. Every tick tock of its hands felt like a death knell. 
“They’ll be glad to know you’re alive and safe… more than you know.” 
You said nothing, heard nothing as he took his things and slipped out of your house. But you felt his absence like a stone in your stomach. It wasn’t until Bryaxis nudged your waist that all the anger, sadness, and longing crashed in around you. You broke down on the floor, and began to sob into Bryaxis’s side.
<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->
______
Author's note:
Yeahhhhhh, Azriel fucked up. But I feel like this would be in character for him? He gets fixated on the people in his life that he's able to 'save' (i.e., Mor and Elain) and especially because of the whole '3 sisters for 3 brothers' thing, I think he would be willing to make big sacrifices to save Elain if it came down to it... but perhaps I'm wrong. I would be curious to hear other people's opinions on it.
Anyhow, sorry for the sad and angsty chapter.
Love,
Florence B.
Taglist: @nightless @mmb-09 @thesnugglingduck @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @logankemaek @the-sweet-psycho @a-frog-with-a-laptop @flameandshadowx @applerubyy @esposadomd @imma-too-many-fandoms @bubybubsters
337 notes · View notes
dark-and-kawaii · 3 months
Note
Maybe this is self-indulgent, but what about beating Haarlep in the game of seduction? Like, making the incubus long for Tav instead of the other way around. I want to see Haarlep being utterly desperate for someone, see him yearning so fiercely it makes him burn, see him so swept up by the passion of another that he is being lavished with that thoughts of him trying to use/command the situation in some way don't even occur to him until after he has come down from the high of pleasure. What do you think would be going through his mind?
Starved
Haarlep x Tav/Reader
⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: I really enjoyed receiving this request, I’m sorry it took a hot minute to post, but I did enjoy it greatly. Scenarios like this for Haarlep make my knees crumble. I wrote a small story and answered your question after it!! Please let me know what you thought <3 And please enjoy xoxo
⋆˙⟡♡ Submissive Haarlep | Starved Haarlep | Comfort | Slight NSFW
Tumblr media
Haarlep's eyes, usually filled with a predatory gleam, now held a hint of vulnerability. Something about your aura has ignited a fire within them, a craving they cannot ignore.
As the Incubus circles you, your lashes flutter with lust. The desire to be mounted by them, to feel the creature's cock sliding into you, is undeniable. You had wanted them since you met, yet all you could do was tease them with a subtle kiss here and there.
Each time you visited before Raphael’s demise, Haarlep’s tail would twitch with delight, in hopes it would be the day they’d command your body, yet you’d always deny them. And with a gentle caress to their cheek, you’d whisper, "Soon, my Incubus. Soon." Before walking away, your clothes hugging tightly to your frame, leaving nothing to the imagination.
And each time you left from their sight, Haarlep would groan, the feeling of being starved too much to bare, and the need to sink into your heat becoming unbearable. No one has ever denied them, but you had, and that only made the Incubus crave you even more.
Haarlep recalls those nights where they would have no choice but to stroke their own length. A visual of you naked and begging for them to fill you was always enough to help them finish. But it wasn't the same.
This is the first time you've been able to truly be alone, to be able to indulge in all the fantasies that have been building. Haarlep's voice, usually smooth and commanding, trembles ever so slightly as they move closer towards you. Their words filled with a desperate longing. Haarlep yearns to taste the forbidden fruit that is your body, to cherish the intoxicating symphony of pleasure that awaits you both.
Every touch, every caress of yours, sends electric currents coursing through Haarlep's veins. Their body, usually so confident and self-assured, now quivers with need. The way your gaze lingers over their shape causes them to dissolve into a malleable state. It's an unfamiliar sensation... And in that moment, the fact that they are an incubus slips from their consciousness.
Haarlep has seen, been with thousands, but never once has anything, or anyone made their heart quickened it’s beat quite like you. Hells, Haarlep never even knew such a thing possible for their kind. The Incubus, who has known no other feeling than that of sexual desire, is experiencing something entirely new, and it scares them.
And when your lips meet their chest, their skin aches with every flick of your tongue, they can't stop the moan from escaping. Their hand tangling in your hair, as their other holds you in place, and for the first time, Haarlpes mind becomes clouded.
The once dominant incubus now becomes the submissive, lost in the rapture of their union. They are consumed by the sheer euphoria of the moment, their thoughts of control and manipulation vanishing into thin air.
You, empowered by your ability to awaken such submission in Haarlep, take the lead, guiding them through a dance of passion and fulfillment. With a single kiss, you claim the incubus as your own, Haarlep’s very own soul now bound to your will.
Your hands explore their body, tracing their abs, moving lower, and lower still. As your fingertips reach the base of their cock, Haarlep’s breath hitches. You feel their pulse quicken, and your core clenches.
Without hesitation, you wrap your fingers around the thick shaft, and with a tight grip, you guide it into your folds. The incubus shudders, their head leaning back, mouth agape, eyes closed, while you slowly sink onto their thick member.
As you take in more and more of their length, Haarlep is completely overwhelmed. They are utterly stripped of control, a willing slave to your whims and desires. Their hunger for you, their need to be thoroughly and relentlessly ravished, becomes all consuming. Every bounce on their cock, every kiss, sends waves of pleasure crashing over them, shattering any remnants of resistance they once possessed.
