#out of no where starts ramming itself into the glass

[mischiefmaker615]

Tears of a Mermaid (Loki Love Story) Ch.11

Bang!

Mara rammed her shoulder into the glass again, using her tail to give her a boost in speed yet she only tilted a little bit. Loki had to be stopped, and the only way she could do so was to get out of the tank. the main thing that worried her was the glass, but her scales were pretty touch compared to human skin so she shouldn't take on to much damage as she gave herself another boost and rammed the side again. the tank tilted heavily and returned to its spot, but it was closer to falling compared to last time. every now and again she would pause, listening encase someone was coming- and calling out for help would be to risky encase it was Loki. looking forward, she took a deep breath.

'one more time..'' with a large swipe of her tail, she pushed herself off and rammed the side, hearing a creak and the whole thing swayed, slowly, but it tipped, crashing onto the ground with Rolling on the floor before she could sit herself up. her hands had little cuts, but other than that she was fine and she froze to listen. nothing. looking around, she spotted one of Loki's green cloaks draped across the chair and she carefully dragged herself over and wrapped it around her shoulders. she couldn't jump the balcony like last time, she needed to remain on land if she had any plans on stopping Loki..but how? its not like she knew how to use any powers he claimed she had, and with an injured arm she was already in pain, cradling it with her other arm. she couldn't crawl with one arm for very long, it would get her little to no where, she so began drying herself off, running the cloak along her scales until she flinched, feeling a sharp pain running along the middle of her tail before the glowing began again. Mara covered her mouth to prevent herself from making any noise and squeezed her eyes shut as her tail felt like it split in half, and by the time she looked down once the glow had lessened, two legs were before her. she used the chair to help her stand and properly wrapped the cloak around her before taking her way to the door, carefully listening and peaking out. an empty hall, and a chance.

keeping the cloak tightly around her, she walked down the halls quietly and kept her eyes out. 'where are you going? it's not like you could stop him, your injured and have nothing to defend yourself with..' her pace slowed and she bit her lip. talking to him again seemed to out of the question..perhaps she could find Thor? she jumped as lighting flashed in the sky and she spun around, her eyes towards the Biefrost.

oh gods- Thor! he could help her stop him..was he leaving? no- she had to get to him first-

Mara picked up her pace, her hand sliding across the wall to keep her balance as she did her best to remember where to go until she finally found herself at the stables. there were two stable men there tending to the horses, one being the one Loki rode. straightening a little, she took a deep breath and went over, getting their attention immediately considering the women wore nothing but a cloak and had the features of a goddess.

''er- Prince Loki has ordered me to report to the south side of the Palace traveling on the outskirts, i will be in need of a horse.'' she told them. their eyes went to the cloak, recognizing it was indeed Loki's and believed it to be true she had been sent. with little hesitation, they began to saddle Loki's horse and ready it, stepping aside when it was ready to mount.

she did her best to remember, yet it wasn't easy when she was injured as well. grabbing onto the horn of the saddle, she hid a wince and pulled herself up, one of the boys taking a step forward as if prepared to help if needed before standing off once she climbed on. ''..thank you'' she told them with a bow and her hand held onto the horse's mane. ''alright..take me to the Biefrost'' she whispered as the horse's ear flicked behind itself to listen. with one pound of its hoof, it turned and started to trot, Mara forcing herself to wrap her arms around its neck to hold on as it began to pick up speed. it was a lot easier holding onto Loki than it was riding by herself and she cried out every once and awhile when her arm got bumped; yet the horse headed in the right direction, passing guards who looked back in confusion before its hooves found its way onto the bridge and road straight through the gates, it being a straight shot now to the Biefrost. lighting could be seen flashing beyond and she held her breath hoping she wasn't to late..

her horse finally reached the entrance of the Biefrost and it came to a stop where she carefully slid off and her eyes quickly scanned the room. gone..

her legs felt weak as she shook, holding onto her arm that seemed to hurt the more time passed ''i'm to late..he's gone..''

''he doesn't stay on Asgard very long.'' a voice came a little from behind her.

Mara spun around and upon the entrance stood Loki. her hand flew to her mouth as her legs stumbled back ''oh gods-''

Loki took a small step forward as his hands went up, palms facing her in a surrender position ''easy Mara..its alright-''

''alright? alright!? does this look alright to you??'' she demanded, glancing down at her arm that she held close and anger blazed in her eyes. Loki fell silent, his eyes seeming to lock with hers as his mouth tried to speak but no words came out. ''you were my friend Loki! my only friend! i trusted you- but you chose power over it and trying to hurt Thor. you hurt me and claim your trying to protect Asgard!'' she yelled as she went around the center piece and he slowly went around as well, them going about the room in a circle as they starred at each other. ''i've spent all my life- from what i could remember watching Asgard prosper- Odin is doing a fine job keeping the peace without any special magic- what makes you think you can do any different? you want to control everything and everyone around you just so you can have things your way but that's not how it works!'' she yelled, backing out as she left the entrance and walked out onto the bridge, looking back at the palace beyond as Loki slowly came to the entrance and followed her gaze ''peace makes things prosper, and if you have to take a bit more time to gain it then so be it! but is it really worth hurting those you care about??'' she demanded, her voice carrying out louder than the waves below the bridge were, though they seemed to rise and get bigger as she spoke ''if being king is really that important to you then perhaps i'll go to a realm where it doesn't involve all of this-''

''Mara..''

''you hurt me Loki!''

''i'm sorry!'' he yelled, his eyes having been low this whole time before he had raised them to speak, sadness and shame on his face as he remained put. ''i'm sorry and i never meant- ..i was selfish, you are my only friend, i care for you and i threw it all away for my selfish reasons and you're absolutely right..''

''is ruling that important to you? is there really no one in your life you hold more important than mere worldly gain and items?'' she demanded as he stepped closer, the waves throwing themselves higher as he took each step.

''i used to think so..until i realized i have someone more important in my life that makes everything else seem like it doesn't matter..''

''oh please, you think i don't realize whats happening?'' she demanded as she took a step back, waving a hand along side her at the waves ''there's your power, ready to be harness and rise higher to those who will get in your way''

''..you think i'm doing this?''

Mara's eyes slowly went to the water, the waves swooshing below and churning before her eyes moved back to Loki, who held the vile up toward her.

''the tear is still there.''

Mara blinked as she starred at him, the sound of the waves being the only thing to pass between them as she took in his words ''..you didn't-''

''i couldn't..'' Loki told her, his eyes going to the waves ''your emotions must be linked with your abilities..how you feel right now is most likely the answer to this'' he explained gently as his eyes moved back to hers ''you're worth it Mara..if i have to give up the thrown to be with you then so be it..i'm not asking you to forgive me, but i'd like you to..in time because i know i've hurt you greatly.. but i want you to know-''

Mara cried out in pain her her body seemed to jerk and her stance staggered. she took a step back as the pain wasted over her, her foot slipping before she went over the edge, feeling herself falling room the bridge before Loki slid and caught her good hand in his, her other holding only loosely to the edge as he held onto her. ''L-Loki..'' she whispered as she hung from the bridge, waves swaying below her as she clung into his hands. taking a deep breath, he moved to pull her up before he was pulled down a little by her extended weight, her legs changing with the familiar glow causing him to look away before her tail took shape and appeared.

''Mara I..'' he winced, his position and her's making it difficult for him to work out a solution and tried yanking her up but failed.

''Loki I'm slipping-'' she whimpered, her hand desperately clinging to his and his to hers as their eyes held onto each other's gaze, it being stronger than their grip strength as they seemed to communicate without words.

'..i can't hang on for much more..'

'i know..' Mara bit her lip, knowing it was much higher that the balcony before and she tried one desperate attempt to pull herself up, unsuccessful '..it will be alright'

'Mara..' Loki's eyes gazed into hers, almost as if it was the last time he would ever look into them and from that moment, the waves seemed to be calm, being the smooth water they were used to being in together and Mara loosened her grip, his heart sinking as he still tried to hold on. but he had to let go.. his fingers slid from hers, almost as if they were taking in their last touch before they parted and she fell, her body turning over as she plunged through the air and hit the water, her beautiful tail being the last to be seen as the foam of the water marked its place from where she hit. Loki didn't move, frozen in his spot as he gazed down, desperately waiting to see her pop her head up, look at him, any signs of her being alright down there…

nothing.

#loki odinson #loki god of mischief #loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki x reader smut #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki smut #lokifluff #loki #Youtube

[o-craven-canto]

Extracts from Alan Weisman, The World Without Us, 2007. The book considers the material aspects of human civilization and how long they would last, unattended. If humans were to vanish from Earth, if all maintainance and repairing work ceased, what would happen to what we leave behind?

(The book went on to inspire two speculative documentaries, Life After People by History Channel and Aftermath: Population Zero by National Geographic, emphasizing different aspects of it. They were neat.)

Chapter 2: Unbuilding Our Home

No matter how hermetically you’ve sealed your temperature-tuned interior from the weather, invisible spores penetrate anyway, exploding in sudden outbursts of mold—awful when you see it, worse when you don’t, because it’s hidden behind a painted wall, munching paper sandwiches of gypsum board, rotting studs and floor joists. Or you’ve been colonized by termites, carpenter ants, roaches, hornets, even small mammals.

Most of all, though, you are beset by what in other contexts is the veritable stuff of life: water... moisture enters around the nails. Soon they’re rusting, and their grip begins to loosen... As gravity increases tension on the trusses, the ¼-inch pins securing their now-rusting connector plates pull free from the wet wood, which now sports a fuzzy coating of greenish mold... When the heat went off, pipes burst if you lived where it freezes, and rain is blowing in where windows have cracked from bird collisions and the stress of sagging walls. Even where the glass is still intact, rain and snow mysteriously, inexorably work their way under sills. As the wood continues to rot, trusses start to collapse against each other. Eventually the walls lean to one side, and finally the roof falls in...

While all that disaster was unfolding, squirrels, raccoons, and lizards have been inside, chewing nest holes in the drywall, even as woodpeckers rammed their way through from the other direction... Fallen vinyl siding, whose color began to fade early, is now brittle and cracking as its plasticizers degenerate. The aluminum is in better shape, but salts in water pooling on its surface slowly eat little pits that leave a grainy white coating... Unprotected thin sheet steel disintegrates in a few years. Long before that, the water-soluble gypsum in the sheetrock has washed back into the earth. That leaves the chimney, where all the trouble began. After a century, it’s still standing, but its bricks have begun to drop and break as, little by little, its lime mortar, exposed to temperature swings, crumbles and powders.

If you owned a swimming pool, it’s now a planter box... If the house’s foundation involved a basement, it too is filling with soil and plant life. Brambles and wild grapevines are snaking around steel gas pipes, which will rust away before another century goes by. White plastic PVC plumbing has yellowed and thinned on the side exposed to the light, where its chloride is weathering to hydrochloric acid, dissolving itself and its polyvinyl partners. Only the bathroom tile, the chemical properties of its fired ceramic not unlike those of fossils, is relatively unchanged, although it now lies in a pile mixed with leaf litter.

After 500 years, what is left depends on where in the world you lived. If the climate was temperate, a forest stands in place of a suburb; minus a few hills, it’s begun to resemble what it was before developers, or the farmers they expropriated, first saw it. Amid the trees, half-concealed by a spreading understory, lie aluminum dishwasher parts and stainless steel cookware, their plastic handles splitting but still solid... The chromium alloys that give stainless steel its resilience... will probably continue to do so for millennia, especially if the pots, pans, and carbon-tempered cutlery are buried out of the reach of atmospheric oxygen. One hundred thousand years hence, the intellectual development of whatever creature digs them up might be kicked abruptly to a higher evolutionary plane by the discovery of ready-made tools...

If you were a desert dweller, the plastic components of modern life flake and peel away faster, as polymer chains crack under an ultraviolet barrage of daily sunshine. With less moisture, wood lasts longer there, though any metal in contact with salty desert soils will corrode more quickly. Still, from Roman ruins we can guess that thick cast iron will be around well into the future’s archaeological record, so the odd prospect of fire hydrants sprouting amidst cacti may someday be among the few clues that humanity was here...

In a warmer world... drier, hotter desert climates will be complemented by wetter, stormier mountain weather systems that will send floods roaring downstream, overwhelming dams, spreading over their former alluvial plains, and entombing whatever was built there in annual layers of silt. Within them, fire hydrants, truck tires, shattered plate glass, condominia, and office buildings may remain indefinitely, but as far from sight as the Carboniferous Formation once was.

No memorial will mark their burial, though the roots of cottonwoods, willows, and palms may occasionally make note of their presence. Only eons later, when old mountains have worn away and new ones risen, will young streams cutting fresh canyons through sediments reveal what once, briefly, went on here.

***

Chapter 3: The City Without Us

Under New York, groundwater is always rising… Whenever it rains hard, sewers clog with storm debris… With subway pumps stilled… water would start sluicing away soil under the pavement. Before long, streets start to crater. With no one unclogging sewers, some new watercourses form on the surface… Within 20 years, the water-soaked steel columns that support the street above the East Side’s 4, 5, and 6 trains corrode and buckle. As Lexington Avenue caves in, it becomes a river.

Whenever it is, the repeated freezing and thawing make asphalt and cement split. When snow thaws, water seeps into these fresh cracks. When it freezes, the water expands, and cracks widen… As pavement separates, weeds like mustard, shamrock, and goosegrass blow in from Central Park and work their way down the new cracks, which widen further… The weeds are followed by the city’s most prolific exotic species, the Chinese ailanthus tree… As soil long trapped beneath pavement gets exposed to sun and rain, other species jump in, and soon leaf litter adds to the rising piles of debris clogging the sewer grates.

The early pioneer plants won’t even have to wait for the pavement to fall apart. Starting from the mulch collecting in gutters, a layer of soil will start forming atop New York’s sterile hard shell, and seedlings will sprout…

In the first few years with no heat, pipes burst all over town, the freeze-thaw cycle moves indoors, and things start to seriously deteriorate. Buildings groan as their innards expand and contract; joints between walls and rooflines separate. Where they do, rain leaks in, bolts rust, and facing pops off, exposing insulation. If the city hasn’t burned yet, it will now… with no firemen to answer the call, a dry lightning strike that ignites a decade of dead branches and leaves piling up in Central Park will spread flames through the streets. Within two decades, lightning rods have begun to rust and snap, and roof fires leap among buildings, entering paneled offices filled with paper fuel. Gas lines ignite with a rush of flames that blows out windows. Rain and snow blow in, and soon even poured concrete floors are freezing, thawing, and starting to buckle. Burnt insulation and charred wood add nutrients to Manhattan’s growing soil cap. Native Virginia creeper and poison ivy claw at walls covered with lichens, which thrive in the absence of air pollution. Red-tailed hawks and peregrine falcons nest in increasingly skeletal high-rise structures.

Within two centuries… colonizing trees will have substantially replaced pioneer weeds. Gutters buried under tons of leaf litter provide new, fertile ground for native oaks and maples from city parks. Arriving black locust and autumn olive shrubs fix nitrogen, allowing sunflowers, bluestem, and white snakeroot to move in along with apple trees, their seeds expelled by proliferating birds… as buildings tumble and smash into each other, and lime from crushed concrete raises soil pH, inviting in trees, such as buckthorn and birch, that need less-acidic environments…

In a future that portends stronger and more-frequent hurricanes striking North America’s Atlantic coast, ferocious winds will pummel tall, unsteady structures. Some will topple, knocking down others. Like a gap in the forest when a giant tree falls, new growth will rush in. Gradually, the asphalt jungle will give way to a real one.

***

Chapter 7: What Falls Apart

(context: this chapter describes Varosha, a city in Cyprus evacuated in 1974 after the Turkish invasion, and left abandoned until 2019)

[Two years after abandonment] Asphalt and pavement had cracked… Australian wattles, a fast-growing acacia species used by hotels for landscaping, were popping out midstreet, some nearly three feet high. Creepers from ornamental succulents snaked out of hotel gardens, crossing roads and climbing tree trunks… Concussions from Turkish air force bombs, Cavinder saw, had exploded plate-glass store windows. Boutique mannequins were half-clothed, their imported fabrics flapping in tattered strips…

Pigeon droppings coated everything. Carob rats nested in hotel rooms, living off Yaffa oranges and lemons from former citrus groves… The bell towers of Greek churches were spattered with the blood and feces of hanging bats.

Sheets of sand blew across avenues and covered floors… Now, no bands, just the incessant kneading of the seathat no longer soothed. The wind sighing through open windows became a whine. The cooing of pigeons grew deafening.

Varosha, merely 60 miles from Syria and Lebanon, is too balmy for a freeze-thaw cycle, but its pavement was tossed asunder anyway. The wrecking crews weren’t just trees, Münir marveled, but also flowers. Tiny seeds of wild Cyprus cyclamen had wedged into cracks, germinated, and heaved aside entire slabs of cement…

Two more decades passed… Its encircling fence and barbed wire are now uniformly rusted, but there is nothing left to protect but ghosts. An occasional Coca Cola sign and broadsides posting nightclubs’ cover charges hang on doorways… Fallen limestone facing lies in pieces. Hunks of wall have dropped from buildings to reveal empty rooms… brick-shaped gaps show where mortar has already dissolved. Other than the back-and-forth of pigeons, all that moves is the creaky rotor of one last functioning windmill.

In the meantime, nature continues its reclamation project. Feral geraniums and philodendrons emerge from missing roofs and pour down exterior walls. Flame trees, chinaberries, and thickets of hibiscus, oleander, and passion lilac sprout from nooks where indoors and outdoors now blend. Houses disappear under magenta mounds of bougainvillaea. Lizards and whip snakes skitter through stands of wild asparagus, prickly pear, and six-foot grasses. A spreading ground cover of lemon grass sweetens the air. At night, the darkened beachfront, free of moonlight bathers, crawls with nesting loggerhead and green sea turtles.

***

Chapter 10: The Petro Patch

If, in the immediate aftermath of Homo sapiens petrolerus, the tanks and towers of the Texas petrochemical patch all detonated together in one spectacular roar, after the oily smoke cleared, there would remain melted roads, twisted pipe, crumpled sheathing, and crumbled concrete. White-hot incandescence would have jump-started the corrosion of scrap metals in the salt air, and the polymer chains in hydrocarbon residues would likewise have cracked into smaller, more digestible lengths, hastening biodegradation. Despite the expelled toxins, the soils would also be enriched with burnt carbon, and after a year of rains switchgrass would be growing. A few hardy wildflowers would appear. Gradually, life would resume.

Or, if the faith of Valero Energy’s Fred Newhouse in system safeguards proves warranted—or if the departing oilmen’s last loyal act is to depressurize towers and bank the fires—the disappearance of Texas’s world champion petroleum infrastructure will proceed more slowly. During the first few years, the paint that slows corrosion will go. Over the next two decades, all the storage tanks will exceed their life spans. Soil moisture, rain, salt, and Texas wind will loosen their grip until they leak. Any heavy crude will have hardened by then; weather will crack it, and bugs will eventually eat it.

What liquid fuels that haven’t already evaporated will soak into the ground. When they hit the water table, they’ll float on top because oil is lighter than water. Microbes will find them, realize that they were once only plant life, too, and gradually adapt to eat them. Armadillos will return to burrow in the cleansed soil, among the rotting remains of buried pipe.

Unattended oil drums, pumps, pipes, towers, valves, and bolts will deteriorate at the weakest points, their joints… Until they go, collapsing the metal walls, pigeons that already love to nest atop refinery towers will speed the corruption of carbon steel with their guano, and rattlesnakes will nest in the vacant structures below. As beavers dam the streams that trickle into Galveston Bay, some areas will flood. Houston is generally too warm for a freeze-thaw cycle, but its deltaic clay soils undergo formidable swell-shrink bouts as rains come and go. With no more foundation repairmen to shore up the cracks, in less than a century downtown buildings will start leaning.

… When oil, gas, or groundwater is pumped from beneath the surface, land settles into the space it occupied… Lower the land, raise the seas, add hurricanes far stronger than midsize, Category 3 Alicia, and even before its dams go, the Brazos gets to do again what it did for 80,000 years: like its sister to the east, the Mississippi, it will flood its entire delta… flare towers, catalytic crackers, and fractionating columns, like downtown Houston buildings, will poke out of brackish floodwaters, their foundations rotting while they wait for the waters to recede.

