#i mean scales and feathers and hair are all the same so | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

safination · 3 months

Text

Partners in Death...and Life.

Part I: Radio's not dead

| Part 2: Radio Will Be Dead if He Doesn’t Explain Himself. | Masterlist| ao3 Pairings: Alastor x wife!reader Tags: fem! reader, established relationship, human!alastor, hopefully not but just in case ooc!alastor (I'm trying my best to keep him as canon as possible) acroace!alastor

"Alastor! Pleasure to meet you. Quite a pleasure!" One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. You chuckle. "I don't think it will be quite the pleasure you think." "Is that so?" Alastor's smile remains constant. "And why would that be? You show him the tray you're holding "I'm here to do your sutures"

You pass the tissue box—the third one already.

Your patient blows his nose, rubbing snot off his snout. He has to stretch his arms to reach his nose. Alligators are known for their long snouts. His nostrils flare when he sniffles. Used tissue is discarded on the pastel-pink floor despite a pastel-pink trashcan stationed by his webbed feet. It’s been the same pattern for the last fifteen-minutes.

Tissue, Sneeze. Floor.

“—and I have this…uh…like this real bad itch on my eye. I keep rubbing and rubbing but it doesn’t do shit! My eyesight’s gotten worse—It’s already fucked up but this is just different. My roommate hissed at me about getting blood all-over the carpet floors if I kept scratching my scales. Oh. Oh! I’ve been snee—achew!” Alligator snot lands on the pastel-pink floors of the clinic.

Your eyes twitch.

He takes another tissue and waves it around his head. “The top of my head is killing me. Ya’know where that is right?” He blows his nose. “It’s right here,” he says, inching his head closer to you. “The last nurse I went to was blind as a bat! Literally, she had the wings and everything. It was kinda hot.”

“I’m well aware of the location of your head,” you say. “You can lean back now.”

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor

Tissue. Sneeze. Floor.

Pastel pink floor.

Underneath the mix of feathers and hair strands, the bustling of the waiting room catches your ear. Someone curses, booming and violent at another waiting patient. A cough, a sigh, a barf. Painful curses erupt after that. You bring a hand to your ears, wincing as your eardrum rings.

Pentagon City’s best and biggest hospital needs better doors, but those lazy sloth fuckers at the top invested at the first material they found. The alligator sneezes into another tissue. He flicks it with his wrist, and it hits the pastel-pink wallpaper adorned with closed eyes. Maybe Belphegor should be the sin of Pride instead, considering all items are covered in her symbol.

“I really feel like t’was those exterminators ya’know?”

You do not, in fact, know. Half of what this young man says is incomprehensible.

His snout sways left to right when he shakes his head. “It’s only my second one, and this was a close call, and uh…well, ever since then I’ve been like this. One even got to my roommate. “

You hum, leaning back on your chair. You should petition to for thicker doors. And while you’re at it, better interior design, and better paint—something that isn’t pastel pink.

“Ugh, and it’s so not cool that this new roommate of mine’s been shedding since the day they moved in,” he says. “Speaking of shedding, do you think it’s because of those exterminators? Do you think they like spread some sort of weird pollen to make us sick? They’re totally the type to that.”

You take your pen—your pastel-fucking-pink pen—and poke his alligator sinuses.

Hell does have its own brand of humor. You gave your 20s to studying human anatomy, only to die and find yourself with the need to re-learn the boring part of biology. (Two books on reptiles, four on mammals, and fifteen on sea creatures.)

“YEOWCH!” His teeth stick out again. You do not know what this means. “What kind of nurse ar—“

“Doctor.”

“—you? That’s not the top of my head!”

You push back on of the feathers on your head. “Your roommate ‘hissed’ at you? And they’ve been shedding fur for two weeks now?"

“…Yeah…?”

You stare at him. “Have you ever considered that you’re allergic to your roommate?”

“Ooooooooooh,” he says. ‘Yeah, I was allergic to cats back when I was alive.”

You grab your (pastel-fucking-pink) prescription pad from the desk drawer. “Control it with some antihistamine. Four pills every 12 hours.”

His teeth start showing. You’re not sure if he’s frowning. It’s hard to tell. “Pills, really?”

You toss what you were writing into the massive pile of germs, mucus, and tissue. “I can give you a nasal spray. I’ll flush the mucus then insert a spray that prevents build-up,” you say. “They last for two weeks and then you’ll need to come back.”

He grabs the last tissue from the box. It still lands on your floor. “Ma’am nurse, do you have any more of this?”

You sigh and reach for a fourth box of tissue. “It’s doctor,” you say. “We keep nasal sprays here in the clinic. I’ll just grab one and you’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

“No can do,” he says. “Before I died, my coach told me to stay away from that non-organic shit. It’ll mess us up real bad apparently. All those steroids.”

“You have phencyclidine sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Pheny—what?”

“…Angel Dust.”

“The porn star?”

“The drug. You have drugs sticking out of your coat pocket.”

“Come on, nurse—”

Threads erupt from your fingers. It snakes around his wrist, coiling and twisting. He jerks his arm away and cries out when you tighten your hold. Your threads wrap around his legs. It pulls against his waist. Magic binds his arms, and tightens around every joint he owns. You stop, only when the alligator struggles, trashing against the clinic chair.

His teeth bare and he snaps at whatever he can reach. You tug on one of the thousands of strings digging into his skin. His jaw snaps shut, and it will stay shut. Another tug and his back stretches to straighten. You move your fingers as if a piano laid before you, and he sits up like a good puppet.

Another month of clinic dury will be your punishment if those sloth from down below are lucid enough to do their jobs. Sadly, killing this idiot would have you suspended for three months.

“I am a doctor,” you tell him. “Do not make me repeat myself.”

The tension on your strings marks even the few scales scattered on his body. He’s a real idiot if he continues to struggle.

Delicate movements of your fingers bring him forward, his back still strained, and tilt his snout at a forty-five-degree angle. Your threads elongate as you move toward the clinic drawers. It loosens around you, careful at keeping you able to move freely. It’s one of the handier parts of your magic.

You shake your hands and the threads detach. It sticks to the floor to keep the alligator as your puppet. You scrub your hands thoroughly before taking the nasal spray and filling with with distilled water.

You place on nitrite gloves. It’s always best when dealing with bodily substances such as mucus. You place a pan underneath and jam the tube up his nostrils, hosing his sinuses with water. The tension of his binding keeps him still. (If you ignore his whining, then that’s your business. The brawl you heard from the waiting room drowned it all out anyway.) He starts breathing better when all the snot flushes to the pan.

“Finished,” you say with satisfaction. You grab your prescription pad and write one for a nasal spray. “I cleared the mucus buildup so you shouldn’t feel any more headaches. The spray will keep your nose clear for as long as you use it. Come back if you start to feel any discomfort. For the rashes just get cream.” You point at the pastel pink door. “The exit’s right there.”

The threads dissolve in the air. He rubs his wrist, trying to soothe the red marks that your strings bring. You hand him the signed prescription.

He doesn’t close the door on his way out.

The broom and dustpan are hidden in one of the taller cabinets—pastel-pink like everything else in the room.

(Well, not everything. The radio sitting on the corner of the counter gives a splash of red into the room.)

You sweep the tissues into the dustpan. Your control over your strings is much more proficient when living beings are involved. Inanimate objects whip around when you use your magic on them, and radios have been difficult to purchase recently. It’s more convenient to clean using your own hands.

“Tagatha,” you call out when the floor is clean. “You can bring in the next one in.”

Silence is your reply.

“Tagatha?”

Your ears quirk. The noises are faint—an occasional cough, silent weeping, and muted voices coming from the television. You peek out the door, eyeing the crowd formed around the corner of the hall where a pAstel-pInK television mounts on the wall.

The door closes with a faint click. You sink into the cushions of the office chair. Vox’s yapping bore you. It was probably some man-child debate about the new extermination date. Although… those serialized dramas he produces, sadly, are interesting enough to be consumed. If asked for your honest opinion, you’d tell them that they were a hot pile of smelly garbage, but you like to leave it playing mindlessly in the background.

Your husband will throw the television out the window the first chance he’ll get.

Too bad he’s occupied.

You grab a piece of paper from the drawer. Management is forcing you to write a thousand-word formal apology. There are about three-hundred words left to write.

Getting caught dissecting the dead bodies from the morgue is a mistake that won’t be repeated. One dead body and suddenly those lazy fuckers have diligence weaved into their DNA. The body was already dead, and it’s not every day a chance to poke around a chimera’s entrails appears. The sinner would contribute to something meaningful at least. You’re stuck on clinic duty until you dot your last sentence, and not a moment before

The coffee’s cold now, but consumable.

You reach across the desk, feeling for the knob of the radio. You twist until you feel the clink. Music fills the air—the same twenty-five songs on a loop. You stare at the radio for a moment.

Just… a small… single moment.

On your kitchen counter, that second cup of coffee should be cold by now. It’s always cold when you trudge through the door. It’s been cold and untouched for years.

Yet, without fail, that second cup you brew will always be waiting for its owner.

“Salutations!” You snap your head to the radio. “Good to be back on the air.”

…Huh? The feather on your hair bristle. You swipe the radio, your hold on it feather-light. You turn the knob responsible for volume. The static noise stings your eardrums.

“—ile since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast. Sinners rejoice!”

Murmurs erupt outside your door. You blink and find yourself slamming it open. One foot after another, one step after the other, brings you closer to the television. Your shoulder throbs when you bump into someone, but you keep pushing until you see Vox and his tacky suit enlarged on the screen.

“What a dated voice!”

A reply comes from the radio. “Instead of a clout-chasin’ mediocre video podcast.”

Your feather rises higher. Laughter escapes your lips, it leaves a dry taste. That…that ṁ̵̭͔̲̙̦͎̝̜̲̠͙͇̂̏̃̐̂̓̊̂̕̕o̴̢̭̝̙̤̬͚͐̅͗̌̇̂̌̕ţ̷̛̝̂̿h̶̯̟̙̲̘̟̟͙͔̔̋͊̋̿̐͘͜͜ę̶̗̰͔̫͔̗̝̘̻̰̓̓̈̊͜r̵̨̂̏f̶͖̻̱̺͕̹̫̭̠̚u̸̬̺̯̟̦͖̅̂́́̌̚͝ć̴̖͙̰͈͕̉͌̈́́̈̔̀̉̍́͜͠ḳ̴̨̧̗̫̗͖̞̟̑͌̂̀̈́̀͆͒ę̷̛͓̼̟͍̆̆́͆̾͛͝r̵̹̮̤͓̗̹̈́̎̉͌̾͌̏͑̋̚͝.

“Doctor!” Tagatha screeches when she spots you. “I am so sorry. I’ll bring in the next one right away!”

Your eyes are trapped by the screen and your ears by the radio. “It’s alrig—”

Tagatha grabs the closest person to her and shoves you back into the clinic. The door slams shut just as everything goes dark and silent. (Well, it’s not completely dark, once your eyes adjust you can still see as if the lights were open. Another small perk to this body). Your radio, along with the power, stopped working.

“Oh my!” Your new patient bleats.

“We have generators,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure the power will come on in a minute.”

The cushions of the chair do little to ease your nerves. You pat your hair, trying to get it in control. A pile of feathers starts forming on the PASTEL-FUCKING PINK FLOORS. T̴̹̜͇̅̅͗͜H̶̰̗̄Ơ̶̡̡̻̗͖̋̎̓̓S̴̨͉̝̻͋̽̆́͆Ẹ̸̡̢͐͐͠ ̷̨͚̞̙̀͒̆̆͊Ŭ̵͕̲̪͇͓͐̚G̷̹̝̦̬͊͒Ḷ̶̭͓̎̏̈͘Y̶͇̟̍̉̚ ̷̟͎͕̞͂͑̂̇À̶͉̍̄̈̚S̸͖̖͕͑̏͛̈́S̶͚̤̼̯̀ ̶̻͆P̷̬̝̉Ä̵͕́͊̌S̸̢͍̆̓͝Ṫ̸͖̲̠̾̉͜͝E̷̺͆L̷͖̏͐́͝ ̶̛̟̽͝P̷̪̔͜I̴̹̥̹͖̮͒́̏͘N̸̳̙̼̾̆̿Ķ̶̟̞̜̉͊̓̂̚ ̵͈̬̃̿̄̈́̋F̵̨̨̼̫̘͘L̸̙̠͎̓̆́O̷̧̘͚͉̤̓O̷̤̟̱̼̤͋̍͐R̷̰̝̓͌̌Ș̵̲̝̈́ "Excuse me?” You will paint this room red with the blood of management. You tap your foot again, and again, and again. “…Doctor?”

Your neck snaps in her direction, eyes wide and staring.

“The… uh… the lights are back.”

You blink at your patient—huh, she’s a goat. “I apologize,” you say, smiling. “Please, tell me, what brings you here in this hellish afternoon.”

She holds up her bleeding arm. “It’s been like this since the extermination,” she explains. “Some angle got me. Luckily, I was able to run off before I was finished. I thought it would heal on its own like it usually does but it just hasn’t. It keeps bleeding.”

“Well, angel-induced injuries are my specialty,” you say. Tucked away to the side, a mirror hangs. You catch your reflection, and you blow your hair away from your vision, your red sclerae “This will cost you. Injuries caused by angels are…difficult to stitch, but not impossible—not for me at least.”

“Oh, yes.” She bleats one more “Dear God, where are my manners? I’m sorry can I ask for your name?”

Your smile widens. “Of course. I’m—"

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

“Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you. Quite a pleasure!” One hand reset on his chest, and the other shoots into the air. It’s the bow you did in high school, back when you wanted theater to pay your bills. A performer’s bow.

You chuckle. “I don’t think it will be quite the pleasure you think.”

“Is that so?” Alastor’s smile remains constant. “And why would that be?”

