#here have some 'are humans the Vex | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mandowifey · 10 months

Text

Ritual

Miguel O'hara x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, (My)Dark!Miguel, Reader is captive, stockholm syndrome, dubcon, p in v sex, cockwarming, creampie, gentle sex, emotionally needy Miguel, touch starved boy, mention of injury, reader is going through it emotionally, domestic fluff, general softness towards the end. Reader not specified by details or name.

This is part of a nonlinear storyline.

Synopses: Something breaks.

° ° °

There was a natural rhythm you fell into with Miguel.

Home alone, you enjoyed television and movies until the evening. Miguel did not have a normal schedule to adhere to, which meant you did not get the luxury of anticipating his return home. Generally, he was gone from sunrise to sunset. To busy yourself, you offered to make dinner, not because you loved him but the greasy burgers and empanadas from the food court never settled with your stomach.

You would start your preparations around 4:45, then take your time until the inevitable sound of locks disengaging caught your ear. He would walk in and dim the lights - a habit you had assumed was because he was saving on electric, but learned it was actually that his eyes were sensitive to it. That was how you learned about him. Brief, flippant comments here and there that formed a collage of Miguel O'hara; Nueva York's Spiderman.

Sometimes, you daydreamed about being found. Other times, you worried a hole in your lip, considering the realities of running away. Miguel was an apex predator and, most assuredly, would find and punish you for leaving. Certain days when you had too much space in your head, you fantasized about your old life. A job, an apartment, friends, all things you took for granted. The worst days were when you thought about him. Not in fear, but need. The days when you missed him and yearned to be touched. You were only human, it was only natural to crave companionship, even if it was from your captor.

Pain throbs in your palm, and you shout, dropping the pan of mashed potatoes on the counter. You turn to the sink, clutching your wrist and wincing. After running the burn under lukewarm water, you sigh and walk into the bathroom. You apply some ointment from a medkit and gingerly wrap your hand with bandages. Weaving the tan material through your fingers and over your knuckles, you silently scold yourself for such a stupid mistake.

By the time you walk out of the bathroom, the front door is opening. You scramble, carefully opening the oven to take out the roast you made and setting it down on the stove top. "S-sorry, I'm almost done." You grunt, trying to grab plates and wincing from the sting in your palm. The front door closes, and you feel Miguel's looming presence closing in on you. Something grabs your arm and turns you, a large hand closed around your wrist.

"What happened?"

His voice was quiet but tense. The mask crawled down his neck, exposing his pointed expression and vexed brows. "Did you hurt yourself?" There is an emotion in his voice that confuses you. The hand around you loosens as he draws you closer, rich brown eyes scanning your bandage work.

"Just an accidental burn. Wasn't paying attention, is all." Your cheeks burn, feeling like a helpless toddler.

Miguel scoffs, then softens. "You should be more careful." He draws your hand closer and leans in, pressing a kiss to the center of your palm. "Don't need you burnt anywhere else." His lips tug into a grin, and he releases you. Your body was hot all over, and your stomach twisted into knots. This was in response to a man who had done nothing but use you and trap you in his home to play house. You knew it was sick to feel anything other than resentment towards him, but the tenderness in which he looks at you has your heart confused.

"Yeah, of course."

Your arm tingles as he turns away and looks at the scattered pieces of dinner. "You go ahead and sit down. I'll plate everything." Miguel hums as he grabs out silverware and cups. You were compelled to argue, but your mind was still soggy from the kiss. Instead, you wordlessly sit at the little round dinner table, and wait.

The two of you eat in your regular fashion. Light small talk and mostly letting Miguel vent about his day. Today, it was the stress of two anomalies in one universe. You politely nod and give him empathy when the moment calls for it, but your mind is miles away. Miguel compliments your cooking, as was usual, and sends you to bed so he can clean. Knowing what followed, you go to the bedroom and undress before climbing under the blankets. Your mind back to that moment, recalling the way those lovely brown eyes softened before he kissed your hand.

When he returns to you, his suit vanishes as he walks into the shower. He was quick, only gone for moments before returning to you with bis hair slicked back, smelling of familiar body wash and shampoo. You move the blankets for him, and he climbs in beside you.

"You alright?"

There must have been a far away look on your face. You blink and refocus, looking up as he slowly climbs on top of you. Your legs part, and he slots between them where you feel the drag of his half hard cock. "Yeah, just spacey today, I guess." Miguel watches your face, reading you for deception. He closes the distance and kisses you deeply, like he had many times before. His lips part your own before his tongue eagerly slips in. The man groans, rocking his hips to fuck himself against your folds.

A part of you hates how normal this feels. That your life had become something of a ritual. You hated him for what he'd reduced you to; a pathetic shadow of yourself, wet and mewling for him like an obedient whore. This was never what you wanted, yet there you lay with your captor prodding at your cunt.

Brushing your clit with his tip, you jolt. Miguel notices and does it again, smearing dewy precum along you. "Like that?" He rumbles from above. There is a softness to him that brings heat to simmer in your stomach. "Mhm." Your eyes are scanning the blankets, looking anywhere but at him. A tingle in your wounded palm reminds you of the moment in the kitchen. You think about the way his lips pressed the bandages and the sincerity in his dark eyes.

You felt a nagging desire to reach out to him, and you did. Miguel had been ready to spear into you when both your little hands cup his cheeks. His eyes widen, and his movements halt. Tracing your thumbs along the swell of his cheeks, you bring your eyes to look up at him, catching the man off guard. You think he may be angry until he leans into your palms. Those dark eyes of his slowly soften as he melts against you. The change is startling. You'd never seen him so subdued.

Miguel closes his eyes and lets you hold his head up. He mutters something you can't understand, and you feel warmth spread across your limbs. You didn't want to fight it today. You wanted to succumb to him and feel in control, just for a moment. "Miguel," you say his name, softer than you ever had. Brown eyes flutter open and hone predatorially to yours, waiting. "I need you." You couldn't be sure what facet of yourself asked, but you didn't care. Right then, you wanted him, and you would have him.

He is certain he is going to break. Your voice, your hands, the desire in your words. Miguel never thought he'd hear you ask for it, but there you were, and you did. The man never realized how touch starved he was until he found himself drooping against you, eyes heavy and heart throbbing. You could see the pieces of himself crumbling away, those reinforced walls of stone and brick that guarded him, becoming nothing but rubble between you. Something tugs in your chest, and you pull him down to kiss him gently.

"Come here," you whisper, and he obliges. Miguel lays on his forearms over you, his broad chest and narrow hips pinning you to the mattress. You can not help but feel like a stone cast out in the ocean, unable to save yourself as you sink further into the dark. "I've got you." You mumble, petting your fingers through his wild flare of brown locks. Something prods, and you part. Miguel nudges his hips forward and dips the length of his cock inside your warmth, drawing a gasp from you.

When he bottoms out, you push your forehead to his and whimper. Miguel isn't fucking you as he usually does, this time it is slow, methodical, loving. "O-oh, l-like that!" You gasp suddenly, arching your back. The thick tip of his head bruises your gspot on its journey to your cervix. Usually he is brutal, knowing you fought too hard to ever cum. This steady, gentle rocking has you spiraling. Heat builds in your core so fast your head spins. Miguel is watching your face, eyes trained on your soft lips and the way they part when you sigh in pleasure. He lowers his mouth to catch yours, swallowing your intoxicatingly soft cries.

Each press of his hips to yours sends sparks through your abdomen, his stomach pressing your swollen clit as he nudges to his hilt. "M-miguel, Miguel - f-fuck-!" You were building, and send your free hand to grasp at his back. His muscles flex under your palm, and his mouth nips at your ear. "Cum for me," He purrs in a voice like distant thunder. "Cum." Miguel cinches his jaw and bucks unevenly as fire spreads inside you. The both of you choke and groan. He rattles against you and desperately rabbits inside your cunt as he nears his end. You couldn't take it, between his demand and the slow climb of your orgasm, you crumble with him.

Shrieking, you clench down around his cock as he hits against your cervix, milking his length for all he's worth. Your legs tremble, and you find yourself clinging to his neck, puling softly as you rode out your orgasm. Miguel had lost it too, your noises and getting to watch you cum setting him into his own heat. You hear him strain in your ear, his cock throbbing as he spews molten cum inside of you. The heat spreads, and Miguel grinds his pelvis to yours, stimulating your already sensitive clit.

"Hh-ah, p-please." You paw at his hair, near tears from the intensity of the moment. Miguel kisses you again, bumping his nose against your own as he settles to a stop. The two of you are looking at each other now, damp with sweat from lovemaking. You bring your hand to his cheek, then touch along the broad expanse of his jaw, causing him to lean into your palm again.

After a few moments, he settles to lay his head on your shoulder, not bothering to pull out. You wrap his neck with your arms and stare up at the ceiling, listening as he falls asleep.

You think about that sinking stone,

And wonder if you'll ever see the surface again.

2K notes · View notes

petit-etoile · 5 months

Note

Oh oh I have an AU I haven't had the chance to write anything for. It's pre-vampirism magistrate Astarion and criminal tav who is incredibly well-versed in law. They keep committing crimes and getting caught in purpose just to see Astarion who fucking hates their guts because he can't ever convict them of anything bc they find loopholes and somehow manage to evade the law. It's an "at each other's throats" kinda romance and they kiss with teeth between cases

darling, if you love me say it back

pairing . ⊱ astarion x tav wordcount . ⊱ 3,604 content warnings . ⊱ canon compliant temporary character death, tav isn't a human but can be whatever else you like, astarion isn't a vampire yet, tav is gender neutral other tags . ⊱ canon compliant, canon temporary character death, introspection, p.orn without plot, oral s/ex, desk s.ex, inappropriate use of a cravat, c.reampie archiveofourown . ⊱ here.

taglist . ⊱ @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added . ⊱ here .

summary . ⊱ The Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin has a soft spot for you. You like to exploit that fact.

‘I need to see you in my office,’ Astarion hisses — and the tips of his ears are so red you think they might catch flame. He grabs you by the elbow roughly and tugs. ‘Now.’

‘Let’s do it, baby,’ you say smugly. ‘I know the law.’

Knowing the law might be an overstatement. You have studied the law for only one purpose, and that purpose you know like the back of your hand. So when Astarion presses you, you don’t argue. You do as the magistrate says and allow yourself to be dragged across the court. He admonishes you like one would get onto a dog who misbehaves. You can’t help but laugh.

It isn’t like Astarion isn’t a super serious magistrate with a focus on criminal prosecution. He wants to nail you for your sins, for your crimes. The only catch is that no matter how amazing Astarion is at his job, you’re simply better. If you’ve stolen something, you’re more than capable of hiding the evidence. If you’ve murdered someone, you know all the best ways to hide a body. It comes naturally.

Astarion is wearing that ever familiar frown as he marches through the elegant halls. It’s a frown that says you’re in trouble and there’s nothing that I can do. But that isn’t necessarily true. Astarion will do anything you ask so long as you ask nicely, and you’ve been getting good at asking nicely lately. He prides himself in training you even if it isn’t that simple. He calls it rehabilitation. You call it sex.

‘You can’t keep doing this, you know,’ Astarion snaps at you. ‘At some point you must give it up!’

He isn’t good at whispering when he’s riled up. He runs his free hand through his curls in anger, pushing them away from his face like his bangs being wild make it hard to think. It makes him more attractive.

‘You don’t mean that,’ you say with a shrug.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘very much mean that.’

You grin. ‘You would miss me,’ you tell him lasciviously, and he groans. ‘I know you would.’

He huffs. ‘The only thing that I would miss is the peace after the headache you’ve given me. It’s as though you aren’t even aware of how vexing you are.’

You laugh, and the fine line of Astarion’s temper snaps. He all but throws you in his office and locks it behind him. He’s annoyed with the way you stagger dramatically to one of the velvet couches before his desk. You lean over the arm and kick your feet up.