… Below the surface, the oxidizing metal parts of chemical alley will provide a place for Galveston oysters to attach. Silt and oyster shells will slowly bury them, and will then be buried themselves. Within a few million years, enough layers will amass to compress shells into limestone, which will bear an odd, intermittent rusty streak flecked with sparkling traces of nickel, molybdenum, niobium, and chromium. Millions of years after that, someone or something might have the knowledge and tools to recognize the signal of stainless steel. Nothing, however, will remain to suggest that its original form once stood tall over a place called Texas, and breathed fire into the sky.

I cannot really describe the feeling I get from reading these portions in particular, only that it’s the strongest I ever got from any book. It’s certainly not one of joy: I don’t want humans to disappear -- in fact, there are a lot of humans among my family and friends -- and I don’t want human civilization to vanish, after the unspeakable effort it took to put together, with all the promise that, despite everything, it shows. It’s not one of sadness or fear, either. I suppose it’s just one of awe, of terrible grandeur, similar in kind to what I feel when considering the alien horror and beauty of evolved life, its sheer multi-layered complexity, or the unthinkable vastness of geological time.

#quotes #books #longpost #deep time #aesthetic

[shadowbunnydragon]

Here is a special peek into an alternate universe! One where everyone's gender is swapped! It was a lot of fun and kinda a trip to go back and rewrite previous parts of the story. I hope you all like it!

And, I hope you all like the picture WastedTimeEE drew of Marigold (the female version of Marcus) in a family photo with her mom and dad, Zelda (Zach's female alternate version) and Varun (Vanna's male form)! It came out just so gosh dang cute and sweet! You can find it here on my SoFurry page in the link below! You can also find it on Wasted's pages over there and on FurAffinity!

Found (Genderswapped Shenanigans)

By

ShadowBunnyDragon

"What's the matter, Puppy Love?" Don asked, the diminutive ram reaching up to take the large gray she-wolf's paw in his hooves. Vera looked down at her mate with a smile before letting out a sigh, her ears and tail drooping a bit.

"Sweet sawgrass, Honey Ram," she said, rubbing her temple with her free paw. "That last place... did ya see the way that guy was looking at us? Ya'd think we were drooling, snarling monsters the way he acted!"

"I know, Vera," Don said with a note of sadness in his voice, "that is to be expected. B-between us being a pred/prey couple... and my criminal history... adopting for us was never going to be easy." The ram looked down at his hooves, only to be swept up into a (near) bone crushing hug by his much larger mate.

"Honey Ram, ya've more than made up fer that. Yer a hero! Anyone who holds yer past against ya like this, ta this degree, is just bein' more stubborn than Ma can be." Don let out a surprised OOF, but recovered and started to rub his mate's arms with his hooves. "We're two mammals lookin' to give some pups a lovin' and stable home, and gettin' passed over like that... it just ain't right."

"I know, Puppy," Don said as he was set back down. He adjusted his tie and lime green sweater vest. Rather than a full suit and tie, Don had decided to dress more upscale casual, so as to leave a good impression. Vera was wearing a light blue sundress. Normally a bit more tomboyish, she too had decided that their chances would be helped by dressing up a bit. "I suppose we have no choice but to just keep pressing forward. If it's any consolation, this place seemed much more promising than the previous one when I booked our appointment. And that was after they had completed a full background check on us." Looking up at his mate, Don's heart skipped a beat when he saw the smile that grew on Vera's muzzle. He was reminded daily of just how much he loved this she-wolf. It had been five years since their tithe and the subsequent caprid ceremony, but they still acted like newlyweds.

"I really hope that there's a little pup and lamb in there that we can open our home to," Vera said, standing up straighter and smoothing out her dress.

"I'm sure we will!" Holding his hoof in her much larger paw, Vera and Don walked up the well-maintained sidewalk path, Vera spotting the sign on the manicured front lawn.

"Warm Hearts, Warm Hearth's Children's Center," she read aloud. The red brick building, not being too far from Little Rodentia, was itself a bit on the small side. From the children's drawings taped to the windows to how well-kept the property was, it gave off more of a cozy feeling, as opposed to the more austere feeling the last facility gave off. It was a very welcome contrast to the couple as they entered the front doorway.

"Welcome," said a male kangaroo with a kind smile as he entered the reception area, wearing a simple white t-shirt and jeans. Out from a nearby doorway came the excited squeals and happy laughter of children. "How can I help you?"

"W-we're the Hunter-Bellwethers. I believe that we spoke on the phone?" Don said, adjusting his glasses.

"Ah yes," the kangaroo said, heading on over to his desk and motioning for the couple to sit down in the chairs opposite it. "It's nice to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter-Bellwether. I'm Adam Hopper, by the way, director here at Warm Hearts, Warm Hearths. You two are early, by the way."

"We're just that eager ta adopt," Vera said, still holding Don's hoof in her paw. She could feel him give her a reassuring squeeze.

"I like that," Adam said, "and if you two are here, then that means that you have been approved to adopt."

The wolf and ram could hardly believe their ears. They shared a look, both with excited grins on their faces, before looking back to Adam.

"That's wonderful news," Don said. Vera was silent, but her tail thumping her chair spoke volumes to her joy. It was then that Don spotted a small wire picture frame on the desk, containing a picture of the kangaroo before them and a tiger, both wearing white tuxedos, the latter nuzzling the former. Don had to stop himself from cooing at how precious the moment captured was, but Adam seemed to have noticed. There was a certain sparkle in his eye as he continued.

"My mate and I know how hard it can be for pred/prey couples to adopt. But I want to assure you both that you have nothing to worry about moving forward."

"Uhm," Don said, shifting a bit in his seat, "a-are you sure? I mean... y-you must know about my... past."

"Mr. Hunter-Bellwether," Adam said, taking note of how the she-wolf leaned down to hug her smaller mate, "everyone makes mistakes in their past. What is important is that you have not only been able to move past it, but even gone on to become a hero to the entire city, at great risk to yourself no less. I promise you, there is no problem here." Don and Vera both felt assured by that. "Now, moving on, you said on the phone that you would prefer children older than infants or toddlers?"

"Y-yes," Don said, feeling suddenly nervous again.

"We know that most couples tend ta adopt the really little ones more than the older pups," Vera explained, "so we were hopin' ta make a difference fer some pups more in the six ta nine age-range."

"Understandable, and you really will." Adam smiled again, quickly getting back to business. "Now, you also expressed a desire to adopt a wolf and a sheep? May I ask why that is?"

"W-well, we felt that it would probably help us to connect with them and better guide them through certain things and instincts in life. L-like the headbutting phase," Don said with a blush. He received a kiss to his forehead from Vera.

"And o'course, the howling urges," the she-wolf said simply. "But we'll still happily adopt outside our species, so it's not a dealbreaker."

"Absolutely! We just want to be parents!" Don chimed in.

Adam chuckled at that. "That's good to hear," he said, pulling out a file from his desk and opening it. He grabbed a photo and passed it to the couple. "As it just so happens, we have a trio that fits what you're looking for almost perfectly." The ram and she-wolf looked down at the photo to see three young mammals, smiling and hugging in a pose for the camera. One was a black wolf pup, wearing a yellow t-shirt and blue shorts, with bright yellow eyes. Then there was a little black-wooled ewe, in a yellow sundress. And sandwiched in between the two was... a largely furless mammal. He, as Don presumed the child was a boy, was wearing a similar shirt and shorts to the wolf pup. He had a shaggy patch of chestnut brown fur atop his head, but based on the rest of his face and arms and legs, he looked like he was otherwise devoid of any fur.

"This cute little trio think of each other as siblings, and have refused to be separated. The oldest, the little wolf boy, is Alex. He's eight. Tiffany, a sweetheart, is the ewe, and she's seven. And there in the middle is little Leon. He's six."

"Oh my... well, we only discussed having two lambs... but I don't think that three would be a problem, Puppy?" Don looked up at his mate, who was looking between him and the picture. Her tail was still wagging.

"True... three is a bigger commitment than two already was... but I ain't gunna go separatin' siblings from one another, even ones not related by blood. Though, I gotta ask, what species is little Leon? Don't get me wrong, he seems just as adorable as his brother and sister. I just never saw one of... whatever he is before," Vera said.

Adam began to rub the back of his head, looking uncomfortable. "Well, that's the thing. We don't know. We even had a sample of his DNA tested, but all we got back was an Unknown. And he doesn't match any kind of species on any registry we've been able to find. So... he's still an unknown species. And all we have to go on is that he was picked up from the streets at around age three or four."

"Oh," Don said, looking down at the picture again. "The poor little guy. He must've been so scared!"

Vera frowned at the thought of a child that young being all alone without anyone to take care of them, and let out a small whine. "Not knowin' what his species is might make it a bit harder ta relate ta him or some of the things his species goes through as they get older... but whatever he is. He and his brother and sister are more than welcome ta join our little pack... if'n they want. Right, Ramchop?"

Don looked up at his mate and, hopping up in his seat, he reached up to kiss his she-wolf on her nose.

"Of course, Puppy," Don said, handing back the photo to Adam, who kept in a snicker at how cute the couple across from him was together.

"Well, in that case, how about we introduce you two to them, and move on from there?" With an enthusiastic assent from the couple, Adam got up and led them through a short hallway into a room with some couches in it. Vera and Don took a seat on a maroon leather couch across from a navy blue one and waited while the kangaroo exited to go and get the children. Adam returned shortly afterwards, herding three young mammals into the room. Right away, Don and Vera noticed how Alex, who was wearing a red shirt with black shorts, was placing himself in front of the other two protectively, looking over at the two strange mammals with determined yellow eyes. Tiffany, who was wearing a blue dress similar to Vera's with a matching bow on her head floof, and Leon, who was in a green shirt and blue shorts, were both looking over his shoulder, soft hazel and curious deep blue respectively. Leon, despite being the youngest, seemed to be taller than his brother and sister, and was hugging a green stuffed dragon to his chest. Nervously, the three walked to the other couch and took a seat on it, huddling close together. Don and Vera both had to hold back a coo at the cuteness.

"Alex, Tiffany, Leon, this is Mr. and Mrs. Hunter-Bellwether; what do we say when we meet new people?" Adam asked in a gentle voice.

"H-hi," Tiffany spoke first. This was chorused by Leon and Alex.

"Hi there, pups!" Vera said, excited. Her tail was making a thumping sound against the couch where she sat, and that made Leon and Tiffany giggle. Alex turned to look at his siblings, before looking back at the strange couple before them.

"It's a pleasure to meet you three," Don said, beaming at the little lambs. After the initial introductions, the conversation continued, albeit a bit awkwardly at first. Don and Vera learned that Alex loved soccer, Tiffany enjoyed writing, and Leon liked to draw and explore.

"Are you going to adopt us?" Tiffany asked, putting a hoof around Leon and pulling him into a side hug. "'Cause Leon's our baby brother, and where we go, he comes with." The little ewe was polite, but very firm in her statement. Adam looked shocked and a little worriedly at Don and Vera, who both seemed to be holding back chuckles at the brave little lamb.

"Well, if y'all three don't mind the idea of us becommin' yer parents, we really would like ta adopt all three of ya," Vera said. At that, the pups seemed to relax a bit.

"You three do deserve to know that... because we're a predator and prey couple, we sometimes receive harassment for it. And... well, we just wanted to make sure you knew that, before deciding if you would like to come home with us." Don suddenly realized just how nervous he felt at that moment. Vera took his hoof in her paw and gave it another reassuring squeeze. The children huddled together on the couch, whispering to each other. Vera's ears twitched as she heard Leon's voice lightly drift over as he said "I think they're nice." Seeming to have reached a consensus, the three broke apart the huddle and, with Alex acting as the spokemammal for their group, he cleared his throat.

"... So long as me, my brother, and my sister can all stay together... then yes," Alex said, starting off sounding confident and strong, but his voice breaking a little at the end there, his little tail tucking itself as his ears started to droop a bit. Vera felt an urge to go over and give the pup a hug, but restrained herself. Instead, she and Don excitedly grinned and spoke with the children for almost another half an hour. When it was time for them to go, Adam led the children away, returning to see the couple out, and assure them that from that point onward, the adoption process was going to be much quicker. In a few more days, the couple would be able to take their children home with them. Walking back out and towards the minivan they had gotten, the she-wolf stopped and swept her mate up into another hug, which he was of course happy to return.

"This is really happening, Honey Ram," Vera said "it's like a dream!"

"I know, Puppy," Don said, suddenly finding himself sitting on Vera's shoulder. He let out an involuntary laugh-bleat. "We're about to become parents! Oh! There is so much we need to do now!"

"I know, darlin'! We gotta start clearin' out a third room, and triple check that the house is safe fer pups. And then we should probably hit up a toy store or two, and we'll need ta get a third bed for Leon, and then--" Vera was cut off by Don grabbing her head and turning it towards him. His lips met hers, and she instinctively wrapped her arms around him. Breaking apart, she felt a bit calmer, although her tail felt like it might just go ahead and break off from how hard it was wagging.

"Y'know, Honey Ram," Vera said as they continued to their car, now a husky tone to her voice, "when we get home, just because we're adoptin', that doesn't mean we can't try the old fashioned way to have yet another pup runnin' around with the three we're already gettin'." As the two buckled up, with Vera in the driver's seat, she leaned over and began to nuzzle the now-blushing Don, who had to remove his fogged-up glasses.

"I do believe that you make a very valid point, Puppy Love," he said, turning to look up at his mate with love and adoration in his eyes, that were mirrored in the bright green ones looking back at him. The two shared another kiss just as Vera turned the key in the ignition.

* * *

"Thankfully she was brought in when she was. The injury to the leg was beginning to show signs of infection," Doctor Catson said, adjusting her glasses as she looked up at Doreen. The lynx was consulting a chart, a slight frown on her muzzle. "If she had been out there much longer, she'd be potentially looking at a major infection. Which, when considering how malnourished she is, and her living conditions..." she trailed off, not needing to spell it out to the law she-wolf.

"Accordin' to my daughter and her mate, the two did some poking around the areas they believed she was livin'. Apparently she's been living off of foragin' and creek water, and some kinda canned foods. Sleepin' outside, I'm surprised she didn't get pneumonia, considerin' how wet and cold it's been lately."

"It's a miracle she was found when she was... but there's something else." Doctor Catson's small frown was now much more pronounced. This made Doreen pause.

"What is it, Layla?"

"Based... on her behavior, as well as some physical scarring, I believe that she had been subjected to physical abuse," the lynx said, her ears drooping.

Doreen grimaced but nodded, having had a similar thought based on how terrified the girl had been. Not to mention how she jumped from even the slightest noise or whenever someone spoke.

"Ya mentioned scarring?"

Layla nodded, shuffling her documents a bit, holding out a couple of photos to the white she-wolf. Doreen looked them over.

"There's scarring on the backs of her paws, but those pale in comparison to the ones on her back."

Doreen saw for herself in the picture, the small series of faded pink lines going down the backs of the child's paws. It was when she looked at the photo of her back that caused Doreen to wince, and even let out a whine. The child's back was a crisscross network of much larger, more fervent-looking scars that were much more pronounced, and nearly covered the entirety of her back. Doreen handed the photos back, a sick feeling in her gut.

"Know what coulda done something like that?" Doreen asked, a few ideas of her own in the back of her mind.

"Well, a knife or even a claw is not entirely out of the realm of possibility. However, it is in my opinion that the injuries to her back were caused by a whip."

Doreen winced again, the idea of those having been scars from a whip having been a theory that she was hoping had not been the case. After confirming that Child Services had been contacted, Doreen started to head towards the room that the mystery mammal was in, an idea beginning to take root in her mind. She quietly opened the door, entering with a practiced warm smile on her muzzle, taking slow and deliberate steps so as not to spook her.

"Now, Pup," Doreen said as she settled into the chair by the hospital bed. She looked at the older mystery mammal, who sat there in a hospital gown, hugging her knees to her chest. She looked upon the older law she-wolf with blue eyes filled with worry and fear. Doreen tok some solace in the fact that the girl was no longer shivering. "How about we start with somethin' simple, like yer name?"

"M-my name?" the young girl asked, scooting a little bit away on the bed, looking confused.

"Yep. Mine's Doreen." She gave what she hoped was a comforting smile.

"U-uh..." The girl looked away as she started to speak, now trying to make her voice sound deeper. "M-Marcus."

Doreen sighed and shook her head, internally muttering something about Pups not being good at lying. "Sorry, Pup, but yer gunna have ta do better than that."

Flinching a little, the furless mammal looked to be mulling it over. "Uh... I m-meant to say... my name's Eli?" Doreen just looked at her with an unamused, half-lidded stare. "B-Barry," she squeaked out, the falsetto now gone. After a moment of silence, she hanged her head, realizing the jig was up, and looked Doreen in the eyes. "M-my name is a-actually... Marigold."

Doreen's tail started to wag as her frown broke into a happy smile. "See? That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

"... I g-guess not," Marigold said, gulping audibly.

"Now, mind tellin' me why you tried ta claim y'all were a boy?"

"... B-because p-people always said b-bad things happen to girls when they go into the 'system'," Marigold said.

"I promise that nothin's gunna happen ta ya so long as I'm around, Miss Marigold. Ya can count on that," Doreen said with a wag of her tail. "Now, how old are ya?"

"... 18."

Doreen sighed and just silently sat there, staring at the girl. Marigold fidgeted and squirmed before sighing.

"I j-just turned 12," she said, now a look of pleading in her eyes. "P-please don't p-put me in the system! I can take care of myself!"

"Oh, can ya now?" Doreen asked, pointedly looking to the bandage wrapped around the girl's calf. "'Cause according ta the doctor, that little injury there was close ta becomin' infected. And also, from the tests they ran, yer pretty underweight. How long were you out in the woods?"

"Uh... m-maybe a month?"

"And ya were by yerself that whole time?"

Marigold just nodded silently at that, a couple silent tears streaming down her pale cheeks. The sight hurt the she-wolf's heart. Looking at the vulnerable, frightened young girl sitting there, Doreen couldn't help thinking about her own girls. The idea of any one of them, being left alone at such a young age, to fend for themselves in the wilderness, made Doreen want to howl in anger and sorrow.

"Where are yer parents?" Doreen asked. Seeing how the girl began to hyperventilate at that question, once she calmed back down, the she-wolf decided to hold off on questioning further in that area for the time being. Noticing how the girl kept nodding off, Doreen smiled.

"Ya know, yer not the first of yer species I've encountered," Doreen said, taking note of the look of worry in the girl's eyes.

"I-I'm not?"

"Nope. My daughter and her mate actually adopted a group of pups not too long ago, and the youngest, my little grandson Leon, is one of yer species. And he's just the sweetest little guy. But the thing of it is... he doesn't know what yer species is called, and no one we've been askin' seems to have encountered anyone like y'all before either. So I was wonderin' iffin' you could tell me what yer species' name is?"

"... H-human," Marigold said in a faint voice, looking very confused.

"Uman? Mind spellin' that fer me?" Marigold did, after stifling a yawn.

"Okay, you've answered enough questions so far, missy. Right now it looks ta me like you could use some shuteye," Doreen said. While her mate Addy was the more emotional and nurturing of their tithing, she still had mothering skills she had developed after raising seven pups. The older she-wolf gently took the blanket and pulled it up over Marigold. The furless young mammal seemed surprised at first, before letting out a big yawn and laying down.

"Uhm... th-thank you, sheriff," Marigold said in a sleepy voice.

"Yer welcome, Marigold. Now, we'll be nearby if ya need us. I promise, ya ain't gunna be alone anymore," Doreen said softly as she exited the room. Walking out into the waiting area, she had to hold back a snort. She saw Yuki sitting with her arms crossed, looking annoyed, with a large quartz crystal sitting on her head. Right next to her was Undine, who was slowly waving another, smaller crystal, looking like an amethyst, around Yuki's head.

"This will align your chakras and help alleviate some of that stress I am sensing coming off you, Yuke." Doreen held back a chuckle at the sight of her daughters, the two younger black she-wolves oblivious to their mother's amusement. It was while looking around that Doreen spotted just the russet-and gray-colored she-wolf she was looking for, currently talking on her phone.