You show him the tray you’re holding. “I’m here to do your sutures.” He steps closer to take a peek. You watch him as his eyes gloss over your matches then your needle driver, then the alcohol lamp. His smile wobbles when he lands on the syringe.

You move the tray, dropping it down on the little cart by the examination chair.

“There’s no need to worry.” You beam at him. “I have the steadiest hands in this city.”

“Hmmmm,” he says. “You must be the other doctor then.”

“Not at all.” You point to your uniform, where the initial ‘NP’ is embroidered next to your name. “Just the nurse practitioner.”

He takes a closer look and reads your name. “Then I have no reason to fret. None at all! In my experience, doctors usually have their noses buried in their books. It’s the nurses that actually get the hands-on experience.” Alastor’s hands move when he talks. “What’s such a talented practitioner doing in such a dinged-up clinic?”

“Management caught me in the morgue dissecting the dead—It’s how I practice my stitches.”

“Really, now?”

You bark a laugh. “Not at all—I’m far too smart to get caught.”

“A witty sense of humor and a steady hand! I am in good hands, indeed.”

You take a seat on the rolling stool. “Yes, yes,” you say, waving your wrist. “You make fine compliments, Sir. I’ll be sure to be extra gentle.” You point towards the examination chair. “But, please hurry to the chair. You’re dripping blood on my floor.”

Alastor glances down. His eyebrows furrow as he glares at where the blood seeps from his sleeve … almost… almost as if he’s angry. “My apologies,” he says, allowing his blood to drip to the floor.

Alastor shrugs off his coat. It’s rare to see such a dark red—only a few choose such a color. You hum. Alastor is a well-dressed gentleman. Lovely. Those are your favorite kind. He drapes his coat over the spare chair, ignoring the coat racks the clinic provides.

You turn away and wheel yourself closer to one of the drawers on the counter. It takes two attempts until you find the stash of sterile gloves. “Take your seat when you’re ready,” you say. “I’ll take a look once you are.” You place the gloves on the little green cart, right next to your tray.

Alastor takes his seat, landing with an audible ‘humph’. He smiles at you, sleeves rolled and arm ready. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

You hold your palm out. “May I?”

His smile wobbles—it’s a small change in expression that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking. “Of course.”

Along his forearm, a long and sharp cut wounds him. The sight of grime that covers the opened abrasions makes you inwardly cringe. You need to clean these as soon as possible. “Why was this not checked sooner?” You rest his hands on the armrest and use your foot to bring the cart closer. “This looks old, and not at all like a freshly deep cut. I prefer it when patients come to me with fresh wounds.”

You grab a bowl with distilled water and pour in a sterile solution. “I assumed it would heal on its own,” he tells you. “It was quite a surprise when it did not.”

“I need to clean this before you die of infection.” You dip his arm into the bowl. He remains silent, but you feel the tension of his muscles under your fingers. “Hopefully there will be no next time, but just in case, next time, please don’t wait a month.”

He laughs, and there, you faintly see it—a twitch in his eye. “It was only a week actually.”

You smile to yourself. “I’d prefer it if it was only a few hours.” You dry his arm with a soft towel, his arm still tensed underneath your touch. “There, much better.” You release your hold to go to a shelf filled with different labeled vials and select the one you need. With the clean syringe, you draw the contents of the vial. “You’ll feel a bit of a pinch,” you say. You tap its side. “It’s morphine— wouldn’t want you screaming and writhing”

You study his face for a second. There’s just that same dismissively polite smile.

“You can look away if you wish,” you tell him. “It’s why we pin such…er…interesting decorations around…. May I?”

You feel it again when Alastor inches his arm closer. His muscles tense under your touch. It’s almost as if he wishes to pull away. You keep your hold feather-light, but firm.

“Are you a hunter by any chance?” you ask. You don’t prick him—not yet. Not when tension coils in your hold.

“You could describe it that way,” he says, chuckling like he’s told a humorous joke. (You don’t understand why.)

“I figured you were.”

Alastor slides his glasses up the bridge of his nose. You inject the morphine into his skin, right inside the soft pink tissue. Good. Alastor relaxes when he speaks, it seems. “I do love a good hunt,” he says. “How ever did you know.”

You release your hold and discard the syringe. “Your hands are rough,” you tell him. “And hunters always have this silly notion that injuries magically heal given enough time—along with farmers, actually. Although, farmers are usually much more deluded.”

He flashes that same polite smile. “I'm guessing you’re not a hunter then?”

“How ever did you know?”

You watch his eyes flicker to your palms as you re-arrange the needles. “Delicate hands.”

You flash the same polite smile right back at him. You take a match, and light the alcohol lamp.

Soap spreads all over your palms and up your arm as you scrub your hands. You slip your hands into the sterilized gloves, careful not to contaminate the surface. “I’ll begin now.”

Alastor hums in reply.

You take a scapple and pass it over the flame. You poke him, lightly, but he doesn’t react. Satisfied, you cut back fibrous tissue underneath the skin. You replace the scapple with a needle driver. There was a quiet click when you pinch the tiny curved needle. You pass it over the flame as well. “Can you do me a favor? Can you tell me how many stars are on that wall over there?

Alastor turns to look at you, but you block his eyes with your palm, shielding him from your stiches.

“The wall isn’t over here.”

“I assure you, I’m not afraid of a silly needle.”

“I’m sure you are,” you say. “However, you’ll forgive me if I don’t take your word for it. The last three people who said that took one look and started squirming. One even fainted. It makes your life miserable, and my job harder.

He counts.

“Out loud please.”

He does as he’s told, rather reluctantly.

Hands steady and determination set, you pierce the soft pink tissue with your needle The tissue nearest to the surface is always delicate. You’re certain not to catch any fat in your suture, for fat dies, and a loose stitch is useless. “Well, isn’t this fun!” he says. “I really feel nothing.”

Your concentration does not break. “I don’t remember there only being twenty-six stars. I’m positive there are more.”

“Why is someone as talented as you only a nurse practitioner?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a nurse…,” you reply, tugging on the needle. “Well…we…. We certainly could be paid more.”

“Why not become an actual doctor then?”

“My father couldn’t afford it. He wouldn’t send me….and…hm…” You smoothly pull the suture thread and begin the next stitch. “And I enjoy this.”

He looks down at you. “Is this all you’ll be satisfied with?”

You focus back on your stitching, hiding your glare. You bring your needle underneath the flesh, making sure to catch the soft tissue. You’re doing an uncommon stitch, but it would be a shame to leave a scar. “You sound familiar.”

You pause to look at him, His smile brightens, and it actually looks like a genuine elated smile. “Why, I’m a radio broadcaster. You might have heard me there.”

“Oh yes...” you hum, turning back to your stitching. “Alastor... I remember now. The ladies and I listen to your broadcast as we do our crafts.”

“Knitting?”

“I personally prefer embroidery,” you say. “I get to practice my stitching and make beautiful art.” You pull the thread and begin a new one, stitching his skin like they were shoe laces. “You’re quite the humorous gentleman, I must say, and quite a lovely taste in music. We enjoy your broadcast very much”

“Do you have any of your artworks here?” he asks you. “I would be eager to see them.”

“Maybe next time.” You tug the suture, and his laceration snaps to a close. You tie a knot and snip the end. “Unfortunately, I’ve finished your stitches.”

“Next time then.”

You discard your gloves and go back to the shelf with the vials. You fill up another syringe. You jam the needle into his skin, not enough to hurt, just enough to scare him a bit. “To prevent infection.”

He jerks away from you. “What happened to that gentle touch of yours?”

“It’s still a sharp object, Sir. They tend to hurt.” You smirk and carefully clean the remaining blood on the skin around the sutured wound. You take a bandage from your cart and begin wrapping it around his forearm, covering your sutures. “Don’t forget to drink your pills every 8 hours, with a meal in your stomach, preferably. Replace the dressing every three days. You can come back here or if you’re able to do so, you can change them yourself. Any by the good God, please, visit the nearest hospital should this incident repeat.”

Alastor slides off the examination chair. He grabs his coat as if you didn’t just stitch him close. You start packing when you notice him fixing his bow tie, and smoothing his hair. Huh…There’s blood on his coat, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Like he’s used to having it there. Like it’s just something he’s learned to live with. “You were wrong by the way.”

“Pardon?”

“It was quite the pleasure to meet you.”

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Next Part |Part 2: Radio Will be Dead if He Doesn't Explain Himself| Hello, welcome to the hell that's been plaguing my head. In case you didn't know Belphegor is the ruler of the sloth ring, and she seems to be in charge of medical-related stuff in Hell. I have the story mostly plotted out, it's just a matter of writing it down. If you have any questions, ask away

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #Hazbin hotel x reader #Alastor x reader #Alastor x wife!reader #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #alastor x wife reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor #radio demon #Alastor demon form #hazbin hotel headcanons

641 notes · View notes

raven-at-the-writing-desk · 1 month

Text

Vil, Jack: a Strength that Shines

Ayyy, it’s the childhood friends (?) from the Shaftlands!! It feels like forever since we last got any significant interactions between Vil and Jack. Nice to see them chatting again~

bdjwvsjsGuabs THAT GROOVY THOUGH… Vil looks so judgmental and dismissive 😭 Channeling all his Mean Girl energy to diss Neige Snow White, lol

A Tale as Old as Time.

Four sides drew together to form a glittering box. A lovely maiden rested within the coffin-like casing of the photo frame. Her lips as red as blood, her hair as dark as ebony, and her skin as fair as snow.

She was circled by foliage, her sun-dappled face tilting up, disarmed by some distant call. The girl cupped her dainty hands together, housing a small baby blue bird in her palms. Kindness, goodness, grace—she exuded all of them.

Vil scoffed, tossing golden hair over his shoulder. Her smile was reminiscent of a rival celebrity, one pure as a dove's feathers.

So carefree, so cheery.

How irritating, he sighed.

"One ought to be more cautious in the woods. Who knows what dangers might lurk nearby, wishing to enact harm upon her.

"For a glamour shot though... Hmm, yes. This composition is acceptable. The sunlight is angled upon her face in a pleasing way—it casts a golden glow on her pale visage and highlights the highest points: cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead. The impression is one of total innocence.”

A soft grunt sounded from beside him.

"She's... shining," Jack commented plainly. His critique, clipped. “Didn’t you do a photo shoot like this recently? Similar place and everything.”

Vil’s beauty was momentarily marred by a grimace. “Yes, as promotional material for an upcoming film. However, the feel of it was completely different than what you see here.”

Shadows instead of sunlight. Temptation in the place of innocence.

He, poised amid the creeping branches and dark leaves, a tatter cloak clinging to his curves. A single, crimson apple in his grasp, a sultry look directed at the camera.

He tried to picture himself like the girl in the frame countless times over. Kneeling among the woodland creatures, smiling so serenely. Any pro could pull it off—he included.

But the image never turned out right in his mind.

Not the right amount of sweetness, not natural enough.

Not quite the same.

Not at all.

Blood, sweat, tears. Sacrifices made at the altar. Yet still, the world yielded nothing but broken promises and shattered dreams. The splintered parts and shambles of them, he gathered, forming his own makeshift hope and determination.

He couldn’t give in here.

Vil’s perfectly groomed brows scrunched up.

“I shall have to endeavor to work even harder. I’m not satisfied with things as they are now.”

“Heh.” Jack cocked a small, lopsided grin. “Keeping on the grind… That’s just like you. You've got this."

“Obviously. Nothing will get accomplished otherwise.” Vil’s eyes passed over to the beastmen. “Presumably, you are doing the same."

"Yeah. Haven't skipped a day of my training regimen." Jack slapped a hand on his bicep, which fit snuggly in his glittering white sleeve. "We'll take out RSA next track and field meet!"

"I'd certainly hope so. If I am to taste sweet revenge, I'd prefer it be by my own hand... but I trust you to deliver in my place. I expect good news when next we speak. Do not disappoint me."

"Yessir!" Jack's tail wagged enthusiastically. He stood alert, saluting like a loyal knight. “I'll do my best!"

“Then it looks as though we both have our long-term goals set.” The dorm leader planted his hands on his waist—slim, cinched.

"Yours is...?"

"To surpass myself." Vil jerked his chin toward the girl in the painting. "To shine so brightly that my name not only goes down in history, but overshadows that which was written before."

"That's some big dream you have." Jack shook his head. "The scale's beyond what I can imagine. But knowing how stubborn you are, Vil-senpai... You seriously won't quit until you make that dream come true."

"My, my. Stubborn, am I?" He smirked, arms crossed. "I do believe it takes one to know one.

"You stand back and watch. I'll show you just how dazzling I can be."

His eyes held a steeliness to them. It was matched only by the same in Jack’s. Two strong men and their wills, meeting on equal grounds.

Jack simply nodded—an acknowledgment, an acceptance, of his upperclassman’s confidence. Overwhelming, like a powerful wave, a strong storm, a blazing inferno. He almost felt compelled to drop to one knee, to kneel before such a presence.

Vil turned away from the painting, his arms unraveling from one another. His movements were graceful, nearly ballet-like. And his expression—

Jack caught him mid-laugh. The snooty, airy kind, half-sincere, half-sarcastic. Brows upturned, mouth twisted in a faux sympathetic smile. Flaxen waves framing his lovely features.

His lips moved.

“I’ll topple you from your throne,” Vil vowed.

It was then that Jack noticed.

Vil-senpai's shining like the fair maiden.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Vil Schoenheit #Jack Howl #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #something no one asked for #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #spoilers #Vil birthday takeover

161 notes · View notes

oncewhenalongtimeago · 3 months

Note

hello! i have a request for 'SbITILYP', if you don't mind. how about the reader trying to do something for hiccup to impress him/show him that she likes him? hiccup has been doing a lot of things for the reader so I think it'd be cute seeing the reader awkwardly attempt to do the same :)

Sorry, but I Think I Lost Your Plot pt 28

Pairing: Onesided!Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III x Modern!Fem!Reader

Words: 1110

Things come to a simple end.