As the climax approaches, Haarlep's body tenses, their groans and moans reaching a crescendo of ecstasy. In the throes of pleasure, they reach the pinnacle of their desire, trembling and quaking beneath your loving touch. It is in this moment of ultimate surrender that the realization of their vulnerability dawns upon them, leaving the incubus breathless, impressed, and completely sated.
As your lips part, you stare into the eyes of a creature you never once thought you’d fall for, their will now completely submissive, their soul forever bound to yours.
"I am yours, and you are mine.” Is all you say, before resting your forehead against theirs.
‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹
Haarlep is used to being the one who stirs sexual relations, not the one overwhelmed by it. As Tav begins to turn the tides, Haarlep might initially be confused. They are not accustomed to the roles being reversed, and it would take them time to understand what's happening.
Eventually realization would dawn on Haarlep that Tav is not just resisting but actively seducing them, Haarlep would likely feel surprised, proud/impressed of Tav even.
I think because Haarlep is so accustomed to being in command, they would find the loss of control a bit frightening but eventually once they come down from the high they’d find it thrilling since it was you/tav. If it was anyone or anything else the fear might linger a bit longer…
There might be a grudging respect or even admiration for Tav's prowess. Haarlep would recognize the skill involved in turning the tables on an incubus, and part of them might appreciate the challenge Tav presents. Leaving them wanting to be at your side.
186 notes · View notes
privitivium · 4 months
Note
ermmm, guhhhh, something, someting, somethin Ughhhhhh.... me don't know, afab dombot incubus riding amab angel readers face? and, urhmmm... hrmmm... angel reader begging maybe?? andddd... uhhhhhhhhh... i dunno, angel reader basically being vewy submissive to a demon despite being larger or something┐⁠(⁠´⁠ー⁠`⁠)⁠┌
:3 (but me jus sendin in random brainrot)
sorry it took a lil long, i have been procrastinating a bit. been drained like pasta frfr
dombot afab incubus x sub angel reader
cw;; religiousish, god mentioned once - incubus referred to as demon, mention being abandoned by said god, face sitting,,,,,, begging. ekeke
Tumblr media
it was a bit tedious, he found - trying to console you as you sobbed with your mouth constantly working at his open cunt, needily shoving your tongue into his pussy. no need to breathe... he commends you, truly. an pent-up angel is definitely not he expected to find, but my is he happy to oblige..
malleable grey thighs set on either side of your head - the incubus trailing his sharp-nailed dainty fingers along your scalp whilst providing words of comfort to you.. telling you how good you look underneath him, how good your tongue feels with your flushed face buried in his pussy with no complaintㅡyet tears fall from your squeezed shut eyes at the thought of being foresaken by your God for indulging yourself - the flavor was irresistibly delicious to resist banishing this tiny temptation,,,. it was addicting. you can't blame yourself. he was keeping you here - seducing you rather easily with his tastes.. that's why you were trapped. no other reason other than he was a pesky little creature, obviously - you admit that you are a bit stupid for falling for such tricks when really it's your own fault... unable to push this incubus off you... the taste of his juices practically made you a braindead horny zombieㅡtongue lapping desperately along his cum-drenched folds (ㅡafter making him cum on you several times - so sloppily - no practice yet y-you make him cum so easily!ㅡ) trying to suck the flavor off of his inner lips while with a painfully hard cock poking free from your robes as you whine against his cunt, vibrations making him twitch as though he was electrocuted - the incubus huffing softly, grinding into your open mouth, so eager to have a mouth full of his secretions,,
"please,,," you implore, muffled in his pussy. strong, thick hands clutching on his thighs - a bit too forcefully, unaware of his soft moan at how you mewled for himㅡpurely in anguish,, too aware of how his plushy thighs felt in your grip; squeezing and digging your nails into his thighs strapped in whorish leather belts without restraintㅡweren't you supposed to be kind and gentle? grinning cruelly, as best he could whilst overcome with such pleasure of having such a saint suck on his clit so needily,,,  "please what, angel..?" he coos, high-pitched mocking tone cracking at the feeling of your nose bumping against his clit as you moved down to lap at his hole - utterly pleased with himself and too prideful for his own good. how could he not be? he has a huge angel lapping at his pussy like his life depends on it.. begging for his pussy... his core tightening, soft breathless whimpers escaping his glossy slate grey lips, "m-more, i ah.. m-more.. please.." you mumble, incoherent and growing all the more eager for this creature to cum on your tongue once more - the taste is fucking divine and you cant help it. reprimanding yourself, as you fade in and out of your reality, too trapped in the captivating secretions that were slowly pulling you down with him,,,
"yes.. my angel, my perfect little angel.." he obliges, grinning as he gazes down to catch a glimpse of you buried in-between his thighs - so maliciously happy at the sight of your tears, body trembling - knowing how much bigger you are than him, towering over him - he barely comes up to your chest, yet here you are - underneath him, so pathetically whining and sobbing into his pussy for more of his cum - "so eager for me to cum in your mouth... so disgusting... what would the higher-ups say?" he teasesㅡthe sting of tears distracting you from your task at hand before you feel how he trembles, thighs tensing - cunt fluttering in your mouth so deliciouslyㅡit was positively the first time he was ever truly overstimulated from orgasming - a feeling like no other.. body trembling, thighs trying to squeeze shut, squishing your head - still, no complaint.. often coming back for more... being forsaken, just to get a taste of him on your tongue,,, how romantic
Tumblr media
169 notes · View notes
atrueneutral · 16 days
Note
Look who slid into your inbox 😇 What would a dryad scene between Raphael and your Tav look like? (Not strictly a prompt)
BUT IT BECAME A PROMPT. Because the idea wouldn't leave my head. ---
He was becoming soft - malleable. He’d have to ruminate on when exactly he became putty in her hands, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell her ‘no’ whenever she came to him with the whim of an idea to enjoy each other’s company in public.
