#ferocity the spider

[head---ache]

oc posting:))

#sth #sonic oc #ferocity the spider #torch the angler fish #joy the horse #index the secretary bird #tools the chinchilla #prince the peacock

[bogleech]

Sharks, orcas, wolves, mongooses, hawks, owls, eagles, big cats, snakes, piranhas, centipedes, preying mantises, scorpions, spiders, squids, komodo dragons, polar bears, sea lions, crocodilians: entire groups of life adapted to eat absolutely nothing but the raw flesh of other creatures. Our society recognizes all of these as iconic killing machines. They all occupy a position in our collective consciousness that teeters between majestic warrior hunter and grim terrifying murder monster. Embodiments of nature's ferocity. Agents of death.

Frogs: an entire group of life adapted to eat absolutely nothing but the raw flesh of other creatures. We think they're silly guys who ought to wear floppy hats perhaps

[ms0milk]

𝟏𝟔 | 𝐇𝐞𝐦 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken."

cw blatantly suggestive, an accidental kiss and the panic that follows. bkg doesn't know why he's been looking for you. you couldn't be angry about it if you tried. laughter, bite marks, magic, a warm hiding spot. 8.1k

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A slap across the face and the spatter of blood that follows in an arc across fine rugs. Bakugou bleeds when he tries not to think of you. You are too easy to be with and too difficult to find.

Your prince and fragments of rehearsal fineries that you would beam at if you appeared in this frigid foyer– which he knows only because you’ve done nothing but smile at him for seven cursed days– storms towards warmer hallways. There’s nothing for it but to track you down. He wakes up and you are not outside his door. He eats and meets and eats again and you do not materialize behind him or emerge from shadowed corners to brandish a weapon when unpleasant lords are unpleasant. Are you still following orders or are you finally sick of him?

Bakugou pretends he is not walking quickly. A maid has pointed him in your direction. The waitstaff here has no particular affinity for either of you, so they’ve tried their hardest to answer his questions this week and be rid of Alderans for the day. After all, once he finds you he doesn’t bother anyone else until dawn.

Find is a strong word, the maid thinks as she chews a dry lip. You don’t seem to be hiding from him.

It's the busiest morning, second only to tomorrow’s actual ball, and Bakugou has spent the whole of it in dress fittings and board meetings and appetizer tastings. He was meant to rehearse the first waltz with Fuyumi but for four days in a row she’s had her hands full with final adjustments to royal rosters and seating arrangements. The king is home afterall. And he does not dote on his daughter.

Bakugou turns up a second staircase once he arrives in the center castle and barks at a guard, stationed and startled, in the doorway where he emerges. Shinsou clutches his chest and stares at the imposing prince, heavy but silent.

“Boo. You seen my captain?” Bakugou only half-waits for a response from the apprentice before following his intuition to the left. You like to hide in odd places.

“Yeah,” Shinsou breathes and finds his position again, “carrying her lunch to the catwalks.”

Bakugou grins and hopes you can feel him wherever you are, rolling his eyes.

She was in common clothes– I think, headed towards the throne room.

Haven’t seen her, sir.

Your Alderan? It’s freezing, she should request a jacket from the supply corps.

Five days ago he found you rehousing spiders in the rafters of the greenhouse much to the chagrin of delicate flowers. Two days ago he finally spotted you among a dozen soldiers all helping the blacksmith resilver the inlay of the soldier quarter’s door. Yes, he’d told you to leave his babysitting to Kirishima but he didn’t expect you to listen.

Yesterday, Bakugou caught you wandering through the ninth-story walkways, the walkways sculpted onto the side of the castle like wasp nests where the archers hide. Your fingers gripped the hem of your padded tunic, red with cold, and your back pressed flat to the white castle marble even as you craned to gaze the city and sea over the edge of the balustrade.

Your prince almost screamed when he glanced out one of ten thousand pale windows in his search when instead of the depressing gray sky, it was your braids whipping in the wind outside, several stories higher in the air than he would have liked you.

“Eyes!” He jerked the window open and stuck out his head. 

“The marble is too smooth Highness, please stay inside.”

White pointelle curtains rattled on their rods with the ferocity of the afternoon wind. “Come now,” he’d barked. He swallowed a roar to keep from startling you off the wall. You turned from the view towards his outstretched hand and half a golden body out the little window, and smiled.

You smiled from the cobwebs when he asked you what the fuck you were doing in blue begonias. You smiled at him among the crowd when he mimed flexing from the gallery to mock the blacksmith. You smiled when he caught you practicing sword forms for bored children and again when he and Kirishima joined in. You smiled without thought and he warmed at the sight of it. He laughed.

He laughed when the florist shrieked over a clutch of spider eggs and he laughed when you hammered Aizawa’s door crooked in your distraction. He laughed when Kaminari tried to teach you to juggle apples in potion storage, and very softly he laughed when he found you asleep beside proofing ovens.

The castle’s vanity seeps into every orifice, it bleeds from the seamless walls and into seed-sized crannies. Family portraits, royal crests, kingdom’s colors, wards against death written in old Takoban like they think this is the only kingdom on the continent where people might live forever. Superstition and agitation nick the Alderan like thorns through cold blue hallways. He itches for forests. On the third floor of the East Wing there is a great open gallery. It presides over the grand staircase of the castle’s entrance so that an invading army couldn’t so much as piss over the threshold before the legion of soldiers that fit upstairs fired off their arrows.

It was only a matter of time before you found yourself a roost here, warmaster.

He knows where you are. He can hear the king shouting from an open door downstairs and crosses the entrance gallery, bathed in warm sunlight from its volley of windows. It takes him exactly as long to walk it as it takes stained glass heat to pink his shoulders and with a perfect golden hue he dips under a doorway to find you perched at the lip of a ledge. You’re always about to fucking fall off something.

You sit cross-legged behind a black railing, picking at the cup of fruit beside you. Your hair is getting longer, wilder, and your braids tumble with white ribbons as you follow the scene below. Two stories below the ballroom is awash in afternoon light and hundreds of potential floral arrangements with the king dead in the middle, roaring at artisans. Prince Natsuo is slightly behind him and his neck is an agitated red. You pop a berry in your mouth.

You were always going to love the catwalks– the thin system above important rooms that servants use to gauge crowds and light the tall candles. All of tomorrow it’ll be crawling with footmen and today it looks like it’s already been dusted in preparation, although it’s not meant to be seen. You sit comfortably in its shadows and watch.

Tension melts from his veins when he finds you and nothing replaces it, so Bakugou isn’t quite sure what he’s thinking when he slips inside to be closer. Jeanist taught him too, he can be quiet. You wipe juice from your lip with your thumbs and polish it with a lick. Your fingertips are purple. You run them through your hair to push the braids behind your shoulders and focus again on the agitated king and his crying arachnophobic florists.

“You stare like the best of ‘em,” Bakugou whispers as he drops behind you and cups a hand over your mouth in case you make a startled sound, although, you react before he actually finishes the thought or announces himself, and jerk forward to catch his gentle hand with your teeth.

King, prince, artisan, maids, seagulls, and dustbunnies pause their meeting to agree that a grunt did in fact come from the chandeliers and that they aren’t insane, before continuing their jury over the fate of the party decorations. A whiff of caramel is the only thing that keeps you from breaking the hand with your bite and just as quickly as you attempt to reveal the intruder through pain, you swing your arm around to cover the prince’s mouth before he gives away your position with a yelp or fireblast. The momentum flattens you both.

Maybe one day Bakugou will remember that you are filled with the same fire that he is, before trying to bother you. When did the urge to bother you even occur to him? Both of you, square on your backs to hide properly in shadows, are close enough for your hand to still be firmly planted over his face like a muzzle. He smiles first this time. You smell like blackberries.

Your prince wires his jaw shut when he laughs in the shadows to keep from kissing your palm. In the seconds that the king and his entourage fall silent, Bakugou can only just barely contain huffs from his nostrils and the wet at the corners of his eyes. You stare like always and he must have melted fast enough because horror and apologies haven’t tumbled out of you yet. His dragon’s nails have gotten longer. Loose and wild hairs frame the face he only ever knew as perfectly kempt and unreadable. He cannot stop finding new things to notice here on the itchy rug beside you and he’s grateful you have only covered his mouth because his firebrand eyes gleam when you succumb to your own smile. Immediately you hide it behind your own free hand to stay quiet and the pair of you swallow stupid mirth in the dark.

Where did his anger go? “Ow,” the prince rasps when he’s collected himself and pulls your hand into his.

“Excuse me, Highness,” you whisper back. Your smile still rattles him like a blow to the side of the head. What the fuck is it about you that makes his pulse drum? Bakugou rolls onto his back. If you were sick of him you probably wouldn’t lay so close.

He tilts his gaze back to you, “What are you doing up here?”

Watching, you mouth like you’re signaling him to shut up. You pull your hand away from his and look over your shoulder towards the ledge where roars and curses roll up from the king like crashing waves.

“Why?”

It’s as close as Bakugou has ever seen you come to rolling your eyes. You blink at him and press forward. Something horribly soft started to grow the night you helped him carry drunk friends to bed. Something like rot. It eats away at the strongest parts of him, the parts of him that are poised and beautiful and ready for war. It’s eating you too. The strongest parts of you that are silent and obedient and deadly.

You drag your body across the floor to be closer to him– so much closer– so close that your thigh practically drapes over his and you cup your hand to his ear so you can whisper an answer that he can’t even focus long enough to hear. Maybe the rot started earlier. Maybe he should never have picked a fight with you.

A sudden scream flies up from the ballroom and Bakugou reacts before you do, less to offer protection and more because he knows you’ll launch right off the walkway if he doesn’t hold you down, but still his hold is protective when the scream is followed by a pillar of white orange fire that flies high and soots crystals in the chandelier. It’s brief and scalding like a geyser and you are not strong enough to protest your prince tucking all of you under his chest in the interim. You smell like home, like forests like moss. The scent of the sea is finally falling out of your hair.

“In what world is this my responsibility?” the king seethes. His drop in volume is menacing and it echoes violently in the empty room, “pick your own fucking flowers, I have work to do.”

The ballroom doors are not meant to be closed or opened with such force and they scream louder than he can when he burns his way through, leaving the prince and his artisans in the cold and terrible hall. A ball in Takoba is an oxymoron. A malicious idea. Bakugou leans back on his arm to release you and sits up to watch Natsuo console his workers. The eldest Takoban prince wears patience well. Whose idea was this party? The same person who sent for Enji? Belligerent. Bakugou hasn’t seen the queen in weeks.

He grumbles before he turns to look at you, “Missed what you said.” But when he does finally look, you are so much Alderan that the cold of Takoba falls off his shoulders like frost. Maybe that’s why he’s been searching for you. The fire that only a life in his castle could stoke, ravages the blacks of your eyes. Even though you are silent, he knows what you’re thinking.

“Down girl,” he grins and kicks his legs out from under him to settle more comfortably. Flowers below are picked in whispered consensus and the room empties under your glare. The sun has started to set. The far wall of the ballroom is, in classic Takoban fashion, one long series of windows taller than most houses and the sea shines behind it in a trick of rolling warm shapes like smoke from a fireplace. You both linger at the edge of the shadows up on high. Bakugou watches you shamelessly.

“I will not attack the king.”

“Who’re you trying to convince?”

You think for a few seconds and turn to him with an awkwardly soft look that crackles into a smile too easily for you to be the same girl who grew up learning how to kill in his castle. Everything you do but fight is bizarre. Like blue fire, he cannot make himself look away from you.

“What’ll you do at the ball?”

“What do you mean?” The ballroom is empty so there’s no need to whisper but neither of you know how to talk to the other.

Bakugou cocks his head and doesn’t need to hope you know when he rolls his eyes anymore because he can finally do it in front of you. He crosses his arms, “Do you dance? I can’t think of anything else to keep you distracted enough to avoid assassination.”

But you are already distracted by something and he can see the moment you stop listening to him talk. All the better, he thinks. He might have just asked you to dance with him.

“Your hand Highness, I– mers–” and you reach forward to take up his bitten fist like touching him is suddenly the easiest thing in the world. Your fingertips are ice-cold. The rot spreads. “You startled me, I’m so sorry.”

Now Bakugou isn’t listening. You rub at the divots your teeth left in the side of his palm and press them like imperfections in pie dough. Your hands are so much more slender than his. So much rougher. Do you feel it too? The death of fury? How the ocean slowly laps at the bonfire until wood can no longer fight back? Do you remember the library like he does? He wants more than anything to sit in a nook and read for a thousand years in recovery from this trip. Is it a safe place for you, or has he ruined it? Do you miss home like he does? Or has he ruined that too?