"Zelda," Doreen said, getting her attention. Zelda saw that her mother was motioning for her to follow, so she made quick work of hanging up and entering an empty room right behind Doreen. With the door closed, the white wolf looked upon her daughter with a smile on her muzzle.

"So what's happenin' with the girl, Ma?" Zelda asked.

"Well, that's what I wanted ta talk to ya about, Hun," Doreen started, a sly smile on her muzzle. "See, as ya can tell, she's had a bit of a rough go o' thangs, and is now all alone. And I personally hate the idea of her just goin' ta some foster home where she will be the only known member of her species. And, what's more, Vera and Don haven't been able to uncover any information about Leon's species, so it wouldn't really be a benefit fer anyone fer the poor gal ta just be shipped off to who knows where and surrounded by strangers. At least here we've been able to build a rapport..."

At that, Zelda's ears perked up and her tail started to wag. "So you and Pa are gunna take her in!"

Doreen chuckled at that. "Well, I'm sure Addy would be more than happy ta. But, we're makin' some... alterations at the ranch."

"So Don and Vera then?"

"I'd be willin' ta bet good money that they'd be willin' ta as well, but with the new pups 'n all, they don't really got that much space..."

"But, then, who else? Yuki and Adamo have barely enough time fer themselves over in Seaotter, and... wait a sec, Ma. Hold the phone!"

"What? You and Varun have that big 'ol house all ta yerselves, plus I know that Addy would just love to have another grandpup nearby ta dote on and spoil."

"Yeah, but," Zelda said, now looking thoughtful.

"Plus she's gunna need some stability with a good, permanent home. And you and Varun said ya were both talkin' 'bout adoptin'."

"... I'll have ta talk with Varun about this first," Zelda said, sounding like her mind was elsewhere, her tail starting to wag. Doreen bit down on a smirk, knowing that her daughter had already been sold on the idea.

"Absolutely! You go on and think what I said over and talk to yer mate." Doreen watched Zelda head out the door to look for the large tiger, and waited until she was out of earshot before pulling out her phone. Tapping on it, she dialed up a number. The other end rang a few times before it was picked up.

"Hey, Xena, I'm so sorry, Sweetheart, I know ya and Melly are enjoyin' some much needed R and R, but Zelda and Varun really need yer help right now. See, they decided ta become foster parents. Yes, that's right, the pup we found in the woods."

Elsewhere in the hospital, Zelda had found her mate sitting with the other Hunter boys (as they like to call themselves), with Tarin having been sitting on his head. Seeing his mate wanting a word alone, he had plucked the black-furred fox tod off his head, and instead deposited the small canid onto the head of a certain hyena.

"Hey! My head ain't no jungle-gym!" Adamo barked out in his Barx accent. Varun chuckled as he walked off so he and Zelda could speak. Of all the things he had been expecting, what came out of his she-wolf's mouth was not one of them.

"You want us to become foster parents to that poor girl?" he asked, scratching his chin.

"I know it's sudden, but we need ta act now! She needs stability and Ma and Pa can't provide it 'cause... well, Ma didn't elaborate as ta why she and Pa can't do it, but the point still stands!"

"Hmm," Varun looked to be deep in thought as Zelda continued.

"Plus, Don and Vera need all the help they can get in understanding all they can about Leon's species. And on top of that we've both agreed that we want to adopt. Granted, we thought about getting a feline or a canid child, but I think we could provide an excellent home for her and--"

"I agree," Varun said, his deep and soft voice cutting off the she-wolf mid-explanation.

"... Huh?" Zelda was stunned.

Varun chuffed happily and smiled at his mate, his tail swishing as he wrapped his powerful arms around her waist, making her blush as he nuzzled the top of her head.

"I'll admit I'm a little nervous about becoming a father, even a foster father. But... I like the idea of opening our home to the poor girl. And with Mama and Papa Hunter being nearby, it's not like we would be truly on our own."

Zelda's tail became a blur of joy, fighting back the urge to howl in pure excitement. She had been warned twice before if she did so in the hospital again that she would be given a fine. "I know we're probably gunna have ta take it slow... but I'm just so excited at the idea! Us, having a daughter!" The two shared a long and passionate kiss.

* * *

Morning sunlight cascaded through the bedroom window, bathing everything it touched in a warm golden glow. This included the cuddled up forms of Vera and Don, the former of which was practically encircling the latter with her body. Slowly, the two began to stir. Don's eyes fluttered open as he buried his face in his mate's neck ruff, while Vera affectionately nuzzled his head floof.

"Mornin', Floofy," Vera said with a smile, her tail thumping the bed.

"Good morning, Puppy," Don replied with a yawn and a smile.

Vera looked her mate over as she stretched a little. "Ya had the dream again, didn't'cha?"

The ram winced and nodded. "Y-yes, but instead of it just being Diana and my m-mother, there were also what I think my subconscious decided were what adult humans looked like for my dream. Only instead of looking more like Marigold or just a taller Leon, they had long gangly arms with many different joints, and could unhinge their jaws. And they kept trying to take Leon away with them." Don shuddered at the memory of the dream, feeling comfort from Vera gently pulling him closer.

"Hey, now, that's never gunna happen, Darlin'," Vera said, looking Don in the eye. "Leon, just like his brother and sister, is our pup, and no one is gunna take any of them from us."

"I know, Puppy Love... but a part of me just can't stop worrying."

"That's just you being a good dad." Vera smiled and kissed her ram on his nose, making him blush and let out a happy bleat. Don snickered and reached up into Vera's ruff, easily finding the spot he was looking for and scratching it. Vera's right leg immediately started to twitch as her tongue lolled out and she rolled over, unable to stop herself. Don stopped when he heard some giggling coming from their bedroom door. Vera's ears twitching at the sound, the two turned to look and saw their children poking their heads through, only to suddenly dart back out having been caught.

"Am I correct to believe that some little lambs decided to peek in on Mommy and Daddy this morning?" Don called out with a smile on his muzzle. There were some giggles outside the door, before the children apparently composed themselves, and opened it properly. In they came, with Alex in the lead carrying a tray with food on it, followed close behind by Tiffany, who was cuddling her new wolf plush named Mrs. Sniffy, and Leon, who was carrying a relaxing Sir Callibrie in his arms, the little lizard looking about and letting out a content chirp. The children were still all in their pj's, Alex in his soccer-themed pajamas, Tiffany in her yellow nightgown, and Leon wearing his much-too-large for him black Samurai Snakes t-shirt over gray pajama bottoms.

"Happy birthday, Daddy!" the little human boy called out in excitement.

"Uh... w-we thought you might like breakfast in bed?" Alex said, looking away and trying to sound casual, but his perked up ears and slowly wagging tail were a dead giveaway for his anticipation. Don let out a coo at the cuteness before him as Vera chuckled and the two disentangled to allow the children to approach.

"Well now, that sounds so thoughtful," the ram said, grabbing his glasses from the bedside table and putting them on. Alex carefully, but quickly walked over to set the tray down in front of Don. "Now, what do we have here? Oh! Why, is that a fruit salad I spy?" Seeing Alex blush beneath his dark fur while looking away was a dead giveaway to Don. "Do I have you to thank for this thoughtful and tasty-looking salad, Alex?"

"Uh... w-well... yeah," Alex smiled as Don took a few bits of the cubed honeydew and mango, popping a strawberry in his mouth as well.

"It's delicious, thank you, Alex," Don said, leaning over and pulling his oldest son into a hug. The young wolf let out a surprised yip, but was quick to return the hug, now blushing more.

"And what's this little treat here?" Vera asked, pointing to two pieces of toast that appeared to have some kind of black frosting spread over them, with a white face drawn on, and plenty of black and white and purple sprinkles.

"I made Pirate Toast!" Leon said proudly, setting a squirming Sir Callibrie down on the bed, who darted over to Dawn and up his arm, coming to rest on his head floof, curling up to relax once again.

"Pirate Toast? Now that sounds adventurous," Don said, picking up a slice. "Did you design them to look like little pirate flags?" He smiled when Leon proudly nodded. "You are such a little artist! They look just like the real thing... only toastier!" That got a giggle from the lambs.

"I used the vanilla cake frosting I found in the cupboard, and didja know that if you mix the red, green, and blue food colorings together in it, it turns black?"

"I certainly didn't," Vera said, scooping Leon and Tiffany into her arms and setting them on her lap, her tail thumping. "What else is in it?"

"Well, I also added some sprinkles I found," Leon said as Don took a big bite of his toast, "and some red glitter!" Don froze at that, immediately feeling the tiny pieces of decorative plastic in his mouth. Vera looked to be holding back a snicker while Don continued to chew his bite, giving it a swallow while Leon looked on with joy in his eyes.

"Ah, so you did. Well... that is truly delicious, buddy, thank you." Don was quick to grab the glass of cloudy dark liquid and take a sip. It had a sweet, citrusy taste to it. "Oh my, this is lovely. What is this juice?"

"I made you Outer Space Juice, Daddy!" Tiffany squeaked.

"Now what's all in Outer Space Juice, sweetie-pie?" Vera asked, looking down at the ewe in her lap. Tiffany gazed back up at her mother with a bright smile.

"It's cranberry juice with the powdered orange drink for Astronauts mixed in! Though I wanted to pour some Deep Space Cocoa Spheres in, Alex said not to." Tiffany was very matter-of-factly about her response, letting out a giggle when Vera gave both her and her little brother a loving squeeze.

"We can make some more juice and fruit salads and pirate toast for everybody," Leon chimed in, prompting Vera to stand up, setting the two of her younger pups on her shoulders.

"Why don't I come down and help y'all with that, honey?"

"'Kay, Mommy!" Leon reached over and wrapped his little arms around her neck. The she-wolf's tail started to wag while she looked at her mate and gave him a wink. Don looked relieved as, with Leon watching, he hesitantly took another bite of the pirate toast. With the younger lambs now out of the room and down the stairs, Don sighed with relief and let out a chuckle. He then looked over to Alex, who was shuffling uncomfortably on his paws.

"Something wrong, Alex?" Don asked.

"Uh... I guess while I was busy keeping the cereal out of the juice, I musta missed Leon getting the glitter... sorry," Alex said, only to find himself being hugged again.

"There's nothing to apologize for, son," Don said with a warm and gentle smile. "That was a lovely breakfast."

Down in the kitchen, Leon was in the middle of making up some more batches of pirate toast, with Vera 'making sure thangs ran smoothly'. When Leon wasn't looking, she grabbed the jar of glitter and dumped it down the sink drain.

"Aw, shucks, honey," Vera said, feigning disappointment. "It looks like we're all out of glitter."

"Awww! But pirate toast needs glitter!" Leon looked contemplative. "I guess I'll just have to borrow some of Tiffany's glitter glue in a little bit."

Vera left Leon at the counter and took the little ewe who had been mixing some more glasses of juice together aside, leaning down to whisper in her ear. "Alright, darlin', I'll give ya five bucks if ya can hide the glitter glue in yer room from Leon."

"Why, Mommy?" Tiffany whispered back.

"Uh... th-there's a glitter shortage and we need ta preserve as much as we can?"

"I'm on it!" Tiffany said, quickly running off.

"Where'd Tiffany go?" Leon asked, looking up at Vera with wide blue eyes.

"Er... she went ta go see if she can get ya that glitter glue ya mentioned. But she thinks it might be lost."

"Oh no!" Leon whined in disappointment. Vera was quick to wrap a loving arm around his shoulders.

"It's okay, sugar-pie! Pirate toast can still be great even iffin' we're outta glitter of any kind." She kissed the top of his headfur, making her little boy giggle.

"Okay, Mommy!" And with that, Leon dove right back into it, using some of the frosting he had separated and not added any food coloring to it to draw the skull and crossbones on the toast.

* * *

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, the twilight slowly giving way to the growing dark. Varun sat leaning up against a tree, looking at the first twinkling stars beginning to show, letting out a contented sigh. The large tiger's ears twitched at the sound of approaching footsteps. His tail swished as he smiled at his mate sidling up next to him. Varun slipped an arm around Zelda's waist as she leaned into his powerful frame.

"Yer just so sweet with Marigold!" Zelda said, her tail a happy blur. "She looked like she was havin' a lot of fun playin' catch!" She thought back to how nervous their foster pup had been when they'd first brought her home, always walking on eggshells around the two of them. It had broken her heart how often the girl would flinch whenever someone spoke to her.

"It did seem to help her come out of her shell a bit," Varun chuckled. "I'm actually thinking about teaching her how to play baseball. We've got a bat in addition to the gloves."

"That's a wonderful idea!" Zelda felt like she could howl. "I just love havin' a little girl ta dote on and do Mother-Daughter thangs with!"

Varun chuckled. He had found Zelda's adoration of Marigold adorable, especially since the girl didn't seem to have had any positive female role models, at least based on how much she went out of her way to try and please Zelda. He had found that the girl had seemed especially nervous around him at first, though Varun had taken the initiative to help break the ice by playing some games with her. She had seemed very confused about how the Z-Box One worked as well as video games as a whole, but starting with a simple game of catch, he had found the young girl had started to open up.

"I never took you for much of a girly-girl," Varun teased, kissing Zelda's nose. She rolled her eyes and waved a dismissive paw.

"Oh hush. I'm just as feminine as the next gal. It's just that li'l Marigold desperately needs some TLC and somethin' we could both bond over."

"Like dress shopping?" Varun chuckled, taking note of the light green sundress his mate was wearing, and how it was a similar shade of green as their uniform shirts. Zelda just rolled her eyes.

"We were out in town today and I saw her lookin' in the display windows. 'Course I took her inside so we could find somethin' she'd like... the fact that she and I got matchin' dresses, the exception bein' hers needed to be tailored a bit so that it didn't have a tail hole in the back, was just a happy coincidence." Zelda blushed a little, though her tail continued to wag. Varun let out a happy chuff, and held her tighter.

"Of course, my love," he said, looking around. "Where is Marigold, anyway?"

"Oh, she said she was feelin' a little worn from the day, what with goin' out with me, and then that cute little pie caper Leon went and solved," Zelda said with a slight giggle. "I still can't believe that Tarin tried to frame that cute li'l lizard of Leon's... or how well he figured it all out."

"Mama Doreen certainly seemed excited by his detective work."

"Don't let Vera hear ya say that," Zelda giggled, "she's so worried that Ma will try and push policin' on him that she's tryin' ta clamp down on anythang of the sort around her pups."

Varun looked off in the distance, stiffening suddenly. "Zelda, you said that Marigold was going to rest, correct?"

"Yeah, why darlin'?" Zelda asked, confused.

"Because I just saw her climbing out of her bedroom window with that little case in her arms, running off into the forest," Varun said simply.

"What?!" Zelda jerked around and, sure enough, she could just make out a figure running away from their house and deeper into the trees. Without a work, she grabbed her mate's paw, and started to drag him through the trees after them. "Somethin's gotta be wrong! And what if she hurts herself again like when we first found her?!"

"My love, please try and calm down, I'm sure that everything's fine," Varun said in an attempt to reassure his mate, but with a pit of worry forming in his own gut regardless. They stopped not too far from their house, near the edge of a small clearing with a stump near the center. Varun and Zelda were hiding behind a tree as Marigold was looking around, a worried expression on her face. She was still wearing the same green sundress from earlier, it taking on an ethereal glow in the fading twilight as the light of the full moon was beginning to shine. All around, fireflies were starting to take flight.

"We gotta be quiet, or else she'll hear us," Zelda said from where she was crouched.

"So whatcha think she's up to?" Tarin asked, poking his head up from a bush to Zelda's left.

"I'm not really sure yet, we just saw her runnin' off and... Tarin? What're ya doin' here?" Zelda asked, looking down at the black-furred fox tod who was smiling casually back up at her.

"I saw you both running off into the woods and decided ta see what was happening. I figured that it might be something fun."

Zelda rolled her eyes while Varun had to choke down a chuckle at the antics of his unofficial brother, as all the 'Hunter Boys' liked to think of themselves.

"Tarin, ya ain't s'posed ta be here, now git!" Zelda hissed.

"Who ain't s'posed ta be here?" Tyra asked. The arctic she-wolf scooped up her mate and set him on her shoulders.

"T-Tyra?!"

"What? I saw my cute little ball of fluff run off inta the woods, naturally I'd follow him," Tyra said as Tarin rested his head on hers.

"Sounds ta me like youse was thinkin' of maybe gettin' up ta somethin' naughty out here in da woods, away from where anybody could see or hear yas," Adamo said, stepping from behind a tree, the male hyena grinning with a toothpick in his mouth.

"Adamo?!" Zelda clapped a paw to her forehead. Removing it, she saw Yuki standing there, trying to look bored.

"We were makin' out when ya two started yappin' about Zelda bein' a girly-girl and then heard ya decide ta chase after Marigold," the black she-wolf growled as Adamo squeezed her side.

"Yeah, and we wanted ta make sure dat youse wasn't gunna go and invade that goil's proivacy," Adamo said, looking pointedly at Zelda, whol was wringing her paws.

"I thought that she might be tryin' ta run away or somethin'... I just wanted ta make sure she was safe! That's my puppy after all!" Zelda blushed, clearly flustered. Adamo pulled her into a hug to comfort her.

"She was probably drawn to this spot thanks to all the positive energies that emanate from it," Undine's voice could be heard up above. Looking up, everyone saw her sitting on a tree branch with Melvin laying in her lap.

"It is a pretty peaceful spot," the male honey badger said, looking up at the stars through the canopy. He was holding a bowl of popcorn in his claws.

"What, did a memo go out or somethin'?!" Zelda asked, exasperated.

"Now now, sweetie," Adrian said, inexplicably standing next to a very surprised Adamo and Yuki, with an embarrassed-looking Doreen standing next to her. "As it just so happens, this here spot is a favorite fer yer Ma and me fer our little picnics."

"Well, they start out as picnics," Doreen said, wrapping her arms around Adrian's waist, making the older gray wolf wag his tail and chuckle.

"Ma! We didn't need ta hear 'bout that!" Vera said from right next to Zelda, making the auburn she-wolf whip around. She saw Don perched on his mate's shoulders.

"Okay, is everyone we know here in the woods tonight?!" Zelda demanded. Right then, as if on cue, Gareth tumbled to the ground nearby, Winnie in his arms, Xena and Melanie tangled up in the gangly giraffe's legs.

"Oi! You two! What's the big idea about scamperin' in between me legs?!"

"It wasn't our fault that you didn't look where you were walking," Xena pointed out, adjusting her glasses. Standing up and brushing herself off, she reached down and scooped Melanie up into her arms, the two kissing. "Are you alright, Butterball?"

"I'm just fine, Fluffytail," Melanie said, putting her arms around her mate's neck, all the while Winnie was helping her own mate to his shakey hooves.

"No need to fret over me, love," Gareth said, leaning his head and neck down to smile at the she-wolf he was lucky to have found.

"Hey, that just seemed like a nasty fall, that's all," Winnie said, her tail swishing.

"Can y'all just keep it down! I'm amazed that Marigold hasn't heard all y'all!" Zelda quietly snapped. Everyone grew silent at that, and looked out into the clearing. Marigold was kneeling next to the stump, where she had set her case down on it and opened it. From inside, she pulled out a photograph.

"Hey, Ryan," they could hear the girl's soft voice float over on the gentle breeze. "I just... I remembered that today is... was... your birthday... and I just wanted to let you know that I'm keeping my promise." Her voice hitched a little, but she composed herself. "I'm still moving forward, b-big brother... I m-miss you so much." She wiped a tear from her cheek, before she stood up and pulled out a well-cared for violin from inside the case. She tested the strings to make sure they were in tune before taking a stance.

"Happy birthday, Ryan," she said, raising the bow to the strings. Then, she began to play. As the tune began to ring out gently in the clearing, sounding like a bouncy and fun folk tune, Marigold began to sway and twirl, spinning on her feet. As the music picked up the pace, but the tone became something more melancholic, Zelda realized that not only was Marigold skilled at playing her fiddle, but she also had some training in ballet. With each new song, the girl would dance and pirouette, leap and spin-turn, and perform other moves that Zelda didn't know the names of. She and the rest of the family watched, entranced and silent, at this little concert that the newest addition to their family was putting on, for her brother who, most of them guessed based on what they had overheard, was no longer alive. The full weight of what this moment must represent to her foster daughter suddenly hit Zelda, just as Marigold seemed to be slowing down in both the dancing and her playing.