‘Does the idea of cuffs around my wrists excite you?’

You look over your shoulder. Astarion clenches his jaw. It must hurt to frown as hard as he is. You pull yourself onto the cushions and sit demurely. You study him. His rigid lines, tense gaze. He comes and sits on the edge of his desk, pressing his forehead into his hands as if that will relieve him of his headache. You’re determined to make it worse.

‘I apologize,’ you say sweetly. ‘I’ll behave from now on.’

‘We both know that you are not capable of behaving,’ Astarion says thinly.

He shouldn’t have said that. You can’t help yourself, but most of the time, Astarion makes it so easy for you to dig into his weaknesses and exploit them. You stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

‘You should teach me,’ you suggest.

Astarion’s patience snaps. ‘I beg your pardon? Have some decorum, please!’

‘Having decorum is so boring,’ you say, pouting. ‘Life is much more fun when you live freely.’

‘And committing crimes is your definition of living freely?’

‘What is the point of living if not to live?’ you ask. ‘Why confine myself to rules of good or bad when I can choose what makes me happy.’

‘What exactly makes a criminal like you happy?’ Astarion asks bitterly.

You’ve always been possessed by a sense of otherness. You rise from the couch and carefully twist your fingers in his cravat, tangling yourself in him as he has become entangled in you. The Silverymoon lace tickles your skin. You pull Astarion closer and he begrudgingly caves to your strength. Your lips barely brush against his and already you can sense it. The barely contained restraint. The hunger. Astarion longs for you. He’s carefully hidden it beneath the scent of bergamot.

Slowly, you slide him free of what pressures him most. The cravat slides from his neck easily. It excites Astarion. His eyes glitter like you’ve never seen before. Being a magistrate isn’t about caring about the laws he’s vowed to uphold. It’s about power. You give it to him. You hold your wrists together with a wicked grin.

You balance the fabric on your fingers. Astarion swallows. Being proper isn’t really his thing. It’s thrilling to watch as he changes his mind. You annoy him — he detests you, wishes you gone. You are the object of all his improper late night dreams.

But as if he’s moving through water, he takes his cravat from your hands. You almost think it’s going to be a rejection. Astarion bundles your wrists together with an expertise that suggests he’s done it before. The binding becomes tight but not too tight and you relish in the way it twists your wrists. He fastens the knot into a pretty bow.

And then he kisses you. He grabs you so roughly by the back of the neck that your teeth slam together, but Astarion sighs so prettily against your mouth you decide you could withstand anything.

It’s a passionate kiss made up of teeth and spit and tongue. Astarion is both pushing you and pulling you. He can’t make up his mind. Does he want you and the stain you’ll bring to his reputation? A magistrate with a weakness for a criminal is such an interesting dynamic, but Astarion is a proud man. You are almost certain he would throw you into harm’s way if a situation ever occurred that deemed it necessary. You would do the same given the chance. This is simply a tryst.

You like to pretend it is, at least. You hate coming across as a romantic. You chase a freedom so exquisite no one will ever understand it, but when Astarion pushes you towards the couch, you don’t complain. You fall across the cushions with ease and catch him as he falls between your thighs.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses hotly, ‘are an irrevocable annoyance I may never be cured of.’

‘You are so very frank in all the ways you despise me,’ you say, moaning softly as he kisses your neck. ‘I think you’re capable of being freed after all.’

‘I am glad to see you are finally aware that it is hate that drives me,’ Astarion murmurs thickly. ‘It repulses me that you think you could possibly be endearing.’

You laugh and Astarion sucks a bruise into your collarbone. He’ll pretend to be aloof and noncommittal to your very presence, but he’s invested. You can feel the weight of his pleasure against your thighs even as he denies his feelings for you. Astarion doesn’t bother with your shirt or his own. He clings to your waist as he finds the lace of your breeches and tugs you free.

Astarion pushes his hand inside of your smallclothes and touches your flushed skin, spreading his fingers so that he can touch every inch your body has to offer. The fervor of the motion is what causes you to gasp. He’s a man on a mission, and he touches you at your core so adoringly it makes the bite of his words all but disappear. He fondles you like he’s never touched your skin before. Your gasp turns to a sultry whine, and he bites your neck like a punishment. You almost think he’s going to admonish you, that he’ll say your silence is worth more. He doesn’t. If anything, the echo of your voice spurns him to go further.

Astarion presses two fingers inside of you and the laughter dies in your chest. He’s trying to rearrange you through a perverse method. If he fucks you good enough, crime’s appeal will turn to dust within your mind. It makes you wonder what it would be like to dote on a magistrate. Would it be enough? Could it be enough? Sinning feels just as sweet.

He curls his fingers against your core and your back arches prettily off the velvet cushions. You bite your bottom lip and try to quell the pining, but then you catch a glimpse of him from beneath your eyelashes. Astarion is watching your every move. His lips are parted. His pupils are dilated. His cheeks have colored at the sound of your voice. He is torn between watching your face for your reactions and glancing down at his hand underneath your breeches. You meet his gaze bravely, chin lifting, and smile.

He adds another just to watch you struggle. The angle, the curve of his wrist, and the situation are enough to make your thighs squeeze together, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He roughly throws himself between your legs so that you can’t, and it’s hot, too hot that you cry weakly. He grins at the sound like he always does, like he always will. It’s his victory this evening.

But as quickly as Astarion deigned to touch you, he releases you. He stands up and drags you by the wrists, turning his cheek the other way when you try to taste his skin.

‘The prosecutor is ineffectual — ’

You snort without meaning to, and Astarion digs his fingers into the swell of your hip. You allow him to maneuver you, bending at the waist while he presses you forward, chest against the chilled wood of his desk. You have to rise on your toes to stand comfortably.

‘Is that what you’re thinking about?’ you ask breathlessly.

‘I’m thinking about the necessary reform,’ Astarion snaps.

You press your cheek into the wood and stare at his door. The prosecutor, the defense. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Astarion is the only one who cares. You’re somewhat glad he does. It means he’s taken your case to interest, and when he presses himself to your lower back, you’re excited. He shoves your breeches to your ankles.

‘Are you going to take me here?’ you murmur. ‘On your desk. Where is your propriety?’

‘You dare speak to me of decency?’ Astarion snorts.

‘The weight of my sins will be forever embedded on your desk,’ you say. ‘You flatter me, your honor.’

‘Do you ever stop talking?’ Astarion asks. You can hear his patience snapping.

‘Well, you’re just so boring,’ you say, laughing. ‘Why don’t you do something that — ’

Astarion kneels down behind you and shoves his way between your legs. You shiver when he presses his lips against your core. He mouths at you hungrily. He grunts low in the back of his throat and digs his nails into your thighs. It steals your breath away. He’s so determined to change the very essence of your being that his tongue and mouth searching where his fingers first were makes you go weak in the knees. You whine.

You press your fingers into the dark, rich mahogany of his desk and try to keep focus. You want to taunt him. You want to tease him, but that wanton desire is almost forgotten entirely by the way Astarion feasts upon your flesh. He parts you with his thumbs and groans against your skin and you almost forget who you are. This is what he wanted. He wanted to pull your desires from you and replace them with his own.

You let him. He works you up as easily as anyone can be worked up, his fingers and his mouth exploring every inch of your skin that’s exposed. He goes to slide a finger in curiously, but you twist your hips away. Astarion is all work and no play. He will tease you relentlessly as it suits him, and he will do what interests him. You interest him more than he’s willing to confess. That’s why he works so hard for your pleasure.

When he’s done with you, he kisses the base of your spine soothingly. Your legs tremble beneath you. Astarion smooths his hand across your hip. You glance at him.

‘Perhaps I can fuck some sense into you now,’ Astarion mumbles.

He has the audacity to sound inquisitive. It’s not like it’s possible, but he seems determined enough to try it out regardless of his intuition. His hands are warm against your skin, and the excitement only builds in the pit of your stomach as you feel Astarion’s skin touch yours. You hear his clothes rustle and his breath catch in his throat. You hide a smile against your arm.

When Astarion slides into your core, it’s like a possession. The breath steals from your lungs. His touch is a familiar constant — you would recognize him anywhere by scent alone. You cry weakly. Your toes crunch from the angle, but there’s nothing you want more at this moment than to learn to be good.

Astarion hums behind you as well, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to steady himself. The desk crunches uncomfortably against your belly but it’s a welcome pain. It keeps you focused. You still have the energy to wiggle back against him as his cock slowly pushes in until there is no more room left to explore.

‘Be good,’ he whispers, ‘and I will give you what you deserve.’

What do you deserve exactly?

It’s hard to say. You enjoy your life of crime almost as much as you love the way Astarion bends you over his desk. You’re good at stealing, you’re good at killing, but you’re good at being soft and pliant as well, giving in to that sentimentality that keeps you coming back from more.

At first it was an elaborate game. What could you do to ensure that Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin looked your way? He was a noble elf, and your hands were covered in fresh dough from the baker you stole from. There was a curious glint in his eyes when he looked over you, yet somehow the gods had deemed the yeast and honey on your fingers was not honest enough to be proof.

You are smitten. You bounce taller on your toes with every aggressive thrust, arms struggling to support your weight. Astarion fists his fingers into your hair and pulls until your throat is exposed. He wants you to sing for him, so you do. You arch your back and moan loudly. The sounds of it bounce around his little office.

‘You wouldn’t shut up before,’ Astarion says breathlessly, a hoarse laugh.

‘Do something — worth talking about — ’

Astarions laughs incredulously, but he does fuck you harder for it. He releases your hair without much flourish and focuses on dragging your hips back onto his cock, punching forward so hard you see stars. It’s wonderful, it’s powerful. If Astarion’s entire goal was to make you forsake the world, he’s done a good job of turning your life around. The cravat rubs against your wrists as you try to seek purchase on the desk. Your fingers drag across the polished wood, and you shudder as you clench down around his cock.

You sound so breathless and silly, groaning while he fucks you against his desk. He fills you full until you’re certain you can take no more. You press a hot cheek against the wood and try to catch your breath. You hook a foot around his ankle for support, twisting on his desk. You tuck your arms beneath your chest. You feel as though you’re coming undone. All your years of villainy, and it comes undone by the consistency of Astarion’s presence.

Your arms are stiff from constantly being up, but you’re almost grateful when Astarion pauses. He helps you turn on top of his desk so you’re on your back instead, and even though the edge digs into your lower back, you prefer that to anything else.

You meet Astarion’s gaze. He tells you he hates you, that he wishes you were out of his hair, that he despises you, but the gentleness of his eyes tells you otherwise. He slides back into you with a small moan, and you wrap your legs around his hips to guide him in further.

‘It’s good,’ you gasp. ‘It’s good, you’re good — ’

Astarion doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You can see it clear as day in his eyes. Astarion won’t say he loves you, that in his ardent fervor he seeks you out, but he knows that you know. Why else would fate lead you back together? You reach for his face with your hands, and his eyes flutter closed to avoid the wistfulness. He leans into your touch.

You cry softly as Astarion begins to grind into you again. He helps carry you as he does so. And it feels so good, feels so overwhelming that you briefly consider the fact that he has changed you for the better.

A spirit that slides into your very marrow. Astarion is hauntingly beautiful, and if he is a spider then you are a fly tangled in his web. He calls you a pretty thing and you give into the struggle. You press your wrists against your forehead and strain against his cock, unable to hide from the waves of crashing pleasure.

Astarion finishes inside of you with a low moan. He presses a rough hand against your belly to stabilize himself, and shyly, you touch his wrist with your bound hands just to feel his pulse. As soon as he’s caught his breath, he releases you from your bonds.

You almost miss him when he pulls away from you. He uses one of his hanging cassocks to clean himself with and is kind enough to do the same for you. You’re almost certain that your legs won’t work, so you sit up on his desk to rest and damn his paperwork to the hells. You kick off your breeches from around your ankles and sit, legs crossed, while Astarion tries to fix his reflection in the mirror.