“No. I’m sorry,” he admits before thinking. He startled you after all, but immediately he is silent with realization; breath holds in his lungs. Fuck, that’s not– you asked him so clearly not to do that. Is he incapable of leaving you with anything? You watch his fingers twitch for a moment like you can feel his heartbeat there and then look up at him and stare. He’s not sorry for sneaking up on you at all. That’s not what he meant.

Eyes was an apt nickname, if not a little mean. Bakugou has never envied telepaths before. How ignorant he was, to think of you as the bloody little girl in a velvet carriage. You hold his hand now with just as much strength as you did all those years ago; obviously it was strength and not desperation. You did not hang laundry to thank him. You did not catch fruit to thank him. You didn’t learn to fight the rain or windows or soldiers or the sea for your prince. It was only him, making magic for you.

“Never thought I’d hear a sheep apologize to the sheepdog.”

He startles a little, just a slight widening of his eyes, because you hold his hand up to see the ring of teeth clearly and cover your chuckle with the tips of your fingers.

“Callin me a sheep?”

“You are biteable like one.”

Do you know what you’re doing? Bakugou wonders as his own smile escapes the confines of horror. He snatches his hand back and leans against the black iron railing to face you. Quick wit, quicker draw, why do you hide such pleasant things under such a ferocious– the Alderan blinks and his face falls for half a second again in realization.

You blink back because you cannot read his mind, “Are you okay, sir?”

The same fire. If he stopped and thought for a single fucking second you wouldn’t have been the enigma protecting his home. You would have been a girl that he wanted very much, to talk to in his ceaseless boredom. He melts into a smile again and this time his teeth glint, “Don’t call me that.”

Winter really has arrived; the sun sets faster with each second and soon the ballroom below is a great orange pool. He was meant to rehearse the opening waltz today and the thought of you watching him, concealed, makes his ears hot. Florals drift up and up from their vases where they’re warmed in afternoon light.

You cross your legs and turn too, so that the prince isn’t just staring at a profile. “Are you looking forward to it?”

“To what?”

“The ball, Highness. Are they fun?”

“You’ve attended balls,” he grunts and scans his memory for the last party thrown in Aldera, although you don’t appear in the pictures his brain conjures up. “They’re fine. Loud.”

You nod. There are ten-thousand things he could think to ask you and a hundred more questions he knows that the answers will spur but sitting beside you in the dark without a threat to either of your lives is new and overwhelming. Your wild hair makes wild shapes.

“Fuyumi wants to dress you up.”

You don’t find that as funny as he does and you’re gawking when you turn from the view of the ballroom to look at him. He thinks you aren’t afraid of him– he hopes– but he knows you still won’t say what you long to for fear of sounding unprofessional. He’ll have to work on that.

“She gave up on Ochako years ago.”

“Is it a gown?”

“Takoban,” he rests his head on the metal too, enjoying all the scandalized expressions your pretty lips make, “frilly lace, the works.”

You consider this for a moment and make the shape of his name before swallowing it. One more time, “I see.” And you turn back away to think some more, about how to phrase something unprofessional. He’s teasing, he hasn’t seen the damn thing but for a moment your prince can see you so clearly, sewn tight into a dress made of sealace. You try to speak again, fail, and lean closer. Your breath is sweet from fruit and your bowl is empty behind you.

“I can’t wear blue for another second, Highness, I’ll hurl the tailor into the sea.”

Bakugou spits over the railing in amusement and huffs, a subdued panic, when he crosses his arms again.

“Highness please,” you chuckle, “I’ll get violent,” and you smile under the frown, which just serves to make you look even more like a dragon– like you’ll make good on your word– and less like an obedient footsoldier. How do you do it? What are you doing to him? Bakugou can only stare with a rough affection because if he tried to speak right now something might come out.

You run a hand back through your braids to settle them where you like them to lay. It’s draconic, regal, every way you sit perch and glare from the clearest part of any room. His mother calls it King’s Corner, or the Seat of the Queen, that perfect spot where you can see everything important without showing your back to a soul. That’s always where he finds you. That’s your secret. He pinches an ear between his knuckles to try and cool it down.

“Takoba’s lucky you aren’t a mage,” he manages. He has to look away to say it but he does manage, “should thank you for it.”

“I did try,” you don’t need to manage back. Proximity to him isn’t eating you alive. “And I don’t work for thank yous, thank you very much.”

When Bakugou was ten years old he celebrated his birthday in a parlor with boughs of cherry blossoms and sweets for which he never really had an appetite. He was doted on and he worked hard to deserve it so that anything he wanted to do that day, and any birthday thereafter, was his. You were not celebrated with cake. He wouldn’t know until years later that his mother brought you gifts and good food on your birthday because he could find you every day of the year at work somewhere in his castle. You did not fall ill, you did not fail, and on his birthday you, nine years old, practiced forms in the paths between spring orchards just downwind from the parlor. Jeanist was seated inside with him among the family’s guests. No appetite for cake. Bakugou only celebrated ten birthdays and you have never stopped breaking his heart.

“Tried what?”

You ruffle your own hair so you don’t have to look at him either because at least one thing embarrasses you. “Magic.”

“Magic.”

“It’s not funny,” you chirp at his flat tone and round on him with your legs crossed. He leans back when your voice comes out a bit louder than expected and his bitten fist aches when it clenches. “I would copy you.”

The rot makes him weak and useless and susceptible to your stare, but the rot makes you fearless.

“I used to watch you studying– when we were really little– when we were both supposed to be eating with everyone in the Hall. You used to,” you look briefly to your side like someone important might be watching you acting so casually and it dims that fire he needs in your eyes.

“Used to what?” he smiles. He knows you watched him, you must know that too. Finish, please finish your story, he wants to hear your voice tell you more about home.

“Used to watch you flail your chubby arms until sparks came out.”

When Bakugou laughs this time he tries not to hold anything back, if only just to douse you in oil and keep the fire alight. Fucking please, just talk.

“I used to try every night too!–” you laugh, slightly louder, “– wind up my arms tight and spin around my room after curfew– disturb the horses– pretend to be a dragon.”

“Your runty prince looked like a dragon?”

You grin, “My runty prince taught himself magic, didn’t he? What’s wrong with wanting to breathe a little fire?”

“I don’t breathe fire, dumbass.”

“You still make miracles. Ever seen a dragon?”

“Of course I have.”

“Have you ever sheltered from a spray of ethereal flames?”

He frowns and smirks, confused, as if to ask, why have you? And the flint tinder in the bright part of your eyes sparks white hot.

“Melting, crushing, it’s completely inescapable without a barrier mage,” you pull your knee up with a bit of theatrics and lean because with everything inside of you except for actual realization, you want him to listen too. “Pink and red, blue, green golden and white hot. Highness, has no one ever told you how beautiful your magic is? You make magic like a dragon, who wouldn’t want a blessing like that?”

No one would want this cursed fucking magic that prickles his palms with sweat in the dark for no other reason than because you are looking at him, when all he wanted was– he just wanted to see you– watch you, he didn’t need you to watch him back and now the fire of Aldera he keeps trying to warm beside will blast him all the way to the wick. This is the flattery he hears so much about from his blushing mother.

“‘s not special. My magic maims people.”

“So do I.”

He frowns deeper, “Not the same.”

“I worked hard to maim people, it’s not the same because what I do isn’t beautiful.”

“That’s not–” he doesn’t think that. Don’t think that he thinks that, “–work isn’t beautiful. War isn’t beautiful.”

“You’ve never seen war. Highness you make–”

“Fuck off,” he tosses at you like it’s ever worked before.

“I won’t.”

“Eyes–”

“– it’s beautiful.”

“I make bombs.”

“You make starfall.”

Bakugou stares. Rough affection, yeah right, he’s melting.

You fall back on your hips when you realize you’ve broken clear through the confines of professionalism and the embarrassment sets in quickly. Eyes dart sideways, chest and knees turn. Your embarrassment is a subtle grip on fraying rugs. What do you do to your heart to make it pull so strong in every direction? Is it a spell? One that makes him quiet and happy to wait for his silent guard to speak again. This must be how the queen feels. You turn fully back to the rising orange light of the ballroom below and your lips part before any words are actually ready to come out.

The first time you try to speak, he doesn’t hear you. Bakugou traces the path between your shiny scars with his gaze. One below your ear to the one at your eyebrow and down again, past an old cut in your cheek. You couldn’t douse the forest fire behind those lashes if you tried. Not under orders or oath. Not from embarrassment.

“What does it feel like?” You whisper, looking a great distance down past abandoned flowers.

Both of you have fallen closer to each other in the waves of your nothing conversation, so much so that your shoulders would press together if the rot just ate away a little bit more. Bakugou’s heart sinks into the ballroom. It plummets like a drowned man.

“Gimme your hand.”

This is a fucking mistake, but all your prince can see is the last time pure joy ever sailed across your face in an evening spent around your wonderful campfire. He caused and extinguished it with one spark thrown into your cupped palms, the last time you ever tried to make magic. “I won’t hurt you,” he rumbles even though it kills him to look at you now.

Your side of the catwalk begins to glow at the lips because the sun has set far enough to climb walls towards the ceiling. You glow with it. Pink in a thousand places, ears and throat, lips, because you’re thinking too hard about what it is to be a proper guard and how much it is probably not raising your voice to delight in magic that does not belong to you. The corners of your mouth tremble. Who was it that told you you talk too much?

“Is that an order?”

“No.” Of course not.

You study the details of the itchy rug for too long, in the new light at its edge. Bakugou used to hate hiding up here in the cold but it was the only place the idiot children his mother sent him here to entertain couldn’t find him. He couldn’t be happier now, now that no one but you can see just how hard he flounders without fury.

Your hips swivel back towards him in precise decision then you fold your knees neatly underneath them to get closer. A few white ribbons in your hair seem to catch fire as the sunlight climbs higher and the sun dips lower out an infinite distance. Every mile it is far, is a mile Bakugou can feel in measures of chill. If Aldera is at the center of the world, Takoba is the outer edge and you remind him just how blessed he is when his hand melts at your Alderan touch. You reach and pull both his fists into the space between your bodies from where they lingered in the air.

“Yes sir.”

“Don’t,” he breathes, watching all the shapes your fingers can make together. He’s a prince, this is ridiculous. He sits up tall and stretches his arms out so you don’t need to reach so far, and makes a safe place for your strong fingers, those calluses and scars, to rest atop his open palms.

“Don’t call me sir.”

You are looking at him and considering something about his face, or his words, who knows– one of your eyebrows twitches in decision. It’s remarkable how steady your heads are. You are sure of everything you do even when it’s destructive and disruptive and punishable by death.

Laid out plainly like this and stiller than either of you have ever been together, your fingers and wrists, your palms, even your fingernails are so much more delicate than his. Like if he closed his golden fists, you’d disappear. Compared to the princess you have the hands of a farmer, but not a single thought– past how each other part of your body might look beside his– is allowed to rattle through his head when you watch him, straight ahead, and smile.

“Okay.”

He clears his throat. He’s a mage and magic is easy. He’s not going to set off the sweat on the back of his neck. “Don’t be nervous,” Bakugou grumbles to the dark.

You grin and ghost a thumb over the warmth and damp of his open palm, “Who are you trying to convince?”

“It’s this stupid fucking magic,” he bites. A bead of sweat drips through his knuckles onto the floor and if he’s not careful he might take out half the castle. Prince and apprentice assassinate world’s most fucked up royal family– he can already see the dossier sitting pretty on his mother’s desk.

You’re suddenly in a wonderful mood and you sit up slightly at the beginnings of warmth under your fingertips. He can hear your knees squeak and count your heartbeats in the veins of your wrist that his own fingertips reach. Those eyes again– always your eyes. They’re colored like any normal pair anyone might ever see but he’s one of few people who watch the dragons. You must have watched them too, too long, for your gaze to become so similar.

It feels like any other second of Bakugou’s life. Setting fire to own hands and measuring the strength of his magic in reds and whites. It’s an ordinary moment for many whole seconds until your prince follows the beginnings of light up from his palms, to your starving and unabashed awe. The sparks bubble up as hungry fish would in a pond, and then jump, spit, between your fingers like cooking oil. Your touch is so gentle at first. You train and measure your own skill every day so that Jeanist’s recruits don’t lose varied limbs, but as your excitement wells up you spill a bit from your seams. You rise slightly higher and give him more weight to hold and your prince dissolves into a smile.

Four hands rest inside one another and fire from the dragons illuminates your hiding place.

“Highness,” you whisper and startle a thousand times at every new color Bakugou ignites between your fingers. You’re fully up on your knees now having risen higher and higher to watch his magic as best you can and Bakugou sits on the floor beneath you, rotting.

“Highness what,” he whispers back.