"S-sweet sawgrass," Zelda said as Marigold seemed to be finishing on a long, mournful note. "W-we all can't let her know we saw this!"

"Truly a great invasion of her privacy," Xena mused, only to suddenly be pushed by Zelda.

"Enough musin', we gotta move, now," she barked as quietly as she could. Everyone started to head back the way they had all come, when there was a sudden loud CLICK. Turning, they all saw that Marigold had returned everything to her case and snapped the latch shut. She got up and proceeded to walk back to the house... which was in the same direction everyone in the family sans Vera and Don's pups were in at that moment. Scrambling, the Hunters and their mates ran through the trees and underbrush, avoiding the scant trail like the plague. Everyone darted around to the other side of Zelda and Varun's house. Varun stealthily peeked out from around the corner, watching as Marigold was looking all around, before trying to stealthily climb back in through her bedroom window. A few very loud thumps later, and she was back inside, none the wiser. Varun released the breath he had no idea he had been holding, all the while Zelda was making everyone swear that they wouldn't say a thing to Marigold about this.

"B-but," Undine whined, holding up her camera, "it was so in line with the natural energies of the clearing! Folks would be so energized and helped by seeing the video I took of it!

And here it is! The peek into the genderswapped AU of Found! I might do another in the future, but holy crap did this one take a bit of time! I hope everyone is having a great summer!

#zootopia #adoption #foundfamily #found #zootopia2electricboogaloo #human #genderswap

[ramcharantitties]

Raghuvan, teri raah nihare

Chapter 1

co-writing with @dumdaradumdaradum

The carriage came to a halt from the train station, right outside of the Alluri house. The place looked more beautiful than a bride on her wedding, as if the stars were shining in sunlight. As if flowers from Indra’s garden were used to decorate the edges of the house itself. A sweet smoky aroma spread around the house, camphor used to make the air pure for his arrival. For someone who lived alone, Ram’s uncle sure did a lot on Ram’s arrival. Despite the echoes bouncing off the pillars and walls, Ram and his uncle never felt the loneliness- the entire village was their family, and helped Babai to make the place pretty. 

As Ram stepped down the carriage, he was welcomed with a bright face of his uncle and his arms open. Ram hugged the old man, bending down to touch the elderly’s feet. Babai took a good glance at his nephew, taking in the ten years in one sight. 

Ram’s hair was black and soft, curling upwards and bouncing like waves of the ocean, yet his haircut was short and boyish. His height was tall, and he built muscular power like a volcano. But the brown eyes held gravity stronger than earth, pulling you in. His eyelashes longer, reminding one of rivers that flow. Ram’s arms looked like they held power enough to divert the directions of the world, a fire in his heart. Fighting a mighty beast would closely resemble fighting Alluri Ramaraju. Despite the screams of violence in his demeanor, his attire leaned more to dark academia. Suspenders hooked to the trouser loops, a chain with a watch attached in his pocket. His shirt was loose. His pants were checked, even in the 1900's.  

Ram reached in his newly cleaned room, keeping his suitcase down. The jangu after him arrived too, carrying other stuff and waited for Ram’s next instruction. The room was definitely better than his Delhi hostel. It was very spacious, and homely. He looked outside the window, the flowing currents of Ganga visible from his balcony. The sweet music of her waves sent Ram in a salvated state as he peered at the young boys taking a bath nearby and having fun. He remembered his time in Delhi, when often his anxious heart took him near the shore of the Yamuna and he’d sit there, lost in the flowing water. 

Ram’s daydream broke when he heard a sweet voice across one of the small tributaries. He called for the jangu. “Haan anna?” Yes, brother? the jangu said, standing next to Ram. “Wahan kya hai?” What's there? Ram asked, pointing at the glass dome building near the edge of the tributary. “Sita Mahal” the jangu said and Ram was surprised. “Sita Mahal?” he asked, looking back at the building. 

“Haan. Acchi jagah nahi hai, ladkiyan naachti hai wahan. Wahan pe har shanivaar raat ko sirf aadhe ghante ke liye Sita naachti hai, bolte hai ki jaise apsara dekh li ho. Unhi ne Sita Mahal shuru kiya tha, 5 saal pehle. Par bahaut ladkiyo ko unke gharwaale ghar se nikaal dete hai, kyuki woh shaadi nahi karna chahti. Sita unhe apne paas rakh ke kathak aur sangeet padhati hai. Fir bhi, jis tarah ke log wahan ghoomte hai, shareef log nahi jaate wahan.” yes. It’s not a good place, girls dance there. Every Saturday night, Sita dances there for only half an hour and it’s as if you’ve seen a fairy. She built up the place herself, around 5 years ago. But many times, families of young girls disown them for not wanting to get married. Sita gives them shelter and teaches them the art of dance and music. Still, the crowd isn’t good, and definitely not fit for nobles. 

Ram looked at his jangu, squinting. “Tu gaya hai?” Have you been there? ram asked, smirking. His jangu stuttered and Ram laughed, swinging an arm around the young boy. “Aaj raat chalenge hum.” we’ll visit her tonight. 

-

It was about 9 pm when Ram started leaving for the infamous place with the jangu. Before he could even step out of threshold, Babai called for him. “Where are you going so late?” Babai asked, to which Ram turned around and smiled. “Uh, just nearby for a stroll” he lied. Babai was confused, nothing was open this late. He looked at the jangu. “Where are you going?” he asked, sternly. jangu stuttered again “si-sita m-” “SITA MAHAL?” Babai exclaimed, shocked. Ram closed his eyes in frustration. “You do know that us nob-” “us nobles don’t go there i know” Ram finished babai’s sentence. “But Babai, it’s just one night. How doe-” 

“No,” Babai said firmly and walked towards Ram, keeping a hand on his shoulder. “Ramaraju, I know I can’t control your decisions- I don’t have the right to. But this is for our reputation, if you weren’t getting married soon, I would have let you go” Babai said and Ram nodded, soon catching the end of what Babai said. 

“Wait, marriage?” Ram exclaimed and babai smiled. “Yes, I have tied your marriage with a girl from this village only. Her name is Adikavya, and she would be a good match for you.” He said, patting Ram’s back. “But babai, i’ve just come here! I need time to settle-” “Ram, you will change your thoughts once you meet her. She is the prettiest girl in the whole Banaras, and the most cultured. She comes from a family like ours, and she will make a great wife for you. I’ve just let them know that they can send Adikavya here tomorrow to meet you. She has heard a lot about you, and she didn’t say no to the wedding. Now go upstairs and go to sleep, I won’t hear anything from you” Babai completed and left Ram alone in the hall. 

-

“Kaisi dikhti hai woh?” How does she look like?  Ram laid on the bed, the gentle wind and waves from ganga lulling him to relaxation. From the distance, he could hear another gentle voice of sita mahal, where he should have been. 

“Kaun? Sita?” Who? Sita?  his jangu replied, doing something in the corner of the room. 

“Nahi, adikavya” No, Adikavya Ram said, feeling her name on his lips. It wasn’t usual that he came to know a name so auspicious everyday. 

“Bahaut sundar” Ram turned to the jangu now. “Unke baal lambe hai, aur sone ki chudiyaan pehenti hai. Hari ya neeli saari bahaut pehenti hai, kehti hai unhe pasand hai. Woh jab bhi aati hai, unki paayal se pata chal jaata hai. Babai aur mere liye kuch meetha leke aati hai hamesha. Unhe shaastron ke baare mein bhi bahaut pata hai, hamein padhaya bhi tha. Aur unke baalon mein gulaab laga hota hai. Bindi ekdum chamakti hui, aur maangteeka bhi lamba sa. Madhur boli, sabka khayal rakhti hai. Par didi tang bhi bahaut karti hai, ek baar mere kapde geele kar diye the saare! Mujhe toh woh acchi lagti hai, aap kal unse milna, aapko bhi bahaut acchi lagengi” Beautiful. Her hair is long, she wears golden bangles. She wears blue or green saree alot, she says she likes them. Whenever she comes here, the whole house chimes with her anklets. She always brings something for Babai and I. She is very knowledgeable about scriptures and taught us too. And, she always has a rose in her hair tucked. Her bindi shines like the moon, forehead jewelry is very long. Her voice is sweet, and she takes care of everyone. But she is very annoying- once she soaked my clothes in water! I really like her, and when you meet her tomorrow, you will like her too. He finished his little essay on her, turning to now a lost Ram. 

Ram’s mental image for Adikavya was someone so dear, he couldn’t help but keep repeating the name. He fell asleep still thinking about her, Sita's songs in the background luring him to sleep. 

-

tagging- @budugu @sabi5 @thewinchestergirl1208 @rambheemlove @ramayantika @bromance-minus-the-b @bishh-kanya @chaanv @nyotamalfoy @obsessedtoafault @phoenix666stuff

#ram charan #rrr #rrr movie #ghungru #ram x reader #fanfic #ram x wife!reader #desi tag #au fanfiction #rrr film #rrr au #ram au

[artificialqueens]

Glass (Kerri Colby x Willow Pill) - Mar

A/N: Takes place in this universe

“Get it down, get it down!” Willow yelled, chasing the pig that was flying across the ceiling, trying to bring it down with a broom.

The pig itself squealed in confusion as it floated around, slowly rotating away from Willow’s broom. Its little legs kicked frantically, trying to find purchase on the ceiling boards.

“I’m on it!" Kerri said as she climbed the dining table with a sheet in her hands. She carefully followed the pig, readied her throw and sent the sheet flying through the air.

It missed the pig entirely and fell limply to the floor.

The little pig kicked a wall and went flying faster through the air. The bright purple potion that had dropped on its back started dripping on the table, causing more things to float up. Soon the air was filled with quills, inkwells, books and glass jars. A whittling knife floated too and the pig gave it a swift kick that sent it flying through the air.

“Great, it has weapons.”

“What happened?” said Kerri, stepping out of the path of the dripping potion. “I left for two minutes!”

“The pigs broke the gate and this one got in, rammed the table and got the potion I was working on all over its back.”

“Where’s the rest of the pigs?”

“They ran to the forest, I think, I don’t know, we have bigger problems in our hands,” Willow said, jumping and swinging the broom wildly.

But although they completely missed the pig, Willow’s swings smashed the window, and broken glass came raining down on them. Willow shut their eyes, covered their head with their arms and hoped for the best.

“Willow!” Kerri screamed. She stepped around the broken glass to reach her partner. “Are you hurt?” she asked as she checked every inch of Willow's body for injuries.

"I don't think so," Willow said, patting themself. When they reached their head, they hissed. "I got glass in my hair."

“Come here,” Kerri said, grabbing tweezer’s from Willow’s tools and sitting them on a chair by the window’s light.

Kerri thread gentle fingers through Willow’s hair. She dropped shard after shard of glass on the floor. Above them, the pig had calmed down and was floating on its back, resigned to its faith.

Once Willow’s hair had been thoroughly cleaned, Kerri laid a kiss on their crown.

“There.”

She looked at the ceiling with her hands on her hips.

“What do we do with our friend here?”

The pig looked at them upside down and whined pitifully.

“Poor fellow,” said Willow. “I think we should ask the fairies for help. We already have to go to the forest to get the other pigs.”

“Gods, I hate going into fairy territory,” Kerri said. “They’re always so mean, they tangle my hair and rip my dresses.”

“It’s just jealousy, Kerri,” said Willow as they hugged Kerri's waist. “They can’t stand to see the prettiest girl in the Kingdom.”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Kerri said smiling.

“So you’ll come with me?”

“Yes, I’ll come with you,” Kerri sighed. Then, looking at the pig: “Though we should try to block that window somehow. The last thing we need is a pig floating freely through the skies.”

“I can already hear the town crier: Hear ye! Village Witch sets pig loose over town; pig shits over everything we love.”

“Witch’s house burned down by angry mob, right after Kerri painted the bedroom so nicely.”

Grabbing the sheet from the floor, Kerri got up in a chair by the window.

“Bring my tools, I’ll nail this sheet over the hole in the wall.”

“We’re gonna need a new window. And a sturdier gate.”

#rpdr fanfiction #kerri colby #willow pill #kerri x willow #s14 #trans character #(s) #magical au #sapphic september 2022 #mar #concrit welcome

[cobalt-knave]

(this is gonna be a serious post, cw for antisemetism)

I can’t stop thinking about a conversation I had with my grandfather a couple weeks ago. He was telling me how when he was growing up, his family had to practice and train themselves to not sound jewish. That side of the family saw the writing on the wall and managed to get out of Eastern Europe before WWII started. They had to practice not speaking with their hands (which is really common for jews to do, including myself) and get rid of any Yiddish words or phrases in favor of exclusively using English. And this was in a jewish community. And these were the people who WEREN’T in the bad situation for jews at the time.

And I keep thinking about how antisematism seems to be the one thing the far right and the far left can agree on. The left says jews are a bunch of white colonizers, trying to control and oppress people. And the right says the jews aren’t really white and are obviously trying to control the world. After all, aren’t all jews rich and in control of the media? 

Now obviously there are jews of every race. I am writing this with the perspective of a white Ashkenazi person. But even if you’re a white Ashkenazi jew, you will never be white enough. You will always be the other. Even thee word for nonjew, goy, just means “people of the land” (meaning that we are not the people of the land). I think of conversos who converted! And were still held under extreme suspicion. I think of the people who didn’t leave Eastern Europe or who did, people who considered themselves to be Germans or Polish, they weren’t jews, they were jewish Germans! And that was not enough and will never be enough for them. I think about the people who will start off every argument by saying “As an American jew,...” to talk about how antisemetism really isn’t a thing anymore. And you know what? They’re right on the surface. I didn’t have pennies thrown at me like my dad had. I’ve never met anyone who I felt I couldn’t tell I jewish because it would endanger me. But I also know that the jewish school I went to designed itself around making it hard to kill everyone in it. Rocks arranged tastefully around, so that someone couldn’t ram a car into the side of the building. Floor to ceiling windows made of bullet proof glass. I remember that before school started one year, there was someone sending threats to the jewish organizations in the area. 

I started learning in depth about the holocaust in third grade. Knowing that it wasn’t my family, but it was supposed to be. And I think about the number of holocaust deniers and the number of people who haven’t heard of it and the number of people who simply haven’t heard of it, the number who can believe it but it couldn’t have been that bad. 

And we’re in a golden age at the moment. A golden age where congresspeople talk about the great jewish space laser we have, and we make jokes about it because it’s funny and it’s easier to be entertained than afraid. Al Andalus was a golden age. Eastern Europe was a golden age. I hope that this golden age ends after my lifetime. But I do not doubt that it will end, like they always do. 

#sorry for making a serious post but I needed to get that off my chest #antisemitism #tw holocaust #jewish

[west-tokyo-incidents]

Huzzah, the second chapter(technically the third, the last one was two that I smashed together)

---

There was a knock at the cafe door.

"We aren't open yet!" Touka groaned and glared towards the door of the coffee shop before continuing to sweep the main room.

"Someone at the door?" The manager stepped out from the back door, chuckling softly.

More insistent knocking followed by a muffled, and yet familiar voice. She couldn't understand what it was saying, though he knew the owner of the voice. Why the hell was- She set the broom aside and went to go unlock the door and let Uta in.

The sunglasses-donned ghoul grinned and waved at her, "Hello~" He stepped in, "Have you heard the news?" He pulled off his glasses and slid into a chair at the counter with a sing-song, "I was right."

"Right?" The manager laughed softly, "About what?" He stepped behind the counter and stood across it from Uta. Touka locked the door back and hopped into a nearby chair as well to listen. Uta didn't visit for just nothing, usually. Especially given that his studio was supposed to open in a few hours or so.

"Feral ghouls are making a move on the city." Uta stated matter-a-factly.

"Feral ghouls?" Touka looked between Uta and the manager, who's face had settled into a frown of concern, "Wait, you mean those stragglers out in the wilderness?" She scoffed, making a face at the manager's seeming concern over them, "A few have come into the city before, they're snapped up by Doves within a day every time."

Uta laughed, "Feral ghouls are like wolves. Alone and starving they're easy to overpower. When they're banded together and starving, now that's a different story." He glanced to the TV that was off right now, "See if it's on the news. I heard about it from someone else this morning. It happened last night, so I'm sure it's everywhere."

The manager huffed through his nose and walked over to it and turned it on. It was the end of a segment.

"...and when we return, we'll cover the shocking news of a prison bus turned buffet for a seemingly new gang of ghouls on the outskirts of the city..."

The picture shown beside the woman in true news-channel fashion was a helicopter-view of what appeared to be someone standing on top of an overturned bus. Then it went to commercials.

Uta made a face and huffed through his nose, "Well, I guess we'll hear the humans' side in a second." He turned back to the other two, "From what I've heard, it started out as an attack from a single ghoul who rammed into the bus and threw it off the side of the road. The police escort cars were crushed with the people still inside, then a hoard of others dove in like vultures and picked the bus clean of everyone inside." He looked back at the tv, still showing a commercial, "And apparently they have a helicopter recording of it."

He'd heard news that one ghoul in particular had been among them. Obviously wasn't the one standing on the bus in the initial image. That someone had bright orange hair and dark skin.

The news came back on a few moments later with a warning.

'The following segment contains images not suited for certain audiences.'

"Looks like they're gonna show the whole thing..." Touka muttered under her breath. The manager just nodded.

There was commentary by the news crew over the video segments, but the three hardly paid attention to that part.

There was no sound from the video itself, but the blurry image was clearly from the camera of an escort helicopter, trained on the bus below. A shape--obviously the red shade of a kagune--slammed into the side of the bus as it was going over a bridge. The bus fell out of view as the helicopter had to swerve to turn back around, the camera wildly trying to focus on where the bus had landed. The police cars that had been following it were attacked as well, roofs caved in as two ghouls had come from above. Uta sat up a little straighter as the camera focused for half a second on one of them. A flash of blue and ram horns.

He narrowed his eyes, but continued to watch as the camera moved to the bus at last. A ghoul was standing on the over turned vehicle, staring into the windows of the bus.

That was the ghoul the image before. As the three watched, he turned and jumped off right as an outright hoard of ghouls poured from alleyways andthe sewers, all seeming to be laughing and whooping and hollering as they descended on the vehicles.

The video ended. Touka's jaw was slack as she continued to stare--unseeing--at the television. The Manager's mouth had pressed into a thin line.

Uta was as straight faced as ever.

"So that's how it happened." The tattooed ghoul hummed lightly and tapped his jaw, "They weren't lying when they said how gruesome it was."

Shock kept Touka silent and the manager seemed deep in thought.

They spent a few minutes like this, until Enji came storming in the door, "Did you all see the-?" He froze as he saw the news on the TV and the expressions on everyone's face.

Uta offered him a smile and a light wave.

The man blinked twice before standing up straighter, "W-Well of course you have! It's unheard of!" He was quickly over at the bar, "Feral ghouls just don't team up like that!"

Finally, the manager spoke.

"That ghoul who knocked the bus over." Everyone stopped and looked at him, "Enji, do you remember him?"

"How could I forget? I knew that little shit wouldn't just go quiet after he fled the city, but I never expected him to come back! Not like that!" Enji pointed fervently at the television.

Touka turned around, "What? Who is he?" She looked back and forth between the two. Uta perked up, not familiar with the ghoul himself.

"One of the only ghouls in the world known to not regenrate. Did you see his missing arm?" Enji exclaimed.

"Oh!" Uta took a turn to speak as he remembered that description, "Of course she didn't, the video was so blurry, you'd have to know it was him to pick it out. I didn't even know." He tilted his head to the side. Then he looked to the girl, "That ghoul was Puck. Known to the CCG as 'The Tiger'. I never met him personally, though." He glanced to the Manager, eyes narrowing slightly.

Silence fell again.

It was long and restless. Touka had so many questions but she couldn't even know where to begin.

No one noticed a sheet-faced Irimi at the door until she spoke, having been there for the majority of the conversation, "They're already in the city."

Heads turned. Stomachs dropped.

"I saw him on the way here. He was moving. I didn't see any others... but I've got a really bad feeling. If he's leading them, then..."

The manager huffed softly, "He's going to get himself killed at last, isn't he?"

"And kill so many others in the process..." Enji added.

Touka didn't know what to think. And neither did Uta.

From the way the other three talked about him, he seemed like someone to be worried about. Almost afraid of.