Tags: Time Travel, Reader into Movieverse, final part, half-fill

“I’m surprised it went this smooth,” Stoick grumbled, voice hollow with distance, “With Alvin-... I’d expect something from Hiccup, at least. That boy…”

“He’s ‘Too busy, eh?” Gobber asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively, grunting and hopping as he did it, reattaching his prosthetic to his leg nub, “Prolly been off mackin’ on tha’ girlfriend o’ his.”

Right… Alvin.

“Ah,” Hiccup was flushed, rubbing his neck and brushing against already messy hair, “Yeah, I forgot about that…”

Toothless was around somewhere.

He glanced to the side, where you stood, equally embarrassed and mussed, shoulders hunched slightly, very red in the face.

You shifted in your skirts, resisting the urge to use your boot to scratch at the back of your thigh, which had been itchy for a little while, since you brushed up against some plant walking back from the forest.

You were just around the corner from Hiccup’s Dad -a bright and heavily painted corner; turns out his whole ‘painting the houses’ thing caught on, which meant a lot less of things burning down- though he wasn’t sure if you’d heard.

All the talk of criminal executions was depressing, though you missed it, lost in the puppy-love haze phase of your new relationship. Still, it was kind of a bummer. It was for the best that Alvin was gone, though. Less danger in that for you too -not just the riders or Stoick or anything else.

You hoped it didn’t bum Hiccup out too bad. You noticed it had been getting him down, and you’d done your best.

Your fingers curled together, hooked securely and delicately to his by the fingerpads, and you and Hiccup stood close enough that you could feel his body heat through his tunic though not yet enough for the two of you to be touching by the arm.

You’d just gotten back from a successful trip to the glowing algae pool.

His vest was slightly displaced and you were both sure he’d lost a bead or two.

In one hand you held the little Fireworm, wrapped in a carefully made chainmail blanket -it was hard to come up with something that wouldn’t pinch skin or scales- also wrapped in a layer of leather so that you could hold it comfortably.

It squirmed slightly.

He scuffed his prosthetic slightly, recently oiled, recently reforged with treads beaten into the bottom, which did a lot to help with gripping wet wood while you were walking hand-in-hand around Berk.

You wore a red tunic -his, really, he’d lent it to you again after you’d gotten some muck on yours- and a string of your own beads on leather cord tied around your neck, something Hiccup had picked nonchalantly from the forge and used to help make you a necklace.

He’d tried to make you a bead once, but he wasn’t much of an artisan.

“I mean, me too,” You huffed, feather swaying as you shifted, attached to a stick like a pom-pom on one end of a cat toy, “We’ve been busy with other things, though- Not like what Gobber said- I mean, you know…”

Hiccup nodded, though he was still looking forward. This was all still super new for the both of you.

It would feel that way for a while.

You were still in disbelief- it was a wonder to you why he and Astrid didn’t pair up before.

He traced the collar of his scarf slightly as Sharpshot lolled lazily by your feet, slightly wet and glow-ey by his lower half whenever he teased the shade with his tail.

You knew Hiccup was bummed Devastated that the Screaming Death had destroyed all his hard work -a good deal of the things he’d built up in the village for you, though with some hard work and dirt pushed under your fingernails it had been fixed up pretty easy.

He seemed happier now. It hadn’t really been something you’d planned but you’d distracted him somewhat- your relationship was still very, very new, still.

And you made him a gift.

You’d tried crafting again. It was very scratchy and you’d definitely not done a very good job making sure the whole thing was even but it was a nice fading rainbow, the yarn dyed in all the colors in Roy G. Biv in darker, neutral tones.

“Looks like you fixed things right up, ‘Dragon Master,’” You stuck out your tongue at him, looking smug.

It -the scarf- covered the bottom of Hiccup’s chin. It didn’t really fit him but he wore it with pride, which made something flutter around in your guts in a way that was almost uncomfortable.

You predicted it would be around a week before he took it off.

Hiccup had unintentionally returned the favor. You got a satchel from him, small and attached to a belt with norse knots imprinted around the edges, sown neatly together. It was sort of like a fanny pack but with more buckles and also cool.

“Did you really have to use that?” Hiccup said, leaning his head towards you momentarily.

Sharpshot churr-ed in the squawky squeaky way only a terror could, blinking up at the feather attached to your hip as you adjusted your hand in Hiccup’s.

The small Fireworm in your other hand blinked beadily as it sometimes very rarely did.

“It is tacky,” You admitted, though that was definitely why you used it, “But you did a good enough job to deserve it, not that you have to do anything to deserve things.”

You gently bumped into him with your hip.

And he did a great job. Berk was back to how it was just before the Screaming Death -most of the roses ended up being fine, and the plants that were lost were easily replaced and reinforced by spiked metal fences and wooden pikes.

You’d also added a few new planters. Many of the houses stationed under ramps were popular real estate now for metal tins for glowing mushroom growing, which you knew there many new homeowners were proud of, not just because of the fact that it made them a lot of money.

The mushrooms were great for paint making and the extra roofing kept dragons from jumping over houses and messing with tiling.

It was heavy maintenance, but they were all Vikings. For a modern girl like you, you found it was all worth it, if not just for the convenience.

Living on Berk was rough, but it was good and different now. Even with all the Outcasts and the dragons and the hunters and everything else missing.

And you were happy.

And maybe Hiccup’s crush hadn’t ended up being so onesided after all.

#httyd #how to train your dragon #x reader #fanfiction #hiccup haddock #httyd imagine #hiccup x reader #fem reader #female reader #toothless

61 notes · View notes

forlorn-crows · 1 year

Text

Mushy May Day 8: First Time

SMALL DICK MOUNTAINDEW LETS GOOOO

Pairings: Mountain/Dew

Words: 2170

"So, do you have fins like, all over or?"

Mountain runs his fingertips along the smooth gills at Dewdrop's throat, feeling how they give under his touch. The tiny fins that run alongside them undulate under Mountain’s attention.

He’s stared at them ever since their first meeting, longing to touch. He hasn’t, all this time. But they’re both relaxed in bed, sharing a weak joint between them and talking about anything that floats across their minds. It was the puff of smoke that escaped Dew’s flared gills that caught the earth ghoul’s eye, the weed making it easy to just . . . reach out and touch.

Dew makes a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat. “Not everywhere. I mean, you’ve seen these, and the ones on my arms and stuff.” The water ghoul holds one arm out, twisting it this way and that to show off the long lines of fins running along the underside of his forearm. “I have a couple more on my ribs and my back. I think.”

Mountain hums, leaning back to run his hand down Dew’s arm. He cradles it by the wrist in one hand, tracing the fins with the other. They’re pointier than the ones that surround his gills, but not by much. Still flexible and translucent, and the same minty hue.

“Would you show me?” Dew’s fingers twitch in Mountain’s hand. His gaze is an indiscernible mix of emotions, flitting everywhere but the earth ghoul’s eyes. His silence weighs heavy between them.

Mountain’s hand stills over his arm. “Sorry, you don’t have to—”

"You really want to see?" The look that settles on his face is almost prideful, fins rippling along his arms.

Mountain smiles at the question. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, taking back his arm so he can pull his t-shirt over his head. Mountain can see the ghost of a smile on the water ghoul’s own face, hidden behind the fabric. He tosses his shirt to the other side of the bed. “You’ve just never asked before, so . . . I don’t know,” Dew shrugs.

Dew preens under Mountain’s gaze, angling his torso so he can get a better look at the fins running along his slightly protruding ribs. These fins are delicate too, as short as the ones framing his gills. But they're fluffier, curly almost, and accented by shiny indentations of the skin.

“Are those—?”

“Scales, yeah,” Dew answers for him, scooting closer so the earth ghoul can see the iridescent flakes scattered between the fins. Mountain runs a finger along them, feather-light. They’re the same light gray tone as his skin, almost indistinguishable at first. But the shine reveals their shape. The scales are softer than he’d expect, not as rough as an actual fish—smooth, more flesh-like.

Dew huffs a laugh as he traces a line near his waist, jumping slightly. “Tickles,” he says with a grin. Mountain notes the hint of a blush creeping up along his collarbone as he motions for him to turn around. The water ghoul shuffles so his back is to him, scooping up his long silvery hair and pulling it over one shoulder.

“I think there’s scales back there, too,” Dew offers. Mountain leans in close, close enough for his breath to fan out over the long singular fin along his spine. This one is curly like the ones on his ribs and whiter in color. Indeed, scales flank the length of this fin too, most concentrated at the center of his back and spanning more randomly outward.

“Wish I had stuff like this,” Mountain muses, running his hand over Dew’s spine.

He arches a little at the touch, a stray strand of hair falling over his back. “What, you don’t have, like, patches of moss all over you or something?” Dew chuckles.

The earth ghoul shuffles back, encouraging the other to turn back around. “Uh no, not really,” he laughs. “All I have are freckles, I guess. And the big sheep horns.”

There’s a little gleam in the water ghoul’s eyes as he reaches over for another puff of the joint. “Can I see?” he asks, putting it to his lips and taking a slow drag.

“I suppose that would be fair, wouldn’t it?” Dew curls his lips into a smile, watching as Mountain shucks off his shirt too. He exhales a slow trickle of smoke, offering up the end of the joint. The earth ghoul takes it with a quiet thanks and leans back on his hand while he takes a drag, bare chest on full display.

Dew leans in and abruptly pokes him in the chest, causing a premature puff of smoke to burst from Mountain’s lips. “Hey,” he coughs.

“You got a big one right there,” Dew smiles deviously, poking another spot a little to the left. “And there. Yeah you’re pretty freckly, earth boy.”

Mountain rolls his eyes and reaches over to snuff out the end. “You’re pretty,” he mumbles, an immature retort.

Dew’s expression softens, hand hovering over Mountain’s side now. “You think so?”

The earth ghoul looks down at him warmly. “Yeah, I do,” he says simply. His expression becomes unreadable again, but a renewed blush dusts the apples of his cheeks as he continues poking at random freckles on Mountain’s torso. His hand brushes close to his navel, along the dark line of hair stretching from his waistline and dipping below the elastic of his sweatpants.

“You’ve got a nice, uh—don’t humans have a word for it?” he mumbles, gaze fixed squarely on it.

Mountain’s stomach jumps when Dew’s hand dips lower, just below his belly button. “Happy trail,” he mutters.

“Yeah, that.”

Mountain looks down at the smaller ghoul practically draped over him now, finding it very hard not to smell the freshwater scent of his hair, or notice the tiny twin lines of fins running down the hollows of his hips. He swallows hard, mouth suddenly dry.

“Dew,” he near-whispers, eyes tracking lower until they hit his waistband.

“Yeah?” The water ghoul’s just as breathless, still entranced by the hair on Mountain’s torso.

“Can I—”

“Thank Lucifer." Dew launches himself at Mountain, wrapping his arms around his neck and melting into him. Mountain captures him easily, holding him close and pressing their lips together. They groan into the kiss, opening up for each other immediately, tasting hungrily. It's a little uncoordinated, but that's just fine. Dew whines as the taste of herb and flora melt across his tongue; underneath it, something uniquely earth ghoul, almost woodsy. Mountain shivers at the way his hands touch at the small of Dew’s back, floating over the soft fins now dancing under his fingers.

The kisses they share are eager, exploratory, paired with wandering hands, experimental teeth, and peppered moans of encouragement. Dew can't help but roll his hips against the taller ghoul, earning a soft gasp as his half-hard cock drags against Mountain's.

“Fuck, your body,” the earth ghoul groans. He rolls them over so Dew’s on the bottom, bracketing his hands around the halo of silver hair that pools beneath him. Mountain shakes his head, mouth slack in awe. "You are . . . so beautiful, Dewdrop," he says softly. That rose tinge creeps back down to Dew's collarbone.

"Likewise," he breathes before dragging Mountain back down to him. The pace is quicker, more demanding, and oh so dizzying. Dew barely registers Mountain's hands moving all over his body until they're dipping tentatively under his waistband. The earth ghoul pulls away, and Dew can't stop the protest from tumbling feebly out of his mouth.

"Mm, Mount, wait–"

"Is this okay?"

They stare at each other, simultaneously freezing when they register the other had spoken. Both are breathless, eyes flickering over the other's face.

“What,” Mountain whispers, face turning up in concern.

Dew’s face goes hot. “It’s just, um—” He gestures vaguely at his crotch, unable to find the words. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a shaky breath. “It’s small,” he says, closer to mouthing the words than vocalizing them.

Mountain’s face softens. He cradles the side of the water ghoul’s face, rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone soothingly. His other hand rubs circles over the hollow of Dew’s hip.

“Look at me, water lily.” The pet name makes Dew’s breath hitch, eyes fluttering open of their own accord. Mountain’s smiling down at him, frustratingly handsome. “I promise you, nothing about this body would ever disappoint me.”

“But you—”

Mountain cuts him off. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Dew says, the answer obvious.

“Then let me show how you have nothing to worry about.” Mountain settles down onto his elbows, slotting a thigh between Dew’s legs. The water ghoul huffs at the contact, heart still hammering in his chest. Mountain’s face hovers over his own, so close his breath tickles his face when he asks: “Okay?”

Dew nods and loops his arms around Mountain’s neck once more, slotting their mouths together in a gentle kiss. Dew sighs into it when that warmth settles back into his stomach, deepening the kiss with renewed fervor. Mountain smiles against his mouth, allowing himself to fully melt against the smaller ghoul.

He groans when their bare chests meet once more, hips already twitching up against Mountain’s thigh. “Please, you can—will you—”

“Yeah, let me—” Mountain kisses down his jaw and lands at the spot just below Dew’s ear, sucking gently. His hands descend their same path down to his waistband. Dipping his fingers under the elastic, he pulls them down this time, shimmying them off Dew’s skinny legs and tossing them next to their shirts.