You abandon the thought and jump when a green sparkler squeals through the air between you, and when your prince thinks to pull away your fingers are already wrapped tight around every part of him you can manage. He could have done this for you a thousand times; your joy was always this simple, raw, and unjealous. Purple and gold soar across the highs of your cheeks and hug your jaw. It’s all he can bear, to love this smile and to know that his sweat is plastered across your hands and soaked through the cuff of your sleeves, and so he freezes with the realization and embarrassment and with your last words.

“Highness, thank you.”

He doesn’t have the wherewithal to speak yet. The smile he loves. The magic dies with his concentration and as the sun finally crests your walkway for its fleeting moments of warmth, Bakugou tries to muster something like confidence because you’re looking at him with a softness he didn’t realize you had. Is it overwhelming because he knows you could kill him? Maybe it’s because he’s never wanted to kiss anyone before.

Bakugou’s pomegranate eyes dart up to you, saying goodbye to the last of the light and something like sugar scalds his throat. That new thought is fleeting because your golden prince drains the life from it like a butchered animal– gods, can’t he leave you with anything?

“Told you I don’t bite,” he grins and swallows the last selfish thought to death, “that’s your job right?”

You beam before bursting into deep and hungry laughter in the sun-soaked air above him. Whatever. Bakugou supports you as you cling to his arms and struggle to stay upright in your laughter. You’re overflowing. He smiles and huffs, he can’t help that. He can’t help goosebumps either but you don’t need to know about those and he’ll never utter a word. He still needs to meet the dressmaker for alterations and finalize the appetizers, and make sure the kitchens send dinner to your door.

“Highness,” you breathe like a bird and try to collect yourself enough to stop laughing. You plop back onto your hips, “Highness–”

“Highness Highness,” he taunts. The sound of it will make his ears bleed. Bakugou palms for a handkerchief with one hand and lets you hold his other. You cling to the bite you left there. Your legs overlap. “This is ridiculous,” he chuckles when your joy almost folds you in half, “A real joke might kill you.”

“Let it,” you breathe, canines twinkling, and dip slightly closer, laughing, to press your lips to his.

It’s so easy, you don’t mean to. You are lightheaded in the warmth of the sunset, magic trembles across your sensitive skin and you only want to be closer. Just close enough to bury yourself in that place that is so safe and that fills you with such a horrible comfortable joy–

As Bakugou reaches inside his tunic for something you lean too close. Your chest falls over his lap before either of you remembers that it shouldn’t be like this, that there are a thousand other places your prince belongs and ten thousand rules you have engraved on the meat of your skull to keep comfort at bay. It’s so warm with your eyes closed and his smile tastes like cinnamon. He doesn’t pull away.

You only realize what’s happened after that smile falls dead against your lips. Venom and rage betray a soft exterior. He’s soft against your touch. He’s soft like he’s never fought a day in his life. Your hands hold his beautiful golden head right where you need it and in the quiet, your eyes open to blinding and beautiful sunlight.

A touch is all you wanted, gods know why– they’ll never tell you– and you draw your chin back an inch to breathe. Bakugou is staring violently and his eyes are more like targets now than cherry pits. Eyebrows wider, higher, than the sky, he stares like his heart has stopped. What happened? He doesn’t look like anyone but himself anymore. You freeze.

Prince Bakugou is staring at you until he’s not, on the itchy rug in the sunset of the great black catwalks, until his eyes close and he kisses you back. Soft, closed lips brush so hot they’ll leave a mark, they’ll brand you and everyone will know what you did. The doom spreads quickly. You have never been so graceless in your life as you are now, falling backwards out of his warmth and stumbling onto your feet. He’s still on the ground and you only know he is holding you because sweat drips from the fingers of yours that he clutches.

“Wait,” he gasps. This is so much worse than fury, and you rip your hand away from his to take a step back. You didn’t mean to. Bakugou stares like a dragonslayer, heartbroken.

You run. Before you can breathe or be reasoned with, before you hear him call your name, you turn and dash through the back doorway alone. If this were Aldera, where would you hide? The frozen air of the seashell castle whispers straight through your flesh as you, sprinting, stumble your way past the castle’s vanity. There is a nook in the wall of the principal staircase where only Jeanist can find you. There is a seat on a high window in the Great Hall that you can reach with a library ladder. There are two tiny battlements in the east corner of your queen’s castle without a real way to get inside and on any day but a lightning storm, you can wedge a hunting knife in loose mortar and climb the masonry over its edge to lay and nap and stargaze at the tallest point of the most beautiful kingdom. An ant couldn’t hide in Takoba. There’s not one dark seam for the bugs.

A guard barely moves in time to avoid being crushed under your boots because fuck this horrible waterlogged place. The ocean drips out of your ears like tears from a seashell, drop by drop because you picked a fight with the goddess and thought yourself lucky to live before you realized she had made a home for herself inside your heart. Now you laugh with your prince and you touch him happily and you spar with him and hold nothing back and you tell him how much his magic helped you to live.

Resisting the urge to kill him, fighting to win Mitsuki’s favor, the threat of blue fire and a mage you doused in the sea, it was all so much easier than this. It could have been that easy forever, what were you thinking?

“Y/n!”

You weren’t, that’s what being too content gets you.

When Bakugou calls your name again his voice cracks because you are so much faster than he is at slipping through corridors. There is nowhere to hide in this awful country. Why are you running? If you were just slightly calmer you might have known where you were but white windows will always look like white windows and Bakugou is not so slow that you can ever really outrun him.

You duck under a low wall and its hanging tapestry and emerge on the other side at the edge of a stretch of empty hall. Setting sunlight pours past ten silver vases and someone left a window open, so lace curtains flow around a pedestal with its silvery prize in the center. 

“Y/n, please.”

Agony. This isn’t what you want. When Bakugou calls to you one last time you have no choice but to face him because he has never asked for anything before, and when you do, tears drip off the highest parts of your cheeks.

He lets the tapestry fall over his shoulder and stops at the front of the long, long room. Neither of you speak for an eternity besides the sound of breath being caught again, him at the edge and you in the center being swayed by cold air. His shaggy hair has been pushed back too many times in his rush to follow you and his eyes glow unobstructed. Bakugou’s broad shoulders fit too perfectly into his baubled tunic. It’s easier to watch him than to think.

When he leans forward, you step back, and he pauses like you might start sprinting again.

He doesn’t realize there’s something rotten stuck in the depths of your throat that keeps you from straying too far.

“I–”

“Don’t be sorry,” he begs, reading your mind. He’s never looked like this once in his whole life. He fell a step closer in his panic and when you do not run, his fists unclench from where they draw blood at his sides. “Don’t cry.”

You shake your head and he cautions another step. How can you ever go home now? How much longer can you survive here? The thought is suddenly and immediately overwhelming and Bakugou freezes again when you drop your head into your hands. It’s too much, you can’t believe how badly you want to hate him again and how much easier it would be than this.

“Y/n,” he whispers. His voice is candled ash. You know exactly how close he is even with your eyes closed because Alderan fire is unmistakable and you know too that he’s giving you a moment to escape.

“I didn’t mean to.”

Prince Bakugou’s magic-worn hands reach up from where he wires them and you snatch them both, and all their kiln-fired warmth, out of the air before he can touch you like you might break the first finger that moves. You don’t mean to bare your teeth either, you hope you aren’t, if you are he doesn’t care. Your prince stands above you, brows knit and eyes stupid with worry.

“Forget,” you plead in whispers.

He pulls your grip higher so that he can rest his palms under your ears. You aren’t doing anything but hanging from him. He moves easily because you do not stop him and he brushes his thumbs over stray hairs and their wild shapes. Silence is worse than his rage, but he’s trembling and his eyes never once look away from yours. He’s studying, contemplating something that continues to break his heart.

“Highness.”

Bakugou cups your jaw like it might bruise and tilts your head up just enough to kiss you. He could not care less about broken fingers.

His lips quiver and press just once to yours before pulling back, reconsidering, and dipping into you again. Your hold on his hands and his hands at your throat are melting, shaking, sweating. His chest swells above yours. You melt with him because you have lost your mind and push against the body you know can hold you. It can pull you from a current and throw you over its shoulder. Bakugou can lift you in strong arms, he can make you laugh until not even an order could compose you at your station.

You part your lips to be closer. He tangles his fingers in your braids so that you can take whatever you want. Your prince tastes like his favorite pastries, and Alderan peaches, and gold, he tastes like he’s fireproof.

Wet drips from your bottom lip in the mess of it all, before Bakugou tilts your chin in strong hands to catch what he’s missed. The slick of your tongues, a clicking of teeth, you want to eat him whole. He’s going to devour you.

He holds your face now to move you as he’d like– four feet tripping over each other to find a wall– and you grip at the patterns on his tunic between stolen breaths and steps stumbled backwards. Magic crackles where he touches you like he can’t control himself. His voice comes out with his gasps in growls because there is too much and nothing to say. You have forgotten apologies.

“Your hands” he breathes between nips for the softest warm parts of you, “cold.”

“The window–” but he kisses you again before you can finish. His hands are shaking, he is a starving dog and still he holds you like you’re going to break. You terrify him.

How long have you wanted this? There’s not enough focus left for your brain to turn its wheel and if there was you wouldn’t have pulled him so close. You suckle at his lower lip because his heartbeat tastes like home and he lets you dip inside again when you’ve had your fill. He fills you with himself in return. Wet, soft against you. It’s clumsier than sparring, and so much warmer.

At the end of cold hallways, where servants bustle and where there is still work to be done, the guard who barely survived your warpath ducks out from under the tapestry. He only wanted to check you were okay, but in the almost empty hallway Shinsou’s hand falls slack and his baton slips from it. It rings out against white marble and your heart stops beating at the same time as your prince. Your wheel groans in its new turning. The guard stares and you bristle.

You do not hear what Bakugou says in your panic but he does not let you go so easily this time. You will run, you’ll find somewhere to hide in this prison because that is your job and no one has ever done it better than you and there you will figure out what to do.

The last breath you take before darting away is shared in the sunlight with your prince, and just as you tip in a hint of escape Bakugou cups your cheeks one last time to keep you still. Your claws jump immediately back around his. He stares. His eyes are a study over every scar and warm flush, the violence of your sudden caught fear, even the parts squished and wrinkled in his hold. His magic vibrates unlit through your skin for one more second just one more second he takes to look and then he whispers,

“Okay.”

You take off the moment he releases you to deal with the apprentice and slip as best you can around a blue-tiled corner. Seedsized carvings raise their axes and little white waves fall. Sparks fight the chill on your jaw.

You forgo the seaside for fear of worrying your prince again. Manure pools around your pretty white boots because in the stables, horses don’t mind if you need to cry. The ocean swallows the last of the sun and you are suddenly a child again rinsing the blood from her face and into the hay and finding a dark place to hide. Every step is labor. Agitated white stallions complain to you in a line about their dinner and restlessness, and about chickens roosting inside uninvited, and about the woman who has sat here for hours and done nothing to help them.

The port city of Takoba shimmers at twilight under the hill that the stable looks out on. Its waters are silver and beg you to join them on all sides from their great distance. They have the advantage as you turn your back to the view.

When you amble towards the last empty stall, a figure drowning in blue is perched on a bed of straw. She is sickly beautiful and she stares like she hates everything she gazes upon.

“Majesty,” you startle and forget to take a knee.

Where you tread carefully in borrowed clothes, the Takoban Queen is happy to ruin her gown sitting up to her hips in straw beside a very plain horse. She runs a brush over the sheen of its black mane.

“Yes?” She sighs, defeated, until she turns to you and cocks her head like she might have expected someone else. Hundreds of translucent layers fall over themselves in her skirt like a flower and catch imaginary light for every inch that she moves. There is an ache so deep in your bones, chilled first then charred like dipping cold hands in hot water, you struggle to compose yourself. You cannot muster the question of why a queen might be hiding in the belly of her stables but you could guess.

“You were crying.”

“Please don’t tell Mitsuki.”

When will you be allowed to go home? The queen looks between her horse and the space you haunt above her, and pulls a second curry comb from the depths of her soft straw seat. “They’ll find you if you stand in the open like that.”

The day drags on like a dream you have made from picturebooks of Aldera and the man that you will never be free of, but queens don’t much mind if you need to cry either. You crumple into the spot she digs out for you in the straw and until it is too cold, the two of you sit quietly in shit together.

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#a hymn to black water #i make good on my promises #this one really took it out of me- editing was an afterthought there might be more mistakes than usual #thank you for loving these weirdos #bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha fantasy au #mha fantasy au #fantasy bakugou x reader #fantasy bakugo x reader

[quillsandblades]

A levihan fic I wrote inspired by the wonderful art of @addiej01

Lucky

Dust motes and overflowing sewerage. Dirty streets, uneven houses, and a large rocky ceiling, cutting out the sight of—Levi could only imagine what it may look like— the sky.