‘Dates’, she called them.
As a devil, he was used to courting people. There was usually a designated place and time to meet and discuss matters, and when his 'date' arrived, he’d cater to their desires with a charming smile before serving his deal on a silver platter. There was aught else to it aside from the perfect delivery of his lines and the signing of a contract. There was never any hand holding and soft touches, no staying close to each other and being drawn in for an impromptu kiss just because one felt like it.
And there were never any abhorrent creatures such as clowns, djinns, mummies, and-
“Shit, walk faster and don’t make eye-contact…” Tav urged from where she was posed on his arm.
He did not know what or who she was talking about, and thinking that they might be at risk of an attack (which seemed entirely plausible based on his beloved’s rather lively recounting of the last time she’d visited the Circus of the Last Days), Raphael made the mistake of looking around, leading him to make eye-contact with-
“You’re in love, are you not?” called out a lilting, feminine voice. It only took a split moment for him to recognize what the woman was; her nature was made apparent by the glowing markings that curled around her pale green body, the twigs in her red hair and the leaves that composed her scant outfit.
The question the dryad posed caused him to tense.
He should not have made eye-contact.
“I can see it in your eyes, stira. Your journey of-”
“Zethino!” Tav shouted, leaving him and moving in for the dryad. “You are Zethino, correct? The real Zethino?”
“I am, yes,” came the tree-spirit’s breathy reply. “I can see that you, too, are basking in love - a radiant love that you have never before experienced. There has been great suffering, and yet it has built the foundations of impenetrable devotion. Do you admit to this truth?”
“I do, but we’re not interested in-” 
“For one hundred gold, I will look into your hearts and see if your love is eternal, or doomed eternally.”
“No, thank you, Zethino,” Tav said, and she turned to give him an apologetic smile.
But… the dryad’s offer… possible confirmation that She would love him eternally…
Tav looked mildly nervous when she noticed him reaching into his pocket for his coin purse, and Raphael began to wonder why she so ardently wished to decline the offer.
Doubt began to creep in that she did not want to expose that her devotion to him was more penetrable than the dryad seemed to think.
Coin transferred hands, and the dryad magically pocketed the payment.
With a sigh and a shrug, Tav returned to standing beside him.
“Close your eyes. Be still as stone to earth, and remember to breathe…” the dryad requested.
His lip began to curl at the notion, and he heard a brief chuckle from the mouse at his side. Giving Tav a sidelong glance, he could read ‘don’t say I didn’t warn you’ in her humored eyes before she closed them.
He felt like a ripe fool - to close his eyes in the middle of a circus where lowlifes and vagabonds freely traipsed around… He was used to thieves and their mischief, and he’d be opening himself to the opportunity that they might be-
Her hand found his, and his heart lurched.
It (he) needed to know if Her love was eternal!
Raphael closed his eyes, became still as stone, and breathed.
Somehow he was transported to the middle of a forest. Lush plants and flowers filled the spaces between large rocks, pleasant chirping reached his ears and cool mist from the nearby roaring waterfall felt refreshing against his heated skin. He was now positioned at the end of a fallen tree trunk that made up a bridge, and standing at the opposite end was his little mouse.
“I see you. I see the bond between you. So tender. But do you see it for yourselves?” The dryad said, reading her lines off to the side of him. “Raphael: you are in constant war with yourself and with your heart. The heart is fraught, so let us begin with the joyous. When is he happiest?”
Yes, he regretted making eye-contact!
This corniness was made to expose him! Not Her!
And in front of this creature!
“When he’s won a new soul,” Tav said without needing time to consider.
She was placating him! Placating the fiendish side of himself when she surely knew that he is happiest… when he is…
(With her.)
He did not know what he was supposed to do, but Raphael did know he did not want to partake in the farce he paid one hundred gold for any longer. 
He glared at the dryad.
“Is she correct?” the tree-spirit softly inquired. “If so, she will step forward onto the bridge, and should the remaining two questions be answered true, you will go meet her at the center.”
When he faced Tav, he gave her a terse nod.
A flicker of a smile ghosted her lips as she stepped forward.
“Hear how your bond thrums with pleasure. Strong. Vital. Pulsing with affection,” the dryad continued. “Many things delight the heart, but only one makes it sing. Tell me, what does he desire more than anything.”
“To be the Archdevil Supreme,” Tav answered.
Yes, yes!
However…
(Her love and affection.)
An embarrassing admittance for a devil to reveal!
End this sideshow of a spectacle!
Raphael crossed his arms and sharply nodded once more, prompting Tav to again step forward until she landed at the center of the bridge.
“The sweetest loves dance lightly on the tongue. But now, we must dig deeper into the most painful reaches of the spirit. Fear sits in the soul of all - to tame it, we must name it. Raphael - what is his deepest fear?” asked the dryad.