Mountain gives an almost pained groan when the water ghoul lies fully naked beneath him. His cock sits flush against his belly, the little head shiny with precum. The fins along his hip bones frame the hard few inches perfectly. There’s a grouping of scales around the base, trailing along his inner thighs and scattering downward along his legs. There’s some ruffly fins along the sides of his calves, too, milky white like the one along his spine.

“Absolutely perfect,” Mountain breathes. He dips down for another kiss, almost bruising in its intensity. Overwhelming in the best of ways. The earth ghoul slides off his own pants without breaking their kiss, kicking them off when they reach his ankles so he can reach down and wrap a large hand around Dew’s cock, enveloping it fully.

Dew yelps against his mouth, digging his nails into Mountain’s shoulders. “Oh fuck, you just—” The earth ghoul swipes his thumb across the head, causing Dew to cut off his sentence with a startled moan. “Let me—shit, lemme see you, too,” he begs, weakly shoving at his chest and propping himself up on one elbow.

Dew looks at Mountain’s face first, currently slack-jawed and staring at him with a mixture of wonder and lust. Then he glances downwards, immediately groaning at the sight of his dick completely covered by just one of Mountain’s hands. But just behind that . . .

“You—” Dew stammers.

Mountain bites his lip. “Yeah,” he says simply, answering the question Dew doesn't have to ask.

“Like me?” he whispers, almost reverently.

“Told you, you have nothing to worry about,” he says kindly.

The source of Dew’s awe is, unsurprisingly, Mountain’s dick, hanging fully chubbed next to the hand around Dew’s own. The trail of hair he could stare at forever extends around its base and over his balls, invitingly fluffy. The shaft isn’t as skinny as his, and a little bit longer, but it’s definitely not what he expected to see on a big, tall earth ghoul such as Mountain.

It’s . . . better, actually. Would probably fit comfortably in Dew’s lithe hands, and in other places. The thought makes his own cock kick in Mountain’s hand, jolting him from his stupor.

“Fuck,” he groans, fin-tipped tail twitching against the sheets. “Come back down here, please.”

Mountain chuckles and slots their bodies together once more, nuzzling into the crook of Dew’s neck. He mouths at it gently, utterly too relaxed in comparison to the way the hand around the water ghoul’s dick unravels, allowing Mountain’s own to rest next to Dew’s before closing it over them both and giving a firm squeeze.

“Oh–”

“Shit,” Mountain finishes, brushing his knuckles through the droplets of precum on Dew’s stomach as he tugs his hand upwards. “Shit.”

Dew bucks into his fist, that warmth blooming in his belly at a far too rapid rate. “That’s good, fuck that feels good,” he pants, exposing his neck further.

“Just like that, water lily, just like that.” Mountain rolls his hips into it too, groaning against Dew’s neck. Pleasure bubbles up Dew’s spine at the second utterance of the nickname, arching into Mountain’s touch, unable to resist chasing that feeling through friction.

It’s quiet for a few blissful moments, the silence broken only by the slide of slick skin and indulgent moans.

"Fuck,” Dew utters after a delicious flick of Mountain’s wrist, “I think 'm gonna cum like this,"

"Please, oh fuck, please do."

#if you see any mistakes NO YOU DIDNT #the band ghost #fanfic #the band ghost fanfic #mountaindew #mountain my love #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #dewdrop x mountain #mountain x dewdrop #mushy may 2023 #ficlet #but not really is 2k who are we kidding here #im here to make you all believe my small dick mountain agenda

195 notes · View notes

themuse-if · 3 months

Note

Hey, hey!!🤗

So, I was a little curious about a topic involving NFSW questions, but I wasn't sure if you were okay with that type of question, so no need to answer if you're uncomfortable.

I wanted to know what ROs are like when they are in makeout sessions with Mc, for example: are they more gentle and affectionate or are they more passionate and wild (if you know what I mean🤭😏). And also if possible, could polys routes be included in this scenario? (only if you want, of course)

Bye, bye!!

Hey! I am definitely ok with NSFW questions, romance is a big part of the story after all! I've honestly been waiting for this! I'll be using a scale of 6 emojis for spicy vs sweet levels.😚=sweet 🥵=spicy. Some may be all spice and others all sweet and some could be a mix of the two.

ONLY KEEP READING IF YOU WANT TO BECOME A GIGGLING, SQUEELING MESS! USE YOUR IMAGINATION TO CREATE VIVID SCENES WITH THIS INFORMATION AT YOUR OWN RISK! Then tell me about them in the comments. 😘

Roxanne/Robbie: Ro is definitely one to take the lead. They are a bit rough, MC will have hickeys everywhere from all the biting and sucking. Not only will Ro's lips be all over MC but their hands will too in their hair, on their chest, on their hips guiding MC into a slow deep grind...ok is it hot in here or is it just me. All in all I would say that Ro is down right sinful. 🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Joleen/Johnny: Jo is a bit more of a mixed bag the moments leading up to each little make-out session will determine a lot. If MC was throwing heavy signals their way then Jo will take the hint and pin them down ready to get hot and heavy. If MC is being sweeter than cotton candy with little pecks and giggles then Jo will be to, with sweeter more romantic kisses. I would say that Jo likes to feed off of their partners energy and then aim to please. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Delphine/Desmond: De is naturally a nurturer, but I would say that they have some soft dom tendencies when messing around. They will have the obvious control leading and guiding MC's lips and body, but they will always read off of MC to make sure that they are comfortable. And if MC can handle it then expect them to get a little rough.😚🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

Rina/Ren: R doesn't have a ton of experience so they will need MC to take the lead at first. Though they may move pretty slow at first after a while they wont be able to get enough of sharing soft and sensual alone time with MC. Study sessions and late night practice will turn into hushed make-out sessions in the dark corners of the library and practice studios. 😚😚😚😚🥵🥵

Everly/Everett: Eve is a performer through and through so you can be sure that they're going to put on a little show for MC. They'll memorize every touch and the sighs they bring out from MC, the same way they memorize lines for a play. They will observe and read MC like a book so that they can give them exactly what they need every time. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

Karla: Karla knows how to go with the flow. She'll take MC from soft sighs to barely able to catch their breathe, all with a lazy smirk on their face. Karla knows when to build up and take it back down, moving with the rhythm regardless of if there's music playing. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Faye: Faye may be an edgy cool girl but she really is a softy at heart. She super sweet and adores the little moments between long languid kisses and feather light caresses. Don't be surprised by her looking at MC's every detail with those icy blue eyes. 😚😚😚😚😚🥵

Sebastien: Seb is for lack of a better word, suave. Once he takes off his glasses revealing those deep brown eyes, MC knows they're in for it. MC will be melting from the eye contact alone. And his grip on MC's waist, hips, ass...oh my lord 😳. The rough scrape of his stubble matching the way he holds MC so tight they can't tell were he starts and they begin. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

Maxine: Max is sugar, spice, and everything nice! They know MC really well and use that to their advantage. They've known MC for longer than they can even remember and their feelings run just as deep. Max craves MC just as much as they cherish them. Everything feel easy and seamless, one second the two are a mess of giggles and the next they're grabbing at each other's clothes. Years of what ifs have built up to the type of passion Max can only share with their best friend. 😚😚😚🥵🥵🥵

Silas: Ah Silas our, friendly and self controlled, Resident Advisor. There's something so sexy about breaking the rules. If Silas is making out with MC, his advisee, then he's all but shattered them. You can expect things to get hot, heavy quickly once he's reached his breaking point, once he's desperate for MC. He'll have MC's back against the wall and make quick work of satisfying both their needs. Maybe he'll take things a bit further than making out, just to get MC out of his system. Then again, maybe he wont be able to stop himself from wanting more than just a one time taste. 😚😚🥵🥵🥵🥵

I'll let you use your imagination for the poly routes given what you've learned about them as individuals. Have fun 🤭🤭🤭

The Rebel Rejects:😚🥵🥵🥵🥵🥵

The Exes (Faye + Karla):😚😚😚😚🥵🥵

#interactive fiction #interactive if #twine if #twine interactive fiction #themuse if #if: themuse #extras

28 notes · View notes

greenteaandtattoos · 1 year

Text

I was rewatching the “Dragons” OSP trope talk, and I realized that we see so many different variants of dragons, but we hardly see different variants of other species, like elves. They’re all the same: tall, fair, thin, graceful (The Dragon Prince did a really great subversion of this). Elves are supposed to be mystical magical beings, right? Then why are they so boring? I want to see other types!! Elves with different skin tones!!! Elves with crazy characteristics that match their magic!!!

Fire elves whose hair is always alight and emits smoke when exhausted and sparks when energetic with black skin with veins running down their arms that glow a fiery orange!!!! Water elves with storm clouds for hair and webs in between their fingers and toes and always smell like sea salt or incoming rain!!! Earth and plant elves with as many skin tones and hair colors as there are different flowers and soils and can gain nutrients through photosynthesis and reproduce asexually and emit the scent of petrichor when they touch water!!!!

Tree elves that are impossibly old and their skin is rough like bark with circles that appear with age and their blood is sticky and sweet like sap!!! Winter elves with ice-cold skin with veins across their body that looks like shattered ice and leaves frost everywhere they touch!!!! Desert elves with gritty skin that slowly turns to glass with age and is hot to the touch in the day and cold at night!!!! Lightning elves whose voices crackle with electricity and hair that is constantly frizzy and standing up and that gives off static shocks whenever they’re emotional!!!

Elves with animal features!!! Owl elves covered in feathers and can turn their head 270 degrees and see wayyyy better than most others!!! Arctic fox and hare elves with fur that changes color with the seasons and have impeccable hearing and are resistant to the cold!!! Scorpion elves that are resistant to the heat and have naturally hard skin and a tail full of venom!!! Shark elves with multiple rows of teeth and rough skin and are sensitive to electromagnetic fields!!!

ELVES WITH DIFFERENT BODY TYPES AND ELVES WITH DISABILITIES!!!

WHALE ELVES THAT ARE LARGE AND HEAVY AND CAN MAKE THE MOST BEAUTIFUL SONGS!!! MUSHROOMS ELVES THAT ARE SHORT AND PLUMP WITH BIOLUMINESCENT SKIN AND CAPS THAT GROW ALL OVER THEIR BODY!!!! MOTH ELVES THAT ARE SMALL AND THICK AND HAVE A DEEP LONGING FOR L I G H T.

SKY ELVES THAT CAN WALK ON AIR AND ARE NEGATIVELY AFFECTED BY AIR POLLUTION!!! BEE ELVES THAT NATURALLY ATTRACT POLLEN TO THEM AND ARE AT A HIGH RISK OF DEATH DUE TO THEIR STINGER BEING THEIR ONLY NATURAL WEAPON!!! GEMSTONE ELVES WITH SKIN AND EYES THAT GLITTER AND SHINE WITH BONES THAT VARY ACCORDING TO THE HARDNESS SCALE!!! LEAF ELVES WHOSE HAIR CHANGES COLORS AND FALLS OUT IN AUTUMN AND GET SEASONAL DEPRESSION THE CLOSER TO WINTER IT GETS!!!!

There are so many possibilities!!! I know that Lord of the Rings and Dungeons and Dragons really laid down the foundation for much of the fantasy genre and characteristics such as magic systems and races, but that doesn’t mean we have to stick to the the same path. Branch out! Do something unique! You’ve got a river of creativity in you, let it loose! Let it break the banks and surge through you!!!

It’s my opinion, as an avid fan and writer of fantasy, that while we can appreciate and certainly build off what Tolkien laid down, we should take the initiative to start crafting our own fantasies, make our own contributions to the fantasy genre. Because in the end, “fantasy” is such a broad term, impossibly vast, there are so many aspects to the concept of “fantasy”, that we could never truly manage to run out of ideas.

I am, of course, not saying that people who enjoy the classical concept of fantasy are wrong or boring. If that’s what you enjoy, then go for it! Heck, I enjoy it, too! But I also think that there is a wellspring of potential in each of us, and I wholly believe that we can put some of the craziest and unique ideas into words and onto paper, no matter how it happens.

#orringinal rambles #writeblr #fantasy #fantasy genre #writing #long post #elves #tolkien #dungeons and dragons #my opinion #overly sarcastic productions

202 notes · View notes

valkyriepirate · 1 year

Note

Literally copy pasting this here 😭get ready for screaming!

CAN SOMEONE PLEASE WRITE A FIC WHERE READER IS A MAGIZOOLOGIST WORKING FOR MACUSA AND HER AND NEWT END UP INVESTIGATING THE SAME CREATURE AND HE GETS THERE AFTER HER SO WHEN THEY MEET ITS JUST LIKE THE SPIDER-MAN MEME

Thanks @ghostyv for this idea! I only hope I did it justice hehe 😅

Newt Scamander x Reader One Shot- Two of a Feather

Summary: You're in Sweden on a mission from MACUSA to track down a rare breed of dragon. However, you run into a certain Magizoologist in the forest, disturbing those plans.

Warnings: Mentions of creature violence, fluff

Word count: 3.4k words

#3- Two of a Feather

Dried twigs crunched underneath your feet as you crept deeper into the brush. The soil beneath was loose and soft; it had recently been disturbed. The late-spring snow had finally begun to melt, dripping from the trees like clinquant teardrops and soaking into the dirt below, making it all too easy for you to follow the dragon’s tracks.

You bent and touched your fingers to the outline of a clawed footprint. Tracing the length of the claws, you assumed it to be male. You scooped up a chunk of the mud and brought it to your nose. It was nearby, and from the size of the print, reasonably young.

You followed the path farther into the forest, picking your way along the rocky terrain. Sweden was stunning this time of year, with its cool winds, crystal skies, and vibrant growth that sprouted along the mountainsides like hope unveiled after an abiding winter. The air was sweet and earthy, flowing between the trees and gently caressing your skin with what felt like friendship. You were thankful that MACUSA had commissioned you to do research someplace so enchanting- truthfully, you were thankful that MACUSA had commissioned you to do something at all.