A typical day in the Underground.

Levi was eight, and pissed off at the random men that kept showing up to the small room where they lived. His mother had, as usual, sent him away, sneaking him out through the window and drawing the threadbare curtains over it before anyone could see him. He knew she was doing it—whatever it was—for him, and it also hurt her. And it involved men.

She had explained patiently to him that she was working and he must never peek through the window or she would be very angry and sad. But he’d seen her tired eyes, pale face and the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. He’d seen how she would wince in pain when she moved, and he’d heard her silent sniffles in the deep night when she thought he was asleep. He blamed the men, and her work, that she was so adamant on hiding from him.

He had been tempted to look through the window once. If he knew what was hurting her, he could find a solution. But her words had rung sharply in his mind and he knew if he followed the impulse, his mom would never ever forgive him.

So there he was, wandering the streets on yet another day, feeling helpless and cursing life with all the ferocity a child could muster.

Levi knew his way in the area around his home quite well. He was familiar with the narrow alleyways and passages that ran through the district like a tight network of spider webs. And just like a spider web, they were traps for all the stupid flies that dared to venture into it.

Levi was not a fly; rather he was one of the spiders, albeit a smaller one. Having grown up on those streets, he knew exactly what kind of person to avoid and how to avoid them. As a child he did lack many talents needed on the streets, like strength, fighting tactics and killing, but he knew how to survive, and that’s what mattered most. He was pretty quick and stealthy as well. Though his mom didn’t like the idea of stealing and Levi went along with it, it was still a handy little skill.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck stood up and he instantly looked around. The distant sound of hurried footsteps compelled him to dive into a gaping alley. He flattened behind a dripping pipe, holding his breath, partially due to the stink, and peered out.

A tall, burly man marched through the street; waves of anger were emitting from him and he was fingering the gun in his belt, moving with a purpose.

As he’d suspected, it was one of the spiders. A big one. Levi wouldn’t want to be in its pincers. He waited with bated breath, until the man was out of sight and it was safe for him to come out. But just then, he heard a small squeak and jerked back, fists raised.

‘Who’s there?’ he called out.

When nothing but silence answered, he stepped back into the alley, and squinted in the semi-darkness, eyes roving, searching—there!

A small figure was hunched behind some boxes. Another squeak sounded.

Levi approached it and realized it was a kid, around his age. The kid stumbled back as Levi came closer, hands held in front of him . . . or her? It could be a boy, sure looked like one. He wore glasses and was dressed in fairly bright and expensive looking clothes, but they were covered in dirt, and his short brown hair framed his face in messy strands.

He looked terrified, but was doing a fairly good job in masking it.

‘Who are you?’ Levi asked, folding his arms.

‘H—Hange,’ surprisingly the voice sounded female.

Levi raised his eyebrows, ‘You a girl?’

‘Uh, I . . . yeah,’ her eyes darted around, unsure and nervous.

‘You’re not from here,’ Levi stated flatly.

She winced, ‘Well, yes . . . but I swear I’m not gonna cause any trouble! I just wanted to look around! I’ve never seen the Underground before!’

Levi rolled his eyes; as if it was such a delightful place. So she was from the surface, and completely oblivious to this world. What an idiot.

The perfect fly.

He decided it was better not to let the girl, Hange, wander around by herself, so he accompanied her to the gates. Besides, he had nothing to do anyway.

She liked talking, as he soon found out. A lot. And throughout their little journey, she chattered happily in his ear. In a span of forty minutes, he knew everything from the name of her pet dog to the annoying governess who made her sit through hours of lectures on how to be a proper lady, even though she didn’t want to be one. Apparently, her father was a kind-hearted doctor who had come down to treat the victims of a prevailing disease in the Underground. Naturally, Hange wasn’t allowed to come with him. And naturally her unbridled curiosity made her slip in while her father crossed through the gates. How she managed that feat was beyond him.

He learnt quite a lot about life above the ground, and realized just how different it was from his own. But he really wished she would shut up for a while, otherwise he was sure to have a headache soon.

Thankfully, the gates came in sight, and she turned to him. She was grinning, and her eyes were shining brightly.

‘Thanks for being my guide, Levi!’ she exclaimed.

‘I wasn’t your—’ his retort was cut short as she enveloped him into a hug.

‘Bye! I’ll see you tomorrow, okay!’ she shouted in his ear.

‘Oi! Get off four-eyes!’

She laughed at the nickname and headed towards the gates, preparing to sneak out. She might get caught but it wasn’t like he cared. She’d managed to come in after all, he was sure she could go out as well. He turned on his heel and walked away.

***

True to her word, Hange came down again the next day. He saw her descend the giant stone steps with a man that could only be her father. It seemed she’d somehow convinced him to bring her along this time. She beamed down at him and adjusted the bag at her shoulders, as the guards held them up by the entrance.

‘You were waiting for me!’ she jumped in excitement as she rushed down.

Levi scowled, ‘I wasn’t.’

Of course he wasn’t waiting for that moron to come; he was simply walking around the gates. It’s not like he was bored or anything.

‘Your father let you come today,’ Levi pointed out.

‘Yeah! I asked him sooo many times yesterday that he just had to,’ she said.

‘But he only agreed when I told him I made a really nice grumpy friend,’ Hange skipped ahead, full of energy. ‘So, where are we going today?’

‘I’m not your friend,’ said Levi, ‘and we’re not going anywhere.’

‘Oh c’mon grumpy pants,’ she pouted. ‘Show me around! I even brought food for us today; we can have a picnic somewhere!’

Levi shook his head, equal parts amused and irritated. What did she think this place was? An amusement park?

‘You can't fool around here,’ he said gruffly. ‘It’s dangerous.’

‘Buuut I wanna explore,’ she whined, ‘and you know the Underground well. Pleeease Levi.’ She looked at him with big, pleading brown eyes.

He sighed and trudged ahead, ‘Come on.’ It wasn’t as if he was busy, some company wouldn’t hurt.

‘Yes!’

He led her to areas that he knew were relatively safer. Four-eyes tagged along, staring at the shops, houses, bars and people as if she’d never seen those things before. He noted that she stared at the stone ceiling every now and then, mouth half-open in wonder.

‘These people,’ she began after a while, ‘they’ve been in the Underground all their lives?’

‘Yeah.’

‘So that means none of you have ever seen the sky?’

He nodded stiffly. Hange gasped.

‘That’s horrible! You’re telling me you don’t know how it looks like when it’s clear, or cloudy, or early in the morning, or when the sun’s setting?’

‘I don’t.’

She stopped and grasped him by the arms, bending forward. Levi leaned back, eyes widening.

‘Don’t you worry Levi, I’ll take you to see the sky!’ she said earnestly. ‘Why don’t you come with me today when I leave?’

‘I can't,’ he shook his head. ‘None of the Undergrounders can leave just like that.’

‘Oh,’ her shoulders slumped and she frowned, crestfallen.

But then her eyes lit up once more, ‘Y’know, my mom’s a painter, and I just remembered two of her really good paintings about the sky. I’ll bring them tomorrow for you to see!’

And with that she bounded forward, calling for him to catch up.

Levi stood there for a second, not knowing what to make of this overly enthusiastic girl who somehow felt it was her duty to show him something he’d always wished but never had the chance to see. Was this what they called kindness? He couldn’t be sure.

Four-eyes insisted to see a livelier place next, so he took her to the market square, bustling with people. She moved around the stalls with a bright gleam in her eyes and gushed over the local handiworks. After she’d looked around to her heart’s content, they both sat down on the large steps of a storehouse and four-eyes took out food from her bag. Bright-colored fruits, bread, sandwiches, an orange drink.

The sight made his mouth water. How long had it been since he had a proper meal? Weeks? Months? How long since his mother had eaten anything?

Hange nudged him, ‘Go on, I brought this for both of us.’

He picked up a piece of bread gingerly and took a small bite. It was warm and sweet and so painfully real that for a moment he just savored the feeling of something solid and edible filling his mouth. He tore off a large bite, then another and another, filling himself with food. He finished the whole loaf in a minute.

Levi glanced at Hange, expecting her to be staring at him judgmentally, but she was simply chewing an apple, gazing around thoughtfully.

So Levi picked up a sandwich and bit into it, taking time to chew properly and eat slowly this time.

‘So . . . you said you lived with only your mom,’ she started.

‘Hmm.’

‘Where’s your dad?’

‘Dunno, and don’t care,’ he shrugged.

‘Can I meet your mom?’ four-eyes asked eagerly.

‘She’s busy right now, working.’

Her face fell. He hesitated, and then said, ‘Maybe another time?’

‘Of course! I would love to!’

She began taking again, telling him about her life, her little adventures back at home. This time he threw in small comments here and there, making her laugh out loud. It was a nice feeling: to learn that you could make someone smile widely just because of your words.

Much too soon, it was time for her to go. She let him—more like forced him—to take the rest of the food home, and promised to come down tomorrow and show him the paintings.

The next day, Levi greeted her with the words, ‘I want to show you a place.’

‘Ooh!’ Hange was all excitement as she followed him.

He went to the far corner of the district where the tumbledown houses gave way to the high walls that marked the end of the city. The spot was a mess of cracked rock and broken stones protruding from the ground and rising up to a great height.

‘C’mon,’ Levi said, lodging his hands and feet between the gaps in the stone and hoisting himself. He looked back down at four-eyes, ‘Can you climb up?’

She nodded, a bit uncertainly but followed his lead. It wasn’t that hard, the rocks weren’t slippery or steep, but they did have a long way to go. Levi focused on climbing up and kept checking on Hange in between. She seemed to be doing okay.

Finally they reached the wide ledge at the top and Levi pulled himself up and then helped Hange. They both sat there, catching their breath for a while. Hange produced a bottle of water from her bag, drank some and then handed it to Levi.

She turned to look back and gasped.

‘Whoa!’

The whole Underground city was spread out below them. From their great height, the houses looked like children’s toys. The buildings were squashed in close to each other, with narrow streets weaving between them. The tall towers stood out majestically among them. Everything shined in the flickering lights of the city.

Levi looked at four-eyes and almost smiled at her expression of awe. She was quiet for a while, watching the scene intently.

‘This is beautiful,’ she said finally in a quiet voice. Then turned to him and smiled, ‘Thank you for bringing me here, Levi.’

He turned away from her and mumbled, ‘Yeah whatever . . .’

Hange chuckled and settled back comfortably on the ledge. Then opened her bag and took out various food items and patted the space beside her. Levi sat down and they began to eat, looking down.

‘I noticed that there aren’t any plants or flowers in the Underground,’ said Hange.

‘How could there be any, you moron. There’s no sunlight.’

‘I know, but look at that,’ she pointed to the roof that felt way closer now that they were up there. It was damp and covered with fungus. ‘There are parts of the roof that have grown thinner than the rest,’ she went on. ‘And the stone will continue to weather away due to wind and water. It’s possible that a hole might open up in here. So if sunlight comes in there’ll be greenery.’ She smiled.

‘Like I care,’ said Levi, although he did find the idea nice.

‘You will care when it happens. A little green would look good here—oh! I just remembered! I had to show you something!’ she unzipped her bag.

‘Is it those paintings?’ Levi asked, curiosity seeping through the indifference.

‘Yes that too, but there’s one more thing!’ Hange pulled out a book and held it up.

‘I don’t know how to read four-eye,’ he said flatly.

She simply opened the book and pulled out a small leaf from it. It resembled a flower, and had four bright green petals. She held it out to him.

‘That’s a clover leaf,’ she said proudly. ‘And they usually have only three petals. Four petals are sooo rare that people say if you find one, you’re really lucky!’

Levi held the leaf in his hand and observed its fresh green color. Lucky, huh?

‘People will make up anything to satisfy themselves,’ he said and handed the clover back to her. She carefully placed it between the pages once more.

‘But still, seeing how rare it is, it’s still quite a precious thing,’ Hange countered. ‘I’m so glad I found it.’

Next she pulled out two pieces canvas from her bag and showed them to Levi with a grin, ‘As promised, I brought you a glimpse of the sky!’

The two paintings were a splash of color that was so rarely seen in his world.

‘This one’s a sunset,’ she pointed to the one that looked like fire. Molten red and orange hues bathed the canvas, mingling into a gold-yellow. Distant black silhouettes were painted that Levi recognized as mountains and horses. A huge pale orb—the sun—was half-hidden between the hills.

‘And this one’s a clear sky.’ The second painting showed a soft blue shade dotted with something that looked like fluffy pieces of cotton. Little red-roofed houses peppered the ground, surrounded by vibrant green fields. He could see small figures of children, frozen in time, chasing each other. He could almost hear their laughter.

‘You like it?’ Hange asked.

The places in both these pictures felt free. The people there could look up and see an infinite stretch of something that wasn’t the roof of a cage. Something that washed them in different colors at different hours of the day. It wasn’t a monochrome black all the time.