“To be consumed,” Tav stated.
How right she was - the deeply ingrained and horrifying fear that he would one day be consumed and have his existence end at the hand and mouth of his father should he fail…
(Was second to his fear of losing Her.)
Ready to be done, there was purpose in his stride as Raphael moved to meet his beloved.
“Hey, I tried warning you,” Tav laughed. “I knew you would hate thi-”
He pulled her to him, cut her off with a kiss, raised his other hand and…
Snap!
They were back at the Circus, standing side by side.
“Ah, thank you, Zethino,” Tav said, her face flushed. She turned and tugged on the hand she still held. “We’ll be going now.”
The dryad smiled. “A bond and love eternal you two have.”
As they started to walk away, his dearest little mouse threw a response over her shoulder, “Yes, and unlike him, I didn’t need to waste one hundred gold to know that.”
76 notes · View notes
many-gay-magpies · 9 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
An expansion of my headcannon of skykids being able to transform into the animals their masks are based off of! Typed versions of the image text and additional notes below the cut, because LORD do I have so much to say about this concept.
Image 1:
Bottom left text:
BODY is just the CONTAINER—Skykid soul is the LIGHT inside
Light takes shape of container at first, but has no one shape
Top right text:
Light grows used to assuming humanoid shape to fit container, but as a skykid strengthens their light, they remember/learn how to assume other shapes and gain the ability to mold their container to their will.
Image 2:
LIGHT is fluid, but the container is stiff and easily broken (at least at first). It takes a lot of slow, hard work to mold it, and MASKS are used to tell the container what shape to take/give the LIGHT a direction.
Skykids imbue their mask with their light so that when they wear it, it connects to them and allows the transformation to occur.
Change happens in increments, not all at once—learning to shape oneself takes TIME.
Small notes: "Small changes first" above the drawing of the two hands, and "Most stick to an anthropomorphic form" beside the fox skykid.
Additional Notes:
This process is also why Skykids are born wearing masks. Because light is fluid and has no single shape, the light of a newborn Skykid has not yet learned how to be humanoid, and is at risk of breaking the fragile body it inhabits, therefore: Megabird gives newborn Skykids a basic mask to “teach” their light how to maintain its shape inside the container. It takes a lot of effort to obtain the blank/“faceless” mask because it takes a lot of effort for Skykids to maintain a humanoid shape without the assistance of a mask.
Also potentially how the chibi mask works (in a world where chibis aren’t just toddlers/babies)—the mask tells the Skykid to be small.
The process of becoming a Morpho (workshopping the name) is long and arduous, and involves a lot of studying the animal one wants to take the shape of, before then making the mask that will guide the shape-change. Though most of the Skykids who take an animal form choose a more anthropomorphic default, it is possible to transform completely into the animal of choice, and this is often done for fun or stress relief.
Possible that the Eden cycle strengthens the body and makes it more malleable to change? Something to do with repeatedly dying and being reincarnated and becoming more familiar with/at home in the body you possess. Kinda like how exercising is just you tearing muscles in your body so that they grow back even stronger.
Masks can also of course be just masks. A lot of Skykids like to wear animal masks without doing any of the actual Becoming; its fun to disguise as a little creature sometimes!
Unlike human beings (and potentially ancestors?), who are all full of guts and bones and stuff, Skykids are pretty much all light in there, and the outside is just a shell. They can eat and drink and everything, and it’s fun, but it all gets burnt up instead of being digested or anything and they don’t need it to survive. Also how Krill work; they’re starved for light, and Skykids are full of it, but there’s this pesky little shell in the way, so the Krill have got to crack it to get the light out.
This is slightly inspired by the legends of the Selkie, with the masks being akin to the seal pelts that the Selkie wear to turn themselves into seals.
The body/container is what protects Skykids from having their light too badly damaged and allows them to walk the realms of Sky, but it is also what limits them in their ability to shape-change. In a hypothetical situation where a Skykid was completely unrestrained (i.e. pure light without a body, like we are in Orbit), they could potentially become any and every light creature available to them.
Essentially: Skykids = light, and light = all light creatures, so Skykids = all light creatures.
I’ll probably think of more stuff to add to this later, but for now that’s about it. I’m already thinking up possible animal forms for my singular sky OC lol (because even though I looked it up and that mask is technically a serow mask, it could very easily be any number of other things, like a dragon or a giraffe).
Bonus content: a little bird guy, and closeups of the random fox guy I made without their cape and hair (because I put way too much detail into parts of their outfit that weren’t even going to be visible). I’m for sure drawing them again <3
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
272 notes · View notes
lovelykhaleesiii · 7 months
Text
The Wolf & the Stray Girl. Chapter #1 The Grieving.
PAIRING: Werewolf!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader [Little Red Riding Hood AU]
WORDS: 1942.
SUMMARY: Nestled in the outskirts of a desolate village, it was known that the woods were a dark, fearsome place not to be ventured. Yet something enchanting lived amongst its shadows, you were certain. And some may call it your bold willingness or others, your naive curiosity, would ultimately uncover the truth.
WARNINGS: mentions of stalker tendencies, mentions of murder/intrusion.