‘You are truly an astute teacher,’ you say casually. ‘The art of lockpicking is all but gone from my mind. Thank you, your honor.’

Astarion snorts and shakes his head, torn between ignoring you and giving into your wiles. He curls his hair back into place and then walks back to you, leaning forward until you’re nose to nose.

You think he won’t kiss you, but then he does. His lips taste like summer oranges and you taste him until it’s the only thing you can think of. He hugs you tenderly. It isn’t the same as when he admonishes you. It makes your chest feel warm. You almost feel weaker for it. Your bite is being taken away.

‘I can’t keep protecting you,’ Astarion says softly against your cheek. ‘You torment me day and night. When I lie down in my sheets, I find myself consumed with worry.’

‘You think about me?’ you tease. ‘In your sprawling manse?’

‘Move in with me,’ he murmurs. ‘Then you can be inferior yet vain inside my sprawling manse.’

Astarion is not there that evening. You try to wait as long as you can without seeming suspicious. There are maids, family members, and their admirers who come inside and out throughout the evening — but not Astarion, never Astarion. You wait until the sun sets and fireflies light up the streets of the Upper City but eventually, the malaise of abandonment guides your feet away. You walk the streets aimlessly until a shiver runs down your spine. A chill so violent turns you away from the courthouse.

But in the morning, there’s a fuss. It draws you back into where you left and you can’t help but to lose yourself. Astarion is dead. His mother sobs. The members of the city watch who bear the bad news look equally as morose. Astarin’s father nearly falls to his knees in despair.

When you break into their manse that evening, you look for one thing. You steal a cravat from his wardrobe and tie it around your neck.

Then, you leave Baldur’s Gate.

You aren’t sure where your feet are going to take you.

Part of your yearns for the Underdark. Baldur’s Gate is a cursed city, you decide. You wander back to it after two hundred years of avoiding it like the plague, and not an hour within the city are you spirited away on an adventure you never longed for.

You have changed. You can’t really remember who you were all those years ago, or the hopefulness you might have felt in your chest once. You’re different now. A folk hero. You used to steal from the rich and give to the poor before the mindflayers fed you their parasite and stole that part of you. But you aren’t alone this time. You wander the beach for hours searching for anything that can be of use and pause over a love letter that makes you sob.

It isn’t all bad. You meet a half-elf who scowls as much as she mumbles to herself.

On the other side of the beach, you meet a ghost.

His eyes are different from what you remember. The warmth he once looked upon you with is gone and replaced by unfamiliar sanguine.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #hyliandreso #you know i hit the prompt square on & then threw in a plot twist #is it really a carcosa fic if there isn't a plot twist somewhere #* say what you want，even if it's bad

477 notes · View notes

discordantwritings · 2 months

Text

The Sand Dragon and I Pt. 1 (Dragon! Sir Crocodile x Reader)

Part 1 / Part 2

Warnings: this chapter is SFW but the next one won’t be so still MDNI 18+, gn afab! Reader, Dragon Shifter! Sir Crocodile, the power dynamics are whack in this one not gonna lie, canon typical violence, Crocodile calls you pet

WC: 4.6k

Summary: You’re set to be sacrificed to the fearsome Dragon of the Sands as a tribute for your town. When you get down to the caves and get face to face with him however- you make a different choice.

Notes: this fic is for me ngl this is just me fully shoving my monsterfucking dragon loving desires onto sir crocodile and I hope other people like it

You knew long before your name was called that you were going to be the tribute to the sand dragon. No living family, you worked a non-essential job, healthy enough to make the journey to his cave- you checked all the sacrificial boxes. No one else seemed surprised either, very few people made the effort to even look sad for you. It was something that you were used to since you never made the effort to connect with anyone in your town.

You were independent- a symptom of your parents dying young and you having no family to take you in. No one else made the effort to help you, so you made no effort to help them whenever situations came up. You didn’t hate anyone, and no one hated you, but there was a large gap that you accepted a long time ago.

So when it was time to select a human tribute for the terrifying sand dragon that made his home in the caverns miles from your town- a ritual that happened once every 5 years to appease him on top of the annual gold tribute- everyone knew it was you. You had your bags packed at home already- not that you needed to pack much. The journey would take a day on horseback and as you strapped your bags to the horse’s saddle you couldn’t help but feel bad for her.

A sacrifice to be eaten, just like you.

A few people saw you off, mostly to be polite. A small token of appreciation to the person who was going to die so they could live worry free for another few years. It meant nothing to you.

The journey was painfully uneventful. Miles of sand dusting over craggy rocks with no other life in sight. You had hoped for something- anything- to keep your thoughts away from your impending doom but you never got that reprieve. So you stirred, and thought, and stewed until resentment and anger came bubbling up.

Why did you have to die? Just because your life sucked already? Because there was no one to stick up for you? Years of being alone suddenly tore through you- sadness hardening over into anger.

And then something else.

You don’t know what it is yet but it drives you to continue your journey until you reach the giant cavern opening jutting out of the dunes and rocks. You leave the horse at the entrance just underneath the lip of the cavern for some shade. Giving her your remaining water you leave her untied, hoping she’ll have a better chance than you.

It’s a long and dark journey down into the caverns below the desert, a single torch lighting your way. At first it was just rocks and sand lining the path down but soon it turned to bones and dented armor. You don’t look down for too long, knowing you’ll lose your nerve if you have to look at the discarded bodies knowing your skeleton might soon reside with them.

It takes you an hour, maybe, time is hard to gauge down here, to get to the first opening. Your torch lights only a fraction of the vast cavern but you quickly find you don’t need it- golden braziers line the stone walls and flicker with fire illuminating the space.

Initially you wonder if you were somehow transported somewhere else- because a place this nice existing in a deep underground cavern was vexing. The stone floor was covered in the most luxurious rugs you’ve ever seen. Deep reds, golds, and blacks overlap and you fight the urge to run your hands over the fabric. Mismatched furniture liters the space- all expensive in their own rights but seemingly misplaced as none of them are quite set up in a logical formation. A pleasant humidity hangs in the air and you look and see a small natural fountain in one of the far corners of the cave. On the opposite side of that there’s another tunnel that seems to continue down further into the earth.

What use does a dragon have for a living room?

“Seems like a little morsel has arrived at my doorstep.” A low voice echoes off the dark stone walls and practically shakes the ground you’re standing on. It’s hard to deny the deep instinct to run away- all of the cells in your body signal to you that this is a predator and you are prey.

From the far tunnel you hear the distinct sound of claws against stone and you know he’s coming. You hold your breath as a giant crocodile-esque head slides into view. If it wasn’t for the sheer size of this creature you think you could mistake him for a crocodile- the long flat snout and smooth scales resembling a mosaic across dark green skin. But the way the scales shine like emeralds flecked with gold set him apart. As his legs come into view your eyes are drawn to his front left leg. In contrast to the dark green of the rest of his body his front left leg from the elbow down was a bright shimmering gold. It almost seemed liquid the way it connected with his body but the way it landed with a hard thud with each step solidified its hardness. A deep gash ran across his snout, dull and long healed over. Bat like wings folded against his long body as he finally made the last few strides into the cavern with you.

It’s hard not to be in awe of a creature so terrifying yet stunning- fear overloading and loosing all meaning and giving way to appreciation. Colorless eyes lock in on you and his pupils contract into slivers. You truly and deeply feel like prey under his gaze.

“Your heart is beating so fast little tribute. Will you run? Will you fight? Or are you just going to stand there and let me eat you? I do love seeing how your little human brains scramble…” His maw opens and you see large, shining teeth- each probably as big as you. You’re not sure if a dragon can smile but you get the impression from his voice that he is, there must be something deeply amusing to him to see you falter under his gaze.

You don’t know what comes over you. That emotion that had puzzled you for the last day now rips up and into your throat, saying works your brain hasn’t even processed.

“What if I can make myself useful to you.”

Defiance.

That catches him off guard, his large head tilting slightly. He’s only confused for a second before he chuckles, a deep sound that shakes your ribcage. “Well this is new. And what do you think you could possibly do for me?”

And now your brain has caught up, desperately searching for good answers. “I can cook, I can clean, I can organize- I’m sure a dragon as important as yourself has much better things to do than worry about the day to day.”

There’s a painful silence as the dragon mauls over your answer, terrifying eyes dragging over your form. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself grounded.

“I have to admit, it is an interesting proposition.” He steps closer and lowers his head to the ground, jaws only a few feet from you. “It wouldn’t be a good life, serving under me.”

“It would be a life.”

“I guess it would.” You feel the heat of his breath wash over you. “If you ever underperform I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“I understand.”

“And you will do whatever I ask?”

“I will.”

“Then we have a deal.”

You feel like you’ve just sold your soul to the devil. In a way, you probably have. But you don’t feel bad about it at all.

His head swings up and away from you, standing up and nearly scraping the ceiling. “You’ll stay in here until I clear out a space for you. I’ll lay out where you can and cannot go and what your daily routine should be.”

You nod, knowing he probably doesn’t need to hear much more from you.

“Get some rest. I’ll start working you to the bone tomorrow.”

And with that he leaves you, thundering steps disappearing into the depths of the further tunnels. When you can no longer hear and feel the steps you collapse to the ground, exhausted from bargaining for your life. Every muscle in your body had been tensed and you work your way through your body, individually willing your body to relax.

This was your life now. You needed to get used to this fucked up situation very fast.

Gathering yourself you find the largest couch and drag it over by the fountain and begin putting together your makeshift bed. It was surprisingly comfortable and the sound of running water did a lot to block out your worst thoughts.

You shut your eyes and before you know it a sleep of sheer exhaustion catches you, dragging you down into unconsciousness.

You’re not sure how much sleep you got, there was no way to tell the time this deep underground. But you feel as rested as you probably could get under the circumstances and quickly move the couch back to where you found it before the dragon could come and see you’ve disturbed his room. Piling your stuff neatly behind a rock on along the wall of the cavern you wait for your instructions.

You pace the heavily rugged floor trying to keep an ear out for the distinctive sound of a dragon approaching. You don’t have to wait too long for some noise- but it’s not what you expect. You hear regular human foot steps echo through the far tunnel- are you not the only human here? Did someone sneak past you in the middle of the night? All your questions are stopped in their tracks when a man walks out of the tunnel.

Well, not quite a man.

He’s mostly human, standing on two legs with tanned skin and slicked back black hair. Dressed in an immaculate suit with a fur lined cloak covering his broad shoulders. But of course- there were the other features. You first notice his hands- one covered in green scales and ending in sharp claws, the other a molten gold molded into similar claws. His ears are longer and more pointed than a humans and across his face is a long dark scar. And of course you can’t miss the thick crocodile tail dragging behind him, the same deep emerald green scales of the dragon you faced yesterday.

As he walks closer you notice that he’s still so much bigger than you- towering over your form by three feet or more. His eyes had the same reptilian slit to them as he looked you up and down.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you’d think you’d be remiss not to call him handsome. But the fear for your life drowns out most of those traitorous thoughts.

“Surprised to see you didn’t try and scamper off during the night.” His voice, while certainly not as loud, still resonates deep in your chest as it echoes off the tall stone walls of the cavern.

“I made a deal, I intend to see it through.” You make the choice not to look him in the eyes out of fear of disrespecting him.

“Good to see you have some sense. Here.” He reaches into his coat and pulls out a rolled up piece of paper. You take it and unfold it and see a map. “This is your map of my lair. I’ve labeled the caverns you can go in and which ones you can’t. You step a single foot into somewhere you’re not supposed to be- I’ll kill you.”

“Understood.” You reply, looking over the map. You knew this place had to be massive but looking over the paper in your hand it was so much vaster than you imagined. Dozens of caves and tunnels interlinking, going over and under each other. It made your head swim.