But also someone they might have been friends with once.

#ress writes #tg: to revel #tokyo ghoul #tokyo ghoul oc #HIM! #okay now i can get back to writing

[allamericancdjr]

[navii-blaze]

There are no braincells.

#guys help #ok so i work in a small studio that has a door with a large window on it. no blinds or curtains #and this fricken bumblebee #out of no where starts ramming itself into the glass #at first i though someone was throwing rocks at the window but no just this bee the size of my damn thumb #this went on for like a minute and a half straight #until a bird caught it and flew away #that fucken bee was huge im not joking holy shit #ive seen big bumble bees before bc we have a giant lavender bush in the garden and the bees l o v e it #but jesus christ #fuckin throckmorton came to visit today

[missymurphy1985]

One Shot Smut Challenge

Neglected - Cillian Murphy X wife!reader One Shot

Warning - masturbation (f) - Daddy kink - mild Degradation Kink (calls her some choice names...) - Smut

Taglist @queenshelby @margoo0 @being-worthy @peakyscillian @peakyciills @janelongxox @elenavampire21 @ysmmsy @cloudofdisney @lauren-raines-x @misscarolineshelby @screemqueen @peaky-cillian @misselsbells06 @datewithgianni @heidimoreton @jardinsecos @bitchwhytho @gypsy-girl-08 @queenofkings1212 @look-at-the-soul

"He's a fucking ASSHOLE," You yelled down the hands free on your way home from picking up the grocery shopping that Saturday afternoon. You were that angry you'd actually pulled the car over in the next street from your Monkstown home to carry on your rant without risking intentionally running some poor pedestrian over, or ramming into some unsuspecting persons car.

"What's Cillian done this time..." Your best friend Niamh laughed down the phone.

"Picked him up from the airport at 2 o clock this morning, he passes out in the fucking car because he's had one too many glasses of Rioja on the flight. Manage to get the pisshead into the house and up the stairs, where he again passes out in bed. He's barely said two words to his fucking girlfriend at this point, despite the fact he's been away from her for nearly four months."

"Oh shit..."

"Oh shit in-fucking-deed!!! THEN... Because of said glasses of red wine, he proceeds to snore like a fucking troll so I end up in the spare room with Scout. 6am he wakes up, fresh as a fucking daisy because that prick NEVER has a hangover... Proceeds to bang every single cupboard door downstairs loud enough the Richter Scale is shitting itself... 8am he logs on for a promotional interview for Rolling Stone magazine. 9am, he's on BBC Breakfast for another interview. Quick shower, then he's back on for ANOTHER FUCKING interview at 11am with Dermot and Dave for Today FM... We had lunch together, he barely spoke. Too busy sending emails off his phone and taking calls. He's been holes up in that fucking basement ever since!"

"It's nearly 5pm!"

"I KNOW!!! I had the audacity to try and give him a kiss and he brushed me off, he was on camera apparently..."

"And breathe..."

"Don't tell me to breathe, I am fucking breathing. I'm breathing FIRE!!!"

"Okay so now you get revenge."

"What?"

"Give him a reason to notice you."

"I'm his girlfriend, not a fucking dog!"

"I know that, just trust me. Do as I say and he'll be on his knees begging forgiveness in no time."

************************************************************

An hour later, the shopping was put away and you headed down to the basement where your boyfriend of three years was sat with his ear buds in talking to some American talk show host via Zoom. Again.

Cillian saw you come down the stairs and gave you a smile and a wink before looking back at the camera, continuing his promo for the movie he'd just finished filming in the USA. Oppenheimer was a big deal - his first lead role in one of Chris Nolan's films, he could be in line for an Oscar for this. You knew how important it was to him.

But you thought once he was home, especially after being away for so long, you'd at least have him to yourself for a few days before the crazy promo started...

You sat on the chair opposite him and took off your coat, revealing a short kimono style satin dressing gown. His eyes widened a little, and he stumbled over his words when you slowly unwrapped the kimono - showing him the black and red lace negligee underneath.

"What, sorry, Jimmy can you say that again?" He asked, a very visible flush to his cheeks. Jimmy repeated the question and Cillian cleared his throat, shaking his head quickly and taking his eyes away from you to answer him. You tried not to laugh at his voice - definitely an octave higher than it was before, with a side order of shakiness.

Opening your legs, you slid your fingers over your black lace underwear. The crotch already damp, your fingers brushing over your clit slowly, edging you towards what you knew would be the quietest, yet most satisfying orgasm you'd ever given yourself.

You carried on in your own little world, stroking your clit over your panties a little harder, you lifted one eyelid a little to look at him - smiling as he shifted in his seat. His whole upper body was in view, and he adjusted his position so only his chest and head was visible in the camera. Couldn't hide the blush in his cheeks though. You could see his erection pressed against his jeans - and it only added to your arousal.

Biting your lip, you felt yourself very quickly coming undone. Your fingers were moving much quicker now, your end so close you had to clamp your lips together to keep your moans inside.

You didn't hear him end the interview, saying a very quick goodbye and thank you. You didn't even hear the laptop lid slam closed. Too wrapped up in your pleasure, too far gone in your own arousal. Too close to your own orgasm.

Until he slapped your hand away and hovered over you. His hands either side, resting on the arms of the chair.

"You've been a very, very naughty girl, haven't you?"

"Yes Daddy..."

He lifted you off the chair effortlessly and pinned you against the wall so hard it stung but fuck if you cared. Your legs wrapped around his waist as you felt him pull his jeans and boxers down to his knees.

He slid his cock into you with a groan, holding your head still as he began to pump his hips back and forth, hard and fast up into you.

"Couldn't wait could you... Had to act all fucking needy, distracting me when I'm working, couldn't just hold off a little while longer..."

Surprise? What surprise?

"Fuck I've missed feeling your pussy wrapped around my cock..."

"Harder..." You begged, feeling him so deep inside you it was almost painful but in the best possible way.

He pounded up into you like a man possessed. His hips thrusting powerfully. His hands took yours, holding them above your head, his lips attacking your neck, nipping and biting at the flesh.

"Oh god... Oh god..." You felt your orgasm approaching like a bullet train, his pubic bone grinding against your clit with each thrust, and you screamed his name as it flooded you - covering his cock with your cream, your cries bouncing off the walls.

"Fuck that's it, that's it... Fuck YN.." a few solid thrusts and he froze, his seed filling you. The warmth of it prolonging your orgasm further, tears in your eyes at the familiar sensation you'd missed so much.

He held you there for a while, just enjoying being reconnected, enjoying being inside you again. Kissing your lips tenderly, stroking your body pressed against the wall, held up by his pelvis. One gentle kiss on the tip of your nose and he smiled at you.

"I'm sorry... I'm still on Oppenheimer mode and it's difficult - "

"I know Cills. I know you struggle to get back into Cillian when you've been away so long."

"Was that little show to help bring me back?"

"Worked, didn't it?"

"Fucking right it did. Now you go upstairs and get changed into something less revealing. I don't want the staff at Bella's eyeing up my girl."

#cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian x fem!reader #cillian fanfic #cillian murphy x smut #cillian x smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy x requests

[adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy]

A/N: If there’s anything I learned from doing this, it’s that vampirerry is an utter WHORE. Good for him!!!! As for myself, I’m done with the semester and my term projects and finals left my singular brain cell fried, so this was a nice way to get back into writing again. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Thank you to the anon that suggested it, this was super fun to do! :D

read you’re someone i just want around here

word count: 6k

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Harry is very attentive when it comes to aftercare with Y/N. The sex they have is often rough and includes toys, degradation, and multiple rounds, so he believes aftercare is non-negotiable. Rough sex can be fun, but if it’s not followed by a lot of communication and post-performance support, it can take a hard emotional toll on a person. Even when intimacy isn’t meant to be inherently sentimental, there has to be a certain level of connection and etiquette surrounding it, or it could end badly for both parties involved. He always checks on her immediately after they finish, simply to gauge her headspace and how her body is responding, and after he’s made sure she’s alright, he goes into his usual routine of skin-to-skin contact and gentle coddling. Reassurance and praise is just as important afterwards as it is during, because it’s good to let a partner know that your appreciation runs deeper than just the physical need felt in the heat of the moment; everyone deserves to feel valued beyond their body. 

Harry proceeds to clean Y/N up after every session, because it’s the least he can do since she’s usually the one getting the brunt of the work. He’ll fetch a clean towel dampened under warm water to wipe her clean, or he’ll offer to help give her a bath or a shower— whichever route she prefers. Harry dresses her, and changes the sheets if need be, and tucks her into bed to ensure she’s nice and comfortable. If it’s been a particularly intense session, he’ll go the kitchen and bring back a snack and a drink— a granola bar and a Gatorade, or some chips and her favorite juice, or if she’s feeling especially hungry, he’ll happily go out of his way to prepare her an actual meal— and he insists on feeding it to her bit by bit until she’s come to enough to handle it on her own. If she’s not hungry, he at least brings her a glass of water and urges her to drink it; better to be safe than sorry. After that, more cuddling is the status quo, which normally ends in Y/N falling asleep in his arms, and Harry has absolutely no problem with that at all.  

B = Body Part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Harry’s favorite body part of Y/N’s is probably her chest. Yes, he likes it for sexual reasons— obviously— but there are innocent reasons for his fascination, as well. He likes how responsive she gets when he touches her there— how he can get her going just by groping her the way she likes it, or by using his mouth to tongue across her nipples until she’s writhing in pleasure and whining for more. He loves leaving hickies all over her tits, probably more than she likes receiving them. It’s just so fucking hot seeing himself marked all over her, especially when she’s putting on a bra and he can see all of the dark bruises scattered across the cleavage spilling from the undergarment. Filth aside, he also enjoys loving all over her chest. Absentmindedly cupping them while they’re snuggling, nuzzling his head between them while they’re watching television, massaging them under her shirt with his large palms as she sits back against his chest, sipping a glass of wine and chatting away, unwinding after a long day. It’s a form of intimacy; it provides a type of closeness nothing else can. 

As for his own favorite body part, it’s a tie between two different areas. He loves his thighs— they’re one of his most prominent features. They’re thick and meaty and sensitive, so they’re the perfect sweet spot to touch when he wants to get riled up. Given his previous response, it can be easily deduced that he likes to get hickies there, as well. The marks look great peeking out from under his briefs (for the short amount of time they last, anyways) and they make a great accessory to the large tigerhead tattoo along his left thigh. It’s artwork, really; a proper Picasso. 

His other favorite body part...well, take a lucky guess. It’s likely not that far off— literally, considering it hangs right between his thighs. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Harry’s personal preference is cumming inside. He adores feeling the way Y/N tightens around him when he finally orgasms (she’s just so warm and soft and unbelievably tight; it’s like she was made for him), almost as much as he loves seeing her reaction. Her body will immediately start to wriggle and her back will arch as she releases broken little whimpers, clinging to his shoulders with her nails and begging him to fill her until he’s milked his worth. Hearing her ragged breathing and feeling her sweaty chest stutter against his is enough to do him in, but when she goes as far as to gnaw on his ear and whine a soft little, “Want it all, baby. Want you dripping out of me when we’re done.” Well, that’s enough to kill him all over again. 

Of course, there are times when Harry likes seeing himself all over her, too. On her outstretched tongue, or smeared across her pretty face and plush lips (she looks particularly cute when it ends up all over her eyelashes), or streaked over the valley of her tits, or pooled at the center of her tummy. If he’d been taking her from behind, then he likes seeing it run down the backs of her thighs, or splattered across the dip of her spine. And if she’d been giving him a handjob, then seeing himself dribbling down her fingers is just as good. Why? Because those fingers usually end up in her mouth, which means he ends up all over her tongue, and so the cycle comes full circle. How poetic. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Did Harry suggest wearing a matching set of a vibrating cock ring and buzzing bullet to do grocery shopping once? Yes. Did he drop three glass jars of peach preserves by accident as a result, causing them to have to book it out of the bread aisle while trying to look as unsuspicious as possible, which failed horribly because they were literally hobbling like a crippled elderly couple? Also yes. Did they end up fucking in a Target fitting room? Definitely. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

A lot of experience. Tons. Immense amounts. Insane amounts. Two hundred years of the same seven continents just means two hundred years worth of sex across every single one. And it gives you plenty of time to find the clitoris, as well as giving you a chance to learn the female anatomy like the back of your hand. That being said, Harry doesn’t doubt he could make Y/N cum with his wrists tied behind his back and a blindfold strapped to his face. In fact, he’s made her cum just by using his thigh, so that in itself is enough credibility to last him several more lifetimes. The toy chest in his closet and the fact that he’s well-endowed are bonuses— he knows more than enough tricks to keep her satisfied with just his tongue. Not to mention his fingers— they’re long for a reason.

F = Favorite position  

Funny enough, Harry doesn’t have one. He’s spent so many decades cycling through every possible position in existence, it’s gotten to where he can’t pin-point a preference; all positions are unique, and they each have their own appeal. Reverse cowgirl is nice because he likes watching the way he stretches Y/N open with every plunge of her hips, and it also gives him the luxury of marking his rings across her ass in the process. Regular cowgirl is nice, too— having her chest bouncing in his face is nothing short of a divine miracle, in his opinion. Doggy style is a staple, and there’s always different add-ons he can apply to spice it up; for example, taking her from behind with her wrists tied to her ankles, or bending her over the kitchen counter with her face pressed into the marble, or fucking her against his glass wall with her hands and chest flushed to the cool surface as their breaths fog the floor-to-ceiling window. 

Missionary is a tried and true option, and just like it’s prior counterpart, it can be enhanced with a variety of extra tricks. Bondage is a good condiment, against the wall is always a nice touch, spread-eagle never goes wrong, and just having her legs wrapped around his lower back is more than enough. However, he does have two favorite variations of the position. The first is when he mounts her legs onto his shoulders or along the inside of his elbows to open her up more, and then just ramming his hips down at a very specific angle that hits her g-spot just right, pounding her into the bed so hard she tears the sheets off the mattress. The second is a cowgirl-missionary hybrid: he sits back on his heels and uses the steep downward slope created by his thighs as elevation, pulling her ass onto his tilted lap and swinging her legs over either side of his hips. He gropes her waist with his palms and yanks her forward, bouncing her against his cock and watching her completely dismantle as he nudges all the right places with as much speed and force as she deems fit. 

And then there’s fucking from the side, but that’s a whole other extensive conversation he doesn’t have time for. 

Actually, maybe Harry will entertain it for a minute or so. He usually throws one of Y/N’s legs over his neck to get a deeper range, manhandling her roughly onto her side and yanking her closer to his body by her waist, grasping it with stern vigor and holding her down against the mattress, grunting out a gravelly, strict command along the lines of, “Stay fucking still.” He’ll drill into her at a brutal, consistent pace, staining his fingerprints along the curves of her torso and sponging damp kisses onto her ankle, smirking into her skin as he watches her fist at the duvet in a futile attempt at maintaining her bearings. It’s pretty evident that she can’t, though; the way her eyes lull around their sockets from his harsh stride does a terrible job at hiding her lack of self-control, alongside the fragmented curses she gasps out whenever he nudges her g-spot with the head of his cock. 

“Oh, that was such a pretty noise. Did I hit that little spot you like?”

Her response will be begrudging, as always, which he thinks is ridiculously useless considering he can see her burying her face into the pillow to hide how her jaw drops open in sheer rapture. “No.”

“No?” The vampire leans forward, stretching her leg towards the headboard and preening at the garbled squeak that escapes her gritted teeth, plunging deeper as he lowers himself to her level. He knots her hair around his knuckles, tugging sharply until her face is tilted back enough to meet his fiery gaze. “Then why are you starting to shake?

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood, honestly. There are definitely serious moments, but Harry enjoys the humorous ones just as much. He already adores making Y/N laugh and smile on a regular basis, and that desire only grows when he’s buried between her thighs, simply because she just looks so fucking cute laughing with her hair splayed around the pillows in a messy halo, her sounds of glee stuttering due to how sharply she’s jolting against the bed. He loves feeling her giggle into his mouth as he cracks sarcastic jokes and makes stupid witty comments that break the intensity in the air, especially because she’s usually clever enough to return them with some of her own. Then they both end up snickering like idiots as he tries to keep a solid pace, which eventually tapers to a messy, haphazard stride as their laughter drowns out their goal to the point where he has to take a genuine break to collect himself. There’s tons of examples— how could there not be? Sex is hardly ever perfect, so awkward moments are not only expected, but guaranteed. What better way to handle them than with a bit of humor?

There was an incident once where Harry accidentally knocked their foreheads together so hard, they both bruised (which he responded to with, “I’m pretty sure this isn’t what Cosmopolitan meant when they suggested matching couples tattoos.”). Another time, he got so into the moment he didn’t realize he was jack-hammering the top of her head into the backboard until she brought it to his attention (and made a comment saying it sounded like a sped up version of the beat to We Will Rock You). A bad case of the hiccups. Y/N burping right in his face halfway through his orgasm. A random leg cramp that made him think he was going to need amputation to survive. Accidentally rolling off the bed or couch onto the ground and nearly dislocating both of their spines in the process, getting his cross earring tangled in her hair and nearly ripping off his ear trying to get it out, and the unfortunate collapse of a pillow fort he’d spent over an hour building. He even sneezed in her face once, and when she instinctively went to shove him back, she wound up slamming her palm into his nose so hard he nearly passed out. Nose bleeds aren’t necessarily sexy, per se, but he just dug blindly through her nightstand until he found two new tampons somewhere in that black hole she calls a drawer, shoved them in his nostrils, and kept going. No one can ever accuse him of being unresourceful. 

Queefing. Lots and lots of queefing, which he usually starts mimicking with his mouth, and then she responds to that by whining and telling him to cut it out, and then he takes to mocking her whining instead. It normally finishes with them laughing so hard that Harry’s cheeks hurt from smiling so big, but it’s a good type of pain. The best type of pain. 

H = Hair (how do they groom?)

Harry likes keeping himself neat and orderly, but he doesn’t enjoy going bare, so trimming is his grooming preference. There’s just something so unappealing about a completely smooth dick— it looks like raw chicken and it’s fucking disgusting. He doesn’t have anything against a good bush, but it tends to get unruly and he’d rather not have to overcomplicate his shower routine. And honestly, he can’t trust himself because last time he had a full front yard going, he got shitfaced and tried to braid it on a dare. Keeping the hedges trimmed is the ideal landscaping option, and it just looks way hotter— a uniform dusting of hair is a good accessory and it just makes everything look more cohesive, given that he also fancies keeping his happy trail thick. It’s all about aesthetics, isn’t it? 

I = Intimacy (the romantic aspect)

It’s no secret that Harry’s been somewhat detached from intimacy for the last two hundred years or so. Intimacy is reserved for genuine romance, and that’s something he hadn’t entertained since before the lightbulb was invented. But now that he has Y/N, intimacy has crawled its way back out from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, where it had been shoved into a bottomless pit with the rest of his trauma. He likes it— he likes opening up to her in any way he can, because sharing those obsolete parts of himself with someone again is more fulfilling than he ever imagined. He likes kissing her randomly when she’s halfway through a sentence, just to feel her words die off abruptly in her throat as she gives into his gentle gesture, a delicate smile spreading across her satin lips. He likes whispering sweet phrases of encouragement into her hair when they’re tangled amidst sweaty limbs and rumpled sheets, reminding her of how much he cares for her and how beautiful she looks when she’s so far gone and how she makes him feel like his entire body has been set alight. He likes sponging soft pecks across the stretch marks along her thighs and across the dimples on her belly, her skin candy and velvet on his tongue as she releases a watery sigh that lets him know he’s doing all the right things in all the right places. He just likes letting her know she's special to him, in any and every way he can. 

Intimacy forges timeless bonds, and he reckons that assumption is unarguable, considering he knows a thing or two about eternity. 

J = Jack Off (masturbation headcanon)

Harry likes to jack off, obviously. Who doesn’t? It’s why he has an entire section of his toy chest dedicated to self-pleasuring tools. Vibrating cock rings, an array of lubes that range from temperature-changing to sensation sensitivity, and a few pocket vags that get the job done whenever Y/N is out of commission (usually because of work). His favorite one is an electronic sleek black model that is made of a premium silicone material and has a variety of massage settings, suction strengths, and internal textures. It’s designed to make the session feel more real, and yes, it was expensive, but self-love is always worth the splurge. 