The tracks led up to a large stone jutting from the cliffside and abruptly disappeared. Adeptly, you heaved yourself onto the stone and got into a crouch, pushing past a few intruding brambles. Beyond was a small clearing.

Your keen gaze swept the landscape for any sign of the beast. The Swedish Short-Snout was traditionally silvery blue, and given that there was little snow left, there were scant places for it to camouflage. You quieted your breaths and kept impeccably still.

There. A rustling above caused your head to snap up. A blur of white layered the top of one of the branches. To anyone else, it would have appeared to be a remnant of snow that refused to melt. But you, an experienced Magizoologist of over two decades, could see it for what it truly was.

Carefully, you reached into the pocket of your olive-green coat and pulled out your coin purse and wand. The dragon was too high for a summoning spell to be effective, and its size was slightly too big to try traditional wrangling methods- you gauged it to be a foot or so longer than you were tall and twice as wide. You had to get closer.

You edged to the rim of the outcropping, fluffing your coin purse. The dragon seemed to be sleeping. Its scales glinted in the early morning light, changing from silver to blue as you moved. Its pronged tail was looped around the tree branch, lethargically swinging back and forth. A tiny blue flame puffed from its nostrils with every breath and evaporated into smoke. It was dangerously beautiful. Short-Snouts weren’t known to kill humans, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be aggressive if provoked.

You stuck your arm in your coin purse up to the elbow, rummaging around for your broom. The size of the purse should have been hardly able to accommodate your hand, but a certain capacious extremis spell allowed you to bend the laws of physics. Your fingers found purchase and you slid out your broom.

“Alright, friend, this ought to be quick,” you whispered jovially as you got ready to hop on your broom.

Snap. Your head whipped around at the sound. It came from somewhere to your right. You went still once again, the hairs on your arms raised.

You were not alone.

You waited a few heartbeats, remaining in a crouch. The dragon twitched. Then-

Movement. You glimpsed a splash of dark blue slip between the trees. From here you couldn’t make out the shape, but you knew that whatever it was, you couldn’t let it scare the dragon away. You scaled down the rock like a lithe squirrel, dropping soundlessly to the ground, and stepped into the clearing.

At the same time, a man emerged from the trees.

You were so surprised to see another human being out here in the wilderness that you let out a nearly imperceptible gasp. The man, whose eyes had been locked on the dragon, snapped to you.

You stared at each other in startled silence. From the look on his face, he clearly thought he’d been alone. Neither of you moved.

A twinge of recognition tickled the back of your mind. He furrowed his brow and pointed at you thoughtfully as if resemblance had struck him then too. Who else would be out here tracking a Swedish Short-Snout except...?

Above, the dragon growled in its sleep. You stole another glance at the man across the clearing, and, ignoring the familiarity prodding you in the spine, took a step towards the tree with the dragon. No matter who this man was, he was likely here for the same reason as you, and you couldn’t let him get to the dragon first.

You padded across the clearing as lightly as possible. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the man was doing the same.

You had almost reached the trunk of the tree when another snap echoed throughout the forest. The dragon was awake in a blink, unfurling wings the color of diamonds, soaring above the forest canopy in a searing streak of silver. With a cry, it unleashed a gust of blue flame upon the crowns of the trees, incinerating them to ashes within seconds. Hastily, you threw your arms in front of your face to shield against the heat. By the time you looked back up, the dragon was gone.

Biting down on your frustration, you whirled on the man, your braid whipping around your face. “Who are you?”

His eyes were wide and as green as the lake at the base of the mountain. He was dressed rather smartly in a cobalt blue trench coat, custard bowtie, and pressed slacks. In one hand he gripped a faded red suitcase.

“Newt Scamander, and you are?” he said, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

The name struck a chord in you. Of course. Straightening, you laughed and shook your head. “I should’ve assumed. No one else would be crazy enough to be out here except a fellow Magizoologist.” You held out your hand for him to shake. “(Y/N) (L/N). Pleased to meet you.”

“I figured,” he said shyly, not meeting your eyes. “You’re the only other known Magizoologist to ever make headlines.”

“Hardly,” you said. “Being criticized in the Daily Prophet for smelling of wild Diricawl isn’t exactly something worthy of note.”

The corner of his lips ticked up. “I’ve been accused of worse, I assure you.”

“Have you?” you said as you repocketed your broom. “I must admit I haven’t been following the news of Grindelwald.”

“It may be best that you don’t. Journalists can get carried away with certain topics.”

“Ah, I see. Still, it’s refreshing to finally meet the only other one of my kind. Your work on Fantastic Beasts was quite profound.”

Newt blushed. “You’ve read it?”

“Of course. Every aspiring Magizoologist should. Everyone should,” you amended. “The more people who know the importance of what we do, the better. Though I’m curious...” You took a step closer to him. “Why are you tracking the Swedish Short-Snout?”

“Research, mostly,” he replied. “I’m working to expand the section on dragons in my textbook for the next revision.”

“Oh? What do you expect to find?”

“Any fluctuation in behavior, danger level, or abilities, really.” He paused. “If I may ask, why are you tracking the Swedish Short-Snout?”

“MACUSA sent me for the same reason as you. Research. Except I was directed to bring the dragon back safely, which, evidently-” You waved your hand in the general direction the dragon had gone- “may take longer than I’d expected.”

“Oh. Yes. I’m quite sorry about that.” Newt’s cheeks grew redder, making his smattering of freckles stand out like little stars.

You grinned. “If you’d like, you can accompany me in tracking him down again.”

“I’d like that very much.” He briefly locked eyes with you through his mop of ruddy hair.

You walked back to the tree where the dragon had been. The entire top half was a charred stump sprinkling ashes into the wind. Pointing your wand at the snow-covered branch, you chanted, “Appare vestigium.” The ashes swirled and formed a tendril that drooped down into the clearing, swept past you and Newt, and slithered up the north side of the mountain, a conspiratorial phantasm showing you the way.

You squatted and dug your fingers into the earth, pulling up a gooey glob of dirt. Working your jaw, you spat on it and promptly kneaded it between your palms like a salve. Then you rolled up your sleeves and smeared your concoction over your neck, arms, and face- wherever your skin was exposed to the air. Newt watched you but didn’t seem concerned by your odd behavior.

“Hiding your scent,” he marveled. “Brilliant.”

“An important step in all the best captures. Don’t worry,” you said, wiggling your mud-caked fingers. “You’re next.”

“Oh- I, uh- I don’t know if that’ll be necessary,” he protested, but you were already hustling over. You grabbed him by the wrists and pushed up his coat sleeves, scrubbing the mixture over the bare skin of his forearms. He started at your touch but otherwise kept still as you scooped up more dirt and rubbed it into his jawline.

“There,” you patted his cheek, leaving behind a hand-shaped mud print. “Let’s go, shall we?”

Newt looked like he had a Billywig stuck in his throat. He nodded. Without a word, he trekked after you as you followed the line of smoke up the ravine.

“How...often does MACUSA send you to study creatures?” he inquired after a few minutes of silence, apparently having regained his voice.

You pursed your lips. “Not often, unfortunately. Maybe once or twice a year. Most of the time I’m more of a ‘pest control’ expert to them than anything. I can’t begin to tell you how many times I’ve been called in to manage a Chizpurfle infestation in someone’s wand closet.”

He laughed quietly. “Yes, it seems it’s hard for many wizards to take Magizoology seriously.”

“You and I can change that, can we not?” You hoisted yourself up and over another stone. “When I was a little girl, I thought I was the only one who cared about beasts, who saw them as something more than an inconvenience or tool. Then I grew up and I heard about a boy from England who had a whole suitcase full of them.”

You could sense him nearly stop in his tracks. “O-oh. So you-”

“Yes, Mr. Scamander,” you said, shooting him a sly grin over your shoulder, “I know that’s no regular briefcase.”

“Yes. I mean, no, I suppose it’s not.”

Unable to contain your curiosity, you asked, “Is it true that you keep a Nundu?”

He was quiet for a few beats. “Nundu are scrupulously hard to catch, and even more so to contain.”

“So you do?”

“Among other creatures.”

A thrum of excitement rushed through your veins. You’d heard rumors of the kinds of beasts Newt Scamander kept in his suitcase, of course, but the prospect of being so close to ones you’d only ever read about piqued your interest. You wondered if he would give you a look inside if you asked.

“In fact, that’s why I think it would be best if the Short-Snout came with me.”

It was your turn to halt. The trail of ashes was thinning, disappearing over the crest of the next hill. It seemed the dragon hadn’t flown far. You turned and studied your fellow Magizoologist- the only other known one on the planet. “You want to take the Short-Snout with you?”

He tilted on his feet again, denying to meet your gaze. “Yes.”

You fought down the competitive burn rising in your throat. You had deducted as much- after all, he likely wouldn’t have come to Sweden just to admire the dragon- but that, unfortunately, was something you couldn’t afford.

You sighed. “I understand, but I don’t exaggerate when I say my career relies on this capture. I’m sorry. I must take it.”

“To bring back to MACUSA,” Newt clarified.

“Yes. I was assured they don’t intend to keep him. He’s to be released once the research is fulfilled.”

“You are to release him?”

“I believe that was implied.”

Newt shook his head. “They won’t.”

“Excuse me?”

He stepped closer to you. “(Y/N), if MACUSA gets that dragon in their possession, they won’t release him.”

You raised a brow. “And you know this how?”

“Swedish Short-Snouts are known to have protective skin with magical properties. They are incredibly rare and greatly desired. I don’t think MACUSA commissioned you to do research.”

An uneasy feeling took root in your stomach. “What do you mean?”

“If the dragon falls into the wrong hands, its scales can be harvested in the production of magical gloves and shields. MACUSA won’t let it go. Grindelwald’s appearance in New York must have riled them. Chances are, they’ll take it away and have it killed the moment you return.”

Realization seeped into your bones. Your knees buckled and you grasped the rocky mountain face for support. “The other captures.”

Newt gave you a concerned look. “What?”

“The other captures. Augureys, Gringwarts, Malaclaws. The Chinese Fireball. I never saw them again.” How many animals had you caught for MACUSA in the name of research? How many had been slaughtered? “They’ve been lying to me. They told me they were expanding the Department for Beast Regulation. I didn’t think...”

You swallowed and looked back at Newt. “But wait. That doesn’t explain why you want to take the dragon. Why not do your research and let it be?”

He clutched his suitcase so tightly his knuckles turned white. “Because I... I have the mate.”

You gaped at him. “You have the mate?”

He nodded. “A female. About the same age. I found her near the border of Finland a few weeks ago.”

You shook your head. This changed everything. Swedish Short-Snouts were considered a dying breed and were so rare that many wizards went a lifetime without seeing one in person. Only trained specialists like you and Newt had the ability to properly track one down. But if he was telling the truth and he really did have the mate, that could ensure survival for the species.

“Show me,” you said.

He hesitated. Then, as if collecting his decorum, he knelt, laid his suitcase on the ground, and popped open the locks. He held out his hand to you like he was asking you to dance. “Come with me.”

You slid your fingers into his and trailed behind him as he descended into the depths of his suitcase. Naturally you knew he had hexed it with a capacious extremis spell the same way you’d done to your coin purse, but the reality of entering a place that shouldn’t exist boggled your mind nonetheless. You felt like you were walking through a portal to another world.

“She’s rather temperamental, as you’ll see. It took her days to allow me to approach her, and even so, she doesn’t like me to be close for long,” Newt explained as you reached the landing.

You were about to respond until you blinked and were suddenly fully aware of your surroundings. You felt your eyes go wide. You stood at the entrance to a series of the greatest habitation facilities you had ever seen. In one corner was a habitat enriched with lush foliage and teeming with blue-bellied Occamies. In another, a marvelous Zouwu pawed at an uprooted tree, rolling on its back in a steep terrain. A path began at the entrance and led to the far side of the suitcase, where you glimpsed a shimmering body of water. Kelpies breached the surface and neighed, greeting their caretaker. Dozens of smaller creatures buzzed and flitted about, some inconspicuously perched in occluded nooks, others boldly squawking or screeching on wooden limbs. You spun in wonder, wanting to take everything in at once, words utterly availing you.

“You...made all of this?” you asked.

“Most of it is borrowed material from their native habitats. I began rehabilitating them when I was quite young,” Newt said, narrowly avoiding the question.

You smiled inwardly at his humility. “Mr. Scamander, you are even more magical than the stories say.”

“I am sure that is untrue.”

He led you to a dimly lit habitat set in a rocky plain. The air in this area was significantly colder than the rest of his clandestine world; your breaths turned white as you exhaled and your nose tingled with frost. The habitat was ringed with sharp icicles like the teeth of a dragon, which was a fitting considering the actual dragon curled up in its center.

Like the male, she was silvery blue and had a rigid tail. Her eyes were half-lidded, but as soon as Newt approached her head whipped up. You estimated that she was slightly larger than the male, which was customary for most dragons, and had blunter fangs.

“Hello girly, Mum’s here, Mum’s here,” Newt soothed as he reached out and placed a hand on her muzzle. The dragon purred and leaned into his touch. Then her icy gaze shifted to you.

Instantly her demeanor changed. She sprung to her feet, hackles raised and teeth bared. Her wings flared and pressed against her back, her tail inauspiciously swaying from side to side.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, girly, it’s okay,” Newt mediated. “She’s a friend.”

The dragon didn’t seem to think so. Her pupils dilated and her claws visibly lengthened. You were undeterred by her aggression- after all, you’d dealt with countless feisty beasts in the field. To her, you were a threat who could take away Newt, her current source of food and shelter.

To show you didn’t intend to fight, you sat on your knees, tucked your chin to your chest, and held out your hand palm-up. The smell of dirt emanating from your skin should have masked your human odor well enough.