A/N - apologies for the long wait, I took some time away from writing. I sometimes feel my place in this fandom is non-existent. I realise now, that it does not matter. I came here to write for characters I love... that is what I intend to do. thank you for your patience, to those that continue to support me x
Tumblr media
The long, treacherous road that laid ahead of you, the further you would venture into the dark, enchanted woods was not one to be taken lightly. Although, far from harm's way so long as you remained stagnant in your pathway: not befallen to whatever temptations lurked in the shadows beyond the winding, cobblestoned thoroughfare. Your final destination was intended to be a quick visit to your beloved grandmother, with the hopeful, pleasant exchange of goods. Her cinnamon cookies were divine, especially when and almost always freshly baked.
Despite having travelled this familiar road many times before, both with the thorough guidance of your father and your now presumed late elder sister, it never ceased to feel eerie. A nauseating sensation in the deepest pit of your stomach would always churn and writhe with suspicions that curious, watchful eyes lingered over your every move, your every trail. A terrible suspicion that some of these eyes intended to harm you.
The harrowing, cold tone of your father’s stern words had been etched into your malleable mind, like a carving in stone.
“Stay on that path, girl… Or we have lost you already.”
Your father had grown much old and weary of late, since your elder sister had been declared missing. He scouted relentlessly day and night himself, into the woods. Only to return empty handed, with proof of his exhausting endeavours saturated across his seldom face. His eyes once so lively that gleamed bright with joy: a man that could once smile with his eyes, now only distraught with the strained look of grief and despair.
It took you countless attempts to persuade him otherwise, to allow you to venture the journey yourself, until he finally agreed, although with great reluctance. He knew you were much more diligent and obedient than your elder, always adhering to orders without the temptation to cross a boundary. Your father trusted you, however he did not trust whatever creatures laid abed in the lush dark green canopy of the woods.
“Stay on the path, Y/N, my dearest… Or else I cannot bear to live a life where I lose you too.”
Tumblr media
The luminescent indigo pigment of the petals had immediately caught your attention. Your active eyes would wander with marvel, fleeting from the defined path that laid ahead, to beyond the stretch of woods.
"Ocean tears" You breathlessly whisper, your eyelids widening with intrigue as you lust over the rare sight. Ocean Tears were a sacred commodity to come by so naturally: used for medicinal and curative remedies, your mind immediately soared to the sickly, malnourished state of your father. The toll of his insomnia, poor appetite and overall dejected state had been taxing to his health, since the disappearance of your sister. He was not the once formidable, strong man he had once been in the previous years...
The treasure itself was only a few short paces off the pathway itself. Your mind began to scatter, trying to outweigh the risks against the pros. Despite wearingly trying to convince yourself to stay on path, desperate to strain every brain fibre to obligate your body to adhere to your father's wishes, you unconsciously felt your body pacing forward, reaching the very edge of the elevated path. Your eyes darted from each side of the vast forest vicinity: delicately scanning every inch, crevice and shadow of the engulfing green and wooden shrubbery [with the Ocean Tears being the only source of colour in the portrait].
"Forgive me, Father," You utter beneath your breath, before taking a careful leap forwards. Now both feet firmly planted on the soft, soiled grown, the earth beneath felt somewhat alleviating. Having spent a few solid hours, with nothing but the rigid, uneven rocky stones beneath your feet, walking uphill and down, this mundane sensation was a relief like no other.
Only a few seconds had need passing, as you slowly began to regain your instinctual senses, realising the daunting extremity of your decision. Without wanting to spare precious seconds more, you hastily pace forward towards the vibrant flower, basking in the alluring scent, as you push aside the straightened flaps of your crimson red hooded cape. Delicately you begin to pluck at the petals, one fallen strand landing into the base of your woven, wooden basket.
Disciplined in your actions, your once whole and lively senses had once again melt away, unaware of a figure creeping up from the shadows.
"It seems someone has lost their way from the path..."
The unthreatening tone was low and husky, and yet its sudden volume shattering the vast, swallowing silence was frightful: dire enough to freeze your entire being in time.
Your fearful eyes met the immediate, still gaze of the strange man: a handsome, ethereal looking one, nonetheless. With moonlight tinged hair, short, silver strands almost blinding in the radiating beams of sunlight, his unfaltering lilac orbs were encapsulating. Conflicted to stare, yet unable to maintain constant contact. Although there was some distance between you both, you could tell he was a few, solid inches taller than yourself, his physicality sturdy, and robust appearing. There was no doubt, if he caught you in his midst, it would be meaningless to fight agains him. He practically oozed might. Although his facial features softened, almost angelic like, the healed yet evident scars slashed across his pale skin, made him look rugged: proof that he was no stranger to brute savagery.
He took a cautious, slow step forward, almost hesitant to, yet determined. In rhythm, you took a step back instinctually, causing him to take no further step closer.
"I wish not to harm you, I only wish to speak to you."
Although the nerves rattled you, his tempting words had somewhat puzzled you.
Who was this stranger? Had he been watching you from afar this entire time? Why the desire to speak?
"And why would I do that? Do you think of me as some naive prey? You are nothing but a stranger to me, what makes you think I will take your word?"
His endearing glare remained fixated on you this entirety, although you struggled to reciprocate, its enticing nature was captivating. His stout chest heaving generously, before exhaling a defeated sigh.