The beauty of living on his own is that he can get off wherever and whenever he wants, without having to stress about someone interrupting an important step in his pampering routine. He usually does it in his room and on his bed, simply because Y/N’s pillow is close by and the experience is heightened when her scent is swimming around his hazy, bliss-drunken mind. If Harry is feeling particularly needy, he’ll ditch the toy all together and just hump one out against the mattress or cushion. If it’s a particularly restless day, he’ll take a toy downstairs and lazily play within himself on the couch while browsing through Netflix. Those instances usually average a few tamer orgasms rather than a single large one, but he’s not complaining; his stamina comes in unapologetic waves that stem from a never-ending supply, and he certainly has the time to kill. If Harry gets the sudden urge in the shower or while he’s relaxing in his jacuzzi, he won’t bother fetching a trinket; he’ll just stroke one out with his hand, using the cool metal of his trusty lionhead ring to tease the tip until he brings himself to orgasm. It turns out daylight crystals have more than one use. 

There is one common factor amongst all these different choices, though: Y/N is present in every fantasy. And if the vampire is feeling especially bold, he’ll grab his phone and take a video of whatever he’s doing to himself, and then she’ll have a nice little gift waiting for her once she gets out of the café for the day. That usually leads to him receiving a present in return later that evening, and then he’s dialing her contact before the clip is even done playing, and then what he does during his alone time doesn’t require him being so alone anymore. 

K = Kinks 

Harry has tons— in fact, he has so many, he can’t really keep track. And he also has the sneaking suspicion that if he were to ever jot all of them down, he’d end up locked in some type of sex addict rehabilitation center. Bondage is a big one, so he’ll start there. He’s great with ropes, given that he learned his way around them ages ago. Chains are nice, but they can be a pain to set up without the right equipment; he’s thinking of getting a reinforced metal hook installed into his ceiling, like the one in his storage closet, which he uses to keep his punching bag secure. Handcuffs, obviously— velvet-lined, straight metal, fuzzy coverings, he’s got it all. Dominance, degradation, Daddy, Sir, choking, brat-taming, spanking, flogging, slapping— impact play in general, to be honest— spitting, wax, praise, begging, masochism, branding (mild stuff, no molten metal shit), collaring, discipline, dirty talk, edging, exhibitionism, face-fucking, face-sitting (with him on the receiving end), giving oral (is that a kink? It is now.) gagging (both the action and using the actual object itself), breeding (he hates that term but that’s the official name, unfortunately), teasing, voyeurism, role play, and… he thinks that’s it. Oh, and blood, but that doesn’t really count for apparent reasons. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Y/N’s couch is sacred, at this point. Their entire relationship started on that lumpy, worn excuse of a sofa, and it’s seen them through their progression from strangers to friends with benefits to lovers to more. It’s comfortable enough, the dark color hides any explicit stains, and the cushions always smell of her signature mixture of honey and lavender combined with Snuggle fabric softener. It’s finicky, but irreplaceable. His kitchen counter is a close second. It’s provided a lot, taken a lot, been through a lot— through a lot of Lysol wipes, to be specific. If it wasn’t marble, it likely would have been reduced to chunks and rubble by now, courtesy of his enhanced strength gripping the edges as he slams her against the smooth surface. The backseat of his Cadillac is consecrated, as well; there’s just so much erotic appeal to fucking in a car with rock music blaring in the background, muffling the obscene sounds of bodies connecting and a mixture of fever-pitch moans. The couch, the counter, and the Cadillac— the Unholy Trinity. 

The jacuzzi is nice, too, but for the sake of his clever little “c” alliteration, he’ll leave that one as an implied token. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As much as Harry claims he likes full submission in bed, he can’t deny that he loves being challenged. Delivering punishment and coaxing out an orgasm is so much more satisfying when he has to fight for it; it’s so fucking hot watching his girlfriend try to best him in a power struggle, especially when she finally— and undeniably, since he always wins— caves under his will and winds up begging him for what he otherwise would have gifted her freely. That’s where the brat-taming kink comes into play. He likes it when she mouths off and makes snarky digs, and he enjoys it even more when he tries to set her in place and she amps her disobedience as a result. There’s nothing more attractive than a battle of wits with someone who is a perfect match in every way. And when she channels her attitude into physical gestures, it riles him up beyond compare. For example, when she smirks and rolls her eyes, despite the fact that there’s trails of tears staining her cheeks and mascara smeared all over her waterline? Christ, he could go feral. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

No feet, no feces, no beastiality. There’s probably more, but those are the ones off the top of his head.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Receiving oral is great— he highly recommends it, solid ten out of ten— but giving it is so much better. Harry’s always been a giver, even when he was young and barely knew his way around a woman’s undergarments. The stereotypical expectation for a person who is beginning to explore their sexuality is that everything they do, they do for their own gain. It’s a selfish realization, yes, but it’s a primal type of selfishness that no one can truly be blamed for. It’s a simple concept: when you start having sex, you want as much personal benefit as possible. It’s only natural. But from the second Harry became sexually active, he came to find that providing release to his partner outweighed the bliss he could get from letting them pleasure him instead. It’s not direct pleasure, but rather cognitive, which more often than not translates itself physically. And when it comes to Y/N, that euphoria manifests tenfold. 

Nothing compares to having his face buried between her legs as she tugs and yanks at his hair desperately, her chest heaving and jaw falling open as he uses his tongue to unravel her from the inside out. Spitting sloppily onto her folds and hearing the raw gasp of aroused shock that escapes her sore throat, which causes his swollen lips to spread into a dirty grin as he latches onto the sensitive bud at the thick of her core, fiddling with it until her legs are trembling uncontrollably around his sturdy shoulders. Watching her features go slack as he bobs his neck fervently between her thighs, swiping the bridge of his nose across her clit over and over until the entire bottom half of his face is drenched in her excitement. Fucking his tongue into her and feeling her buck against his jaw as she holds him in place with her fingers tangled in his curls, whimpering his name repeatedly in a voice so shattered, he could probably build a mosaic with the fractures. Feeling her drip down his chin and into the collar of his shirt, savoring how sweet she tastes as he pins her hips down against the bed and groans feverishly into her cunt, his ego idolizing the image of her so disheveled under his influence. 

A measly blowjob is hardly any competition to that. Harry could very well cum just from eating Y/N out. In fact, he has, and that in itself is all the proof he needs. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

This is one of those other factors that depends on the mood. If Harry has been waiting all day for it, his impatience bleeds into his rhythm, which means he settles for fast and hard. It means he settles for bending her over the back of his couch with one palm around her throat and his other fingers in her mouth, pounding into her with so much force, the sofa starts shifting across the ground. If Y/N has been teasing him endlessly for a decent amount of time, it’ll be rough and deep, but not fast; he’ll drag it out for as long as possible, just to make her regret acting like such a spoiled brat. That’s when he brings out the paddle, or the crop, or just manhandles her across his lap and spanks her until she’s apologizing profusely through her whines. If he’s in a soft, romantic headspace, it’ll be slow and sensual, with lots of gentle caresses, giggly kisses dusted across eager lips and droopy eyelids, and penetrating strokes that make his toes curl and tummy clench. 

Pace is relative, but the message behind it is all the same: I want you more than anything, and I’m going to show you just how deeply I mean it. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are fun, Harry will admit. They’re filthy and messy, and they show just how far gone two people are for each other to the point where they can’t wait to feel one another at a later time; that they need to be together now, or they’ll go absolutely insane. Quickies are saved for when the urge strikes at random times. For when he’s out with Y/N at a park, sitting under the shade with his head in her lap as she combs his curls out of his eyes and thumbs over his chin affectionately, and the sun filters through the tree canopy just right to where it illuminates her lashes and the suppleness of her cheeks in a manner he deems ethereal. For when they’re at the mall, walking hand in hand and licking at ice cream cones as they survey the shops, and she reaches over to wipe a bit of Rocky Road off the corner of his mouth, replacing the stain with a soft stipple of her lips instead. For when they’re out eating dinner and playing footsie under the table like immature teenagers, and she’s trying to steal a French fry from his plate but he keeps fighting her off with his fork because, “I told you to order your own, but you wanted those disgusting potato skins instead!” And she’s laughing so brightly and unapologetically, giving him a look that so obviously tells him she can’t wait to get him alone, and nothing seems quite as flawless as that fraction in time, then and there and nowhere else.

These simple but memorable moments cause him to get love boners, which he jokingly refers to as “sniffy stiffies,” where “sniffy” has to do with being sentimental, and “stiffy”...well, that one is pretty self-explanatory, no? It always ends with them shagging in the car, or in the family bathroom of a diner, and in the case of the park, in an obscure area of the forest that lines the jogging trail. 

Quickies are just that— fast, but meaningful nonetheless, because they come from a place of genuine emotion. They’re fleeting, but unforgettable. Sniffy stiffy quickies, if you will. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Taking risks is the norm in Harry’s life, especially when it comes to his sex habits. He’s proven time and time again that he has no problem riding along the seams of a dare and just barely making it out unscathed, so experimenting outside of the bedroom is just another day in the life. Fingering Y/N in a music room in an antique shop, getting road head during a two hour drive back to Los Angeles, ripping his girlfriend’s panties out from beneath her dress at one of California’s most prestigious restaurants— the list is endless, really. Harry likes to think he has a gift for coming up with inspirational quotes on the spot, so he’ll lend his expertise here and now: “A life without risks is a life that isn’t worth shit.” It even rhymes, so he knows sorority pledges will have a ball putting it in their Instagram bios. A bit of charity work for the bird-brained. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Endless stamina. Literally. Vampires don’t stay tired for long, so he could be ready to go again within seconds. And he can last long, as well; his stubbornness and pride depend on it, and he likes making his partner cum first as an ego boost. He can go as many rounds as Y/N can and more, though he won’t push it. He doesn’t want her to end up in the ER with a bruised cervix. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Harry could run a sex shop from his closet; Y/N doesn’t take the piss by calling him “Fifty Shades” for no reason. He uses them on himself, he uses them on her, and he got high once and tried to sword fight Y/N with a dildo, so it’s safe to say he definitely uses them quite a bit. If his Lovesense Lush 3 vibrator could talk, he’d be drawn and quartered for excessive debauchery. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Harry loves teasing, that’s no mystery. Winding people up is one of his most practiced skills, so of course that would channel into his intimate life. He’s mastered it, though it’s not like it’s hard. A drawn out blink here, or a feathery touch there. An inch of space between his and Y/N’s lips to establish some tension, or squeezing her inner thigh with his palm hard enough to draw a tiny squeak from her chest. Touching her through her clothes, or leaving a trail of wet kisses down her throat and stopping right at her cleavage. Biting the sensitive skin along the inside of her knee, or dragging the tip of his cold nose down the center of her twitching tummy. Lapping slowly at her nipples until they perk up, or sinking a single long digit inside her and keeping it there just to feel her clench around it needily. And once he gets a pattern going, teasing molds into edging, edging molds into begging, begging molds into praise, and before he knows it, he’s hit four of his kinks with one roll of the dice. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Harry is very vocal in bed, and he’s not ashamed of it. He knows for a fact that Y/N loves it, and if him being loud gets her worked up, then he’ll let his throat go out in the process. He’s noticed that in different situations, he has an arsenal of sounds for each. If he’s being rough and dominant, he tends to groan, grunt, and growl. If he’s being desperate and needy, he turns to whines and whimpers to communicate how he feels. If he’s too zoned into the moment to distinguish all his emotions, broken moans and stuttered mewls are his default. No matter the circumstance, they all take the same route: they start low and soft, and escalate in volume proportional to the intensity of the moment. So what if half the building is hearing him orgasm for the third time as he mocks his girlfriends sobbing pleads and calls her his “dirty fucking whore”? Let’s be honest, it’s probably the highlight of their week. He has a great voice— a sultry, deep baritone that compliments his English accent nicely— and anyone would be lucky to hear it spew the filth it does. He’s yet to get many complaints, so he doesn’t intend on stopping. 

W = Wildcard (random headcanon)

An honesty hour moment seems interesting, so he’ll confess a few tales from his past. The first time Harry ever went down on a girl, it was against a tree in a garden and he nearly asphyxiated under all the layers of her gown. A couple of years later, he ended up getting oral from a reverend’s daughter against a tree, too, for the morbid irony and associated religious revenge. And to drive the point home, oral was only the beginning of what she gave him. His first decade as a vampire was definitely his pettiest. 

X = X-Ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

It’s not uncommon knowledge that Harry’s well-endowed. He remembers how insecure he was the first time he had sex— a shocker, he knows; he was insecure?— and how he knew barely anything regarding sizing and how to use his assets accordingly. But it’s been ages since then, and now he definitely knows his way around his own body (let alone his partner’s), and he most certainly knows that he’s above average not only as a person in general, but when it comes to what’s in his trousers, as well. Harry won’t specify inches— he loves how speculation drives others mad— but it was big enough to give Y/N a decent pause the first time she pulled down his pants, and it’s big enough to leave her absolutely fucked every single time, without a single miss. If that’s not credibility at its finest, then he doesn’t know what is.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Harry’s sex drive is insatiable, to say the least. His vampirism combined with his narcissistic tendencies makes the ideal cocktail— cocktail— for the constant fuse that’s always burning under his skin. He’s ready to go at all times; Y/N just has to say the word and he’s pulling on a pair of sweatpants as he grabs his keys, hopping down his complex’s corridor toward the elevator on one foot as he tries to get his last shoe on the other. Lazy morning sex is probably his favorite; he’s come to find it’s when he’s most pent up, usually after a sleepless night of feeling Y/N’s body heat radiating through all of his cold limbs. It also sets a great tone for the rest of the day, and he just loves seeing Y/N wake up to him lying on his side with his temple resting on his fist, his elbow propped against the mattress as he poses the other on his hip in a theatrical diva stance. He’ll smile at her giddily with all his pearly teeth, dimples twitching as his lashes flutter dramatically, dirty intentions written clear all over his face (“Good morning, hon—” “Wanna have sex?” “Harry, it’s ten in the morning.” “Is that a yes? Because it’s not a no.” “I haven’t even brushed my teeth!” “That’s fine, I’m gonna stick my dick in there anyways.”) 

All in all, his libido is insane, and he’s lucky that Y/N’s is up to par or else he would have worked her into an exhaustion-induced coma by now. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Harry just...doesn't. Maybe once every few weeks, but definitely more often now than before he had his girlfriend. Sleeping just comes way easier when he has someone he cares about resting beside him, their inherent warmth thawing the stiffness from his muscles and putting his racing mind at ease. He feels safe enough around Y/N to let his guard down— both literally and metaphorically— and that seems to help with his supernatural insomnia; it sedates that nocturnal hyper-instinct in his brain that demands he be aware at all times, muffling the animalistic part of him that has been manning the reins for the better half of the last two hundred years. He doesn’t need to be so on edge anymore when everything he needs is just an arm-length away. Especially when she’s usually willing to lend her chest as a pillow, and who is he to neglect her wishes.   

#ysijwa #harry styles smut #vampire!harry #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x oc #harry styles x you #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles mature #harry styles dirty fanfiction #harry styles fanfiction

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

hi yes im still alive

DON’T MIND ME, I’M JUST--

HAVING A MOMENT TO PROCESS ALL THE LORE AND STORY CHAPTER 6 JUST DROPPED ON US, I CAN BARELY WRITE

AHHHHHHH, I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS 😭 kjdbbaufbiafafvoaybo LEMME PUT ON MY THINKING CAP AND THROW SOME STUFF OUT ASDYUBUASDLI;AGVUOQIB;VI You’ll understand why I used Leona’s face here even though it’s Idia and Ortho’s chapter after you read my thoughts--

***Chapter 6 (and other main story) spoilers below the cut!***

Okay, just to keep it simple, I’ll try to keep things in chronological order!

First is a bullet point list of my thoughts on chapter 6 so far, then all my questions and theories (mostly a biggish theory on Ace) are at the end of the post.

Expectation: Idia cowering in his room, Vil and Rook busting down his door using Epel as a battering ram, dead Ortho theory confirmed

Reality: SWAT TEAM RAID ON NRC, DORM LEADERS (sans Kalim) AND JAMIL GET KIDNAPPED

Admittedly, I’m disappointed to see that the injury Grim inflicted to MC was basically just a cat scratch and nothing more. I thought it would be a lot more impactful if MC had to deal with juggling the realization that Grim has betrayed their friendship and trust while also on the verge of death (or at least while being severely injured)... And given how MC reacted to the attack at the end of chapter 5, I would think whatever struck them was much more substantial than just a cat scratch. I’m going to go out on a limb here and say either the script got scrubbed by Disney, or the intent was that MC was still woozy from VDC / OB Vil, MC felt so betrayed that it shook them emotionally, or that MC was just that weak by default that they can’t defend themselves against cat claws.

Hey, Ramshackle’s finally getting renovated! Proceeds to immediately get destroyed again--

I feel like????????? They tried to retroactively explain why Neige won to try and mitigate the uproar over how VDC ended. There’s some dialogue between the VDC group about how they didn’t perform at their peak because of having just walked out of dealing with OB Vil, and how Neige’s fans were going to vote for him anyway because they resonated with his background. Honestly, I think they should have moved on from that sore spot instead of bringing it up again, even if how chapter 5 ended didn’t personally bother me.

BOOM, HERE COME THE TWST TERMINATORS--

NOT GONNA LIE, THOSE STYX GUYS LOOK HOT SO COOL

AAAAAAND IT’S KIDNAPPING MONTAGE TIME, KIDS

JOABSFHUPAUABDBADB CALM DOWN, RIDDLE??????? YOU’RE GOING TO COMMIT ARSON IN BROAD DAYLIGHT--

Okay, I know this chapter’s focused on Ignihyde and Grim, but the standout part to me (so far) has been the scene where Leona’s being kidnapped. Historically, Leona has not been a character that I like (excluding that one time I had to pretend to like him for a game). I feel like he’s one massive missed opportunity (he didn’t show up much in chapter 2, he’s pretty similar backstory-wise to his Disney counterpart compared to the other Dorm Leaders, he didn’t seem to learn anything or become a better person even a LITTLE after chapter 2, etc.). I’m not a fan of his lazy and arrogant attitude either (even if it is justified by his backstory). But here? THIS IS THE LEONA I ACTUALLY LIKE AND WANT TO SEE MORE OF. 

LIKE????? I CAN’T DESCRIBE TO YOU HOW MUCH I LIKE THIS SCENE???? Yeah, we have Leona fighting STYX at first, but as soon as he realizes who they are, he wises up and surrenders because he knows better than to resist arrest. AND NOT ONLY THAT, but he uses King’s Roar in a smart way--to turn the falling greenhouse glass panes into sand so they don’t hurt anyone nearby (namely him and Ruggie).

And after he turns himself in????? LEONA TELLS RUGGIE TO TAKE CARE OF SAVANACLAW FOR HIM!!! THIS is what a real leader would do. He looks after himself and his people, but he knows when to surrender, AND he leaves his “kingdom” (the dorm) in good hands while he’s away. THIS is the Leona I want to see.

AJBDUASHPFBUABFIABIYFBIPFAAFIAF I ALSO REALLY LIKE HIS SASS WHEN HE JUST THROWS HIS HANDS UP AND ASDBIASBIABAIODDAYOFAIPPADAIDB SAYS “I’ll go with you, but be careful while escorting me, okay? Despite my looks, I'm a precious prince. I’ll get sick/dizzy if you drive recklessly.” SARCASTIC SASSY SMARTASS??????? IF YOU HAD MORE LINES LIKE THIS, I’D LIKE YOU MORE

I love how Azul’s still talking about capitalism/how he can profit from Idia (apparently the Shrouds are like the TWST equivalent of Google??????) as he’s being escorted away by the agents?????? IF I WERE HIM, I’D BE PISSED OFF THAT THEY INTERRUPTED MY BOARD GAME????? At least let the man finish first--

Damn, everyone’s being tasered???????? And apparently all the STYX agents are equipped with anti-magic plates? I guess Bind the Heart can just eat shit then--

Lilia’s ringtone is cute, period.

CROWLEY CALLED STYX TO CAPTURE GRIM???? GRIM IS OFFICIALLY A SCP THAT NEEDS TO BE CONTAINED????