“I’ll guide you to the important rooms so you don’t get lost. But after that I expect you to be able to navigate on your own.” He starts walking and you follow close behind as you try and track where you’re going on the map.

You travel down deep, following him as he quickly navigates the tunnels. Thankfully everything is lit by the same type of flaming braziers that are in the large entrance cavern.

“You don’t need to worry about preparing food for me- I only eat every few months and I eat more than you could possibly physically handle. You’re here to keep my lair neat and organized. Initial cleaning of the caverns I indicate and then if you do a good job- and only if- you can begin cataloguing my hoard.” He doesn’t make any effort to speak directly to you or to make sure you’re matching his pace.

“Yes my… lord?” It comes off more of a question as you quickly realize you have no idea what to refer to him as.

He stops in his tracks so abruptly you almost collide with his tail, but thankfully you’re able to stop just short. “This is the dry food storage, silly human foods that they leave as tribute. Should be enough for you to live on.”

You peek in, expecting a sparse and dingy space but are pleasantly surprised when you see all manner of foods. Beans, grains, dried fruits, spices, and probably more in the dark wooden cabinets and shelves. You only have that brief moment before he is walking off again and you hastily follow.

“Sir Crocodile. That’s the best name you humans have given me, so you can refer to me as such. My true name is unpronounceable for human forms.”

You nod, not like he can see you but better safe than sorry. Only a few tunnels later he stops again and points to the smallest cavern yet. It’s not actually small by most definitions of the word but as you gaze in you might actually call it cozy.

There’s a mismatch of elegant furniture piled in there- a dresser, a cabinet, a large bed, and rugs covering the stone floor. The bed is unmade but linens sit on top of it and even from this distance you know they are higher quality than you have ever even seen.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping and existing when not performing your duties. I don’t want you out wandering when I haven’t assigned you something.” And then he’s back to walking. You were expecting to just be thrown in a bare room but seemingly he put forth some effort… you’re not sure what to think about that.

The next stretch of your journey is long and you purposefully make sure your eyes don’t wander into any caverns you’re not stopping at. You focus on tracing your path, finger dragging along the rough paper of the map as you go.

“This is the last cave you’ll be allowed in until you prove yourself trustworthy.” He stops and finally fully turns around to face you. “This is my surplus- the stuff left to me that I deemed not worthy of my hoard. It’s been sitting and collecting dust for too long. I need to know what exactly is here and if I should keep it in storage or dispose of it. After you’re done cleaning the previous spaces and the tunnels between you can get to work on organizing and cataloging everything in here.”

To call this place a mess would be kind. Layers of junk and books haphazardly thrown into a cave that you honestly can’t tell the size of. There’s only room to get maybe five feet through the entrance before the wall of stuff is piled nearly as high as the ceiling. And on top of everything is a thick layer of dust and dirt. This might take your lifetime to sort through.

You turn your glance back to Sir Crocodile and realize he’s been carefully watching you this whole time, sharp gaze dragging over your body. Suddenly it’s ten degrees hotter in the tunnel and you force your eyes back to the ground. Did he purposefully make his human form attractive or was that just the default? And why did you even find the creature that could kill you without a second thought attractive. Stupid stupid base instincts.

“I suggest you clean the tunnels first so you learn your way. Then the entrance, food storage, and lastly here. You clean your room on your own time. I expect you to work at least eight hours a day- keep track with this.” That golden clawed hand extends out and you see a pocket watch settled in his palm. You reach out and take it, fingertips gliding over the cold metal of his hand.

“Thank you sir.” Pressing the small button on the top you find out what time it is- just before noon.

“Do your best not to make too much noise. If there is something so completely wrong you cannot deal with yourself just yell. I will hear. Just like I will hear if you try to leave, understood?”

“Yes.” Silence hangs awkwardly in the air and you look upward for a second to see him glaring down at you.

“Yes sir.” You correct, and his face returns to neutral.

“Alright, don’t make yourself too comfortable. I’ll check back soon.” And with that he turns and walks away, down a tunnel that you don’t have permission to tread into.

You let out a long breath, taking in all of the information he’s just given you. Using your map you (slowly) make your way back up through the tunnels to where you started. As you passed by the few spaces you were allowed in you couldn’t help but think about how much better this whole situation was than you expected.

Sure, scrubbing rock for weeks wouldn’t be fun but you expected much worse like cleaning his scales or butchering meals. You even had a space of your own that rivaled your room back home. Of course there’s no sunlight and you have the hanging threat of being eaten alive but you can’t help but feel a weird sense of relief. It’s not like you have anyone that you miss or responsibilities that you’ve left behind. This was just the newest (and incredibly bizarre) chapter in your life.

Well.

Time to get cleaning.

It takes you two weeks to clean the entrance, food storage, and the tunnels connecting them all. You worked more than your mandatory hours- what else were you going to do anyways, stare at stone walls? The work wasn’t fun by any means, dragging water to and from the fountain in the entrance cave was a serious workout, but there was something fulfilling once you were completely done with a space.

The entrance was the easiest given the water source was right there. You had taken one of the worse looking rugs and ripped it up to use as you cloths figuring you shouldn’t pester Sir Crocodile for cleaning supplies when you could figure out something on your own. Once everything had been as cleared of sand and dust as it could get you got to organize out the room- something actually a little fun.

You matched together furniture and set it up perfectly for gatherings. Not like there was actually ever going to be a gathering but at least your arrangement will never be messed up. You made sure to leave ample room for a dragon sized being to make it from the far tunnel to the exit- he probably leaves at some point.

The food storage wasn’t that bad either. You worked your way through it in between cleaning the entry cave and the tunnels, mostly when it was time to eat. There was a huge variety of food, most expensive and long lasting. It made sense, given that it was meant for Sir Crocodile and that no one would offer him anything less than their best for fear of being eaten. You were eating better than you had been in a while.

Throwing yourself into the work you could nearly forget why you were here in the first place. You hadn’t seen Sir Crocodile since he gave you that initial tour- you hadn’t even heard or felt movement deeper in the tunnels. Despite having no signs of him you could still feel his presence somehow. Every time you turned around you expected to see him standing there, judging you. But he never was. Maybe it was a sign you were doing a good enough job but you had no confidence in that.

No matter if your job was up to the correct standards or not you were onto your final task- cleaning and organizing the overstock. Far away the most daunting task. You have your bucket and cloths but honestly you have no idea where to start.

“From the top.” That deep voice comes from right behind you and the yelp that leaves you as you jump is mortifying.

You whip around and see Sir Crocodile in his humanoid form, clearly pleased with the reaction he got from you. He’s got a nasty grin, showing that his teeth are just as sharp as they are in his draconic form.

“I’m sorry sir?” You do your best to return your heart rate to its normal rhythm as you straighten yourself out.

“You were trying to figure out how to start here. From the top. Taking anything from the base even if it seems loose might cause the whole pile to collapse and crush you to death.” There’s a few terrifying seconds where you think he can read your mind but you shove that away- it was probably incredibly obvious how lost you were.

“Thank you sir.” It was probably simple advice but getting a clear starting point was relieving.

“Of course, I couldn’t have my new pet getting killed after they’ve done some decent work.”

Your brain struggles to process that statement, a weird mix of emotions swirling in your stomach at his words. You shove it all down for now- you can parse through that later.

“I’m glad my work is up to your standards sir. Was there something you needed?” Your hands grip your water bucket tight as his gaze bores into you.

“I’m just making sure that you are still aware of my presence. For a human though, you do seem pretty competent. You haven’t even tried to run away once.” He steps closer to you, invading your space. “Why is that?”

“I-“ You suck in a breath as you try and fight the urge to cower. “I have nothing to go back to.”

His pupils are narrow slits as they rake over your face for a few painfully silent moments. He then straightens up, barely exiting your personal space. “Interesting.”

He turns and slowly walks away, a clawed hand waving in the air. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

You finally exhale when he leaves the space, able to relax just a bit. Shoving down all your thoughts for now you focus on cleaning in a way that doesn’t destabilize the pile and crush you. It works for a while as a distraction but you slowly lose your focus and need to stop for the day.

It wasn’t until you were tucked in bed that you allowed your emotions to surface.

“I couldn’t have my new pet getting killed after they’ve done some decent work.”

It should disgust you to be called a pet. It should be dehumanizing and humiliating to have someone else look at you and see you as something so small, something they own. You search and hope that’s what’s churning deep in your stomach.

It’s not.

A shameful realization washes over you as the words repeat in your head, that low, terrifying voice somehow praising you while putting you down. You weren’t disgusted.

Heat pools in the pit of your body, a sick reaction you couldn’t will away.

You loved when he called you his pet.

You were fucked.

For the next few weeks your work slowed considerably. Not because you were less motivated- but because the overstock room had so many wonderful things. Sure there was a fair share of junk- broken porcelain dishes, rotting wooden statues, things that are so beaten you can’t even hope to identify. But the things that aren’t junk are fascinating.

You find trinkets and toys that spin and dance in ways you can’t figure out. Jewelry that despite being dusty, rusted, or dented was still gorgeous. Hand woven blankets and rugs that you could see the time and energy put in despite the holes and fraying edges. And then there were the books.

Most were non-fiction and on topics you could have only ever hoped to have learned about. From science to history to mathematics and everything in between every single page was fascinating. Every day you collected all the new books you would find and saved them for yourself later.

You’ve made yourself a reading corner in that cavern- cast off rugs and blankets folded and placed over the stone so you can sit somewhat comfortably. You fall back to only working your exact hours so you can spend the rest of your time reading. Pages old and new fill your head and you can only wonder that if these were the books dismissed by the sand dragon- what books lay in his true hoard?

“And what are you doing?” How someone so large continues to sneak up on you you’ll never understand.

You jump up, fear gripping your chest as he catches you decidedly not working. His face is decidedly unamused and you think that maybe you’ve really fucked up.

“I-“ For a second you debate lying, debate saying that you were thumbing through the pages to properly organize the book. But you aren’t the best liar- certainly not in the face of someone so terrifying. “I’m spending my off time reading through some of your books sir. I figured asking if I could read through some of your spare books was a question I shouldn’t have bothered you with.”

“Smart move pet.” Your body relaxes slightly, having made the right move. “What are you reading?”

That question catches you off guard, not expecting him to care. “Oh, this is a book on astronomy.”

“And is that interesting to you?” You can’t tell if it’s just his natural tone that makes it sound almost like an accusation or if he’s judging you.

“It’s something I never had the chance to learn about before so I decided to take the opportunity to educate myself.”

Crocodile nods, seemingly pleased with your answer. “A good use of your spare time. Just don’t get carried away.”

“Yes, of course sir.”

And like that he’s gone again. The conversation lingers in your mind until the next day when you come back to the cavern to see a plush chair situated where your rugs had been set up.

You can’t stop yourself from flushing as you look over your gift. You try not to let your thoughts and emotions get away from you, there was probably a banal reason he put a chair in here for you. I mean, sitting on the floor was probably bad for your back and if it was bad for your back then your work could be impacted.

It’s that and not that he might care about you.

No matter what, reading is a lot nicer when you’re not sitting on a stone floor.

#one piece x reader #one piece x you #discordantwritings #x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #dragon x reader

303 notes · View notes

dduane · 8 months

Note

This is not a question but yesterday at work the jigsaw needed some adjusting and as I was fixing it up I was patting it like a horse and whispering things like 'it won't be much longer' and 'you'll feel much better soon' and I absolutely blame this on Young Wizards showing me how to anthropomorphize everything.

(grin) We have a motto around here: "It's wiser to treat matter as spirit than spirit as matter."

The response behind the principle (for me at least) isn't about some kind of animism as such, or about anthropomorphism per se. It simply feels positioned about halfway between caution and common courtesy... and is based on my repeated experience that things just behave better when you treat them kindly and with respect. Especially when the question of where (and how) consciousness inheres and resides, even for human beings, remains... well, vexed.