‘It’s . . . nice.’ He said quietly. This was just a picture; the real thing would be a hundred times better. He wondered if his wish to go out in the open would remain a wish forever.

‘I think,’ Hange’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, ‘the clover leaf really is lucky.’

He raised his eyebrows, ‘And what makes you think that?’

She shrugged, ‘I found the leaf. Then I met you,’ she locked her warm brown eyes with his. ‘And that was indeed very lucky.’

Levi tore his gaze away, not knowing what to say. Hange laughed quietly, ‘You’re a really good friend, Levi.’

Hange kept coming for many days. They would talk, play around, and often climb onto that ledge. She would tell him about the outside world and he would mention brief fragments of his life and the Underground. Once Hange sneaked in some of her mother’s paints and they both spent a good amount of hours on their ledge, making a mess of the colors. He liked the routine; it was the first time he’d made a ‘friend’ and Levi was actually having fun.

One day four-eyes came to him with a sad smile; she was carrying just a book, no backpack. Her father didn’t go off to attend to his patients as he usually did, but stood back at a distance as she approached him.

‘Hey,’ she whispered.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘We’re leaving,’ said Hange. ‘Father’s work here is done, we won’t be coming back.’

Oh.

He knew she wasn’t going to come down everyday forever, but . . . he hadn’t expected that day to come so soon.

‘I asked him to let me just meet you one last time and only then I’d go,’ she said. Then she handed him the book, and opened a page in the middle. Upon it sat that clover leaf she’d shown him before, carefully dried and pressed between the pages.

‘I dried it. If you keep it inside the book, it’ll last for quite some time.’

Levi shut the book and looked at four-eyes. He had to say something.

‘Thank you,’ he said. She smiled, this time happily. Then he said, ‘And this won’t be last time we’re meeting, four-eyes. I’ll get out of this hellhole with my mother and then we’ll meet again.’

Her eyes widened, and then gleamed behind her glasses. She crushed him in a hug, and he let her do it this once.

‘All right then, I’ll see if you keep your word Levi.’

***

‘The name’s Levi,’ he stared down at the lined up soldiers who would blindly throw their lives away in the name of freedom. Isabel and Farlan stood on either side of him, both alert and cautious.

Then his eyes caught a familiar sight of messy brown hair and glasses. Vague memories stirred within him.

. . . I’ll see if you keep your word . . .

Well, he did keep it. Here he was, beneath the vast open sky, and four-eyes was right in front of him. He held back a smile. How lucky indeed.

#levihan #hange zoe #levi ackerman #levihan fanfiction #my writing #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #levihan fanart #enjoy

[somebluemelodies]

happy holidays my friends! my gift to you in these trying lore times is canon divergence <3 angst? what’s that? i only know richas and pepito have gotten ahold of mistletoe—

The kids are planning something.

The kids in question? Richarlyson and Pepito, who have been chittering and giggling almost nonstop since they finished opening their presents, using their notebooks instead of signing so their parents can’t figure out what the fuck could be about to happen.

Cellbit and Roier stop trying to figure it out when they get denied information the third time, so they can only trust whatever the two hatchlings were plotting isn’t going to be explosive, at the very least.

Nothing in fact happens for a long while, and one could assume that maybe they don’t have any plans in mind. Maybe they’re just gossiping.

(God only knows how much Richarlyson loves to.)

And then the party happens. An island-wide thing, per most of the major celebrations. There’s a whole new area, too, decorated similarly to spawn. A snowy little wonderland, with colorful blinking lights strung between tall pines decorated with large ornaments and occasional garland.

(It’s a welcome change from everything that’s been transpiring over the last few weeks.

A chance to recuperate.)

Roier is talking to Étoiles and Bagi when something tugs his pant leg, and he looks down.

Bright eyes and big, round glasses are looking right back up at him. “Pepiux?”

Pepito grabs his hand instead, trying to pull him away. “Ay— ¿Qué pasa, Pepito? What the fuck?”

Pepito only tugs his hand again, more insistent. The hatchling is smiling, though, eyes twinkling with mirth Pepito has failed to conceal, and at the very least, Roier knows something hasn’t gone to shit. “Okay, okay. Vamos, Pepito, vamos.”

He’s led over to under some tree a good distance away, but he doesn’t see anything. The spider-hybrid looks around, shooting Pepito a questioning look, but Pepito only beams with no elaboration, still holding his hand.

Roier keeps looking around. Is he supposed to see something? Nobody seems to be doing anything unexpected.

And then he looks up. “No mames, wey— Pepiux, you sneaky—”

“Guapito?”

He looks back down, and finds his husband being led by a very determined-looking Richarlyson. “O que é isso, Richas?” Cellbit laughs, and warmth blooms in Roier’s heart at the sound.

The hatchling lets go of his hand when he and Roier are standing directly in front of each other, and Pepito finally lets go of the spider-hybrid’s, too.

Cellbit copies Roier and looks up, eyes widening slightly. But then a smile creeps onto his face, and his piercing eyes are shining in a way the lights can’t provide, in a way his husband hasn’t seen in a long while.

How the kids placed the mistletoe up there, they’re not gonna question.

Instead, their focus is on what the hatchlings added to the holiday sprig: pink amaranths.

Cellbit looks down at Richarlyson and Pepito, who have just finished a high-five and are looking extremely pleased with themselves. He quirks an eyebrow. “We’re literally married, you guys.”

Richarlyson whips out his notebook, writing with a comedic ferocity before holding it up. AND? YOUR POINT IS?

Pepito lifts his own notebook, a lot less aggressive as he bounces in place. FELIZ NAVIDAD APAS :-D

The cat-hybrid chuckles to himself, shaking his head. His attention is diverted by hands settling on his waist. Roier’s smile is soft, and he’s looking at Cellbit in a way that makes him weak, mind going pleasantly fuzzy. “Oi…”

“Hola, gatinho,” Roier murmurs.

(Satisfied, Richarlyson and Pepito slink off, giggling at the prospect of the next part of their grand plan.)

Cellbit closes the space between their bodies, one arm wrapping around his husband’s neck while the other cups his face. Roier feels a familiar coil around his leg.

The spider-hybrid spares one last glance up at the customized mistletoe before pressing their foreheads together. “Well? You gonna kiss me or what, pendejo?”

“Pendejo? With that mouth of yours?” the investigator quips.

“It’s more fun, no?”

Cellbit hums, his thumb brushing along Roier’s cheekbone. “Claro.”

And with that, Cellbit tilts his head and the distance is closed, eyes fluttering shut as they melt into the kiss.

Subconsciously, they hold each other tighter, pulling each other impossibly closer. The world fades out around them, until it’s nothing but each other.

(They’re already as close as they can get.)

(Not that the fact will stop them from trying.)

They don’t pull apart until their lungs are burning for oxygen, watching each other closely as their hearts race in their chests.

Their silent stare at each other hardly lasts a few seconds before grins are splitting their faces, foreheads pressing together as their shoulders shake with silent laughter.

But then Roier makes a sound, unable to keep quiet, and that’s all it takes for them to both fall into proper laughter. Cellbit’s head drops to his husband’s shoulder, burying it in an attempt to stifle the growing noise.

(He hears Roier through his laughter, “hijo de puta, Cellbo—”)

They rock in place until they’re finally able to calm back down and catch their breath, and Cellbit lifts his head. He moves his hands back, cupping Roier’s face in both and studying him fondly.

“Told you it was more fun,” the latter chirps, and it takes more self-control than Cellbit cares to admit to not start laughing again.

(Roier’s always been good at that: making him laugh even at the simplest of things.

Maybe it’s less Roier and more a testament to just how whipped Cellbit is. But that’s nobody’s business but his own.)

(Since day one.)

The cat-hybrid rolls his eyes, not a trace of malice to be found. “Whatever, man.”

“Ey, man, what the fuck?” Roier moves a hand from Cellbit’s waist, putting it to his heart. “You know I’m speaking facts. Pure facts.”

“Cállate, guapito.” The cat-hybrid pinches one of his cheeks.

“I have a better idea,” his husband answers.

Cellbit doesn’t even get a chance to ask before Roier’s hand is against the back of his head, threading through his hair, and their lips are pressed together once more. A little less gentle, a little more passionate, but no less perfect as it speaks the words they don’t need to.

(Te amo. Te amo. Te amo.)

(And across the way, a flustered scientist and an equally-flustered war veteran find themselves under a red-rosed mistletoe.)

(A very Merry Christmas, indeed.)

#*looks at ending* ​yknow i had to do it to ‘em #since we can’t get mistletoe spiderbit in canon I DID IT MYSELF #BC FUCK YOU CANON #slash lh #god i miss meus pais so much #qsmp cellbit #qsmp roier #spiderbit #qsmp richarlyson #qsmp pepito #qsmp #blue writes qsmp

[writingraven]

Animal Symbolism

♘

➸ alligator: aggression, survival

➸ ant: teamwork, hardworking

➸ armadillo: active, boundaries, objectivity, protection

➸ bat: nocturnal, cleansing

➸ bear: adaptability, introspection, power, strength

➸ beaver: alterations, balance, builder, gatherer

➸ bee: development, diligence, consciousness

➸ bird: transition between life & death, freedom, mobility

➸ bobcat: fierce, intensity, loner

➸ buffalo: abundance, bravery, freedom, life, respect, sacredness

➸ bull: strength, warning

➸ butterfly: carefree, grace, metamorphosis, transformation

➸ camel: endurance, weary

➸ cat: grace, healing, independence

➸ cougar: courage, leadership

➸ cow: nurture, patience, stoicism

➸ coyote: adaptability, insight, playfulness

➸ crane: independence, solitude

➸ crocodile: fierceness, leadership

➸ crow: flexibility, majestic, perspective, warning

➸ deer: gentleness, kindness, love, peace, sensitivity

➸ dog: loyalty, protection

➸ dolphin: harmony, kindness, playfulness

➸ dove: gentle, purity

➸ dragon: nobility, wisdom

➸ dragonfly: carefree, change, illusion

➸ eagle: connection to creator, divinity

➸ eel: disguise, flexibility, strength

➸ elephant: long-life, self-preservation

➸ elk: agility, freedom, friendship, stamina, strength

➸ fox: cunning, deceit, intelligence, provider

➸ frog: cleansing, healing

➸ giraffe: mobility, watchfulness

➸ goat: stubbornness, vitality

➸ goose: communication, faith, travel

➸ gorilla: adaptability, strength

➸ grasshopper: faithfulness, luck

➸ grizzly bear: hunter

➸ hawk: courage, messenger, truth, wisdom

➸ hedgehog: curiosity, overcoming, protection, reliance

➸ hippo: protection, stability, strength, survival

➸ horse: loyalty, mobility, stamina, strength, wisdom

➸ hummingbird: connection, lightness, messenger, speed

➸ jaguar: ferocity, power, valor

➸ kangaroo: feisty, fun-loving

➸ koala: affection, amicability, compassion, faith, gentleness

➸ ladybug: fortune, innocence, love, resolution

➸ leopard: aggression, ferocity, speed

➸ lion: power, respect, strength

➸ lizard: agility, conservation

➸ manatee: peace, unassuming

➸ monkey: agility, observation, playfulness

➸ moose: headstrong, longevity, unstoppable

➸ orca: focus, power

➸ otter: efficiency, playfulness

➸ owl: connection, insight, intuition, patience, psychic vision, solitude, wisdom

➸ panda: gentle strength, luck, peace

➸ panther: astral travel, femininity, guardianship, power, rebirth

➸ peacock: immortality, pride, vanity

➸ pegasus: lightning

➸ phoenix: hope, prosperity, rebirth, renewal

➸ pig: abundance, intelligence / ignorance, stubbornness, uncleanliness

➸ quail: harmony, protectiveness

➸ rabbit: alertness, clever, lust, overcoming

➸ ram: achievement, new beginnings, sacrifice, teaching

➸ raven: cleverness, intelligence, mischievousness, wisdom

➸ roadrunner: agility, speed

➸ scorpion: defense, self-protection

➸ shark: authority, curiosity, efficiency, guardianship, movement, observation, perception

➸ sheep: conformity, innocence, vulnerability

➸ snake: cunning, fertility, life, malice

➸ spider: balance, creativity, destiny, fate

➸ squirrel: adaptability, change, playfulness, resourcefulness, renewal

➸ swan: acceptable, beauty, grace

➸ tiger: awareness, courage, determination, ferocity, protection, strength

➸ turkey: abundance, blessing, connection, generosity

➸ turtle: longevity, protection

➸ unicorn: grace, purity, singularity, uniqueness

➸ whale: community, healing, strength, wisdom

➸ wolf: freedom, guidance, loyalty

➸ zebra: free-spirit, safety, strength, socialization

#writing #writing tips #story ideas #reference #fantasy #knowledge #writing reference #fantasy writing #world building #writing fiction #animals #animal symbolism

[iamyourscarletvision]

I am convinced now that by how we saw Miguel chasing Miles like a fucking unstoppable beast, going up a moving hypersonic train with the strenght of his body plus claws alone then bodyslapped Miles without losing grip, breaking through glass and walls then jumping with ferocity several meters in the air to get to the Go Home Machine while punching and breaking things in the way, all while showcasing a furious expression, and also if you forgot, was about to bite the Vulture with huge fangs to parlize him, that most if not ALL enemies that have faced Miguel body to body have ended up with therapy counseling or some type of monetary compensation for the sole trauma of having such a dark Spider-Man coming after them.