"You have no reason to trust me, Y/N... Although I have been watching you from the distance, since the moment you departed. I know where you sleep, I know where you seek solace... If you think you can wave me off, just know, I will be lingering. Your scent-"
Once more, he takes a solid pace forward, although this time with a dark, menacing tinge in his eyes, as he looms his head down to your eye level. Another pace further, as you try to maintain the distance between, taking a step back, as you firmly grip your basket's carved handle.
"W-What are you? W-Who are you?" You shamelessly stutter, your skin growing cold, sensing a drop in temperature in your body.
"I could smell you from miles away: that intoxicating scent. First hit me, when you first ventured these woods, that year ago. No matter how hard I tried, and I had tried to fight against it, yet I could not bear to ignore it any longer. From the countless sleepless nights, and long days, I had no choice... And seeing you now... You did not disappoint."
"G-Get away from me!" You recklessly shout: your yells could either result in aid working in your favour or against, drawing more unwarranted attention from dark figures. Your head paced backwards and forwards, from where the man stood ahead of you, inching in closer and closer, as you desperately tried to move yourself back to the footpath.
"I am no ordinary man, Y/N. I am Aegon. And you... You have no ordinary fate."
"Do not speak of my name again, fiend! Leave me alone!"
As you hastily turned your back, taking a risky lunge forward, planting your unsteady foot on top the solid ground of the pathway. You had only turned momentarily, and yet as you resumed your stance once more, you were faced with only the empty, glooming green of the forest, and its chilling silence. A few solid minutes had passed, your attention spanning across the shrubbery, inspecting every inch, for an ounce of proof that this Aegon, remained close by.
Although your body felt rigid and tense, sensing the hot blood coursing through your vessels. Your dense breathing felt heavy and restricting across your chest, as you tried to regain control.
Without a second to spare, you resumed your stroll, although with greater speed. Your mind fled to the echoing, harrowing voice of your father's words, and the guilt began to stir. You rebelled against his advice and the repercussions were close to fatal.
As your mind pondered over Aegon's words, your body carrying itself with each heavy step: your only intent was to make it in one piece...
Tumblr media
The sight was unlike anything you had ever seen... The dark, dried traces of blood smeared across the walls and homily furniture, the broken pieces of wood and stained glass scattered messily across the floor, each careful step, an audible crunch beneath your weight. All details pointed to an intrusion, you had conceded. Your broken voice hopelessly calling out for your grandmother, as you slowly paced across the hallway, eyes peering across the vicinity for a remote sign of her. And yet, only silence had responded.
The hot tears swelling in your eyes had blurred your vision, as you took in each inch and crevice of the household. The day had been a harrowing one indeed, and to be met with this tragic fate, did no justice to ease your mind. As you crept towards the end of the hall, the familiar door to your grandmother's cosy chamber slightly remained unlock, only the disappearing sunlight lurking through. As you steadily pushed over the door, creaking in its hinges as though the house had not been vacant and unkept for years, you were met with a horrifying sight indeed. A pungent, horrid smell wafted through your nostrils, as you captured a glimpse of her unmoving, blood curdling body across the flood board. Suddenly, your vision had darkened into an abyss, the sight disappeared.
"Y/N-" The call of your name was unforeseen, yet its voice sounded eerily familiar. The hand that was stationed over covering your eyes, was sudden yet brought some relief, sparing you the gruesome sight. Your hand clutched at your heart, above your tender breast, as you felt your body being handled, gently guided to turn towards the direction of the voice.
"A-Aegon-" Eyes widening in disbelief as the hand released its clutch over your eyesight: you felt numb towards his presence as the over-looming sense of grief drowned you, otherwise. Your father had suffered enough anguish thus far, you could not bear to bring him the burden of more sorrowful news.
What has become of your family's fate? Had some curse plagued your family? Had some ill-minded person wished nothing more than to bestow such affliction unto you all?
"Y/N, dearest- You need to come with me, right now-"
With no caution to his actions, his warm hands, its raw texture rough felt against your soft palms, as he held your cold peripherals tightly. Reassurance oozed from him, as his large hand further reached over, tenderly brushing aside a fallen, misplaced strand of hair from your face, before his thumb caressed the fallen tear away.
You knew better than to show an ounce of trust towards Aegon, and yet, you felt somewhat protected in his presence.
"Y/N, please-"
Tumblr media
taglist [for this series] - @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @heavenly1927 @snowprincesa1 @trifoliumviridi @fulltacoparadise @qyburnsghost
general taglist - @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @aegonslawyer
Aegon ii taglist - @who-told-you-this-was-butter @f4ll-for-you @amiraisgoingthruit @bucknastysbabe @jawline-of-steel
credit for divider - @/firefly-graphics
164 notes · View notes
homunculus-argument · 10 months
Text
Random worldbuilding from the Unfinished Book:
The nomad peoples of the plains and mountaineous regions have a traditional protocol for making peace between long-warring peoples - the exchange of orphans. Though the various tribes and peoples all have their own languages, cultures and ways, they all know of the tradition. It's not considered something that came from any specific people, but something as natural, obvious, and universal as knowing where the sun rises, and that you ride a horse by sitting on its back. It's simply What People Obviously Do.
If and when two clans who have been enemies manage to negotiate peace between them, both sides choose a child - or several, if we're talking about entire tribes with a history of war with each other - and exchange them as emissaries. The chosen children aren't necessarily required to be orphans, but generally tend to be, as no parent would willingly volunteer to part with a child they want to raise. There's a specific ideal age window for the chosen children, old enough to know their own peoples' customs, but still young and malleable to adapt to a different culture and learn to speak their language as fluently as a native.