I've never gotten useful results out of any machine I've treated angrily. I've routinely got good results (and sometimes ridiculously good ones) out of devices I've been courteous to while interacting with them. I spent a good while trying to figure this out, years back, and finally decided it wasn't worth it: no reliably verifiable answers were ever going to come back. Naturally, other people's mileage on this subject will significantly vary. But meanwhile, who cares if I'm sometimes seen as the daftie who carries on one-sided conversations with kitchen appliances and never fails to pat the plane "hello" while boarding? (shrug) Who knows what's listening, and how? Let's just classify it as a "quirk" and move on. :)

If you get around to My Enemy, My Ally at some point, though, you'll find this YW-based attitude has slopped over into the Rihannsu cultural outlook, which rests considerable weight on the idea that merely physical things inherit a basic dignity from being part of the structure of the universe... and that speaking respectfully to things with their right names matters, as those names have power in their own right to influence the world around them. ...LeGuin was down this road long before me, of course. But she left plenty of room for me to drag the occasional starship down it. :)

Meanwhile, I'm glad you and the jigsaw worked things out. Mind those moving parts.

#Young Wizards meta #-ish

330 notes · View notes

thechekhov · 4 months

Text

Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH.22

It's time to maybe hit the first plot milestone? While wearing some silly costumes, of course!

Maybe it's just been a while but I AM a little bit confused. They were down in the dungeon and then they were about 4 floors deep and went DEEPER and now there's... an island? That belonged to the dwarves, elves and humans? (Humans being different from tall-men? Or... is this another translation thing?) But if it's that deep, how did it belong to anyone before the dungeon was discovered?? I need history books up in here.

Huh, interesting. Is this a permanent gate? Or one that only opens when the spell is cast from the other side?

Absolutely intrigued with these Vex/Vax knockoffs. What is their deal? They haven't said that much, but their facial expressions intrigue me.

Hmmm.. I suppose in terms of economics, the dungeon must seem like a goldmine indeed. And if you can exploit whatever you can get from it...... Though in the end, is it a sustainable source of resources? Especially given how many people die there.

I reiterate: would love a history book that gives a more detailed explanation of how the sociopolitical map of the region is laid out, and how the discovery of the dungeon played into whatever conflicts they had.

Ah yes, a classic. That one spell with no karmic repercussions, I'm sure.

This gnome complained about how the Dungeon makes people too much money, but it turns out that his REAL issue is that it's the money that this dungeon-era CEO is concerned about. He wants to go HARDER on the evil power control scheme. He's disappointed with the lack of commitment to the villainy!

Or..... is this some sort of 4D chess play to get adventurers more resources...? What is his end goal here?

Maybe it's just the paranoia, but even this interaction feels weird. This woman clearly acts kind, and does all the right things, but what are HER motivations? Does she actually like Namari?

Don't mind the escorts...........

Hold up, is she looking for Falin?!! Falin got eaten by the Dragon, no??

Fuckin hell that's a bit. Dark. But understandable I guess.

1/13th huh...... So for an average 70kg human, that would be approximately 5kg of meat... so about a turkey size? oof.

NEW FEAR/DND IDEA UNLOCKED HOLY SHIT.

They say they're 20, but they didn't really react to Namari warning them about the dungeon. And they didn't really say specifically that they needed to get resurrected, just that they have Mr. Tance (Tansu?) if need be. Makes me wonder if they're some sort of weird Revenant or Homonculi.

She's too good for this world.... too pure.

#dungeon meshi #chekhov reads dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi quick reacts #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi liveblog

188 notes · View notes

angelbunny-arts · 8 months

Text

Behold,,,,. Every hermit design I’ve created over the past year and a bit: with heights and chibi versions of wings included>:D

Species, fun Details and height sorted version under the cut !!

- Grian

A parrot avian in some universes, a shapeshifted watcher in others, it’s a 50/50 which one I decided to go with

Avians in my mind take on the wing patterns of a bird they connect with, which usually happens at around 18-23. Instead of facial hair they grow feathers around their cheeks and in their hair.

His earring is a present from mumbo ^^

The gold detailing on his wings have the watcher symbol and suns on it, and his shoes have suns too! (why suns you may ask? “Grian” is the Irish word for sun, and according to my myth/history nerd friend there was an Irish sun goddess named Grian)

-Mumbo jumbo

An albino enderman

He dyes his hair because it looks cool, you can see a bit of his natural roots

A feather keychain on his belt from Grian

- GtwScar

A half-allay

He’s got heterochromia with the HOTGUY colours>:)

His ears and canine teeth are rounded! In contrast to half-vexes who’s features are sharper

Him and cub have matching vex magic earrings

His design is probably the one that keeps to the original skin the least, but it also happens to be one of my favourites to draw so

- Cubfan

A half-vex

I don’t have much to say here, he’s just kinda silly? I suppose there’s the fact that I decided that convex gets a diamond as their shape, so he’s got some of that detailing

He was originally supposed to have glasses however I am terrible at remembering glasses even though I wear them so they just kinda vanished

His hair is probably one of the most fun to colour too:D

- Geminitay

An elf (the antlers are accessories)

She’s got a whole bunch of little leaves everywhere:DD and some cute gold detailing too, otherwise a pretty simple design with not much to say on it

-impulse

Just a regular dude tbh he’s just a guy/pos

He’s got five visible places where I’ve snuck an “i” on him (but there’s one more on the bottom of his shoes)

The yellow In his hair also matches with my skizz, who has blue in his hair

- Pearl

Either a human or an avian, it’s another 50/50 and depends on what I went for with Grian as well if I have him included

If I go the avian route, her wings are small and usually kept under her jacket.

The moon detailing changes with the moon phase! Her hair also gets more floaty depending on how full the moon is

The knot on her shirt is in the shape of a moth

- Tango

A soot fairy, they’re known for working with and manipulating fire and creating machinery.

He’s got heels and he’s absolutely slaying. That’s really it I can’t pick my favourite detail it’s all fantastic. Look at it

I looked at fire/firemen vests for his jacket? That’s a fun fact

- Docm77

A creeper/goat hybrid

There’s like.. so many butterfly motifs on this man it’s fantastic. I also love the horizontal pupil

He looks like a mix between a tired dad and a mad scientist, which was initially not what I was going for but I’m keeping it

————

And, as promised, the height check (for people that are the same height I put whoever looked taller first)

(also disclaimer I made most of these heights up and are not accurate to the ccs)

#art #mcyt #hermitblr #hermitcraft #grian #mumbo jumbo #goodtimeswithscar #cubfan135 #geminitay #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #tangotek #docm77 #bun art!!#apologies for the random avian lore infodump it will happen again<3

323 notes · View notes

mochiwrites · 21 days

Note

so since evo is part of the whole backstory thing I think? since you wrote something for it. does that mean crafting dead is scar’s backstory too? If so then how did grian and scar end up meeting/falling in love?

it is, yeah! I talked a little bit about how they met here and as a bonus, I talked here about some of the evo stuff!

so! expanding on my thoughts a bit more, I think they were pretty young when they first met. scar is young for a vex and grian is just a regular old human player. he's not an avian pre-evo

I'm gonna run with the idea that every server and player world is connected to one giant hub -- kinda like a computer database. so for scar, he had to escape from his crafting dead world (I'm thinking scar's world got corrupted, maybe by the watchers? but the corruption is how the virus broke out and the zombies appeared).

it took him a while because he had to get the materials to create a portal and he had to fix his communicator to even be able to connect anything to the main hub. I have to flesh this out more, but that's the basic idea rn!! soooo he manages to get out of the world (before it completely collapses and the code is destroyed).

scar kinda wanders for a bit, has to find himself now that he's not clawing for survival every day. and he ends up stumbling on the hypixel hub, which will give him exactly what he needs: an excuse to explore who he is and who he wants to be. he definitely picks up his conman lifestyle here.

then enter grian, who's essentially behaving as a nomad. I think he's a builder for hire, doing a lot of free lance stuff. he's got an apartment in hypixel and a somewhat established life.

as for how he and scar meet? well that's easy. scar scams him :D

scar gets maybe one or two days before grian is marching up to him and demanding compensation because he knows scar scammed him. scar tries to play it off but grian is Stubborn and really cute, and scar, in all of his smartness and not at all being influenced by his attraction, apologizes and offers to make it up to grian.

I think scar is kinda. homeless. he's just wandering hypixel, exploring what he can with what little money he manages to get together. so how does he make it up to grian? well, he puts those conman skills to good use! he manages to smooth talk his way into getting himself and grian a table at a restaurant for free ;3

and grian really isn't sure why he's agreeing to this... date, maybe it's due to curiosity. scar is offering a free meal, and he's easy on the eyes and sure. okay, yeah he'll let this handsome fella get him dinner.

it's through this dinner that grian discovers scar is homeless and impulsively decides to let scar stay in his apartment with him. and well. roommates to lovers :D

#mochi speaks #secret husbands au

62 notes · View notes

bonefall · 3 months

Note

How would the cats get rid of the bile to prepare a prey item for food? The liver is one of the best items to use for gravy--my family uses our roasted Turkey's liver as a gravy base every year and to have to throw it out cause someone fucked up while on kitchen duty would suck.

Not all animals will actually have gallbladders, but removing one from the liver is as easy as just chopping it off when you get to the processing part. It'll be down on the bottom of the liver, usually pear-shaped, and a dark greenish color. Sorreltail, a sapient cat with her great sense of smell, could tell it apart from the surrounding meat with her eyes closed.

I do have to stress, though, you CAN eat bile. You don't have to have the cats toss that, that is a thing they can eat. Again it's not nail polish remover like the Erins think it is. It's bitter, but it's used in human food. You just balance out the bitterness with spice and sweetness.

This is papaitan, from the Philippines, made with tripe and bile,

Bile is also said to have anti-inflammatory effects and be a generally healthy food, too. I can see ShadowClan in particular really liking to cook with this, especially for a sick cat. They like bitter and spicy tastes a lot more than other Clans. Their version of chicken noodle soup.

Also; a lot of animals do not have gallbladders. Here's a short list of common prey animals and their gallbladder status;

Rabbits = No

Rats = No

Mouse = Yes

Shrew = Yes

Deer = No

Pigeon = No

Quail = Yes

Carp = Yes BUT DO NOT EAT THESE CARP GALL BLADDERS CAUSE FOOD POISONING. ALL species, everywhere. This includes goldfish. Your cat will live if they swallow a goldfish or eat a gallbladder once or twice, but it will make them sick. Process this fish before a Clan cat eats it.

(Side note: It's actually kind of funny how carp keeps coming up as The "Fuck You" Animal in all of these. They're full of seizure-causing anti-nutrients, their gallbladders are poison, what am I going to find next?)

The gallbladder in fish is really easy to find btw, they're usually massive, round, and dark green. If you gut fish regularly it's like... right in the "chest." Also you can poke it open and soak little paper squares in it and then they spin around in water, it's very cool

Bile is for the breakdown of fats, and a gallbladder is for the storage and concentration of bile. Generally, herbivores are more likely to lack gallbladders, because their liver just dumps the weak bile they have directly into their intestines. The mystery of why rats don't have gallbladders has actually vexxed scientists for like 100 years, btw.

Some herbivores (deer especially) have a very tiny "pouch" for bile called a diverticulum. But unlike the gallbladder, it doesn't concentrate it, just stores a little extra. Some hunters will nick this and think they tore open a gallbladder, but they did not.

#gallbladder #bile #clan culture #better bones au #nutrition guide

96 notes · View notes

vexcraft · 4 months

Text

i present you: grub species swap! avian cub and vex grian with some vex scar trying to eat everyone on the side (so warning for cannibalism mentions but like in a funny way). can also be read on ao3 here!

backwards

“What did you do?!” Grian basically screams as he lunges at Cub with almost inhumane speed. Cub steps to the side, avoiding Grian more easily than he should have been able to.

Right.