WAIT WHAT CROWLEY’S BEING KIDNAPPED TOO??????? Oh well, the school is probably safer in Trein’s hands anyway--

askhlbfbilhidbabbidasb RIDDLE WAKES UP POST KIDNAPPING AND HE’S USING LEONA AS A LAP PILLOW?????!

How does it feel to be held in a room against your will, Jamil? Yeah, don’t like a taste of your own medicine, do you?

OH HI IDIA, NICE YZMA MAD SCIENTIST GETUP YOU GOT THERE

Wait, what????? THAT’S IT?????? SERIOUSLY???????

MAN.

I have so many questions??????? Specifically about STYX and what they do, and how the Shrouds are tied into all of it.

So they say STYX is a specialized unit called in to quell serious Overblot cases. And if Crowley called them to deal with Grim... well, bad times ahead for Grim. STYX has also been studying Overblot for a long time, which is why (I think?) they captured Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, and Vil. 

There’s been some allusions made between Grim and Stitch in a lot of fan art and fan theories I’ve seen, since their struggles have some parallels: that being them struggling to decide if they are “good” or “bad”. I don’t know if this was intentional on the part of the TWST writing team, but regardless, it’s a really good concept that plays into the themes of TWST itself. There’s no good, there’s no evil, no black and white--most of the characters we see may be BASED on villains, but that doesn’t MAKE them villains. They are good, and bad, in their own ways--and now Grim is dealing with that crisis as he fights to keep his sanity and avoid completely succumbing to Overblot.

Though Idia seems to be involved with STYX’s research, it doesn’t sound like he personally gave the order to retrieve those test subjects (or at the very least, he’s not happy about roughing up the test subjects), it sounds like the orders came from other people in the organization. His parents, perhaps?

They mention briefly that Idia’s parents are asking him to “come home”, so it must be for something urgent. Are they worried about his safety? But Idia’s lines at the end of chapter 5 lead me to think he is estranged from his family, since he straight up rejected a job offer linked to them (Olympus Corp is owned by the Jupiter family, and the Shrouds are a branch family of Jupier), and says something like “I’m not welcome anywhere”. Has Idia done something to disgrace him from the rest of the family? Or is it more of a self imposed/self inflicted statement, given that he always says he’s “cursed” and acts like he’s guilty of something that deserves scorn?

Why is Idia participating in STYX research, even if it means experimenting on his fellow students (and fellow board game enthusiast Azul)? People are speculating that he wants to use blots to fully revive Ortho (if dead Ortho theory is true), or that Idia actually has heroic intentions (he wants to know more about blots to prevent OBing from happening?), but at this point??? Literally anything could happen?!

In future parts, I’m guessing Pomefiore, MC, and Adeuce will team up to break Jamil and the Dorm Leaders (except Malleus, Malleus got left out again www) out? And HOPEFULLY we get to see Rook’s Unique Magic or at least more screen time, since I feel like he got so little in chapter 5... Another thing I’d like to see is Ace and/or Epel getting their Unique Magic, or at least starting to develop it. It’s really mostly Ace I want more details for.

A theory I’ve been holding onto for a long time is that Deuce getting his UM will spur Ace on to become jealous (since he has always seen Deuce as an idiot/”lesser” than him), and that will cause a rift in the friendship, or for Ace to throw himself into a dangerous situation to prove himself (he has done it before with Riddle)... and has his ass rescued again. This would make Ace even angrier, since he feels like everyone is treating him like a little kid or rubbing it in that he isn’t “as good” as they are. I don’t know where it would go from there (I’m sure TWST would get creative), but ultimately it would culminate in Ace making amends with everyone and rushing in to save them from either Grim or Idia OB.

I don’t think Ace would discover his UM in a similar manner as Deuce (Deuce had to embrace his own stubbornness and straightforwardness, but as the term “Unique” Magic implies, the way a magic develops and manifests is “unique” to the user). While Deuce has to learn to accept his own way of thinking, I believe Ace is already sure of his own way of thinking and has totally accepted it. I think what Ace has to deal with instead is coming to terms with his fickleness. We’ve seen him time and time again treating his loved ones kind of callously, from constantly bullying MC, Grim, and Deuce to ghosting his own girlfriend and flaking on people when they are counting on him to do a task.

The issue with Ace isn’t that he isn’t aware, it’s that he is aware and he seems to think this behavior is totally okay. He demonstrates little to no remorse in what he does and says, and he doesn’t seem to care about the consequences either (how many times does he get punished by Riddle, yet he keeps doing the same dumb things over and over?). Ace appears to operate under the mindset of always being in the right, or (if he’s in the wrong), he won’t really acknowledge it, or he will wave it off as “no big deal”--and I think that’s his greatest weakness.

In the scenario I described earlier, I mentioned that Ace’s jealousy will cause a wedge between him and his friends, and I think this will play into him realizing the error of his ways. When he has finally driven away all of the people that supported him, what will he have left? Nothing. Then maybe Ace suddenly finds himself relating to Idia, or to Grim, who have Overblotted and are in a similar emotional state as he is. Confused and lonely... and that energizes him to pitch in again, even if all he has is wind magic up his sleeve. Everyone could be shocked that Ace has returned, and in that moment, he could finally realize his true potential and unlock his Unique Magic!

(Maybe that’s too specific, but that’s a scenario that I’ve had playing in my head for a long time!)

... Buuuuut given that Ace has gotten little to no spotlight so far in chapter 6, I’m not sure if they’ll lean into him developing his UM yet (unless they pull a chapter 5 and really start addressing Ace in the latter half of the chapter like they did with Deuce). Seeing as chapter 6 is dealing with a lot of heavy topics (death, Grim lore, Overblot lore), I’m thinking maybe the TWST team will push off Ace’s UM development to chapter 7???? The only way I can see it happening in chapter 6 is if the chapter is SUPER long, or if the writing is REALLY good or really bad. 

Anyway, I’m keeping my fingers crossed!!! I’m so excited for the rest of chapter 6... I hope that we don’t have to wait too long for it!

#Idia Shroud #Leona Kingscholar #twst #twisted wonderland #Grim #disney twisted wonderland #notes from the writing raven #Lilia Vanrouge #Ortho Shroud #Riddle Rosehearts #Azul Ashengrotto #Jamil Viper #Rook Hunt #Vil Schoenheit #Neige Leblanche #Epel Flemier #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade #Dire Crowley #Mozus Trein #spoilers #twst analysis #twst theory #twisted wonderland analysis #twisted wonderland theory #Malleus Draconia #Ruggie Bucchi #I'M JUST SPITTING UP ALL MY THOUGHTS #Kalim Al-Asim

[killmebythebeach]

A bunch of head cannons (Maybe too much). Also in talking about the characters.

I think Dream is that one design where his skin is just the static tv screen. He just constantly emits that fuzzy noise, Sam crafted him the smile mask that he can see through so he doesn't scare people.

George is just kind of the server itself. He's the same species as Hannah, but a mushroom and more powerful. If he stays awake too long, the server just kind of freezes. This is also a reason XD keeps him sleeping, it's his way of talking to George and he thinks the server is like his soap opera of mortals.

Callahan is sort of like the person who makes sure George doesn't get killed or dies while asleep, making sure he's surrounded by mushrooms and such. Deer hybrid <3

Alyssa joined the server because she knew all her friends were idiots and didn't want them to die immediately. But once the elections rolled around, she felt the pressure of choosing sides and ran away to the desert, only keeping contact with Ponk. She actually lives just a couple miles from Foolish's summer home. Her communicator actually died after a couple months and she had no way of charging it, so she lost contact with everyone.

Sapnap is a magma cube hybrid and can jump higher than most, his natural temperature runs hotter, and is fire proof. Bad found him in the nether when he was maybe 10-15 years old.

Sam was actually a normal creeper, but gained player like sentience from being struck by lightning. Instead of becoming charged, he gained intelligence and met the others on the server. Callahan taught him some Redstone, but from there he figured out a lot on his own. He's also a creeper centaur.

Ponk is actually a descendant of a fairy, a lemon tree. Their mask was also a gift from Sam because after the second or third time their tree was burnt, their immune system was weakened a considerable amount. Alyssa also wore her mask for them.

Bad is a size shifting demon from the nether, more specifically soul sand desert. He uses soul fire to gain strength, so because the egg died when near it, he was just a little weaker than normal. Because he's a demon he needs a tie to the overworld to stay there, he tied his soul and lives to Skeppy.

Tommy was grown in a lab to be a hero, project: THESEUS. The lab gave him small enhancements, like slightly stronger and just a bit more resilient, to make the Above Average Boy (TM). He then ran away to meet Wilbur. When Dream asked Wilbur if he wanted to come to the server, he asked if Tommy could go first to see what it was like. He also actually really likes gardening and making up funny songs to Wilbur playing guitar. He also made funny lyrics for his discs, but he's still a bit scared to take them out of his ender chest. Other than bringing attachment, Dream also exiled Tommy to see what his lab enhancements could do.

Tubbo is an adaptive hybrid! His hair was blond, shifting to brown when Wilbur found him, getting blue eyes from Tommy, growing small horns under Schlatt, parts of his skin being static when Dream was "helping" him with his presidency, and parts of his scars tinging black and green from Ranboo and Micheal. Tubbo also helped Wilbur write part of the anthem. He likes living in the snow because the Manberg flag had magma blocks on it, casting a heatwave over the country, and after L'Manburg blew up it got really hot from the exposed stone in direct sun.

Fundy can actually hold his breath for a very long time and swim very well because of Sally teaching him and his salmon genes. The yellow things on his hat are actually shells, and the stripes on his jacket are trans colors. Also with his dreams, he saw Eret was going to betray them but didn't think it was real, or didn't want to. He also saw Wilbur blow up L'Manburg but chose not to believe it, thinking his father could still be saved. He actually saw pretty much everything, but didn't quite understand what they were until after doomsday.

The necklace Punz wears is one of those picture lockets, but he lost the picture and can't remember what it was. The first time Dream paid him was when Dream asked for help and Punz made an off hand joke about getting money, and then Dream thought he was being serious. Him, Dream, and Sapnap were like brothers, and Punz got sadder every time he saw Dream pushing people away and diving deeper into darkness.

Purpled is an aliensent to see if the planet was colonizable, but then crashed and was stranded, all his communications down and his ship barely able to hover fifty feet off the ground. When Quackity blew it up, he essentially got rid of his chance of ever going home. Purpled's species can shapeshift, so he turned himself into the first person he saw, Punz. Eventually before trying to communicate with the native life forms, he edited his form a little so they weren't identical, keeping purple eyes and antennae, changing the colors slightly, and changing the voice up. When he moves away from the main SMP, Ponk makes sure to check up on him and that he has a way to check his communicator.

Wilbur came a month after sending Tommy. His father being a patron of life and his mother the goddess of death, he met in the middle being born as a human. The only reason Ghostbur was as active and present as he was was because he was so connected to both life and death. Since his corpse was decaying for as long as it was, Wilbur is now super weak, his flesh is thin and his eyes are rotted and gone. Much like Ghostbur, Wilbur in limbo saw what people said about him, and Ghostbur could hear that from the back of his head. Now Wilbur can hear what people say about Ghostbur and he hates it, not wanting to be connected to what he thinks like a shell of himself.

Schlatt is a ram (duh) and actually does the fainting goat thing. So when he died of a heart attack, no one knew at first if he was actually dead or not. His alcoholism stems from the revive book, as the possibility of tampering with death made him existential and scared, so to cope he drank. There are also a ton of other stuff other than revival in the book, but it's in galactic.

Skeppy was just a normal human, but after making the pact with Bad, Bad put a spell on him. Parts of him turned into diamond, protecting both his and Bad's lives. He however, is unaware of this. With the egg, he would just sit on it, the diamonds chipping away to make room for the vines.

Eret was cursed by the Wither Cult, giving them white eyes and a slowly deteriorating memory. Not sure what to do, Foolish dropped them off at the SMP. Sometimes they would dream about old memories from before the curse, but it was just glimpses so he could never tell what they meant. Once they were king, they made the Herobrine shrine subconsciously, not really sure what it was after. They also had a strange affinity of beacons and resurrection, some of their memories resurfacing when they tried to help Phil and Ghostbur revive Wilbur after doomsday. The reason people are more scared of their eyes than any other wierd eyes was because he generally looks like a normal human, but the wither along with their Herobrine origins creates an uncanny valley that people are shocked by.

Jack had red and blue irises before crawling out of hell, but after coming back the whites of his eyes also turned red and blue. He always wears 3d glasses so no one noticed, but he just thought no one cared enough to mention it. He also has a bunch of scars and burn marks that no one but him can see, therefore no one asks about them or thinks something is wrong, cementing the idea that no one cares about him.

Niki is a blaze hybrid (stole this from @/420technoblazeit) whose fire hair color changes based on strong emotion, something she bond with Tubbo for as a fellow shifter. A soft yellow in L'Manburg, brighter orange in Manburg, hot pink on Doomsday, a soul fire blue with the syndicate (which Techno hates), and a dead grey when she found out Wilbur was alive. She was also old child hood friends with Ranboo and Eret, leaving Ranboo for the SMP. Ranboo, unfortunatly, doesn't remember much more than her name. She also knows galactic from Ranboo, so she talks about her troubles to Shy the Enderman. She doesn't really know how to talk to Puffy anymore after Doomsday or finding out how she wants to protect Tommy.

Quackity can perfectly replicate someone's voice and, with a lot of effort, can completely change his form to another player. He also has very small yellow wings, too small to fly, so he almost always hides them. He used to constantly change his voice for jokes with Karl, Sapnap, and George, but he doesn't like doing it now in Las Nevadas, as he sees it as unprofessional. However, sometimes he uses when he visits Dream, changing his voice to people like George and Sapnap to make torture more effective.

In the In Between and Other Side, Karl actually looks like his old skin, or his natural state (the big purple one that inspired his sweater). But most of the time in the normal world, he looks human. With effort he can bring out the interdemential being thing, something only Quackity and Sapnap know about. The more he time travels, the easier it becomes to change, and he's even started defaulting to the other form.

HBomb is actually just a normal news reporter, sent to interview and record what's going on in the server, his first big story being the election. Upon Doomsday, the stress of seeing everyone alone, fighting, and disconnected, he ran away from the world, essentially becoming a cat lady. His undercover reporter persona is actually the cat maid. He eventually came back to the server to see how he could help after Doomsday, befriending Niki again and living with her in the underground city.

Techno is a piglin, so he's scared of soul fire. He forgot to tell Phil before he decorated the syndicate room, so he just suffers in silence. He also does better when around a lot of gold, like in the nether, and he feels drained and slightly weaker without it. Instead of just putting gold around the area (it would ruin his property value), he just hibernates. He has an emerald earing, like all of the syndicate, but his is a locket that unfolds into pictures of the syndicate.

Ant always wears a red hoodie, now ruined by the egg, that used to be Red's. On Red's death anniversary, him, Bad, Skeppy, and Sam would make cake and put flowers on his grave. He missed the last one because it was during the egg, but for a brief moment after Puffy killed him he saw Red. Red then promptly and bluntly told him to stop being a pussy (haha, cat) and that he shouldn't do all this just to get him back, one of Ant's motivators to make amends with the people he hurt while with the egg. Ant is also a shapeshifter, but can only turn into a cat.

Phil actually used to work under Foolish as a patron of life but then he had a son with the goddess of death, so his title was removed so he could be with her and he became an Angel of Death. Kristin noticed how sad he was after being released, so she gifted him wings. They were however, destroyed on November 16th. His chat also serves as messenger pigeons, which were used to send letters to Wilbur.

Connor is actually just a hedgehog who somehow befriended Schlatt. Even before the haunted mansion, Karl vented to him about his time travel troubles, not knowing he was a sentient player. As a hedgehog, no one really cares where he goes, so he goes outside the server limits to meet his friends from the haunted mansion.

Puffy is a distant relative of Schlatt, but instead of politics she went into piracy. With her mom, she went travelling the seas. One say, a storm came and wiped out her ship, her crew, her mom, everything but her. The reason she survived was because Foolish saw her and saved her. Unfortunately, Puffy hit hee head in the crash and doesn't remember anything.

Vikkstar is the equivalent of a big time celebrity, so of course his endorsement of POG2020 was a big deal.

Lazarbeam is literally just a ginger bread cookie.

Ranboo has actually met a lot of the smp before actually joining. He's met Niki, Fundy, Eret, Punz, and Dream at least. He also sees the inverted colors Enderman see. His suit was actually a gift from Eret before they forgot how to tailor. He got the crown from Techno after joining the syndicate, claiming he didn't want any syndicate members to look like trash.

Foolish came to the server most recently to check up on Eret, but he couldn't bring himself to leave again. When Puffy adopts him, he can't say no because he remembers saving her. His initial goal was to kill an ender dragon to claim the XD title and become a full god like DreamXD, but after realising someone already killed it he went into his totem if death phase. Upon meeting Eret, he got over it and they went on some silly adventures, Foolish now taking a more peaceful route.

Hannah is essentially a weaker George, as her power is tied to the plants themselves and not the entire server. She however has a lot more physical power because rose dryads like to fight because they have thorns. Since roses can be taken out a lot easier, she is essentially a glass canon. Also when around any plant, she can make it grow faster than normal.

Any guest on the server? Corpse, Pokimane, Lil Nas? They were all Slimecicle. That's how he knows where everyone is from, even outside of Las Nevadas. No one else knows this. He's also ancient, if he met Phil they would probably recognise eachother. There was an actual Charlie Slimecicle who was not a slime, but after being launched into orbit this Slimecicle decided to impersonate him.

Michael Mcchill is a sort of bounty hunter. He came to the server after hearing of all the crime, assuming there'd be a lot of bounties to collect. However, he soon learned that no one really cares if you commit a crime. He then took to reading news articles made by HBomb to see if there were any past open bounties. But after reading for a while about the server's wronguns, mostly Dream, he began to sympathise with them. And he's also a speedrunner, so maybe he could help with some bounties across other servers!

This was a very long post and i apologize, but it was so fun to finally write all these thoughts down! I hope you liked them! I can't even fit all the tags I want.