From there on, standing awkwardly between the two cultures, with one foot in their own old tribe's ways and customs and one foot firmly within the new one's culture, isn't just their fate but their duty in life. Their task is to learn of the new clan and teach them something of their own old clan's ways, and generally showing them that these Others whom they were taught to regard as an enemy are truly just people, too. While becoming a translator and a diplomat is a heavy burden to put on a kid who's usually somewhere between the ages of seven and twelve at the time of the exchange, they do enjoy a rise in standing in life - going from a child in their old clan whom nobody really wanted, into someone of a revered status.
From there on, these Exchanged Children are brought along to every negotiation between the clan leaders - not only to work as literal translators of the languages spoken, but the cultural ones as well. If one clan leader says something that offends the other one, there are two youths in the room who can negotiate from somewhat-mutual ground to determine whether the insult was intended, and work together to explain both leaders where the cultural difference is between them in this. If both of them can agree that one of the cultures considers dogs to be revered and dignified creatures, and the other one doesn't think as highly of them, they can explain to both chiefs how saying that someone has "the heart of a dog" could be intended as a compliment and read as an insult.
In the Empire, the nomad custom has been appropriated into a legal way for feuding noble families (and later, remarkably wealthy merchant houses who have not yet bought their way into nobility but want to copy their customs anyhow) to make peace with each other. However, their way of seeing the custom has turned it into "give up your least-favourite child to be your enemy's assigned punching bag, but in return you get one of theirs as a consolation prize", essentially making them court-mandated hostages. Everyone agrees that the idea of ensuring that both sides have a child as a hostage is brutal and savage, and even a baroness who would happily yeet her unwanted son into the hands of a woman she absolutely hates, and would happily brutalise whatever kid she's traded in return, will act disgusted of how savage this custom must be in The Plains, where no court of law will supervise what the nomads do with them.
Meanwhile, the nomad peoples themselves would be absolutely horrified to learn how badly these imperialist, invading barbarians have perverted a sacred custom.
283 notes · View notes
minkkumaz · 10 months
Text
DAMN THE MAN, SAVE THE EMPIRE
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
on the surface, you were beautifully perfect. inside, was a different story. this composure influences an argument between you and minho. he helps you realize that no one cares anyways.
PIERCE THE VEIL series
PAIRING lee minho x gn!reader WC 1.1k TAGS established relationship trope. minor arguing. cussing. petnames: honey, gorgeous. angst but not that severe. reader has problems with her feelings. OMI NOTE minho is secretly ptv coded and nobody can change my mind. hope yall enjoy the (kinda) back to back post muahaha.
Tumblr media
everything on the outside remained perfectly porcelain, a fabricated smile resting on your face like a manufactured doll. a doll that was malleable, taking every punch swung it’s way. minho never appreciated the idea of this, how you just let people boss you around.
but you were happy, and that was the only thing that mattered. you adjusted to any weird situation or any uncomfortable circumstances.
yet when the door closed behind you and you were out of reach, tears escaped from your glossy eyes. everything cut into you at once, all the stress pouring into you like salt on an open wound. the apartment was empty, not a warm body to be found.
it seemed like the coast was clear as you let out strangled sobs. you let your body lean against the wall, slowly descending yourself down the cold plaster. carefully tucking your knees into the rest of your body you sat and cried. 
all of your senses subsided, making it feel as if you were in a small orb incapable of feeling anything. what was once your safe space became a problem, as you felt panicked arms rush around your figure. 
you didn’t hear a single footstep, nor any movement around you. so why did it feel like you were being held?
moving your head away from your knees, you look up to see what was happening. instead, you are met with a worried minho. he raised the pads of his fingers to wipe tears from your flushed cheeks, his other head holding the back of your head.
“honey, are you okay? why are you crying on the floor?” he mumbled, hugging your body into his.
“i– i’m fine! i’m okay, i just um tripped and it hurt.” you blatantly lie to him, pulling away. “i know you’re lying to me, i just want to help you.” he tries to take your hand, but you move it out of the way before he can grab it.
“minho, i’m fine. please drop it.” you stand up from your spot on the floor, ignoring the furry creatures that came over curiously.
“y/n.” he said sternly, grabbing hold of your wrist before you could get away.
you turned back on your heel, visibly frustrated. he wasn’t supposed to know as much as he was about to, and you know it’d kill him if he did.
“let me go, min. i told you it’s nothing, please.” you tried your best to wiggle out of his grip.
“why do you keep shutting yourself out to me? just tell me that at least.”
“i don’t have to tell you shit.” you spat. “god, i’m just trying to be helpful to you! are you so conceited that you won’t let me be there for you?” he argued with you.
“can’t you just believe that i’m okay? sure i was maybe crying a little but what does it matter to you?” you yelled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes once again, “you’re too busy to care anyways.”
“you know i can’t control my work schedule. you’re being selfish.”
“right, i’m the selfish.”
“you only see the dark side of my love for you, y/n. i want nothing more than to do what i can to help you.”
“theres not much you can do for me. i’m perfect. i’m okay.” you exhale deeply in an attempt to calm yourself.
“but that’s the thing, you aren’t.” he reaches his hand out to you again, in which you hesitantly take.