Grian is considerably smaller and easier to dodge without his big bright wings that easily triple the amount of space the man needs around him even when they are neatly folded against his back. The wings that are currently not on Grian’s, but Cub’s back.

Which brings them to their current problem, which isn’t even Grian’s confused anger. At least that isn’t the main problem and Cub is fairly certain he can hopefully deal with it, though he’s no Grian-whisperer.

“Man, I didn’t do anything!” he replies, raising his hands in surrender. It was true – for once. He had nothing to do with this. The wings on his back shift as he moves, feeling unfamiliar and weird. “Not my fault, I swear!”

“You have my wings!” Grian stares at Cub like he has grown a second head instead of wings, his deep black eyes even more ominous than usual.

“Not by choice,” Cub argues. “Not everything is always someone else’s fault, y’know.”

Grian glares at him and Cub shrugs. The weight of the wings seems to put pressure on muscles Cub didn’t even know existed – hell, maybe they didn’t exist before this, who knows what the extent of these changes to his body really was? Whatever it was, it was certainly making him uncomfortable.

“I’m having kind of a hard time believing that you here, Mr. Vex Magician, don’t have anything to do with you mysteriously having my wings, ouch-” Grian flinches suddenly and pauses, sticking out his tongue. “Bit my tongue, dude, that hurt .” Cub watches the blood bleed on his lips blue. His eyes widen in realization and Grian looks at him questioningly. “What? Stop staring, you’re being weird.”

Cub sucks in a breath and ignores the feeling of feathers puffing up behind him. “You’re a vex,” he says.

Grian’s face twists from confusion to some sort of furious disbelief. “I’m what!? ” he shrieks. “Cub, what did you just say!?”

“You’re a vex,” he repeats. Suddenly things make more sense – still not enough sense, but more nonetheless. Something is very wrong, that much Cub can tell. “I’m a bird, you’re a vex.”

“An avian,” Grian corrects sourly as if that was the biggest of his concerns right now. “What do you mean? How can you even tell?”

“You’re bleeding blue,” Cub points out and Grian instantly wipes his mouth on his sleeve, staring at the stain left behind, dumbfounded. He opens his mouth to say something and Cub notes the row of pointy teeth clearly visible. “Also your teeth are sharp, like vex.” He watches Grian run his tongue over his teeth and does the same himself, noticing his own teeth are no longer like little daggers lined up but instead flat like humans and hybrids that didn’t have special diets tended to have.

“What does this mean?” Grian asks, sounding alarmed by the new discovery. “Being a vex, what does it mean for me?”

Cub thinks – what does it mean? He’s so used to his own nature and all the big and small quirks that come with it that it’s not as simple of a question as one might think. Now that he knows to look, he can tell Grian’s nails are sharper too and there’s a light blue tint to his face where normally he’d be flushing red.

“Hopefully not much,” he ends up shrugging. “If we get this fixed quickly.”

“That’s a pretty big if, considering neither of us seem to have any idea what happened!” Grian huffs. “What if we can’t get it fixed quickly, what then? Cub, vexes are weird creatures! I don’t know how any of this works!”

Cub snorts, not taking offense. “Can you hear them?” Grian shakes his head, visibly confused. “Good, good. Are you hungry?”

“I don’t think so?” he replies, taking a moment to focus on his now rather foreign-feeling body. “I feel like I could eat something but not hungry, I don’t think? Wait, what do you mean by hearing them? Can you hear them?”

“That’s normal, if you’re not feeling hungry then there’s nothing to worry about,” Cub hums. There might, most likely will, be something to worry about in the future if they can’t get this solved, but right now he’d prefer to… avoid going into certain details unless he absolutely has to. “I can usually hear the vex, but not right now though.”

He’s grown so used to the little yells and screams in the back of his head that he hadn’t even realized they weren’t there anymore. The silence is odd now that he pays attention to it, but he’s relieved to know the cacophony hasn’t moved into Grian’s head instead.

“What do you mean you can usually hear them?” Grian asks, sounding so horrified Cub is even more glad Grian apparently can’t hear them. “That’s awful, can Scar hear them too?”

“Yep,” Cub replies. He would have assumed Scar would have told Grian, considering the two were good friends, but then again, it really wasn’t that much of a big deal. “It’s kinda annoying but we’re used to it by now. It’s not too bad.”

“Doesn’t sound like something ‘not too bad’ to me,” Grian insists. “Does Xisuma know?”

“If he knows anything about vexes, then probably yeah. Seriously, it’s no big deal, I’m sure there are some bird things you don’t think are odd but others do,” Cub says, rolling his shoulders. The wings are starting to feel uncomfortable like things aren’t in the right places. “Like for example how itchy these wings are,” he mumbles, trying to reach for the itchy spot before realizing that one, he can’t reach it, and two, the wings aren’t moving in the ways he thinks they should be. “How do you even deal with this, mine are never like this-”

“You can preen them,” Grian points out with a shrug. “I’m kinda lazy with that though, so I’ve just gotten used to the discomfort. Hold on, what do you mean by your wings?”

“My vex wings. You do know that vexes have wings, right?”

Grian gapes at him and Cub pinches the bridge of his nose.

“I know the little creatures have wings!” Grian defends himself as Cub sighs in fake disappointment. “Don’t act disappointed, I’ve never seen yours or Scar’s wings, how was I supposed to know?!”

It was true neither of them really kept them visible, as they weren’t really all that useful and it was often easier to keep them hidden than to have them be on the way all the time, but still. Did this guy really know nothing about vexes at all?

“I don’t know, maybe like, look behind you or something?”

Cub watches Grian turn around a full circle, only to realize he’s trying to see something on his own back, and then trying to look over his shoulder. The wings are transparent and nearly invisible, but still very much there, just like Cub had thought they would most likely be, considering Grian would not know how to hide them with magic. Grian gawks at the wings with his mouth open, looking quite stupid in Cub’s honest opinion.

“Shut up!” Grian yells before Cub can even open his mouth to say anything. Instead, he raises an eyebrow. “Maybe I don’t know anything about vexes but that just means we really need to fix this even faster. I don’t want to like, start hearing them, or whatever that was about.”

Cub decides to not argue that he can usually hear the vexes because of his connection to the vex, which despite apparently having his species swapped with Grian, should not transfer over like that.

“Right,” he says instead. “We should probably go find Xisuma once he comes back online.”

Grian plucks his communicator out of his pocket and Cub watches his face drop in real time as he realizes they’re the only ones online. “Dude, this sucks. What if it’s a bug and the others will come back wrong too?”

The communicator in Grian’s hand pings. “We’ll see, I guess?” Cub says, recognizing the sound of a player logging on to the server.

“Scar!” Grian shouts. He makes a weird attempt to jump and it takes a second for Cub to realize he’s trying to fly. Before he can say anything, Grian has already noticed his mistake and taken off on foot, running towards the location of Scar’s base. Cub hurries behind him clumsily, weighed down by the wings against his back.

“So what exactly happened?” Scar asks curiously, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice as he watches Grian pace around the room. Cub had sat down as soon as he could once they made it to Scar’s base, tired from the running. “Cub is a bird and you’re vex? Like you got swapped somehow?”

“Cub is an avian,” Grian grumbles, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “And we don’t know what happened, but whatever it is, I don’t like it.”

“You’re feeling fully normal?” Cub asks Scar, who certainly looks normal. No weird wings, none of his usual visible traits missing. Cub can’t sense him like he usually can through his vex magic, but that seems like a given considering the current situation.

“Yep!” Scar grins and Cub can see the row of sharp vex teeth in his mouth glimmer in the light. Yeah, everything seems normal. “Never been better in my life!”

“Can you hear the vexes?” Grian asks and Cub rolls his eyes.

“Why, of course I can!” Scar replies cheerfully. “I’d be worried if I couldn’t. They’re a little irritated that they can’t reach Cub right now, but it’s probably fine.”

“Probably,” Grian repeats, not nearly as convinced as Scar seems to be. “We need to fix this, I don’t want to end up on the vexes’ bad side because of this or something.”

Cub snorts and Scar bursts into laughter.

“Don’t laugh!” Grian hisses. “Dude, this is what people mean when they say vexes are vicious little creatures, I’m losing my marbles over here and you two are laughing!”

“You’re not going to make an enemy out of the vex because of something like this,” Cub assures, though he feels like his tone probably wasn’t as comforting as needed, considering the glare Grian sends his way.

“Cub is right! It’s very unlikely,” Scar chimes in to add. “It would be really funny though.”

“It would not!” Grian argues exasperatedly, dragging his hands down his face. “This is impossible. How is today the one day when barely anyone is online?”

“Don’t be such a downer! You both should try to get all the fun out of this while it lasts!” Scar says with an excited smile. There’s a glint in his eyes Cub can recognize as the one that never means anything good. Grian looks suspicious of Scar’s suggestion. “Cub, can I eat you? I’ve always wondered if avians taste like chicken-”

“Scar!” Grian screeches, horrified.

“Fine, can me and Grian eat you?” Scar corrects himself.

Grian stares at Scar in horror. “No one is eating anyone!”

Cub shrugs – it wasn’t the wildest thing Scar could have suggested. If he had some clue what had happened and how to fix it, he would probably be taking the opportunity to do some experimenting too. “It’s probably better we don’t die and respawn before we can figure out what went wrong,” he says. “So we don’t mess things up even more.”

“Boring,” Scar laments.

“Wait, you said you’ve been wondering what avians taste like?” Grian stares at Scar. “Have you been wanting to eat me ?”

“Well, not necessarily you,” Scar says thoughtfully. “I don’t think you would agree so it would be kinda pointless.”

“And Cub would?” he questions further.

“Usually!” Scar says happily at the same time as Cub replies, “Yes.”

The expression on Grian’s face twists from suspicious disbelief back to looking absolutely horrified as his gaze flicks between Scar and Cub like the two weren’t known cannibals due to their vex nature. Grian hadn’t witnessed it firsthand, but with how things seemed to be going, he should probably start getting used to the thought.

“We really need to fix this,” he says, looking a little pale. Scar chuckles and Grian glares at him.

“Yeah,” Cub agrees, again trying to reach for the colorful wings on his back to ease his discomfort. “I need to get these itchy wings off my back.”

“I told you that you can preen them if they feel uncomfortable,” Grian points out, taking a step towards Cub. Scar watches them curiously, tilting his head a little. It’s a habit he has that Cub is certain he subconsciously copied from Jellie.

“You do realize that I don’t usually have feathers and barely know what that means, right?”

“Well, you could have said that!” Grian exclaims, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “You can ask for help, y’know? I’ll help you sort them out.”

Cub moves back a little, noticing the wings folding even closer to his back as he shies away when Grian tries to approach him. “I don’t want you touching me,” he says, and Grian stops to stare at him.

“So you’d rather suffer with uncomfortable wings,” he phrases his question as a statement. Cub nods and Grian rolls his eyes.

“I can help!” Scar offers, perking up a little.

“It’s true,” Grian confirms. “He knows how to preen. Kinda.”

Cub blinks – he was not aware of Scar having such skill. “Really?” Scar nods enthusiastically, always eager to help. “Okay, sure, you can help. It’s just this one spot I can’t reach that’s bothering me.”

Scar stands up and makes his way behind Cub and the chair he’s sitting on with a few swift steps, seeming to easily find the feathers that had been bothering Cub. It’s a weird feeling as Scar touches the feathers, the discomfort becoming more obvious before disappearing as he seems to rearrange the feathers.

“Why does Scar get to do that but I don’t?” Grian asks, sounding more curious than offended. Cub suspects he wasn’t all that excited to help out of the kindness of his heart, but rather feeling obliged to do so considering Cub did have his wings.

“Vex privilege,” Scar hums easily as he straightens out a few more feathers and Cub feels the bad feeling slowly disappear and some tension he hadn’t even noticed melt away from his body.

“I’m a vex now though,” Grian remarks.