Like imagine you are the Green Goblin facing the equivalent of a twink teenager Spider-Man in another universe, and then a portal opens and a HUGE larger-than-life version of the twink storms through and tackles you with the force of a truck, freaking bites you and paralizes you, only for him to carry you out to his futuristic dimension where you are put in an energy chamber. No starky monologue, no jokes, nothing more than pure rage and nothing to lose coming your way.

Yikes that has to leave a scar somehow.

#miguel o'hara #miguel ohara #atsv #across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099

[smollangrycat]

Alue’k: Family Bonds

Alue’ks (My avatar: way of water Oc) relationship with each member of her family.

Jake (dad)

She is a massive daddies girl and is always trying to make him proud

She takes after him in the way that she is stubborn and resourceful

Alue’k was a very small child and got sick often so Jake dose worry about her safety 

He has also developed the habit of catching her before she falls (She is a klutz and trips over her own feet all the time)

Is protective of all his kids but especially Alue’k as she’s most likely to fall over nothing and brake her leg

Calls her, baby girl 

Neytiri (mom)

Looks up to her mom, want to be just like her values her strength and determination

Shares her ferocity when it comes to protecting her family

Shares her impatience and love of the forest

Enjoys hunting with her mother or helping the new Na’vi mothers

Neytiri is a total mama bear when it comes to her children and Alue’k is no exception

Calls her, sweet daughter

Neteyam (older brother)

Looks up to him (literally, he is taller), values his determination to prove himself

Can often be found flying together or racing their Ikran to see who is the better flyer, it’s all in good fun

Has also developed the habit of catching her before she falls (picked it up from Jake)

Teases her for being a klutz but really worries that it gunna get her killed

Is *very* protective

Often calls her scoun to annoy her (or when she’s being an idiot)

Calls her,  baby sister

Kiri (older sister)

They are very close

Watches Graces recordings together as Alue’k is into botany and finds Grace very interesting

She trusts Kiri, often coming to her for advice

They can normally be found laying in the grass staring at the sky or wondering through the forest looking at all the plants.

Kiri Knows that Alue’k can take care of herself but all ways offers her help

Calls her Alu

Lo’ak (older brother)

Tease each other relentlessly

Tells him everything and physically can’t lie to him.

He knows when something is wrong and when she’s sad

Helps him get out of trouble, often takes the blame for him

Teases her about being a klutz but doesn’t mean any harm by it

Trust that she knows how to protect herself but is still protective

Has the same attitude and humour as him but somehow she is a little more witty.

Calls her, Tiny or Lu

Spider (older brother)

Pretty chill with each other

Will train together and he’ll help her find new plants to write about in her journal

Can often be found playing hide and seek in the trees or helping Ned take samples of plants

If (when) she gets lost (as she has no sense of dam direction) Spider is always the first to find her

He calls her, Lu or Alu

Tuk (younger sister)

Alue’k loves her baby sister, always makes time for her so she doesn’t feel left out

Tuk looks up to Alue’k and values her compassion and humility

Alue’k is protective over Tuk and if they cause trouble, Alue’k takes the blame 

They can often be found braiding each others hair or Alue’k is showing her all kind of plants and teaching her about them

Tuk loves to play with Tonôwa (viper wolf) so they can normally be found playing with him

Calls her, Lulu or Alu

#avatar #avataroc #avatar way of water #avatar oc #blue avatar oc #avatar 2 #jake sully #way of water #avatar way of water oc #neytiri #neteyam #kiri #tuktirey #lo’ak #oc #daughter oc #family #teen oc #siblings

[miguelswifey04]

Hii!! I live ur fiction sm and I was wondering if we could have a Miguel x Fem Reader who is Badass like him and usually cool and collected and maybe sometimes quiet and shy? But when she is pissed she is really scary like one day on a mission she full on pulls a miguel and miles situation (NOT CRAWLING ON ALL FOURS THO LMAO)

And she starts fighting ruthlessly and miguel is super proud but kinda scared bc he's worried she is gonna kill someone. Ty for ur time hope this isn't too much! ❤

it’s not too much, don’t worry my love <33 love this idea a lot :)

miguel o’hara x badass fem! spider! reader

miguel always admired your calm and collected nature. your ability to remain level-headed during missions was something he truly respected. but there was another side to you that he had witnessed only a few times—a side that unleashed a fierce and ruthless fighter.

one day, as the two of you embarked on a mission together, something triggered you, igniting a fire within. your usually reserved demeanor transformed, and miguel couldn't help but be in awe of the intensity emanating from you.

as you fought, your movements became fluid, each strike precise and calculated. your eyes blazed with a raw determination, and the once calm and collected facade was shattered. you unleashed your full power, not holding back an ounce of your strength.

miguel watched with a mix of awe and concern. he had never seen you so ferocious, so unyielding. your actions mirrored his own, the spirit of a true fighter coursing through your veins. as your blows landed with deadly accuracy, miguel couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry. while he was proud of your strength, a part of him feared the potential consequences of your ruthlessness.

the battle raged on, and with each passing moment, the intensity grew. miguel could see the fear in the eyes of your opponents, a primal realization that they were facing a force far greater than they had anticipated. but amidst that fear, there was also a glimmer of admiration for your power.

finally, the chaos subsided, and you stood amidst the defeated enemies, your chest heaving with exertion. miguel approached you cautiously, his eyes reflecting a mixture of pride and trepidation. “wow…," he said, his voice laced with a mixture of awe and concern. "that was…intense. you were incredible out there. but i have to admit, i’m a little worried about the level of ferocity you displayed. you seemed ready to go all the way."

you took a deep breath, your gaze fixated on the ground. "i’m sorry, miguel. i just…i couldn't contain myself. something inside of me snapped," you admitted, your voice tinged with a hint of regret. miguel placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his touch grounding you. "i understand. we all have those moments. but remember, there's a line we shouldn't cross. we fight to protect, not to cause unnecessary harm."

you nodded, appreciating his words of wisdom. "you’re right, miguel. i’ll be more mindful next time. it’s just that sometimes, the rage inside me becomes overwhelming. i need to learn to control it better." he smiled gently, his love for you evident in his eyes. "we’ll work on it together. i know you have incredible strength, and i believe in your ability to channel it for the greater good. just remember, you don't have to fight alone. we’re a team, and we'll face any challenge together, no matter what."

with that, miguel pulled you into a warm embrace, reaffirming the unbreakable bond between you. as you held each other, you found solace in the fact that even in moments of darkness and rage, love and support would always guide you back to the path of balance and compassion.

tags 🏷️!! @kairiscorner @astro1bloom @obi-mom-kenobi @emiemiemiii @sabcandoit @meeom

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #atsv x reader #🌱 lin writes #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel o’hara x y/n #spider person #lin’s asks #♡´･ᴗ･`♡ lin answers #miguel o’hara x female reader #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel imagine #i need miguel

[cat3ch1sm]

🎻~ kurapika kurta losing his temper and pinning u against a wall⁉️⁉️⁉️ absolutely

this is set during the yorknew city arc at the auction at which chrollo and the zoldyck heads fight! i guess this is sort of kinda an au? the events aren’t by the book, that’s for sure, so idk😅 reader and kurapika are “just friends” here

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅ fem!reader, implied nsfw, language

The two of you were both badly beaten, black suits ripped in several places and blood dripping from a number of exposed gashes. There was a dark red streak in Kurapika’s rumpled blonde hair and your nose was gushing blood, which you kept wiping away over and over again to no avail. The auction hall had been blown to smithereens behind you with terrified attendees and mafia members alike scattering all over the city. Your coworkers were nowhere to be found, nor were the perpetrators of the massive explosion that had occurred just seconds before. Meanwhile, you and Kurapika were both left wandering through the remains of the building. The mood was so tense you could practically hear the crackling electricity in the air.

Kurapika was seething beside you, his eyes glowing a brilliantly furious scarlet and his glare burning into your own. “What the hell were you thinking?! Why would you run back into the damn auction hall when you knew it was about to be destroyed? You know the Spiders are here, right? Are you insane?”

Your fists clenched, and something in your chest tightened; Kurapika’s incensed gaze was met with an equally inflamed one. “I was trying to help you, you asshole! I went back in there to get the goddamn Scarlet Eyes because I knew how much they meant to you. And now you’re calling me insane? Did you tell me about the Scarlet Eyes being here and expect me to not do anything about it?!”

“No, because that was my job,” Kurapika snapped. Now he stopped in his tracks; you’d never seen him so angry. ”Retrieving the Eyes is my mission and mine alone.” He threw up his arms, slightly wincing as he did so, and gestured heatedly to your crumbling surroundings. “And now look where we are- we are stranded in the ruins of this hellhole with no damn communication with God knows how many injuries and no Scarlet Eyes! Your efforts have only made things worse. Are you happy?”

“You say that like doing nothing would have made things any better!” you countered sharply. Blood was running down your lips and slipping into your mouth as you spoke, but you were too occupied to care. “I didn’t cause the explosion! And I certainly didn’t ask for you to run in after me!”

Kurapika took a few steps towards you, making you back up instinctively. “How could I not have gone after you, Y/N?! If I see any one of my friends running into a disaster waiting to happen, I’m going to go after them!”

Both of you were screaming at this point, the stress of the night finally bubbling over. You let out a long sigh, burying your red/stained face in your hands. “God, I don’t even understand why you’re so upset?! I didn’t know the whole damn building was going to explode when I ran back in there! And I definitely wasn’t trying to get either of us hurt.”

Now Kurapika advanced on you a little too quickly, barely giving you any time to react before you were completely backed up against a cracking wall. His shadow obscured your vision almost totally, and the only thing you could see was his blazing red eyes. You felt your heartbeat speed up to twice as fast and your stomach twist, your eyes wide as you glared up at Kurapika. Had you crossed a line?

“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know why I’m so upset?” He said this with such ferocity that you couldn’t help but sidle up even further against the wall, your nose inches away from his collarbone and the metallic scent of his blood filling your aching nose. The chains on his hand just above your head dangled down beside your face, brushing your cheek and the cold silver making you flinch. “You could have died, Y/N! What the hell gives you the right to scare me that badly?!”

Your jaw almost dropped, and you were quick to counter Kurapika’s statement. “Me?!” You let a bitter laugh escape your lips, red staining your chin and your voice shaky. “How the fuck do you think I felt when you went to kill the Troupe’s strongest member by yourself with a handful of chains? That’s the whole reason the Spiders are even here, isn’t it? Because you were an idiot and killed their best member? You can barely control your rage for even two seconds! You scare me every goddamn day!”

Kurapika slammed his other hand on the wall as well, making you jump and squeeze your eyes shut for a second. “No! I’m supposed to do things like that- it’s all I know how to do! There isn’t one fucking second where I’m not angry-“

“I don’t care! You aren’t being-“

“Jesus Christ.” And then he leaned down and kissed you.

It was so unexpected that you just totally froze. Your entire body stiffened and your eyes remained wide open. Kurapika’s lips tasted like blood and salt and you didn’t know whose was whose. But eventually, you started to kiss him back- and he kissed you harder; you felt him groan into your mouth. He took one of his hands off the wall to wrap around your waist and pull you in closer with his brow furrowed. Your entire body began to heat up and you brought a hand to the back of his head, which was sticky with half-dried blood, but you barely noticed as his body engulfed your own. With your eyes shut, all you could perceive was him.

After a full minute, you broke apart, breathless and even more disheveled if that was possible. Kurapika’s eyes lingered on your red lips as he stepped back, releasing you from his grip. Flustered, you averted your eyes to your hands, ignoring the blood from your nose that was still rushing down your face. You both were silent; even Kurapika seemed stunned.

“Kurapika-“

“Y/N-“

“Oh, there you both are.”

Surprised, you and Kurapika both turned around to see an only slightly battered Melody, standing with her hands folded in front of her stomach. She tilted her head at the two of you, and you silently prayed that she hadn’t seen anything. But your fears were extinguished when she said nothing about it.