The dragon stared at you. Then, after a few moments, her growling ceased. You stayed still, waiting for her to come to you. You dared not look up, but after a few controlled breaths, you felt smooth scales on your fingertips. The dragon lingered only shortly before she retreated farther into the habitat.

“Magnificent,” mumbled Newt. “She must be becoming more accustomed to humans.”

“A both good and bad thing,” you said, brushing yourself off. “On one hand, she won’t eat us, but on the other, there are far too many humans out there who will hurt her when given the chance.”

Newt looked at you, a question in his kind eyes.

You sighed and nodded. “You’re right. You should take the dragon. When there’s so few of them left, two of the same should be together. To ensure the species has descendants,” you added, suddenly embarrassed at what the implication of your words could mean.

Newt caught your drift. He looked down, his ears turning pink. “I-if you don’t wish to return to MACUSA empty-handed, it would be a tremendous help to have another Magizoologist around.”

You furrowed your brow. “Truly? You’re offering to let me stay?”

“Only as long as you’d want to. If you’re in no rush, that is. I wouldn’t want to hold you back from returning to America.”

You felt a smile creep up your face. “Mr. Scamander, that would be lovely, but I really couldn’t intrude.”

“You’re the only other Magizoologist known to mankind. It would be a privilege.”

You imagined working alongside him, learning about and caring for his beasts, traveling to exotic places in search of magical creatures. How could it have been mere coincidence that you ran into each other in the forest today? That he was there to warn you about what would happen if you took the dragon? If you stayed, it couldn’t be forever. MACUSA would track you down eventually. But in the meantime, making new discoveries alongside Newt Scamander and protecting the beasts that called this world home sounded splendid.

“Newt?”

“Yes?”

“We have a dragon to catch.”

Masterlist

#newt scamander x reader #newt scamander x reader one shot #newt scamander #reader insert #fantastic beasts and where to find them #fbawtft #swedish short snout

238 notes · View notes

class1akids · 1 year

Text

So now that we have a better scan - let me just elaborate a bit more on the details:

Bakugou:

The chest scar is definitely from his current injury, no face scar means he probably won't have one.

He is pointing either to the goat-skin on his shoulder (an All Might reference) or his sword, which has the same dragonscale pattern he and Izuku share on opposite shoulder pads (win and save? or OFA?)

The sword he's holding is different from the big All Might-sword from the 1st art, which then got divided between him and Izuku in the second art.

He's wearing the blue outfit from the second art, but got new orange arm wraps and his jewelleries changed too. Seems to have lost the cape.

Deku:

Deku lost the green vest and his cape is tattered, just like in the main story

His red boots have a goat-pattern too (All Might's "insignia")

He exchanged the big flaming sword for two smaller ones, but neither of them is drawn.

Shouto:

Shouto wears the same cape as Deku, with the same kind of gold button.

He doesn't have a dragon scale, but the shade of his outfit is the same colour, instead of his usual blue

His wearing black shirt and pants (unlike his previous white) just like Endeavor, but there is still a small white lace at his wrist left from his first outfit

The "black ice" curse / corruption from the second art turned into his hear-piece (which is shaped like a "V" either as a reference to victory / peace sign / or All Might"). It also became extra armor at the elbow of his left arm

His sword is drawn, just like Bakugou's

His hair is swept out of his left eye - displaying his fire side

He wears little loop earrings, similar to Dabi's

The Origin Trio are looking straight at us - nobody else is.

Endeavor:

Got rid of the white cape, but his fire is extinguished.

He wears all black with red accents

No weapon is visible

Iida:

Iida has a green Deku-cape but no gold button on it

His armor has been upgraded, there are three silver wings on it (will he get flight?)

His sword is also drawn

Kaminari:

I don't have much there - it's his first Fantasy AU appearance. The shape of his hat is also a bit like a "V"

Aizawa:

No weapon, wearing black like in the first art

Interestingly, he has also a tattered "Deku-cape". (could the green cape be the "saviour squad" - those characters with villain counterparts?)

He also has a "V" on his hat

Hawks:

His outfit changed to black

Same folded armed pose as Endeavor, no weapon

His wings are white with gold tips (like an angel)

Kirishima:

Biggest change is the dragon-bone head-piece with the feathers. No idea.

Uraraka:

Got a small Deku-cape and horns on her hat

There's a pink mark on her cheek - either a blush or a small scar

So, to summarize:

All Might's all sword seems to have been divided up into smaller ones

The dragon was slain, Bakugou and Deku both have pieces of its scale and very big Goat references to All Might

The Origin Trio is looking at us and only they share the purple accents (OFA reference?)

Deku, Shouto, Iida, Ochako and Aizawa all have the green cape (Saviour Squad? with villain counterparts?)

Shouto, Endeavor, Hawks and Aizawa are in black

All the kids have weapons, while none of the adults do

There are "V" / All Might references maybe on all the kids, but at least on Deku, Bakugou, Shouto and Ochako and Aizawa. (Class: 1-A aka. One for All?)

301 notes · View notes

seventhcallisto · 6 months

Text

You, who has landed in my garden.

Dear, hyunjin.

What it feels like to fall from grace as an angel with wings that spand taller than creatures who can't seem to hold the weight of a person.

These angels know these feelings. As their wings grow and a new feather appears from all the hurt in your soul. One more for the broken heart and the way you cry to yourself at night, wishing knowing you'll be loved. When your arms drape across a pillow as if it's a body coddling you so softly in the dark. When he hears your voice, the sorrowful shadow of your life flashes in his mind. Even as you prepare your day. Go about everything the same. A routine that adds another feather. The heaviest of them all. Days turn to weeks, and more angels appear as your gaurdians unbeknownst to you.

You have conjured a rare phenomenon, where love finds its way through shells on the beach, and your smile finally comes back only for a week. And then it's gone as soon as it comes, then you've got another guardian angel. Weeping over the clouds above your head. You realize rain pours more often when you're sad.

You are so very loved. But you don't know that. You don't feel that. And one of your angels is tired of it. He leaves. He who has fallen from grace like a raindrop through the sky.

He who ends up in your garden, smushing your healthy tomato plant as he lands.

Your window is cracked open ever so quickly as you peer out your balcony at him. His eyes twinkle like stars as he realizes it's really you. Pajamas that are childish and yellow themed. Your face is clear of tears and makeup as it most often isn't. You... who is suddenly cry-whining about your tomato plants.

"Hi," he says so breathlessly as you step up to him. Never once has he moved. Nor has he blinked back the dazed look in his unnaturally sparkling eyes. "You broke my tiny tomato garden." You sob once, sniffling and wiping as fat tears begin to cascade down your cheeks. It has him standing up as quickly - and as gentle as he can. Twisting one of your tomato branch limbs as he goes. He grimaces. Tomato smeer all over his clothing, that.. he didn't know appeared on him when he fell. You continue to sob up at the sky.

"Why does this always happen to me!?" And he's realizing your day must of be so crappy if you're crying like this in front of a stranger.

"Please don't cry I can pay- i, well- I don't have money and.. but.. i can help you replant?" He scales his pockets for anything to cheer you up. Only to find he has a measly leather wallet, with an ID in it. His face, magically there.

You sob harder at the thought. Do you not like the idea at all? His hands shoot out to wave the air around you down. He's panicking! Being a gaurdian angel isn't as easy as having real experience. "It'll take forever!" You fall to your knees. He finds this childish. But.. yet. He thinks if you hear him say that. You might end up crying worse. The dirt is cold, yet you dont care.

Pajamas soaking up the wet grass and dirt when you lay on the ground. Tears streaking down your face as you try to let the ground eat you. Try. You will. Even as hyunjin bends down to your level and tries to quiet your hiccups.

"Let's start over!" He abruptly says. "I'm hyunjin. I'm so sorry about your plant. And i- I like your dog." You sniffle. And stop. "I don't have a dog" you shake your head.

"Yes, you do. Her name is magdelo." he laughs. Blonde hair cascading around him like a halo. You do, in fact, have a dog. And that is, in fact, her name.

"Are you a stalker or something?" You sit up, looking him up and down. He pulls back so quickly that he's falling on his butt. "No-I just know your dogs name"

No one knows your dogs name. Not even your only acquaintances. "Who are you?" You hiccup a final time, smearing snot on your long sleeved shirt. Hyunjins lips pull into a grimace.

"Im.. hyunjin?"

"have we met?"

"Possibly"

"What do you mean by that?"

"In a past life. Possibly."

"You're weird"

"I know, but so are you. You're the one crying on the ground."

"I'm not crying. I'm just.. laying down.. letting the ground take care of me."

"And that's what makes you weird."

"So are you"

"Yes, I guess so. We're both weird."

Why does this feel so human? So raw. So alive. So true, compared to how you interact with real people. Why are you so comfortable? Why does he feel like he lived in your bones and is a figment of your imagination?

"Are you real? I'm not dreaming am i?"

"I think I'm real. Pinch me?"

"Ow! Yes. I am. I'm real. You pinched too hard.."

This is so very real. You are so very real, and hyunjin is so very real. "Why my garden?" You ask. "Because it only has tomatos." He answers. his hair captures hues off the post light outside your home. He looks angelic. He is angelic.

Hyunjin, who is your gaurdian angel. Who fell into your garden. And killed your tomato plant.

#stray kids hyunjin #hyunjin drabbles #i love him #x reader #hyunjin x reader #gaurdian angel hyunjin au #why is he so precious #tomatoes #tomatos are a metaphor #hyunjin #seventhcallisto

26 notes · View notes

caramel-catss · 2 months

Text

warm afternoons and cool waters

on ao3

word count: 2.3k

link and marin take a break together after a dungeon; link's awakening mermaid au

thanks again to @deuynndoodles for the awesome idea and sorry for tagging you on like three platforms at once lol

Marin and Link sit just outside the Key Cavern. Link soaks her tail in the water while Marin sits on the dirt, sandals off; her ankles are dipped into the miniature lake. Link pulls her tail to her chest, picking off dead scales. Marin holds the Sea Lily’s Bell. She lightly shakes it back and forth, listening to the ting sound it makes.

“Where did the Owl say to go next, again?” Marin asks. She places down the bell next to the two other instruments the pair have collected. Link looks up. She swims to where Marin is sitting, resting her elbows to hold her up on the sand.

Waterfall, Link signs.

Marin’s lips purse. “There’s so many waterfalls here, though. I wonder which one he means?”

Link makes a shrugging motion. Depends on what you define as a waterfall. Half the island is underwater, anyway.

“That’s true.” Marin hums to herself, thinking for a moment. “Well, Animal Village is all above-ground; that’s why all those land animals settled there in the first place.”

Link nods. She pushes herself back towards the middle of the water. Link dips her head backwards, wetting her hair. The hot sun had been drying it for the past fifteen minutes; Marin can already feel the sunburn forming on her arms.

Marin watches as Link then sinks entirely below the water. This isn’t the cleanest lake out there, but it’s crystal-clear like all of Koholint’s waters, and Link’s been using it to wash off the blood on her. The two had spent a good four hours inside the Key Cavern this morning. Marin has to admit there’s a good amount of grime on her as well.

Link propels herself around underground, enjoying her freshly picked tail. Marin grabs Link’s satchel from where she had placed it down earlier. Well, more like thrown it down; once they left the dungeon, the first thing Link did was dive into the lake.

As Marin rearranges the items in Link’s bag, she takes out little pieces of junk. A rock that fell in. A fairy, who Marin releases since Link isn’t looking. A small key…? Roc’s feather is a little curvy and tangled in places, so Marin smoothes it out.

“We have an extra key,” Marin comments. Link is still underwater, but she had already proven that she can hear Marin regardless. Link’s hands surface - just her hands, the rest of her still enjoying the cool water.

Spare for next dungeon, I guess.

Marin tilts her head. “Do keyholes stay shaped the same in each dungeon?”

Link stays still for a second. …No.

Marin snorts. “A gift for Tarin, then?”

Yeah, he’s already worried about you. It won’t just freak him out more. Marin giggles at Link’s silent deadpan.

“I’m with an adventurer! A hero! I think I’m safe enough.” Link’s hands drop back into the water, and Marin can barely catch the redness on her cheek. “Welllll, aren’t you the Hero of… of however you pronounce that sign?”

Link surfaces, eyes drifting away from Marin. She’s flustered. Her hands form the sign Marin referenced, and then she continues, but they also call me the Hero of Legend.

“Well that’s a very grand title, Hero of Legend,” Marin giggles. “I’m impressed.” Link flushes harder, placing her hands over her face. Outwardly, Marin smirks, but inwardly, she tries not to squeal. Link looks so cute like this. Oh, Wind Fish, save her!

Stop looking at me like that, Link signs, but it’s weak. …Embarrassing.

“Um, oops!” Marin replies, laugh turning nervous as she scratches her head.

Link huffs, not actually angry. Marin places back down Link’s pack. She moves to the instruments, polishing the Sea Lily’s Bell with her shirt. Link sputters a bit more before returning to swimming.

Some minutes later, Link appears in front of Marin.

I’m thinking, Link starts. What if there’s a dungeon that’s underwater?

“What do you mean?” Marin replies.

All the dungeons on my first adventure were, Link explains. Including in the Dark World.

Marin’s only heard a little about the Dark World, but the thought makes her puzzle. Yes, it would make sense, with Koholint being half land and half water. And everyone but Marin and the animals are mer. Whoever designed the dungeons must have at least had merfolk in mind, since the Wind Fish is the siren god, right? Plus Link had only been in fully underwater dungeons before…

Link is here to retrieve her voice; as a siren, she’s supposed to have a song that can enchant people. But she has none. She can’t speak. In the beginning, Link explained that she had heard of the legends of the Wind Fish, God of the Sirens, before. She had actually been on her way to Koholint when she lost consciousness and washed up on the beach. And what a sight when Marin found her - only normal mer live on Koholint, so Marin had never seen a siren before. But with one look at Link’s tail and fins, she knew Link had to be one.