“You don’t count,” Scar says cheerfully, stepping away once he deems he’s fixed the feathers. “Doesn’t work like that. You gotta sell your soul to the vex first and then you get the vex privilege.”

Cub chuckles at Scar’s explanation that isn’t really all that far-fetched despite being told like a joke. Grian doesn’t seem particularly amused by it, nor does he seem to have taken it too seriously, which is ideal considering Cub doesn’t feel like explaining the details of the vex bond between him and Scar to anyone today if he doesn’t have to.

“That hardly sounds worth it,” Grian retorts, crossing his arms.

“It’s not too bad, it’s not too bad,” Cub shrugs.

“You guys have to eat people.”

“Like Cub said, it’s not too bad!” Scar adds cheerfully. “If you’re that disturbed by it, we better get this solved before you get hungry or we’ll have to eat Cub!”

“I’m not eating anyone!” Grian argues.

“Correction, we better get this solved before you get hungry or I’m going to have to force-feed you Cub before you go insane and cause irreparable damage to yourself and others.”

Grian gawks at Scar and this time Cub has to admit that was a pretty wild thing to say, even if Scar wasn’t exactly wrong. Vexes did not like being hungry. The horrified silence that had fallen is broken by a ping from Grian’s communicator.

“Xisuma is back!”

“Oh my goodness.” Xisuma looks rather caught off guard as he stares at Cub and Grian before him, confusion visible even through his helmet that hides most of his face. “You two certainly look… a little wrong.”

“Isn’t that a little rude?” Scar comments from the side. “I don’t think they look that bad.”

“You know that’s not what I meant,” X sighs and Cub sees Scar’s trademark little smirk appear on his face as he tries to act all innocent. “What happened? Is it just you two? Scar seems fine.”

Scar smiles proudly and Grian rolls his eyes.

“Just me and Grian, so far at least,” Cub explains. “I just logged on after testing some redstone stuff in a private world and suddenly things just kinda were like this. We might have logged on at the same time or something.”

“I see… Something must have gone wrong during the materialization process. Code problems happen but I haven’t seen them like this,” the admin mumbles mostly himself. “And you’ve both been feeling alright? No sickness or glitching?”

Cub shakes his head.

“I’m starting to grow a little sick of Scar but nothing aside from that,” Grian snickers.

“Hey!” Scar exclaims, pretending to be offended.

“You threatened to force-feed Cub to me!”

Xisuma looks a little helpless as he looks between the two in confusion, eyes occasionally flicking to Cub who is mostly just enjoying the show, already more than used to Scar and Grian’s shenanigans. He shrugs and Xisuma sighs. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down now,” he says, pulling up the admin panel in his communicator. “I’ll see if I can find something in your code.”

Scar and Grian stop, freezing into an odd position that looks like Grian is trying to tackle Scar to the ground, and Scar is trying to bite Grian’s arm, before standing up straight as if nothing happened. Cub gives them an unimpressed look.

The three of them not-so-subtly inch closer to their admin to see what he's doing on his communicator as he scrolls through the lines of code none of them aside from him are familiar with. Grian yelps a little when Cub accidentally hits him with the wings, still not used to needing more space than usual.

“I’m looking at the arrival logs,” Xisuma says thoughtfully. “Cub is right, it seems you both joined at the exact same time, down to milliseconds. The server must have gotten confused trying to materialize both of you at the same time.”

“And?” Grian inquires impatiently. “Can you fix it?”

“I can correct the species you’re both assigned right now to your actual species and then hopefully a relog should do the rest.” The three of them watch Xisuma type something in the admin panel. “Alright, there we go. That should do it, hopefully.”

Grian looks a bit suspicious but nods. It’s not like they really have other options, Cub supposes. At least if something goes wrong again, Xisuma is here to help them right away this time.

“Should we just relog then?” Cub asks, quite frankly rather excited to have his own traits back.

“Yes, I think that should fix things,” Xisuma replies, looking at Cub and then Grian. “As long as you don’t log back in on the same exact second again,” he adds, amused.

“Good luck!” Scar chimes.

Grian and Cub share a look before nodding in unison. Cub watches Grian dematerialize next to him before disconnecting from the server as well.

He waits a moment before logging back on to make sure Grian has a chance to log on first.

Cub instantly feels more comfortable as the familiar world appears before his eyes. He blinks a few times, his gaze focusing on his friends standing where they had been when he left – his eyes are automatically drawn to the large and colorful wings behind Grian and a relieved sigh leaves him.

“It worked!” Grian cheers, his wings opening behind him as he does something that looks like a big stretch. Now that he knows what the wings feel like, Cub can imagine how nice that must feel. Grian flaps them a few times, gathering air under them before jumping into the air. “Oh man, how I missed flying!”

There are happy little high-pitched giggles in Cub’s head, joyous and gleeful. He smiles a little – everything feels normal again. His teeth and nails are sharp, he can tell his wings are there even if he can’t see them. He can feel his connection to Scar, and from the man’s grin, Cub can tell he can feel Cub again too.

“That was pretty wild, that was pretty wild,” Cub laughs. It feels good to be fully himself again. “Thanks, Xisuma.”

“No problem,” the admin replies as he watches Grian soar through the air. Cub can hear his smile even if he can’t see it. “I’m glad it was a simple fix, though I’ll have to look into the server code to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

Cub hums in agreement.

“Grian!” Scar shouts, trying to get the avian’s attention. His hat nearly falls off his head as Grian flies past him. “Now that you’re a bird again, how do you feel about the whole eating thing?”

“Scar! ” Grian screams in horror. Cub and Xisuma laugh.

Everything’s back to normal.

#cubfan135 #grian #goodtimeswithscar #convexian #jules hc txt #cw cannibalism

90 notes · View notes

gentlebeard · 2 months

Note

hi, I'm looking for more ofmd blogs to follow, do you have any recommendations? <3

hi anon, here are some very talented gif makers, writers, artists, editors, funny-tag-writers, and lovely human beings - so overall some of my favorite ofmd blogs:

@sherlockig @blakbonnet @saltpepperbeard @bizarrelittlemew @xoxoemynn @ourflagmeansbts @stedebonnets @stedesearring @edsbacktattoo @cahootings @kiwistede @snake-snack-stede @agaywithcoffee @appleteeth @queeraspirates @wearfinethingsalltoowell @endevouring-to-surprise @unadulteratedkr @ofmd-ann @poisonintopositivity @piratecaptainscaptainpirates @darkinerry @aha-my-villainous-thoughts @forpiratereasons @gentlebeardsbarngrill @jaskierx @zstraps @xray-vex @vikulee @babykittenteach @merryfinches @soupbtch @ourflagmeansgayrights @spirker @ourflagmeanslgbtqia @mxmollusca @amuseoffyre @asneakyfox @red-sky-in-mourning @chocolatepot

#we’re not all mutuals but GET LOVED ANYWAY! 😌#i mean it i love you all!!!#and there are so many amazing blogs out there #hope you’ll find what you’re looking for anon #asks

58 notes · View notes

tyxaar · 3 months

Text

SCAR CRIMES LIGHTING ROUND!!!

I've been getting a lot of asks in my inbox about this post relating to Scar's crimes lol.

Indeed they are.

@numbah-7-knd and @david-tennants-left-ear I've already talked about the cannibalism here, but the soul trading comes from Last Life! He made soul contracts in order to trade Lives with other players. Also he might've sold his soul to the Vex? I dunno the lore is weird so that's mostly my own headcanon lol.

@zev-the-traveler Possesion and patricide, the perfect pair! So possession is also in the weird hazy Convex lore zone, but for a while the Vex masks possessed Cub and Scar to do their shenanigans. With that context they they end up possessing False by giving her one when she helps with a prank. Source As for the patricide, that's simple! Etho is Scar's dad in the Life Series and he murdered him all three times in Secret Life. Same for Cleo's final death! :P

@welsknightenjoyer @mocah @neurotic-sinkhole and @fuck-edfrugs Ah yes, this. The Geneva Convention violation is the only crime on the list that was committed by real life content creator Scar! He used the Red Cross symbol in the Scarland medical office. However, that symbol is protected by the Geneva Convention and it's very much a crime to use it outside real Red Cross operations.

@weirdocritter Here we go!

Well, the war profiteering in S6 was kinda iconic lol. Concorp made SO many diamonds off the civil war that Scar and Cub were actually giving them away basically to stimulate the economy by the end of the season.

The cannibalism is also a fucked up favourite, that one part where he talks FAR to enthusiastically about eating the NHO is so on-brand lol.

Trading of souls is really spooky if you take it out of its original context!

Now, the one I'm most uncertain about is Oathbreaking. That happened in Third Life with the no-kill pass, especially with the Bdubs situation. That's a bit of a toss-up but considering how much they both care about keeping promises, yeah, I'd count it.

Ritual sacrifice!!!! Actually has happened like, four times on count lol. This man can NOT stop joining cults. There's the Convex Cathedral with blood on the offering altars, there's the constant boatem hole sacrifices, there's sacrificing Bdubs to the Moon, and most recently he's tried to sacrifice his friends to the Magic Mountain Bell!!! Or, well, told them they have to at least.

Ah yes, sale of human remains!!! He tried to sell Lizzie's spine (although it was prolly Jim or Mumbo cause she died in the void lol) to Joel. It's really wild when you look at it lmao.

Identity fraud is a littttle abstract, but he's worn so many random disguises and various characters that I'm almost certain there's some in there somewhere. Also, it seems pretty damn likely that Pirates Scar "murdered" S8 Tycoon Scar in order to get off the hook (pun intended) for all of his crimes.

That's a typo I swear!!! AJKSHDsfkjhfdkjsd. Anyways, I've replaced it with Treason on the OG post now.

#goodcrimeswithscar #tyxasks #tyx’s ramblings #convex #goodtimeswithscar #gtwscar #mcyt #hermitcraft #trafficblr

106 notes · View notes

stagnation-if · 5 months

Note

hello, hello! can we please have some descriptions of what the ros look like and what their dynamics will be with mc? or can be if we get multiple personality types with mc! thank you!

Here you go!

Below the cut because it's long lol kgkskf

I don't have time atm but I'll make a proper intro for all the ros

Dawn

Hair: messy and ear-length (she cut it after a Saturday night meltdown a while back). Half of it is dyed purple, and the other half is naturally black Eyes: Dark brown. Dawn uses contact lenses Height: 163 cm Build: Scrawny Skin: Honey brown Race: Southeast Asian Other: Dawn has a few piercings. Her arms are covered in tattoos.

Personality: resilient, quick-witted and determined. Dawn knows what she wants (to get rid of Seth) and she knows how to get it (using MC). She's never hidden her intentions, or lied about her objective. Dawn's distaste for deities is evident since the moment MC meets her, and she seems to faintly rejoice in reminding them. A very intelligent woman, Dawn loves street racing and causing some trouble online. She ‘works’ as a hacker.

Tropes: Rivals to friends to lovers, Forced proximity, (possible) Rivals with benefits.

Bruno

Hair: cropped short, dark brown/nearly black hair. Eyes: Light brown. Bruno uses glasses. Height: 181 cm Build: Average and soft, a bit chubby Skin: Bronze Race: half Hispanic, half East Asian

Personality: neurotic, idealistic and uptight. Otherwise known as MC's companion in jail, Bruno has been recently caught for a crime that is a product of his own very uncharacteristic and rare ambition: knowledge. He's a very intelligent individual, although not particularly assertive. This historian and divorced dad knows more about MC than he lets on, though Bruno insists he was just at the wrong time at the wrong time.

Tropes: Devotee/Worshipper X Deity, (Bruno's) Strangers to friends to lovers, Parent RO.

A Moonless

Hair: long (f!A, middle back / m!A and nb!A, shoulder-length), jellyfish cut. It's naturally brown with a colorfully dyed front. Eyes: Hazel. Height: f!A and nb!A, 170cm / m!A, 177cm. Build: Skinny Skin: Tan Race: Indigenous (unknown) Other: A has a few tattoos on their arms and legs.