“Yes… hey, Melody,” Kurapika greeted her a little sheepishly, trying not to glance in your direction. “We were looking for you- where are the others?”

“Oh, they’re all back at the boss’s hotel. The auction is in shambles, so many people are either dead or have cleared out. We will want to leave before the authorities get here,” Melody added pointedly, to which you nodded.

“Of course, let’s- let’s get going.” You sniffed back more blood and began walking towards Melody, face burning as you avoided Kurapika’s eyes. You could still feel the sensation of his kiss on your lips. You wondered if he could too. Anyway- it was probably safe to say your argument was mostly resolved.

Kurapika eventually took the lead, walking in his usual respectable manner in front of both you and Melody. The only sounds for a while were those of the crumbling building and debris falling, and you’d begun to zone out. However, Melody abruptly brought you back to earth when she stated aloud:

“By the way, I did notice both of your heartbeats were unusually rapid. There is a certain rhythm that heartbeats take on when the host is experiencing attraction, whether it be sexual or emotional, to another person- and your own rhythms matched that specific rhythm.” She smiled a little bit. “I’m sure the two of you will make a wonderful couple.”

#kurapika x reader #hxh headcanons #hxh memes #kurapika headcanons #kurapika kurta #kurapika x reader smut #kurapika kurta x reader #hunter x hunter #kurapika x you #you x kurapika #reader x kurapika kurta smut #reader x kurapika kurta

[felinecryptid]

this world is nothing without you (life is here only if you are)

hobie feels at home at pav's

Hobie knocked on the frosted green glass window for the third time. If Pav didn't open it, he was going to sneak in. Normally, he'd sneak in without knocking, but the last (which was also the first and only) time he snuck in, he got smacked in the face with a black umbrella by Maya Auntie.

Hobie decided to never sneak in again because Maya Auntie did not set off his spider senses and he wasn't very particularly keen to have a face full of umbrella again.

The knocks echoed in the narrow alley right below Pav's window. A random passerby looked up to find the source and Hobie flattened himself on the ledge above Pav's window. He'd rather not get seen today if he could help it, because people seemed to think he was a robber. Again, it wouldn't be a huge problem if people thought he was a robber, but today he was on a mission. A personal mission.

There had been a small fight with a 'villain of the week' in Gwen's world, and Hobie had noticed Pav looking a lil bit peaky after the fight. Hobie tried to get a hold of him, but he disappeared quickly from the scene, leaving Hobie to deal with the stick up Miguel's ass alone. The moment Hobie was free from the clutches of the man baby, he set off to Pav's house.

The night had fallen and rain was still falling, when he had stepped onto Pav's roof in Mumbattan. A quick climb down to the fourth floor and there he had been, knocking for Pav to open the fucking window.

The suspicious passerby ceased looking for him, quickly hurrying down the alley, probably thinking they are avoiding a mugger, Hobie assumed, swinging down to the window as soon as they were out of sight. If only they knew there were two spidermen nearby, Hobie thought, slightly shaking his head.

Pav still hadn't opened the window.

Hobie seriously debated going in through the air vent. He could probably fit in there if he tried hard enough, he studied the narrow opening next to the window.

Something clattered inside. "Pav," He called, "Is'at you?"

No reply. More clattering.

"Pav?" He called out, voice louder.

The window swung in abruptly, revealing the worried face of Maya Auntie. Fucking shit.

"What are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?" Maya Auntie hissed with the ferocity of a thousand cats. So much for not getting caught. "Do your parents know you are here, hmm?"

Hobie stumbled on his words. He did not want to piss Maya Auntie off. She was one of the few adults Hobie respected. For obvious reasons. "Umm, yeah they told me I could visit Pav when I told them he looked kinda pale today," He lied, you know, like a liar. Maya Auntie didn't know he had no parents, didn't know they were spidermen and swung through the multiverse on a regular basis to beat the ass of selfish people who didn't get their way and threw a genetically modified fit, didn't know how much Pav meant to him, didn't know he wasn't from this universe.

But she did know it was him who she smacked for trying to sneak in months ago because the next question out of her mouth was, "Why can't you use the main door like a normal human being?"

He couldn't sass her- He couldn't sass her-

"-Because I don't want you to fall down, okay? Consider this your own home and use the front door, beta, it's very unsafe."

"Okay, Auntie."

"Good, come in," She said, moving away from the window. Hobie swung in. "Next time you are going to use the front door, no climbing walls like hooligans," Maya Auntie said in a stern voice and Hobie nodded, like he had the full intention to obey her. "He's sleeping because he has high fever, don't wake him up before 10, he needs to sleep for the tablets to work." She said, gesturing at Pav, sleeping curled around his pillow on the bed.

"Got it."

"Okay then," his Aunt looked around the room, "Kamre ka kabada kar rakha hai ladke ne, jidhar dekho kapde aur kitab, tch, mehman baithane ko jagaa nahi hai," She muttered unintelligibly before looking straight at him, "Hobie beta, what do you want to eat? Vada Pav, Besan ke ladoo or Jalebi?"

***

Hobie sat in Pav's room, at his table, reading a colour coded handwritten periodic table stuck to the wall, with a plate full of food he couldn't pronounce. What a priss, Hobie's heart swelled with affection looking at the numerous charts of scientific notes on the wall.

"Hobie." Pav snifffed lightly, his voice slightly hoarse.

Hobie turned around to look at Pav. He was almost completely under the thick blanket, his beautiful hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, eyes shiny with sleep.

"What are you doing here?"

"You guys don' got no other questions to ask?" Hobie said, no real fire in his words.

Pav laughed. "I heard. Sorry you had to get interrogated like that," He shrugged weakly.

"Nah," Hobie started, "It was fine."

Pav hummed. "What are you eating?" He asked after a while of simply staring up at the ceiling.

"I dunno their names, bruv. One of these is an orange curly lookin' thing tha' is syrupy and the other is, also curly, but its spicier than the orange ones,"

"Oh, Jalebi and Bhakarwadi."

"I didn' understand a lick of what you said."

"That's just what they're called."

"You'll 'ave to teach me tha' some other time," Hobie leant back in Pav's chair, popping one of the spicy things into his mouth.

"Sure'm," Pav mumbled, visibly falling asleep. "Come here?"

Hobie wordlessly slid into his bed, sitting near the head, softly caressing his hair, even after he had drifted off to sleep. Not even an hour later, Hobie had fallen asleep too.

___

Chaipunk sickfic bc im down w fever too and i needed to get comfort somewhere

im delirious on painkillers as im writing it, so feel free to point out errors i have definitely missed, bc i didnt even read this a second time

title (translated) from soch na sake

translation

Kamre ka kabada kar rakha hai ladke ne, jidhar dekho kapde aur kitab, tch, mehman baithane ko jagaa nahi hai - boy makes the room looks like a trashcan, clothes and books lying wherever you look, tch, there's no place for guests to sit (she's referring to personal guests here bc family or neighbours get seated in the living room/dining table while friends usually go to their personal room)

#chaipunk fic #chaipunk #chaipunk sickfic #hobie x pavitr #pavitr x hobie #pavitr prabhakar atsv #hobie brown atsv #pavitr prabhakar #hobie brown #atsv fanfiction #hurt/comfort #mild hurt a lotta comfort

[head---ache]

color practice thingies

#fanart #sth #sonic fanart #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #amy rose #miles tails prower #whisper the wolf #sonic oc #sonic fankid #sonic fanchild #Sparks Rose #Destiny Acorn #Ferocity the Spider

[goodbird1]

Torture

Neteyam x human reader

word count: 680

Summary: a gift that can not be accepted

Warnings: angst, not so happy ending

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

Being a human on Pandora has its advantages. You were too small for any big predator to give you a second thought. But when one of them did go after you a certain mighty warrior was always there to save you.

"You should be more careful," Neteyam said, pulling an arrow out of a thanator. "What if I wasn't around?"

"Well then it's a good thing you always are" you say come out from your hiding spot.

Growing up you had always been close to the Sully's just like Spider but especially neteyam. He was always there for you and you for him. You were the only person that he felt comfortable with to let his guard down. He never treated you any less just because you were human.

You always wanted to be more than friends but you were human and he was Navi. He was the next clan leader. You two could never be together.

Walking deeper into the forest you two jump from tree to tree. "Keep up if you can!" You called behind you. Neteyam smirks at you. "Don't you dare" you say, taking a step back but it was too late. Neteyam lunged at you, arms extended. He crashed into you sending the both of you tumbling to the floor.

You looked down at neteyam who nestled his face into your chest, arms wrapped fully around you. "Get off!"

"No I like it here"

"You're going to crush me!"

"Hmm"

After a lot of convincing and a little bit of shoving, neteyam finally got off and placed you on a branch so you could be eye level with him.

"I have something for you," Neteyam says, pulling a necklace out. He stretched out his hand for you to see.

"Oh it's so pretty Neteyam!" You say reaching out for it.

"It's a courting gift" Neteyam says before you can take the necklace.

"What?" You say stopping in your tracks.

"It's a courting gift" Neteyam repeats "I see you, I want to court you, please accept my gift."

"I can't accept this," you say, pulling away not believing what he just said.

"Why not?" Neteyam says coming closer to you.

"Because neteyam I'm human you're navi'' you say gesturing to the space between you two.

"So what does that matter? I see you that's all that matters" Neteyam says it louder hoping you hear the ferocity of his words.

"What matters is the fact that we can't breathe the same air! We could never properly mate, I wouldn't be able to carry your children" You sign "you're the next clan leader and I can't make you happy"

"You make me happy everyday"

"Not in the ways that matter!" You yell, Neteyam's face is only a few inches away from yours now.

"If you weren't human and I wasn't navi, if none of that mattered, what would you say?" Neteyam says with pleading eyes.

"I won't torture you with that answer" you say shaking your head.

"And you torture me if you don't answer"

"Yes," you found yourself saying. You shouldn't have said it. You couldn't go back from this now it was real. You two would never be the same. Neteyam reaches his hand up to your mask. "Don't" it came out harsher than you intended.

"Just one please" you never heard neteyam sound so desperate before

"We can't" tears coming to your eyes. You turn away.

"I'm-" you spin around taking your mask off and cut him off with a kiss.

Neteyam kisses you back immediately and brings his free hand to cup your face. You want the kiss to last forever but the burning in your lungs won't allow it. You pulled away, putting your mask back on and taking a deep breath.

"I see you but I will not-can not be your mate" you say taking one last look at neteyam. "I'm sorry" and you turn and run back to the village before he could do anything to stop you.

Still holding the necklace that will only ever be meant for you.

#neteyam x y/n #neteyam #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #angst #fanfic #avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #avatar x reader

[dirtytransmasc]

What would the reactions of tonowari Ronal Quaritch recoms tsyrea and aonung lo'ak Kiri tuk spellmin siblings Jake and Neytiri to spider death like in the battle against the RDA

Spider takes a stray bullet for Jake a fatal shot spider can't speak his lungs got shot he's on his death bed and they all watch him slowly die

Like the angst I feel it would be personal absolutely personal all out war against the RDA not a single one of them is going to be left alive meanwhile ewya gives rebirth to spider

Like Ronal gets pregnant miraculously or Neytiri ( eywa giving her a second chance) or zdog or he's reborn into a Navi clan ( ash people)

there is going to be a part 2, more of a fic type thing, it'll be out in a few hours if my adhd agrees.

~~~

The anguish that would be felt by ronal and tonowari would be excruciating; they had just received this child, just begun to love him (they had loved him from the moment they decided to make him theirs, but that wasn't long enough for them, no amount of time would ever be enough), just began to bring spider out of his shell (they thought they knew the boy when they first adopted him, but the more and more they cared for him, the more he showed, and the more he changed. they would never truly know him now). he was theirs, had wormed his way into their hearts, Eywa's will bound them, the short time they had together was perfect, like it was always meant to be like that, spider as their child. how where they supposed to heal from losing a child willed to them yet kept away for so many years? how were they supposed to move on when they only had him for such a short time, if it was meant to be? it wasn't fear. the rage they feel would be unstoppable, it's feral and illogical and hellbent on making the demons pay for what they did, for taking their son. they have nothing to hold them back because even their other children are the same; even tsireya who barely picked up a spear even for her coming-of-age ceremonies was ready to fight the humans to avenge her brother. ao'nung was even more violent, had he not been held back by what remained of his parent's and sister's logic, would have charged the RDA by himself the second spider stopped moving.

I think lo'ak would go numb with anger, glowing with the ferocity of a hot ember, just waiting to be sparked up once again into an inferno; he lost 2 brothers to the same fucking people, he would ruin them in ways that would make them regret being born. tuk would be heartbroken, as she had been too young to understand why spider left, his death would hurt twice as much; she lost him twice, and both times no one was willing to explain it to her. Kiri is heartbroken because spider was her person, both gifts from eywa, they understood each other in a way no one else did, so to lose him felt like she was losing part of herself. the rage of the 2 eldest siblings paired with the protectiveness of their youngest and remaining sibling (because they both consider themselves so empty, they no longer exist) would be palpable.

jake and neytiri feel so wrong and gutted by his death; they never loved him, not like they should have. they never mended the broken bond after he was taken in as Hi'i'tsyil, never even apologized for the pain they caused him, and still, spider took a bullet to protect their family, to protect the father that never truly loved him. its like an irreversible weight is placed on their shoulders, never to be removed, like a debt that can never be repaid.

for the recoms it's like losing their baby. for quaritch and zdog, even lyle, it is like truly losing their baby, and a rage that was long tamed and bridled by the kids is unleashed, they thought they escaped the RDA, they thought they wouldn't lose anything else to that evil fucking company, and they were wrong; they would make them pay for it. the other recoms are crushed, spider was their baby, he was family, it was him who set the course for their freedom.

and the spellman siblings are robbed vacant, spider had been their purpose, the reason they kept going for almost 2 decades, and he was gone in then blink of an eye. what wasn't taken from them when spider stopped breathing, they took from themselves; they blamed themselves, they had promised to always keep spider safe, they ran through scenario after scenario as to always be prepared, and they still failed. ravi would crack, like genuine psycosis mixed with such immense grief, it'd be like a mindless soldier. Reyzi's anger would no longer be contained, she'd go fucking feral. Ro'eyk cranks up the violence from crazed scientist to an actual maniac.

they all agree they've lost too much, it's all or nothing following spider's death, cause he had become the heart of the little platoon, uniting previously opposing groups into one strong army. his death would be the catalyst for a suicide mission.