Marin’s been tagging along with Link on her adventures. Link had apparently never been on land before Marin took her home (minus the rabbit thing). Marin also is one of the only people around who knows sign, since she was mute as a child. And so Link and Marin had been through three dungeons, now, Link slaying monsters as Marin teaches her how to walk.

“This is really fun,” Marin thinks out loud. Link tilts her head, eyes confused. “Sorry, my thoughts drifted.”

Adventuring, you mean? Link questions.

“Yeah,” Marin replies. “And… being with you. Your life is really interesting. I’ve just been living on this island and singing to myself… I never knew there was so much to explore.”

Link seems surprised, furrowing her eyebrows together like the words “adventure” and “fun” being in the same sentence is paradoxical. Her mouth opens, then closes. She raises her hands.

Fun? She questions.

“Um, yes? Is that weird? Haha…”

No, no, Link’s motions fly at rapid pace. Then she slows down. I… had a different experience first adventuring.

“Oh,” Marin says, a little saddened. “I’m sorry that it…”

Sucked, Link supplies, for lack of a better word. Marin forces down a snort.

“Sucked,” she echoes. “I’m sorry that it sucked.”

Link shrugs. It’s fine. It’s more fun with you, too. I like being with you. She dips underwater again, leaving Marin sputtering.

“L-Link!” Marin exclaims. She feels her face grow hot. Bubbles appear at the water’s surface, betraying Link’s giggling. The siren’s head slowly comes back up, but only to her eyes, which look up at Marin.

Marin throws her head back and forth, trying to shake off the blush. Her fingers fidget with her pendant. Link continues to stare at her, pupils shining in the sunlight.

Suddenly, after a silence Marin wouldn’t dare break, Link shoots up out of the water. Her hands wrap around Marin’s wrist and pull. Marin lets out a gasp as she’s brought forward. The long-forgotten Sea Lily’s Bell falls on its side; it rolls into the pile of their things.

Splash! As Marin falls into the water, she becomes infinitely more grateful that she chose shorts over a dress this morning. That was for the dungeon, but apparently a cute mermaid is far more dangerous.

Marin surfaces, running a hand through her now-tangled hair. Her fingers eventually find her hibiscus, now displaced, and she throws it over to everything else.

“By the Wind Fish, Link!” She complains, but she’s laughing. Link laughs, too. It’s one of the only sounds Link can make, and it’s Marin’s personal favorite.

Link quickly signs something vaguely forming had to, and then she’s swimming away from Marin, unceremoniously splashing the girl in the face with her tail. Marin squeals as she ducks away. She dives down, because if Link wants to start a splashing war, she is on!

Marin, the only human in a village of mer, naturally has grown up as a good swimmer. But compared to Link and her tail, she might as well be standing in place. Link leads Marin in circles until the islander tires and gives up. She clutches the side of the lake as she takes deep breaths. Once Marin surrenders, Link cautiously makes way to her, only to be rewarded with a weak splash by Marin’s hand.

“You… deserved that,” Marin huffs between breaths. Link only smiles.

I don’t know what you mean, Link signs. I did nothing. Marin rolls her eyes.

Marin pulls herself back onto land, rolling over and laying on her back. She’s instantly and harshly greeted by the sun. Marin groans and looks around for shade, but she has no such luck. Unless a dungeon still actively populated by monsters counts, because that’s only a few paces away.

Link starts to get herself out of the water, too. She has a bit more trouble than Marin, so the later offers her hand. Link takes it, grateful.

Marin lets herself dry out in the sun. Link decides to do the same, apparently, because she lays down right above Marin. The girl can feel Link’s warmth, and Link’s so close that her wet hair brushes against Marin’s ear. Marin closes her eyes and hums.

She’s able to get through her ballad a few times before Link taps her on the shoulder, prompting her to open her eyes. Link’s fingers are reached above her.

Hey, let’s go to Mabe, Link says.

“Why?” Marin asks, stifling a yawn. She gets sleepy in the afternoon sunlight.

You know the library, the one above water? I have the Pegasus Boots now so I can get the book on the shelf.

“Ooh, that’s true. Alright, we can detour there. Then should we go to Animal Village?”

Yeah. Also, the book could have something important about the waterfall.

“Has that… specific thing happened to you before?”

Reading something and it helping me open a dungeon? Yes.

“Huh.”

Don’t forget I’m a siren who turned into a rabbit… weirder things have happened.

Marin giggles. She remembers how embarrassed Link was when Marin first asked what her moon pearl was. “True~!”

Link has to poke and prod at Marin a few times before the girl relents and sits up. Link had already dried off her tail and gone back to having legs. She smoothes down her skirt and tunic, and then helps Marin to her own feet.

Marin puts her shoes on, then bends down and gathers Link’s pack of materials. Link takes Marin’s and fills it back up with the Instruments of the Sirens. The enlarging enchantment on the fabric will always confuse Marin, and she still doesn’t quite trust it. The girls trade packs.

“Okay,” Marin begins to recite their schedule. “So we’ll head back to Mabe, probably have a late lunch with Tarin, get the book, and if there’s any more time in the day, should we start for Animal Village?”

Could we get a room for the night if we did? Link asks.

“I think so, the animals have let me stay before.”

Link ponders for a bit. Wait, I want to look back at the Dream Shrine.

“Oh? Why?”

There’s a tent thing in there, and I have these now. Link motions to her pegasus boots, clicking her heels together. Marin giggles and nods.

“So we go to the Dream Shrine, too. I guess we’ll just stay home tonight, then?”

Link smiles. I like your dad’s cooking.

Marin snorts. “Then I guess we’ll be in Mabe!”

Link’s smile brodens, and she actually hugs Marin. The latter rolls her eyes but accepts it. Tarin’s cooking isn’t bad, yes, but Link can praise it a little too much at times. It makes Marin worry about what Link eats on the road.

“Okay, okay, Link,” Marin says after Link’s hug lingers. But she doesn’t make an attempt to pull back, and Link doesn’t either. Marin can smell Link’s hair, recognize the special scent of merfolk. Her tunic is still damp, but her hat is perfectly dry; she had actually remembered to take it off first this time. Marin can feel herself already getting lost in Link’s touch, in Link, and-

Marin pulls away like Link is fire. Link seems to jolt back at the same time, and they stare at each other.

“Um,” Marin says. And she realizes that with as much as they dance around each other, both Link and Marin are too nervous to ever actually say anything. (That’s okay, though. They’re both bad with words. But Marin can sing, and Link can touch.)

Link blinks. She acquires a sudden interest in the sand next to Marin’s sandals. Marin doesn’t know how to continue this, and her face is getting warmer every second; she eventually puts all her energy into forcing herself to move.

Marin quietly hops to the first landmass, hearing Link follow behind her. As they continue forward, Marin begins to sing. She can’t help it (and she wants to make the atmosphere less awkward). The air becomes calm and serene. Link’s shoulders always relax when Marin sings.

The duo have nearly made it to the actual path when Marin feels a brush against her hand. She looks down to find Link’s palm, her fingers spread in offering. Marin accepts it.

Link’s skin burns against hers, but Marin is fine with that. Link’s hands are calloused compared to Marin’s soft ones. Marin rubs her finger against the roughness. Link doesn’t move her hand away, but her eyes widen slightly.

All the way back home, Marin and Link stay holding hands.

That night, in Marin’s family home, she lays on her bed without sleeping a wink. Link snores softly next to her, curled up in a soft blanket.

Staring into the ceiling, all Marin can think about is the siren who washed up into her life. And how she will never, ever, lose her spot in Marin’s heart.

#the legend of zelda #tloz #loz #link's awakening #marlink #marin x link #caramel writes

17 notes · View notes

mostautisticangel · 5 days

Note

Hiii

I'd love to hear about Halfway to Heroes!!! :3

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOLY SHIT OKAY STRAP YOURSELVES IN MOTHERFUCKERS (affectionate) im putting this behind a keep reading tag bc i know its gonna get long

SO. ITS A MAGICAL FANTASY ADVENTURE STORY WITH THE CLASSIC FANTASY TROPE OF THE WORLD BEING COMPRISED OF FOUR MAIN ELEMENTS. THE WORLD IS CALLED RHIMIAD. THERE ARE SIX KINGDOMS. okay hold on let me calm down.

Firstly: there are three deities. they have many names. The Holy Trinity, the Land, Sky and Sea, The Three Deities (very creative). Their true names are Rhimiad, the earth goddess, Rowan, the moon god, and Vyvienne, the sun goddess. I call them gods and goddesses but not like you're thinking. its a title that the Rhimiads (inhabitants of Rhimiad. is it confusing? i dont care!) give to them. They are the land, sun, and moon itself. The people just personified them

Rhimiad created the Rhimiads and named them after herself. at this point they're exactly like humans. She also created a bunch of other magical creatures. like ugly ass unicorns and pocket sized dragons and birds the size of cars.

Vyvienne was especially fond of them, and blessed a few of them with the power of the winds. The sky and winds were her domain. This fundamentally changed these Rhimiads, and now they had a connection to Vyvienne. they had the ability to "walk" on the wind, see through heavy storms, and summon a gale when necessary. They were called Wind Walkers. you dont have to capitalize it i just wanted to lol oh yeah they look different too. they have feathers instead of hair, bird-like eyes, and talons for hands. they can also make bird noises :3

Rowan liked that idea and he chose a few Rhimiads to bless with his powers. His domain was the cold night and the ocean. He blessed two tribes. One, he gave the power of the ocean. they could summon water from their fingertips, thrive underwater without the need for oxygen (and i mean without oxygen, not that they had gills) and could see no matter how dark it was. they had webbed hands, scales on their forearms, shins, and cheeks, fish-like eyes, fins for ears, and amphibian-esque tails. (can you tell these are my favorite) they were called water weilders. The other tribe, Rowan blessed with the power of the snow. They could see through snowstorms, stay warm in any temperature, had heightened senses of smell and taste, summon small flurries and icicles, and had an innate sense of direction. They were basically furries uhm part polar bear ig. they had animal noses, fur on their face, AND whiskers :3 and ice blue eyes. like big and cold blue. theyre called winter weilders.

Rhimiad decided to do what her kids did (did i mention the sun and moon were her kids? sorry yeah they are haha) and bless a few rhimiads. She gave them the power of the earth, they could summon flowers (specifically ONLY flowers) talk to animals, heal nature, you get the gist. they look a lil different, theyre also like furries. but any basic woodland animal. they'll have the tail, the ears/antlers, nose, whiskers, fur, all that. like a squirrel or a deer. also males and females both have antlers because fuck biology character design is cool. They can make whatever noises that animal makes too. theyre called wild watchers.

theyres still a bunch of Rhimiads with no magic, but thats fiine. they can still use the magical plants and whatever magical artifacts to brew potions and use wands or whatever. they just dont have any special connection to a deity.

anyways they made colonies and standard creachur behavior, there was a war between the water and winter weilders so now they hate each other and the winter weilders call themselves frost finders now. they dont care that the have the same god ig. (do not ask what the war was about. i definitely have an answer i just dont want to share it. for. reasons.)

now we're in modern day. there are six kingdoms in Rhimiad currently. each kingdom was founded by a certain tribe, and that population dominates each kingdom, but anyone can live anywhere. mostly. you'll see. Let me explain them each in excruciating detail.

Pyovere - The kingdom of wind, sky, sun, and storms. The kingdom itself is a series of floating islands (!!) shaped like rings, all encasing each other. The closer you get to the center, the more extravagant it is, and in the center is the Pyoverian Palace, the pinnacle of opulence and elegance in all of Rhimiad. The furthest islands are called the Outskirts, and are basically like the slums. the wind walkers live here if you couldn't tell. i based it on pre-revolution era france. will there be a revolution? i have nooooooo idea ;)

Floraison - The kingdom of earth, nature, and creatures and critters. Its a sprawling collection of quiet villages and massive cities. by far the largest kingdom. at the center, perched on the side of an active volcano, is the Pyoverian Palace. this one is home to wild watchers. i picked and choosed elements from all kinds of middle eastern/south asian cultures but this one is mostly based off india

Aquatique - for the water weilders. and only the water weilders. not even non-magic rhimiads. this kingdom is underwater and nobody knows where to find it. trade is conducted via soldiers carrying crates of supplies deep underwater, and making sure nobody follows. its not like anyone could if they wanted to. The ruler still attends diplomatic meetings. but nobody else leaves the kingdom. very little is known about it. i didnt base this one off any particular culture, i just made shit up :P

Krybrot - the kingdom of snow, jewels, and comfort. by far the richest kingdom. Its up in the mountains, covered in snow year-round. they have a direct agreement with Floraison for the exchange of ores for food. they have the Krybrot Castle,, where the royalty lives year-round, and the Crystal Palace, a palace made of ice for the yearly blue moon ball. its an event to praise Rowan. The royal family emerges, putting on a display for the public before hiding away in the castle again.

Quillion - the kingdom where all the non- water weilders went after the water weilding tribe decided to move into the ocean. havent done much work on this one

Erromar - another kingdom for primarily non-magic rhimiads. founded by an insane wizard like 300 years ago. i dont know. just go with it.

PHEW WORLDBUILDING DONE. NOW TIME FOR THE PLOT AND CHARACTERS. YOU THOUGHT WE WERE DONE??? WE'RE JUST GETTING STARTED

Main cast:

Yvette Lancaster - he/him, 18, prince of Pyovere, spoiled rich kid whos scared of everything and wouldn't hurt a fly. his father made a deal with the goddess Vyvienne so he has a special type of magic. he has sun powers. not fire. sun. he glows and can summon light and also look directly at the sun. the coolest power imo. he has a halo but not like a ring halo like those gold disk ones you see in medieval paintings. it glows too. i love it. he's my baby. he's a rich snobby bastard. he can't lift up a sword. he's everything. he's also gonna be king even though he does NOT want that, he wants his twin sister to rule instead. she's the older one. she just doesnt have magic. but their dad gave up his life to vyvienne and their mom has a favorite. so.