Personality: caring, playful and a bit temperamental. Despite their new, much more modern look, A is and acts just like a human MC once knew and loved, Zain. A is protective of those they care about, and they're never afraid to speak their mind. They're Dawn's coworker at the Speakeasy, where VR services are offered to its clients.

Tropes: One-sided (MC) pining, Apparently reincarnated old flame/friend.

A’s hair inspo:

Vex

Hair: Buzz cut. Eyes: Naturally light brown, V has modified them to have synth eyes (they're a very pale green, with a faint glow). Height: 186 cm Build: Athletic Skin: Honey brown Race: Southeast Asian Other: More than half of V’s body has been modified. Their arms and legs are synthetic.

Personality: dependable, loyal and stoic. Vex is Dawn's older sibling, and while their relationship is not at its best, Dawn will always be V’s sole priority. They might not be the most affectionate person in the world, but when Vex cares they're willing to defy every norm they so dutifully abide. They've worked as a law enforcer for Lord Seth and the government for a few years.

Tropes: (V's) First love, Mutual pining, Slow burn.

Eris

Hair: coiled light brown afro. People know and recognize Eris by the wigs she wears, among which a white shoulder-length bob is the most iconic. Eyes: Dark brown. Eris often uses colored contact lenses (mostly pink, white and blue). Height: 173 cm Build: Skinny and slightly lean Skin: Ebony Race: Black Other: Eris has a few body modifications. Her left arm isn't flesh but metal.

Personality: charming, humorous and flirty. Eris (real name: Estelle Lawrence) is a celebrity in every sense of the word. She knows just what to say and how to say it, she's likable, friendly and very talkative. Beneath the public persona everyone adores, Eris is a complete mystery.

Tropes: Strangers to friends to lovers, (optional) friends with benefits, (optional, stc) Fake relationship.

Seth

Hair: long dark brown, with a few braids Eyes: light brown with golden specks Height: 193 cm Build: Lean, very muscled Skin: Olive Race: Middle Eastern Other: has a short beard

Personality: blunt, practical, and very reckless. Seth acts before he thinks (a trait that he and everyone find quite inconvenient) and seems to hate planning ahead. The God of War has a very dry/deadpan sense of humor. MC remembered him to be more outgoing, but Seth’s cold-hearted reputation precedes him.

Tropes: Enemies to lovers, Immortal love, Wrong place wrong time, (possible) ex-friend or ex-crush.

#stagnation if #stagnation #dawn #bruno #a moonless #eris #vex #seth

81 notes · View notes

annymation · 14 days

Note

Could you write an agnst scene inspired by this sketch please 👉👈?(no pressure of course)

ALED YOU’RE SO EVIL!!!

I’ve taught you well >:3

And yes I will GLADLY write something extra angsty for this! Hope I can make the illustration justice!

TW: Blood, character death.

It was cold.

The atmosphere was chilling in the deep dark woods of Rosas, but it wasn't the common weather of the night, there was something different. It was quiet, ominous, even the animals could feel something was coming, and perhaps that's because of the wishing star currently hiding from the evil sorcerer king.

So far, all Aster's attempts of stealing the magic staff failed miserably, at this point, the star boy is getting quite frustrated, and so was the king.

"I don't know about you, but I'm getting quite fed up by this game of tag, little one" Magnifico sensed Aster's presence nearby, he didn't even raise his voice, knowing the star could hear him. The king chuckled darkly as he walked through the woods "So how about you just come out and fight me like a man?"

Aster was hanging on a tree, far away from the king's line of sight. They smiled, for that comment just gave the star an idea on how to get under the king's nerves some more.

"I'm not a man though" Aster chimed in from the tree tops, his voice echoing all around.

The king didn't know where the voice was coming from as it seemed to come from all sides, but he could tell by the overconfidence in the star's tone that they were trying to throw him off his focus

"Well, yeah I know Bu-"

"I'm a star" Aster interrupted with a child like playfulness in his voice

"... Sure- But that's not my po-"

"This whole gender thing humans have going on is so weird honestly"

Magnifico could practically hear Aster's smirk, which peeved the evil king even more

"Listen here boy-"

"Not a boy heh eheheh" Aster giggled

"SHUT UP! UGH YOU ROTTEN BRAT!" The king was on his last nerve, much to Aster's delight

(Fun fact, this is a deleted scene I wanted to include in KOW to emphasize Aster is nonbinary (He/They). But the scene didn't fit, so I'm glad I can recycle it here)

Aster smiles victorious, but the king's next statement caught him off guard "You think you can beat me by vexing?! HA! This is not a battle of wits, lad! It’s a battle of strength, something you clearly lack!”

Lack strength? Why? Because he can’t hurt others? That’s not a weakness, Aster knows that, to inflict pain on others doesn’t make you strong, it just makes you cruel. Aster knows very well that strength comes from many places, and he’d NEVER be “strong” the way Magnifico is.

“I’ve got plenty of strength, actually” Aster claimed wisely “I’m strong in the ways that matter. Strong to care, to keep trying, and to trust my friends even if all odds are against us…” a smile grows as Aster thinks of yet another remark to throw at the king “Also, you’re one to talk hehheh without that magic staff you’d be as strong as any average nobody”

Oh, Magnifico was officially pissed off. He wanted to wipe that smile off the star’s face in any way possible… And Aster’s comment about “friends” just gave him an idea

“Oh yeees, your friends, of course… All 7 of them huh?” The king had an wicked smile as he casually brought up the 7 teens

“Yup! All sev-“ Aster stops himself onde realization hit him like a truck… “W-wait… How did yo-“

“If I were you, I’d be more careful with who I place my trust” Magnifico’s eyes scanned the trees above, trying to spot any glimpse of yellow light that could be Aster hiding. His wicked smile only grew as he noted the star’s silence, that was exactly the reaction he wanted “For example, trusting that the son of my most loyal knight wouldn’t spill your plans? Tsk tsk tsk not very strategic~”

“… Simon?” Aster muttered in a shaky whisper

The king and queen knew their plan?… So that means-

“Asha!”

Aster quickly jumped from the tree branch he was hiding, revealing his location to the king. But Magnifico had no time to capture the star, no, in the blink of an eye Aster was already flying towards the castle, leaving the sorcerer all alone in the dark woods

“……….. *sigh* Cursed be my monologuing mouth” Magnifico sighs in frustration as he began flying with his magic, back to the castle he calls home.

Aster flew faster than the wind itself, the usual optimistic star had his head filled with worst case scenarios of what Asha and the others could be going through. What if Magnifico set up a trap? Or what if the guards caught them?? Or even worse, what if the QUEEN caught them???

No no no. Aster can't think like that, Asha has a magic pencil and her sketchbook after all, she can handle herself without him just fine... Right?

Aster reached the top of the tower, and upon entering though the window, he was met with a shocking sight

Asha and Queen Amable were dueling with swords, Asha using a hand drawn one, while Amaya used one made of metal, that was strikingly sharp.

Aster instinctively called out to her

"ASHA!"

Aster doesn't know why they just did that.

Neither of the two women had noticed his presence before that scream.

Aster could've disarmed Amaya.

Aster could've just moved Asha out of the way.

There were so many things the star could've done...

But he chose to scream.

Making Asha lose her focus.

She took her eyes out of Amaya for one second, turning to the source of her lover's voice.

One second was all Amaya needed.

S L A S H

Asha didn't even have time to speak a word...

The piercing blade cut right through her heart.

The star did not move.

It was like time itself had stopped for him, and deep down, Aster wished it'd stay frozen. They didn't want this nightmare to keep going.

But it kept going, once the queen swiftly pulled the sword out of the girl, her wide smile was reminiscent of a crescent moon.

Once the sword left her body, Asha fell to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Aster finally felt movement return to their limbs, as he caught her in his arms just before she hit the floor. His protective embrace was so firm it was like he was trying to keep her from falling apart... She didn't hug him back.

"A-... As-ter" She croaked in agony, barely able to breathe and let alone speak, as she felt her body grow weaker and her mind become hazy.

"I'M HERE! I-IT'S OKAY! Yo-you're okay!" The star's panicked screams made Asha flinch, with everything sounding even louder in her head. Aster realized that, and with an wavering voice they try to comfort her "I'm sorry... I- I'm here with you now, just keep breathing-"

Aster's soothing words were muffled by the queen's sickening cackle, followed by an heartless rebuttal of the star's whispers

"Oh something tells me she won't "keep breathing" for much longer, dearie" there was no sign of pity or remorse behind those eyes, just sadistic mirth as she watched the girl's violet dress slowly turn crimson.

If only looks could kill. Aster tear filled eyes glared at Amaya like he wanted her to catch on fire, much like the burning flames that was set ablaze on his forever moving hair.

But even with all that rage, the star tried to ignore the older woman. Asha needed him now. They turned to look at her face and-

...

Her eyes no longer had that spark Aster fell in love with...

There was no glimmer of light...

No sign of life at all...

She was gone.

...

Aster just kept staring at Asha's vacant expression, his eyes wide and pupils shrunken. The star held onto her lifeless body carefully, shaky hands still caressing her hair as if she could still feel it.

Amaya just walked away from the two of them, a victorious smile plastered on her face, as she admired her own reflection on the now blood stained blade in her hands. She sat on a comfortable velvety chair in the study, to wait for her king's return.

She was not at all afraid of the literal star in the room, after all, her husband assured her they were harmless, a being literally incapable of hurting or killing anyone. So she was eager to just sit and cruelly watch and make fun of the boy's misery.

Aster was oh so aware that he couldn't hurt her... But he wanted to.

The young star could already hear the stars above, calling for him. They were watching through the open window, urging him to just leave, go back to the sky, accept he failed to save Asha but he can at least save Rosas by not letting the king capture him... But Aster didn't want to run.

He recalled an old song he heard once, a song that old stars sang when they were on their last dying breaths. The other stars always said he should never repeat that song in his young age, otherwise he'd be a danger to those around... But that's exactly what Aster wanted to be right now.

And so... Aster began to sing it.

(........... In case you don't know what this song is about, hi, welcome to the madness that is my rewrite, and HERE is a blog about some AUs I made. Go read it and skip straight to the "Aster turns himself into a blackhole" part to learn what this is all about, cause' I'll actually skip the whole Aster morphing into a blackhole bit, sorry, but basically same thing that happened in that AU blog happens here: He sings, slowly goes crazy and creepy, Amaya has her soul sucked out of her yaaaay let's move on)

Magnifico was pretty much sprinting on air as he used his magic to make himself levitate to the castle, it was a shame that his magic limited him to only fly as fast as he could run.

"*huff* *puff* Ough I'm too old for this" The king was panting as he reached the tower's window, his head lowered as he attempted to catch his breath, but he still chimed in to cheerfully call his wife "Darling I'm home~ heheh I trust you've given our little star a warm wel-"

The king shuts up with a gasp stuck on his throat. For once, he was speechless.

Asha's body was laying on the ground, that was to be expected, it's by far the least shocking thing in the room for him.

What truly made his world shatter was witnessing his queen laying lifeless on the floor, it was clear she was not breathing. The pain in his blue sky eyes ran so deep one could even feel sorry for him, but there was no one in the room to care about his tears...

For the only living thing in the room had no mercy left to give.

"So, your highness" the former star uttered the tittle with sarcasm, as he walked around Amaya's corpse, his pitch-black eyes stared at her almost as if they were admiring their own work. And he kept not making eye contact with the king as he asked "Is this strong enough for ya?"

It was cold.

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

Very proud of how this one turned out, thank you @uva124 for the inspiration!

@gracebeth3604 @emillyverse @signed-sapphire @oh-shtars @rascalentertainments

#wish rewrite #wish reimagined #kingdom of wishes #ask #angst

53 notes · View notes