~~~

if spider were to be reborn it'd be a thing that ronal would feel the moment it happens. if he was born to her, neytiri, or even zdog, she probably would have sensed that it was spider's spirit being born again by the time of the birth, and it would probably be the one thing keeping the whole family from devolving; even if spider was no longer spider, they would cherish him, take care of him, make sure he never knows the life he had the first time.

if he was born to another clan, ronal would trust they would be brought to them again if it was meant to be, but it wouldn't stop them all for searching for him. its a time of war, the clans coming together to fight the demons invading their soil, and each time they travel, each time they meet someone new, they look for their son, their brother, their baby, wherever they go.

#hi'i'tsyil te fkew'weopx tonowari'itan #spider tonowari'itan #spellman siblings #recom squad #spider socorro #miles socorro #miles spider socorro #tonowari #ronal #jake sully #neytiri #lo'ak sully #kiri sully #tuk sully #ao'nung #tsireya #recom zdog #zdog #z dog #recom z dog #quaritch #miles quaritch #spider quaritch

[naavispider]

Could you do a one-shot between Quaritch and Spider about a thunderstorm? Spider is frightened from the loud bangs caused by the thunderstorm and has a hard time falling asleep. Spider shrieks from fear and Quaritch hears it and notices it coming from his son. He comforts him and both fall asleep together.

This is very similar to another ask I got, which I was typing my response to but TUMBLR decided to DELETE it instead of saving as a draft 😤 (lesson learned, never type long answers straight onto tumblr)

Spider had experienced his fair share of storms. The thunderstorms in the forest had been rare but terrifying. He remembered that one really bad one that flooded sector C of Hell's Gate - the science guys were totally freaked out, though they'd tried not to show it to Spider. He'd huddled in his room, plugging in his music as loud as it could go while the wind and the rain pounded against his window. The noise couldn't drown out the booming claps of thunder that could shake Spider down to his bones. He used to close his eyes against the lightning, wondering every time if this was the final blow - if Eywa had finally had enough of the human base on her planet. Surely this was her retribution against them. Spider couldn't think what else could possibly cause weather as terrifying as this.

So when the first rumble of thunder echoed around the demon ship, Spider froze. They were on deck, and the recoms had been saying for a while that a storm was brewing. They'd seen it on the satellite data, and the ship's crew were all preparing for the assault. Quaritch reassured him that the ship was built to weather conditions like this, but Spider hadn't missed the look he gave Wainfleet immediately after.

The clouds had darkened to a deep grey, and the choppy water reflected the anger from above. When the wind began to pick up, Quaritch called the squad together to retreat down below. They packed up their makeshift camp on the deck, and brought everything inside. As Spider had nothing, he mostly watched, but he made sure that Quaritch had packed the ukulele.

"Get in there, go," Quaritch spurred him on, gently pushing Spider into the airlock just as the first real boom sounded from the heavens. Spider didn't say a word as the squad made their way to the rec room - the largest indoor room that could easily fit all of them - while staying out of the way of the crew who were going to have their work cut out.

"Well this is gonna be fun..." Savine remarked as she plopped herself down against the side of the couch, bringing out her tablet. "Do we know how long it's gonna last?"

Lyle had opened his own tablet. "Looks like a few hours," he muttered, scanning the moving, colourful swirls on the map. Spider could see the data too, and despite not knowing anything about weather patterns, it didn't look good. This was going to be a big one.

Quaritch handed him the spare tablet. "Here, kid. Amuse yourself however you see fit - and buckle down."

How reassuring.

Spider took the screen and made his way over to the gap between two of the nailed in couches. There was a space just big enough for him to slide into, and he wriggled his way in, bringing his knees up to his chest and resting the tablet on them. He scrolled through the shows on the only app that didn't require iris scanning to open, finally deciding to try a new one called Pinky and the Brain. For a while, the colourful images were enough to distract him. He liked the story, although Pinky did seem a bit dumb. The Brain was definitely his favourite character so far.

When the rain started to patter the tiny windows, Spider began to tense up, and found it even harder to concentrate when the pattering slowly increased in ferocity, eventually morphing into sheets of water that hammered the sides of the ship. The noise was almost loud enough to drown out the cartoon. The recoms were having to raise their voices just to be heard as they sat it out. Spider glanced around anxiously, taking a small amount of comfort in the fact that nobody seemed to be panicking.

Unfortunately, Quaritch caught his eye. "Relax, kid," he said, his eyes raking over Spider's tensed up form, his slightly widened eyes. "You look like you're about to be eaten."

Spider glared at the man. He returned his gaze to the cartoon, but it was no longer enough to distract him from the rain and the now howling wind that was beginning to sway the ship. He grasped a shaky hand onto the side of the couch that he was wedged between, trying to steady himself as the floor rocked upwards, then down again. He breathed out slowly through clenched teeth, trying to relax.

"Shit!" he jumped as another clap of thunder roared through the room.

The rest of the recoms were either laying down chatting, or still attempting to get some admin done on their tablets. However, even the most determined of them had to give that up as the rocking of the boat increased and they were forced to steady themselves as best they could.

"If anyone vomits I swear to God I will throw you overboard!" Savine called.

Fuck, what was happening? Spider knew Quaritch had been very reassuring about the strength of the ship, but this seemed crazy. Spider knew how big these storms could get, and they were bad enough in the forest - sheltered by the canopy and not in imminent danger of sinking. Out here? On the ocean? Spider didn't want to think about it. What happened if the ship sank? What happened if they were struck by lightening? Dread pooled in his stomach as he tried to push down the nausea accumulating at the back of his throat.

He was going to die.

"You're fine," came a low voice in front of him.

Spider opened his eyes.

Quaritch was on the floor next to him, and reaching a hand out to place on Spider's leg. The recom's face was earnest - sincere.

"The ship's prepared for storms like these, this ain't its first rodeo. It's gonna pass, all we have to do is wait it out."

Spider swallowed, torn between his existential fear and something that felt like embarrassment. He didn't want to seem like a scared little kid.

"I'm f-fine," he stuttered, but his whole body was tensed up, including his jaw.

"Uh-huh," Quaritch said, appraising him.

"Piss off," was what came out of Spider's mouth. Wait, he didn't mean that. Why did he say that?

Quaritch raised his eyebrows in a surprised and questioning stare.

Spider felt the urge to apologise. But no, he hadn't lost all of his pride - not yet. "Just... just tell me when this will be over," he said.

Quaritch waited a moment before replying. "Probably a few more hours yet, kid."

Fantastic.

His face must have betrayed his hopelessness, because Quaritch squeezed Spider's knee. "I promise, it's alright."

Spider looked up at the man, unconvinced, but didn't reply. He didn't want to open his mouth in case something unintentionally rude came out again.

Quaritch removed his hand from Spider's knee, and reached back across the floor to pick up his own tablet. However, for the next two hours he stayed on the floor next to where Spider had braced himself. Spider wasn't sure if this was a coincidence or not, but he was grateful for it anyway.

With Quaritch beside him, he knew there was no reason to fear. Quaritch was not a stupid or naive man. He couldn't see the Colonel sitting idly by while a life-threatening storm tore up the ship. If there really was any danger, Spider knew that Quaritch would evacuate them, or come up with a plan.

And that night... That night Spider finally realised that he trusted Quaritch.

#spider miles socorro #miles quaritch #recom quaritch #colonel quaritch #avatar the way of water #one shot #request

[ningauinerd]

Time to infodump about the animals I'm supposedly a nerd about.

All pictures in this post are N. yvonneae, the southern ningaui (Image credit: Owen Lishmund)

The ningauis (in the genus Ningaui, if you can believe it) are a group of tiny dasyurid marsupials native to the arid and semi-arid regions of Australia. Smaller than their close dunnart relatives (very close, as I will explain later), and with broader hindfeet, ningauis were first documented by western science relatively recently by Australian mammal standards. Although some specimens had been collected previously, being haphazardly assigned to planigales (another genus of miniscule dasyurids), it wasn't until 1975 that the genus Ningaui was erected and its first two species were described - N. ridei, the Wongai ningaui, and N. timealeyi, the Pilbara ningaui. A third species, the southern ningaui (N. yvonneae), was named in 1983.

Oh, and in case you were wondering where the name "ningaui" comes from, it refers to tiny beings from Aboriginal mythology that come out at night, are covered in hair, have notably short feet and eat their food raw. Most of these traits are also shared by these little marsupials, hence why palaeontologist Mike Archer (the original author of the genus) found it to be a fitting name for them!

(Image credit: glandarius)

Ningauis are small - really small, some of the smallest land mammals in fact. With the tiniest individuals being only 5 cm long, not including the tail, they are about the same length as Australia's smallest native mammal, the long-tailed planigale. However, ningauis are significantly chunkier and therefore usually weigh a couple more grams, meaning planigales win in regards to all-around tininess. The very largest ningauis still only reach about 8 cm in length and 14 grams in weight.

What they lack in size they make up for in ferocity however, as they follow the typical dasyurid trend of becoming increasingly savage the smaller they get. Tasmanian devils, despite their reputation, are actually quite relaxed when handled - on the other end of the spectrum, ningauis, which are around a thousand times smaller than a devil, will try to murder you, your family and everyone you hold dear if they find themselves captured. But, despite their best efforts to chew the fingers off of every field mammalogist in inland Australia, they aren't very strong.

remorseless beasts (Image credit: Tina Gillespie & Miss.chelle.13)

These ferocious predators feed on a variety of different prey items, the majority of which are small invertebrates - in the case of the Wongai ningaui, they prefer prey that is less than a centimetre long. However, they will also go after larger prey, having epic duels with grasshoppers, spiders, centipedes and even small skinks which they subdue with a crushing bite to the back of the head. Unlike their dunnart relatives, the shorter, broader feet of ningauis allows them to climb into shrubs and grass clumps.

All ningaui species are extremely similar to one another, so much so that the Wongai ningaui and southern ningaui are almost externally indistinguishable and the Pilbara ningaui can only be told apart by looking at its foot pads, teat number and skull. However, they can usually be distinguished by distribution. The Pilbara ningaui is the most range restricted, being endemic to the central and western Pilbara region of western Australia. The southern ningaui occurs in three disjunct populations across the southern semi-arid zone, whilst the Wongai ningaui is distributed widely across much of the interior. All species show a strong preference for environments dominated by spinifex grass (Triodia), which they use as shelter.

A ningaui takes shelter amongst the spinifex (Image credit: Euan Moore)

In regards to how they are related to other dasyurids, ningauis fall in the tribe Sminthopsini together with the kultarr (Antechinomys laniger, another species I really need to cover sometime) and many species of dunnart (Sminthopsis). However, recent phylogenetic studies have consistently recovered both Antechinomys and Ningaui as being within the Sminthopsis lineage, meaning that both ningauis and the kultarr are, in essence, just weird dunnarts. With Sminthopsis as we currently understand it being highly paraphyletic, a revision of the genus is needed.

#australian wildife #wildlife #mammal #marsupial #marsupials #ningaui #ningauis #animal facts #mammalogy #natural history #infodumps #my stuff