Yvonne Lancaster - she/her, 18, non-magic, princess of Pyovere, possibly the most powerful sorceress in Rhimiad's history and she knows it. complete and utter asshole. acts like shes better than everyone. like she deserves the goddess' blessing. she deserves the throne more than her pathetic twat of a brother. she was taught magic by one of the only two stars in the sky (even if she didnt know it)(i forgot to mention the stars. theyre not deities. theyre just kinda there. but yeah theres only two of them. pim and pix. i hate them. theyre so silly.) she hates everyone except one person.

Lynne Schire - she/her, 18, wind walker, the one person yvonne doesnt hate. she moved ffrom the outskirts to the palace at a young age. rather, she ran away from the outskirts, spent two years wasting what little money she had on gambling and alcohol, ran away from people she owed money to and ended up at the palace gates, pleading to the guard to be let in. yvonne happened to be outside at the time and let her in. they became best friends. theyre also in love. but they dont know it yet. lynne is the only one who can tolerate yvonne's bullshit. she doesnt fix it tho. kinda fucked up if you ask me

Palliana-Roe "Roe" Beyberry - she/her, 11, water weilder AND frost finder (rowan liked her personally so he gave her both traits. she hides her water weilder features and pretends to be a frost finder) she joins the gang after plot things happen and they end up in krybrot, looking for a guide to take them to Floraison. She's the princess of Krybrot, but she ran away when she was 8 cause her family sucked and kind of hated her. nobody has come looking for her. she's five foot zero and wields a giant axe. she doesnt take bullshit from anyone. classic character archetype of small child who is also a criminal. girlboss.

Seyuna Hazure - she/they, 28, water weilder, pirate mom. its the best way to describe them. they are loud and obnoxious and the captain of the most respected fleet in all of Quillion, the twilight trinity. The flagship is the SIlver Sinner, Seyuna's pride and joy. there are also a bunch of other characters in her crew but theyre not as important. still love them tho. she adopts Roe even tho roe doesnt want this (she does). they are so silly. they also are very skilled in combat and have excellent connections. dont ask how they got involved with the gang. its complicated.

Kaspian - he/it, 19, non magic. he's the son of the big bad guy. i will expplain that bit later. anyways he may or may not be my self-insert and he is the general of the bad guy army and he's very cool and swag. just kidding that was a lie he's a fucking loser. he can hold a sword and say inspiring things to his troops but cant do shit in a fight. but everyone believes he's the pinnacle of courage and bravery. an illusion he struggles to uphold. anyways he falls in love with yvette because i said so. also he becomes good at some point. he may or may not be killed off im still deciding.

so the big bad. right. i forgot to mention this but each of the deities have a favorite Rhimiad. vyvienne chose yvette, rowan chose palliana-roe, and rhimiad chose the big bad. theyre called the champions. big bad only goes by "Rhimiad's Champion" or "Rhimiad's Heir." very normal person behavior. each of these champions can talk to the deity DIRECTLY. although we dont know that because yvette doesnt talk about it and roe isnt sharing the fact that she's the champion. but Rhimiad's Champion talks about it. he said that Rhimiad told him that the other deities are fake and that rhimiad is the true one. Rhimiad said to wipe out the world, leaving only the non-magic people and wild watchers. he has been succesful thus far. people believe him, because who are they to refute the will of a goddess.

the kicker? he's fucking right. Rhimiad did tell him to do this shit. partially. Rhimiad's true orders were to wipe out the entire world and then kill her. her Champion thought this would scare people so he pretended she meant to keep non-magic people and wild watchers.

You see, Rhimiad is nothing like what the people think she is. oh no no no no. Rhimiad is located in the Void, a place abandoned by space or time. completley dark. She gave birth to her children, the sun and moon. she screated the rhimiads to live on her. she was happy, all alone.

now you might be thinking "cool. why does she want to die." because sshe wants to be free from her prison. the Void is a prison. she used to live in the Universe, with the countless other deities who encompassed their own worlds. But she is a cruel and heartless creature. She grew jealous of another goddess, Nmoroca, and slaughtered her entire population. Nmoroca is now a pitiful barren wasteland. the other deities banished her to the void, and sent two stars to watch her. (thats pim and pix btw) she is allowed to do whatever she wants in the Void, since she is trapped.

however, the Void is not the real world. if you die in the Void, it means nothing. You simply......leave the Void. You are welcomed to the Universe. all Rhimiads from countless generations ago who have died know this truth. they now live on many of the other deities, even Nmoroca, who is slowly being rebuilt.

Rhimiad wants to return. however, she it immortal, so she needs to be killed. She cant leave her rhimiads behind, though, so she ordered her champion to slaughter them all first.

the stars dont know this, so they dont try to stop her.

the sun and moon dont know this, so they get mad at her champion for saying such obvious lies.

OKAY I THINK THATS EVERYTHING?????? I CAN TELL YOU ABOUT THE REST OF THE DEITIES IN THE UNIVERSE IF YOU WANT. PLEASE TELL ME YOUR FAV CHARACTERS AND/OR KINGDOMS. ILSY THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME INFODUMP. I WILL HAVE ART SOMEDAY

#cyris being cringe #halfway to heroes

9 notes · View notes

sleepdeprivedsimp234 · 9 months

Text

WTTT cryptid/animal hcs cuz I'm bored. Also these might make absolutely ZERO sense whatsoever, but thats fine.

================================

New York:

Ive decided that his cryptid/animal form is a blue jay/cat hybrid. Why? Idk tbh. We as a fandom have decided that he is a cat in human form, and the blue-jay is apparently one of the most common birds in NY (and theyre pretty as hell-). I dont really have a good reason lmao. He has the wings of a blue jay (along with some feathers around his back/neck/torso) and cat ears and tail (tho his tail has feathers on it that spread out to look like a blue jay's tailfeathers.) and claws. Also his eyes are gold and his pupils are slits :3. His claws come out of the base of his fingernails, almost like Wolverine's. His speed and agility is increased quite a bit, he can climb even better, amd hear things that he wouldn't normally be able to hear.

Louisiana:

The little voices in my head have all come together and decided that he's a gator/wolf hybrid. Wolf cuz ✨Rougarou✨ and gator cuz why tf not. He has wolf ears and tail, and gator scales on his back/neck/forearms, as well as a bit of his torso. His eyes are a bright yellow and he has slit pupils like an alligator. His teeth can very from being all sharp, or just his canines. His strength, speed, stamina, swimming and hearing/smell abilities all are increased.

Texas:

I just do what the little voices in my head tell me to. He's a deer/northern mockingbird hybrid (cuz deer are the most widespread large mammal in Texas and his state bird is the northern mockingbird). He has antlers and deer hooves and tail, as well as mockingbird wings. His hearing, speed, and jumping abilities are all increased. He's also very alert and gets scared very easily (easier than usual, and he hates it). He definitely headbutts Alaska and California and others that he's able to (some of the taller states).

Massachusetts:

To be completely honest, I haven't though too much, but I'm thinking maybe a raccoon or a chickadee. Raccoon cuz hehe funny, and chickadee cuz the black-capped chickadee is his state bird. This might be one I have to think about more tbh.

Gov:

He's an eagle, no questions asked. I mean- for God's sake he's the closest thing we have to full personification of America, so yes. He has large eagle wings and bright yellow eyes with slit pupils. His legs from the knee down can either be like eagle's legs/talons, or they can be normal, and he has talons instead of fingernails. He has feathers along his neck/back and a long the sides of his face. His speed and strength are both increased.

Alaska:

Again, the little voices are telling me that he's a polar bear/moose hybrid. Pretty much most of him is par bear, as in he has white fur on most of him, he has the claws, and white bear ears and tail and the tips of his hair are white. The moose part of him is literally just a pair of moose antlers. And his strength is heavily increased (not that that was necessary-). He has 100% headbutted Texas back and sent him for a trip.

California:

He is ✨grizzly bear✨. It just makes sense. He has the bear ears, tail, and claws. And fur along his back, torso, neck, forearms, and legs. Also he's like 10x stronger (again, not necessary :') he's already buff enough) and has definitely thrown Texas a few times.

Nevada:

Big horned sheep. He has ram horns, the legs of a ram, and a tail. And he definitely headbutts people. For funsies.

Colorado:

Basically the same as Nevada. Also he gets the munchies cuz he's high 24/7 and eats literally anything. Chair? Munch. Plastic? Munch. Rock? M u n c h.

Florida:

That's not even a question lmao. He's an alligator. He has the yellow eyes and slit pupils, alligator scales on his arms/back/legs/neck. And he's a lot stronger and can swim faster.

New Jersey:

He is a demon/devil hybrid, no questions asked. He has elf-like ears, devil horns/tail/wings, bright red eyes, sharp teeth, and black patches all over his body.

Rhode Island:

Hehe. He's a raccoon cuz i said so. And nobody is changing my damn mind. He has the floofy tail and ears and claws and teeth. He is angy short raccoon :3

================================

#welcome to the table #welcome to the statehouse #wttt new york #wttt louisiana #wttt texas #wttt massachusetts #wttt gov #wttt florida #wttt nevada #wttt colorado #wttt new jersey #wttt rhode island #wttt california #wttt alaska #ben brainard #wttt #wttsh #pls feel free to draw these and tag me id love to see them

41 notes · View notes

spyridonya · 1 year

Note

~kissing them as a bribe to keep them in bed~

Hello Anon! I hope you enjoy this. I did my best after a dry spell. And a demanding cat.

It's not so much he's immune to cold as he's used to it, the bone deep chill of the winters in Kenabras clung onto the skin due to the moisture in the air. Drezen, for all the complaints among his companions, was a dry cold. Nenio had explained to him once that there wasn't a difference, but Lann had simply nodded and decided not to complain within earshot, lest Nenio forget her earlier bone dry lesson on why he was wrong.

Not that Lann was foolish enough not to dress warmly as means of survival. But he knew the slight difference meant everything against his skin.

So, it wasn't the cold that was making getting up harder in the recent weeks.

It was a wonderfully warm body always pressed against his own that made greeting the dawn just a bit more trouble than it was worth. The mongrel noticed that both the tiefling and the aasimar had a tendency to cling when they shared their respective beds with just him but when they were all there were together, Kadira was the one that happened to cling to him while asleep when she was in the middle, her weight warm and soft and her hair spread over his bare chest with her face buried in the scales of his neck while Daeran spooned behind her.

Of the two, Daeran seemed to be the lighter sleeper, so that was a minor blessing from Iomedae in keeping Lann’s routine relatively normal. As normal as possible.

Even when they don't have sex, Lann's head is still making sense of the patterns being established—having someone close by for warmth, for better or worse. Someone warm and comforting. Someone who accidentally kicks or snores. Someone who steals covers. He knows it's common among mongrels to share sleeping piles with siblings, so that might be a tolerance he's only learning just now... but the tolerances almost seem worth it. He's sure it's all a game to Daeran at the end (which oddly makes his heart ache), though Kadee takes it seriously in private (he wishes she would in public).

A new normal, or something torn from him again to remind him of his place in the world.

Those thoughts only come faintly as he begins to shift his legs under the sheets and feather comforter, letting that cool dry air slide over his chest as he begins to push it down his chest and over the suppleness of Kadira's shoulders. And most times he's able to do this without rousing her and tucking her in again.

It could have been brushing his foot against her tail, it could have been sleeping later than normal for him, it could have been anything. But the heavy weight of her head on his chest lifts and he finds himself looking down at her. Her blue eyes are pale with his dark vision, the bleached shadows of her skin making them silver, while her hair is a mess that only magic could solve. Her mouth is lush and kissable and the sleepy sweetness makes Lann’s throat constrict. He quarter hopes she'll smile and settle on him again, and minutes later he'll try escaping her warmth when she’s asleep.

Rather, her thick brows furrow and her tail slides around his calf. "Lann." She says plaintively.

"Good morning." He whispers, mindful of their partner, but his eyes entirely on Kadira.

"Where're you goin'?" She mumbles, falling back to the speech patterns of childhood, her hand grasping for his shoulder.

"The barracks and range, you know that, same as always." He can't resist cupping her face, letting the claw of his left side brush against her lower lip. She responds with a groan and light nip to his thumb.

"No."

"I can't let Seelah be the only one who lifts things around here," Lann explains.

"Stay." She murmurs, her lips brushing over the line where human and lizard are divided, her tongue playing at the furrows of skin and scale and making him shiver from his head to the tips of his toes. (And to the root of his cock.)

"Kadira." His voice is hoarse, "If I'm not doing my training and don't stay strong, Daeran won't let me live it down. D'you know how unbearable that'll be? We'll never see the end of his smugness."

"You like it," She accuses, her lips ghosting kisses down his chest, her voice a little clearer, the silken fur of her legs shift over his as if to trap him.

"But you'll complain about his smugness too," His protests are weak, because he doesn't want to go, because she asks for so very little.

"Mhm, worth it." Heavy breasts press against his torso as she kisses his human side, lips not quite against his nipple as she shifts her weight. "Please, stay."

"We're going to wake up Daeran," A change in tactics, though he realizes it's a poor decision when the silver-blue eyes look up to him, her sleepy smile impish. "Wait, you'd like that."

"Mhmph." She agrees, thighs straddling his hips while her lips press to his collar bone, then kissing the pulse at his throat, "You would, too. Stay."

His hands cup her face again, the battle lost and he knows it, studying his reward with a tip of his head. Lann still isn't sure why she desires him so, why she turns into something soft, sensual, and kittenish in the privacy of his gaze. But if he's learned anything in the last few weeks as he strokes her cheeks with this thumb to pull her closer for a kiss, he really should stop questioning it.

#answered ask #Anonymous #commander x lann #character: knight commander kadira #lann #lann the mongrel #character: lann the mongrel

22 notes · View notes