“minho please–”
“i know you think that– that you have to be some kind of flawless image all the time. and that nobody will take you seriously if you’re vulnerable.” he pauses for a second, recollecting his thoughts, “but nobody likes this shit anyways. i want you to stay true to yourself.”
“that’s easier for you to say. you can stay perfect behind closed doors, while i’m like this.” minho doesn’t respond. “is that what you wanted to hear? that maybe i’m going a little insane? that maybe i’m pulling out my fucking hair trying to maintain this?”
when his eyes trailed to your own, they were glistening with so much sadness. he wrapped his arms closer around you in an embrace. you stayed stiff in his hold, but this didn’t matter to him.
“what if i told you that i was constantly phasing out? that sometimes it feels like i’m wearing a second skin when i’m on stage.” he whispers into your ear, his breath sending chills down your spine.
“you do..?” you mumble innocently, finally letting yourself loosen up.
“of course i do. everyone does. chan does, han, changbin. you aren’t the only one that feels like they need to perfect all the time.”
“fuck. when you say it like that i feel like a terrible person.”
“oh honey. if anything, that only makes the feeling deeper. maybe we can’t afford to calm our minds, but at least know that you aren’t alone. you never are.” he pulls his head out of the crook of your neck, moving his hands to cup your face.
doongie moves from a spot in the corner with his cat bed and other siblings  to curl around your legs his fur rubs softly against your ankle, making you feel slightly ticklish. minho laughed slightly at the small feline creature coming to comfort his other parent.
“see? even our kid is here for you.” you smile at his words, letting yourself fully relax in his arms.
he leans closer into your face, leaving a tender kiss on your lips. it feels comforting, like you finally got the chance to be at home after so many moments of worry. the longer you stayed in his touch, the more reassured you felt.
when he separated from you, you whimpered slightly at the loss of contact. this only enabled him to plant one more chaste kiss onto your lips.
 it was sweet. everything you needed to know that this was your safe space. feeling nothing but the plump lips of your lover against yours.
“i’m so sorry for being upset with you and pushing you away from me..” you sigh, pressing your forehead up against his. 
“you have nothing to apologize for. i told you that i just wanted to help you. just tell me what you want to hear.” he tells you.
“you’ve told me everything i need to know, minho. i will.. try to be more open from now on.” you promise.
“then how about we start with what has my world so worked up. i don’t want you to cry anymore.”
Tumblr media
© 2023 minkkumaz, all rights reserved support your writers by reblogging + giving feedback! it is greatly encouraged and appreciated. thank you! → why feedback + reblogging is so important. ~ (´。• ᵕ •。`) ♡ if you'd like, donate to minkkumaz ! PIERCE THE VEIL series
239 notes · View notes
endivinity · 23 days
Note
Hi! I'm the anon who asked you abt the TTRPG Deathclaws thing. I just wanted to thank you for the long and cohesive response and your take on the whole thing! I love worldbuilding and more specifically making animal variants and the reason i asked to begin with was because you inspired me a ton and i wanted to expand upon the ideas you have presented in your super cool blurbs--
But i think itd be better of me to try to respect your art and instead try to make something of my own instead of expanding on something of yours- even if my art of the things i have come up with will never be as visually amazing or indepth as yours. I really adore your art and creativity when it comes to creature designs- thank you for inspiring me.
Im sorry if you got any mean anons because of my ask.
Heya!! it's time to go on another tangent oh boy
I've also loved worldbuilding and creature design since I was a little kid who was notably bad at it due to being a child. I adored the trend for pokemon fusions and variants when they came through and I was doing them even before they were a huge trend - I filled out books of the things in high school! But not every artist or fanartist particularly starts on similar routes. Sometimes they don't have creative friends to essentially trebuchet their development into creature design early on.
It's not something I can pretend everyone has a penchant for and can just do on a whim - it takes a particularly malleable thought process to just decouple what is into what could be, and how far you can or even want to stretch that. But everyone has to start somewhere! I believe my journey of deathclaw designs started in 2016 as just a tiny scratch on the surface from 'what if they were different behaviourally' to 'what if they were different... visually' - when my only major inputs for design ideas were fallout 4/NV and skyrim, and it showed. Strong designs come from 'what is the purpose of it in this setting' and you reverse engineer traits shared by real or fantasy (and therefore a chain reaction of traits shared by real) animals - and you can only reverse engineer using what you know!
So - save the deathclaw variants as inspiration but also! Make a huge folder of things. Pad it out with a bunch of stuff. Build a visual library. See what other artists are doing with their concepts (this is probably also why monster hunter is so popular, because it has an ecological niche that makes it feel believable) and let that color the world you're trying to build. Let yourself go 'ok this artist did this. so what if I did something similar, with a different color scheme or scale type or animal part? what if it lived somewhere else, how would that affect it?' God knows the bethesda presentation of fallout is incredibly two dimensional and the worldbuilding needs all the help it can get
it's how you get insane premises for fics, AUs, and tabletop campaigns alike - by stepping off the beaten path and showing how much you understand the world when your concepts that fuck it up can still maintain a cohesive and believable presence in it. Though it's still a lot of effort to take any steps along this journey, which is why a lot of people don't like start u_u
So good luck, honestly, and keep being inspired by things!
(and don't worry, so far the anons have behaved themselves! mostly.)
52 notes · View notes