#dream smp #c!sapnap #awesamdude #dropsbyponk #badboyhalo #tommyinnit #tubbo live #fundy #c!punz #purpled #wilbur soot #skeppy #schlatt #dreamwastaken #georgenotfound #eret live #jack manifold #niki nihachu #quackity #karl jacobs #hbomb dream smp #antfrost #technoblr #philza #captain puffy #connoreatspants #ranboo #dsmp foolish #hannahxxrose #slimecicle

[zeinnit]

here we go again. got this out earlier than expected. part three of this fic. part two.

the still unnamed series, pls i need ideas.

pairings; technoblade x reader, philza x reader

warnings: hunger, death, possible gore, suicide, possible derealization, manipulation

its been around an hour since the winged being left.

you wanted to be respectful, you wanted to obey by what he had told you to do. but you were so hungry and your arm continued to ache. the growling of your stomach was the only noise inside the car. outside the car was a different story, however.

over the past year, you managed to get used to the screams of people. however, nothing could ever get you used to the current sobbing from outside.

you already knew what was happening to the poor man. it was an ability one of the bad lucks possessed. he could control you, manipulate you into believing something that wasnt true. hed make you think you were terminally ill or that everything was fake and no one was real.

eventually, his manipulation tactics would drive you to suicide. youve been lucky to avoid his ability for this long. you remember when you witnessed it in person.

after hours of walking, you had finally reached the place that all the others were talking about. a place where you could escape the luckies and mobs, a place that had a plan. there was an island on the east coast. it was known to be completely void of anything dangerous. the community there were very friendly. the place you were currently at held the only boats in the city and they were all set to take people to the island.

many other people were there, all extremely friendly. almost as if nothing had happened to the earth. you had gotten into some small talk with a few teenagers. two girls and three boys. they said, 'we were at school during the time,' the girls started. 'the boys were at football practice and we were in algebra.' she explains, 'we were doing a group assignment with another boy when we heard an announcement telling us to go on lockdown.' one of the boys spoke, 'we were rushed inside as soon as possible, but we werent fast enough. our quarterback was swept into the air by this purple mass. we all just started running.' the other girl continued, 'our teacher ended up abandoning us. we were scared and knew it wasnt safe, so we got up and fled the classroom.' a second boy starts, 'when we all met up in the hall, we just stuck together. weve never left each others side since.'

they asked, 'what about you?' you pushed yourself to remember all the details. it was around two pm when you heard the shrieking and saw all of those people running. you were chatting with a co-worker. you and her both made eye contact before going outside to check what was happening. it was a mess, all of the running people, the huge ravine, the beasts that looked like they crawled straight out of nightmare. you knew better than to stick around. you and your co-worker both. so you made a run for your truck. however, she got hurt. you didnt know exactly what happened, but she was unable to walk. she begged you to leave her. so you did, and you beat yourself up for it everyday. they knew your pain. the boy that the girls had been working with in algebra got pushed into a ravine while they were running out of the school.

then someone from the boat that had just left came struggling onto the dock from the water. he was on the brink of death and gave us a warning. 'the island.... it isnt safe,' he started. 'one of those monsters.... it knew somehow. it attacked the island with a few others..... theyre all dead.' he couldnt get anything else out before dying himself.

then a woman stood up, screaming. she held a baby in her arms before lifting them up high and slamming the poor thing to the ground. it had died immediately. she was screaming at us like a mad man, saying, 'it was a monster! were all monsters!! none of this is real, we need to escape!' others tried to get her to calm down, but she wouldnt listen. one of the teenage boys next to you pointed it out. her eyes were completely green. she had no irises or pupils. it was just green.

it happened so fast. she had pulled a glass shard out of her pocket and stabbed some poor lady with it. she just kept stabbing and stabbing. the poor womans face, it was horrid. her eyes had almost been pulled out by the glass, her nose was all bent wrong, but the worst part was that she was still alive. her screams were ear piercing and she was still flailing. eventually two men managed to pry her off the woman, but by then we all knew there was no saving her. the teenage girls were sobbing, one vomited. two of the boys were freaking out while the other just stared in horror.

the woman struggled until she got her arm free and then plunged the glass into her neck. everyone was panicking but all we could do was watch as she bleed out. the green faded from her eyes as they returned back to normal blue irises that were wide in horror, before they relaxed.

you werent given enough time to process the death before the site was attacked itself. you dont know what happened to those teens, but wherever they are, you pray theyre okay.

but onto the man outside. he was screaming at someone who you knew probably wasnt there. you were just gonna ignore it as you usually did until you heard a girls cries. she sounded so young, she sounded so terrified. you know you should leave it alone, but you wanted to help. you needed to help. so you popped the trunk and bolted towards the man. he looked to be in his late 40s, possibly late 50s. they were most likely father in daughter judging by their similar looks but that wasnt what mattered.

you rammed into the mans side as hard as you possibly could, most definitely making your arm worse in the process. he let go of the young girl and you immediately grabbed her and rushed under a car that was low to the ground. as you expected, he was unable to reach you. but he would figure a way. you knew he would.

the girl couldnt help but scream in terror as he continued to shove a sharp hunting knife closer and closer to the two of you. the other side of the car was blocked so all you could do was make sure you were closer to him than she was.

and then blood was spit all over you and the girl. the mans eyes were wide as they switched from the piercing green back to soft hazel. tears fell out of his eyes as he coughed up more blood. the knife fell out of his grasp and his body went slack. he stared at the girl and gave one last sad smile before his face relaxed. he was gone.

the girl stopped screaming and quietly sobbed in your grasp as this had all happened. his body was dragged away and a shadow was present over the mans corpse. you could make out some sort of hooves? they looked exactly like pigs feet. the being seemed to have brown pants and maybe some sort of cape on?

as you and the girl stayed quiet and still in hopes of avoiding attention from the beast, you saw another pair of animal typed feet. this time you recognized them.

you and the girl sat quiet and still as talons tapped against the cement.

#ze innits: the fall #dsmp techno #dream smp techno #mcyt techno #mcyt technoblade #technoblade x reader #dsmp philza #dream smp philza #mcyt philza #philza x reader #mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp au #dream smp au #less tags bc yea. #c-technoblade #c-philza

[cozycryptidcorner]

Howl

 Werewolf/Reader, lemon, heat cycles, consensual aphrodisiacs

Every six months I release a short from my $5 patreon tier to the general public, and someone’s favorite word was coincidently the title of this piece. Please enjoy this little slice of madness beneath a full moon.   

The moon hangs heavy overhead, a pale, watchful face gazing down at the ritual laid out at her feet. You kneel, washed in her gentle light, your eyes on the fire as a clan elder carefully places an ingredient within a kettle. Crickets scream and wail in the surrounding woods, but you barely pay them any mind as your lover places a pale hand on your knee, rubbing a circle with his thumb as he bites at his lip. You try not to acknowledge his worrying much, if he hadn’t paid any attention to your reassurances earlier, he won’t now.

The potion that the elder boils down smells sickly sweet, like a peppermint cough syrup, but with a stinging bite that sends bright little pricks through your nostrils as you breathe it in. Already without drinking it, you can feel a vibrant thrumming begin to pulse in your blood, a spark of warmth filling your veins. It doesn’t take much longer for her to finish the spell, a soft humming emanating from your lover’s fellow clansman resounding as the elder pours it into a carved wooden chalice.

Then, with one last kiss, your lover stands, moving to the opposite side of the fire where the elder is and spits into the cup. The elder gives you the benefit of mixing the concoction further, singing in a familiar but incomprehensible language. Shivers run down your spine as she and her apprentice approach, their full ceremonial clothing jingling with their steps as they come to stand before you. In a sort of perversion of Catholic communion, the elder holds the chalice in your direction, and you gingerly grasp it as though it were made from impossibly thin glass.

You carefully ignore any sort of inhibitions you might have about the potion itself, drinking it down fast enough to not taste anything that might cause you to vomit it back up. With little respect, you carefully swallow the last gulp, trying to seal up your throat, so you’re not even tempted to give in to any sort of acid reflux, then allow yourself to breathe. At first, you don’t seem any different, but there’s a hard, boiling heat that suddenly wisps out from your stomach and right to your heart, and you think- you feel-

Your lover takes a step back into the forest, the shadows working to obscure him from your vision. Where- where is he going? Why was he leaving? You need him. With a flailing step, chalice dropping from your fingers and completely forgotten, you try to follow, but something fucking drags you back down to the ground. Pissed, you puff out hot, angry breathes, trying to wriggle your way out from the many people working to keep you from your lover, your mate, but it’s many against one, and they don’t let up.

Warm and soft soil cushions your shoulder and face as you fall violently forward, suddenly released, but you can’t fucking see him anymore and it’s killing you. Your heels dig into the earth as you wrench yourself up, choking back panicking tears as you bolt in the direction you saw him leave. The night sharpens as the world breathes in a deep inhale, the sky itself holding still in order to witness the carnal desperation you scream with.

You can smell him, his scent so much like the forest itself, of woodsmoke, of evergreen, a musky kind of fragrance that stands out in the acidic night air. And so you run towards it, faster than you’ve ever moved before in your life, ignoring the way the branches of the brush and trees scratch at your bare arms and the awkward sharpness of the ground as you ignore what your bare feet might be running over. An owl screams in the distance, but you are so keen on your prey that you ignore the call.

Instinct demands that you stop, so you do, skidding on the fallen leaves so sharply that your feet fly out from under you, landing on your hip hard enough to bruise. You feel no pain, only rancid frustration at the inconvenience gravity hinders you with, and you scramble back to a stand, growling with every breath. Where is he? Desperately trying to cling to your last strand of lucid sanity, you try to think, smelling the air once more, trying to find that same taste of male hormones that he had emanated so thickly before he fucking abandoned you.

You hear the water before you even realize you started moving again, a rush of wind caressing your face like the earth herself is aiding your hunt, as though she approves of this union. There, you can just make out the fading scent of your lover, though it grows fainter with every second wasted on thought. A brook runs its course, water slowly wearing millions of oddly shaped rocks down, several making for good stepping stones as you hop across, the splash of cold water managing to draw a bit of the feverish heat down.

Abruptly, you slow down, closing your eyes to smell and to listen. You think you have his direction, but the idea to ambush him as punishment for abandonment fills your body with the simmering ghost of pleasure. You go low immediately, staying close to the trunks of the trees as you quietly circle around the edge of a clearing. And you see him.

Everything inside your body goes full alert, sirens screaming in your head, heat filling your core, muscles tense. You bolt forward, so fast he doesn’t even have a moment to react before you’re on him, the force of your body ramming against him not only sufficient enough to knock him off his feet, but also enough to tip him over the edge of the hill he must have been thinking about going down.

The entire universe spins as you roll against him, grass, leaves, and twigs catching in your beaded embroidered dress, hair, even managing to knick at your skin. You don’t care, gods below you don’t, because as you slow to a stop at the bottom of the clearing, you have him beneath you, gasping for air, his dewy blue eyes glimmering beneath the stars as he regards you with a kind of emotion you don’t bother to process.

You kiss him so hard that your mouth hurts, teeth clacking together, and you’re thriving. Enraged growls snarl from your throat, and you would have ripped his clothes away if he didn’t painstakingly strip then and there. Touching his skin just barely aides in your desperately heated core from exploding, but there is so, so much more you want from him. You need to melt into him, to seep into every pore of his body, to claw his chest open and crawl inside, and he seems to take your furious affection in stride.

His skin is salty as you bite down in the crook of his shoulder, and by the way he keens at the pain, he seems to enjoy it. You press your teeth down closer to his neck if only to show him that he’s yours, and he won’t be running from you again. His hand rises to pet your hair back from your face when you finally deem him worthy of release. Even though you still see red after he tried to fucking abandon you, you’re not so angry that you don’t give those bite marks peppering kisses to make them better.

“I know,” he rasps, stroking the nape of your neck as you whine, “I know it hurts, I’m sorry I ran.”

You forgive him instantly, pressing your mouth and tongue against his in a desperate, heated kiss. Your lover knows immediately what to do, fingers reaching for the strings holding your ceremonial dress in place. It’s an easy thing to strip away, its sole purpose of being beautiful and easy to remove from heated bodies, and you are suddenly delightfully bare underneath the moon and stars. As you bend back down to ravage his chest and collarbone in a myriad of bites and kisses, you find with no small amount of delight that an erection begins to rise up against your thigh.

His hands press up gently to your breast, feeling you out as he has many times before, but you both would agree that this is… different. Better, even, despite the misery you feel because he’s not inside you yet. You kiss him again, gasping for breath on his mouth, as a hot, pinching need flitters through your body like the touch of a red-hot brand. That desire, that instinct swirling in your chest demands he must feel pleasure before you ride him like a goddamn stallion, so you are quick to get to work.

You begin to make a trail of purple and red hickies all along his stomach, sometimes biting hard enough for him to bruise just for the sensation of his flesh between your teeth. After a few moments of teasing him, you barely had the mind to do much more, you finally fall back to the pulsing member you crave so terribly. It takes you a few seconds to take it in, the contours and highlights curving along in the moonlight, long, thick, yours. After briefly contemplating where to start, you begin at the very tip.

He breathes out a shuddering gasp when you roll your tongue over the top of his cock, his fingers tangling in your hair. You feel a shuddering sense of satisfaction at his body’s response, then move down to the base. Up and down, you try to lick and kiss and give tiny sucks all across it as rhythmically and as pleasurably as you can, going deep and low just for the sake of watching him squirm pathetically. It doesn’t take him too long to be drawn to the edge, or perhaps it’s been an eternity, you don’t know, but he rides out his first orgasm in your mouth.

You come back up, mouth still lingering with the taste of his pleasure, and press your mouth against his in a lazier kiss. There’s a kind of mingling desperation boiling in your stomach, but the beast within you is satiated for a few moments at the sight of him becoming undone by your tongue. Your hand snakes back down to check on his steadily stiffening cock, just to see if he’s ready to take you yet. He still needs some more gentle teasing, so you settle down and offer up as many leisurely kisses as he needs to warm back up, while you’re just barely getting started.

He slides into you so effortlessly, your pussy is so wet that it engulfs him like a sheath specially made for him. And oh, god, or fuck, he feels so goddamn good that you start crying. Tears spring into your eyes, and he sits up to cradle you, whispering in your ear that you’re doing such a good job, that he’s so proud you’ve made it this far without cracking. That seasoned warriors do so much less, and you’re so fucking beautiful, wild, and unstoppable.

You suck in your breath, trying not to feel like you’re disappointing your lover, your mate at the show of such soft and fragile emotion, and you begin to grind. The feral need to be fucked slowly begins to disintegrate your sanity, what’s left of your lucidness drip, drip, dripping down into your core and burning into ash by the heat. You roll your neck around, gasping, whimpering, begging, screaming praises to him because he’s perfect, you’re mate is so fucking perfect, you want him inside you forever so you can spend eternity knowing this bliss.

And when your orgasm finally reaches its peak?

It feels like the sky itself shatters into a thousand pieces, raining down the stars, moon, and planets, your body almost evaporating into light as you cry out. Waves and rolls of fiercely bright pleasure curl through your body; you have to wrap yourself around your mate, or else you’re afraid you might break apart. He holds you, he whispers such sweet, soft things in your ears, coaching you through the orgasm to end all others, like he knows how perfect and majestic this one is.

You don’t even feel it when he cums, because the aftershocks are still clenching through your body as you try desperately to recover. He still remains strong, though, anchoring you to the earth as you almost sob with relief, even though he must be feeling that same kind of high you’re on. When it’s all over, he lays beside you, on the dewy grass that glitters in the moonlight, stroking your face until your fever finally breaks.

The next round of kisses are far more gentle and lovely than before, the unbearable hotness inside your core slowly evaporating away now that the spell ran its course. He holds you in his arms so tightly that you don’t think any force the earth mother can throw in your direction will break his grip.

“I love you,” he whispers, “so much. Thank you for experiencing this.”

“Is- is that what it’s like for you? Such madness, every time?” You ask, almost scared of the answer.

“Yes,” he confesses, “with you being the only thing on my mind.”

“That’s terrifying,” you whisper, stroking some of the pale hair from his eyes, “how do you manage?”

He gives you another kiss. “I have you.”

#werewolf/reader #werewolf/human #exophilia #werewolf #monster/reader #monster/human

[aggressivelyclueless]

condemned

in which the phantom awakens

contains: containment, thankfully

warning: some body horror/mutations, slime, brief ghost hunger

sequel to these bois: [1] [2] [3] [4]

The temporary containment unit was only seven feet on a side, and in it the phantom was cramped and unhappy.  Every inch of the space was filled with shadows, allowing him to hide and slink around within them; all the rest of them could see was the occasional clawed hand or coil of tail against the glass.

"You think that'll hold him?" Kitty was asking, cradling an injured arm, hesitant to get too close.  The lair around them was in shambles: broken furniture, half smashed walls, long smearing trails of ichor and slime.  Still no sign of Johnny's shadow yet - the poor thing was terrified, might not show itself for hours.

"It'd better," Skulker grumbled, and the phantom's hands crawled a little way along the side, paused, and retreated back into the darkness again.  The thing would hold him, at least for a little while.

Hopefully.

The phantom had awoken fifteen minutes prior, according to Kitty.  She'd gotten too close; even blind, he'd locked onto her, and instantly it was a fight to-the-death.  She'd tried to fend him off - then tried to keep her distance - but he'd stayed right on her tail.  He was faster than anything she’d ever seen.

Her saving grace was that his coordination wasn't even close to what it used to be.  Shelves and tables were turned to splinters; the sofa was reduced to a weeping pile of stuffing and leather; at least six buckling holes in the walls marked where he'd rammed them, missing her by inches each time.  He was like an animal - all growling and grabbing, claws flying, jaws opening too far and sinking his teeth into anything he touched.  He'd gotten ahold of a table leg, snapping it in two seemingly without any effort at all, and the only thing she could think of was that he'd probably meant it to be her arm, or her neck.

Of course, Skulker wrangled the phantom in a minute flat.  One was a hunter; the other was prey; it was that simple.  He was watching, even as the hands were feeling around the sides of the tank again, knowing not to underestimate the phantom even now.  He was thinking in there, Skulker was sure of it, even though the Void had taken over him and scrambled him beyond sense.

He was still trying, despite that there was next to nothing of him left.  How long could he hold out?

"I'm taking it," said Skulker, seeing Johnny open his mouth to argue and shooting him a look daring him to do it.  "You couldn't handle it.  Neither of you."

Kitty drifted closer to the glass, watching the inky swirls of darkness inside start to roil a little faster.  She wanted to reach a hand out - but Skulker put his on her shoulder and pulled her back.

"Don't.  I want that thing to hold until a proper enclosure goes up."

"Proper," said Kitty, "You mean he can break out of this one."

Usually, Skulker would take it as an insult.  He could cage any ghost that crossed him - and had even built things to contain the phantom in the past - but this wasn't so simple.  Given the short notice, and given the phantom's horrific newfound brutality, he didn't want to push his luck.

He'd construct an enclosure, surely, but it was the uncertainty of the specs that worried him.

The phantom kept himself cloaked in shadows, which didn't make it easy to get a good look at him; during the fight (all too brief, in Skulker's opinion), he'd gotten only fleeting glimpses of the phantom's altered form: long-tailed, burdened with chrysomallian scales over his spine and his shoulders, maybe his tail too but the shadows made it hard to tell.  Eyeless, and with more teeth than Skulker had ever seen in a ghost - all that was impressive, certainly, but it was the details that Skulker was after, and there was no easy way to obtain them.

Not without killing him and cutting him up, at least, but Skulker dimissed that notion - if he was to skin the phantom and hang the pelt up over his bed, he'd do it after a fair fight, and he'd do it knowing the exact features and limitations of the defeated prey.

So the phantom was to be taken back to Skull Island.  He was far from the first of Skulker's prey to end up there, and it was unlikely he'd be the last.

Even if he did almost manage to fracture the tank and slither out.

- - - -

The phantom attacked the enclosure the minute he was dumped into it.  Displaced from the shadows, Skulker did get a brief look at him, noting as many details as he could - the way his shoulder joints had shifted, how he held himself horizontally rather than upright, the bursting growths of scales that protected him, and deep, scraping scars that marred almost every inch of him that was still soft.

Had the Void done that to him too, Skulker wondered.  To be mutilated and reshaped was one thing - but scarring was different.  Those injuries had to be inflicted, and then had to be given time to heal.  He didn't get the chance to ask.  The phantom rammed the side of the enclosure, seemingly locked onto Skulker by smell alone, but it wasn't going to give.

Skulker had made sure of that.

The phantom seemed to realize it too, or perhaps it was that he wore himself out.  He slunk along the plain metal floor, his hands still feeling across it as he went, the emitted shadows trailing mistily behind him like ink.  When he didn't hold still, the darkness couldn't keep up, and Skulker watched him.  He was definitely thinking - puzzling - his teeth clicking open and shut as if he were contemplating.

Then he regarded Skulker again, letting the darkness around him turn murky and obscure his form.  He stayed there for four days, utterly motionless.

Only when Skulker introduced a shapeless spirit into the space did the phantom act again, lunging out of the shadows and swallowing the warbling thing whole before it could react.  That was all; he retreated back into the cloud of shadow around him.

If it weren't for the fact that the reach of the shadows was maintained, and for the odd and trembling noises that came from behind the glass if Skulker listened closely enough, he would have wondered if the phantom had given up and died.

Skulker didn’t think to speak to the phantom at all.  What reason had he to do that?  The phantom had become just another animal in his collection, albeit a peculiar and particularly dangerous one, made more evident by the brutal efficiency with which he attacked and killed anything that came within twenty feet of him (with or without the limits of the enclosure in his way, Skulker found).  He couldn't speak at all anymore, Skulker concluded.  If he could, he would have done by now.

What else had the Void taken from him?  Functionally blind, functionally silent - was this the madness that Thirteen had been so afraid of?  Some said the Void told unholy secrets and that was what unraveled a man, but Skulker now was seeing it differently.  It wasn't cursed knowledge; it was cursed changes that condemned a ghost to failure.  The Void played with limbs and features and traits like clay, skewing them so far out of recognition that no soul could possibly adapt, and that was what drove them mad.  In that regard, the phantom had been condemned alongside all the rest.

Perhaps, once the limitations of his altered form became clearer, Skulker may set him loose and hunt him down.  That, at least, would be an honorable end.

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