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beardedalcoholic · 19 days

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Space Cowboys

The humans had abandoned them. After seemingly endless cycles of fighting the battle was about to be lost and the war with it, and the humans had left them to fight for themselves.

‘So much for the legendary pack-bonding of humans.’ Krillna thought to himself as he leaned around his bunker to lay down some suppressing fire on the enemy. Tungsten rods magnetically accelerated to near supersonic speed ripped into the battle field and enemies died by the dozens…but it wasn’t enough.

Seemingly endless waves of the reptilian enemies known as the Slentine seemed to crawl and slither towards their position. Fields of scales and fangs greeted him every time he looked around his barrier, looks of desperation and hopelessness looked back every time he turned away from the battle.

“You would think the humans could have at least left us the weapons before they ran like cowards!” cried out one soldier before he was cut down by enemy fire.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

“Did anyone else hear that?” Krillna asked after firing another salvo of rounds towards the slowly advancing enemy. Looking at his ammo counter and seeing it was empty, Krillna threw his weapon to the ground and grabbed the ceremonial bone dagger the warriors of his people were gifted upon maturity.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’

Holding the blade to his chest and breathing the prayers of his youth, Krillna begged the seven skies of his homeland for the power of the mighty storm, pleaded for his spirit to be flown on the winds to his ancestors. Finding himself at the end of his prayers and ready to face the enemy head on and to fight tooth, bone and claw in the ways of his ancestors, Krillna couldn’t help but think he heard something on the wind again. Looking to the forest side of the battlefield, Krillna felt a rumbling through the pads of his clawed foot.

Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ RAWHIIIIIDE!

With the sound of thunder and snapping trees, Krillna felt all three of his hearts stop and fall.

Gierophants, mighty horned beasts weighing several tons with great crests of hardened skin behind the skull to protect the neck and a row of spines extending the length of the spine, each one several times as tall as Krillna’s seven foot frame. Easy to anger, nearly impossible to outrun, harder to damage and often found in herds of fifty to one-hundred the gierophant was this world’s largest inhabitant, but Krillna thought he saw something on the back of the lead beast.

Humans.

Humans were riding the gierophants…a herd of what looked to be sixty or more and each one had a human standing on the snout of the creature and even more behind the crest or between the dorsal spines.

RAIN AND WIND AND WEATHER

The humans were either lashed to a spine or each other with lengths of rope and each one was firing wildly into the horde of enemies, hanging sideways from the flanks of the great beasts, weaving between the spines, crouching behind the crest and all were firing their rifles.

HELL BENT FOR LEATHER

“Sir? Am I having a substance dream or are those humans riding Gierophants into the Slentine ranks in a stampede while singing what sounds like a human battle song?” A young warrior asked in disbelief as the battle field seemed to come to a stop. The pause didn’t last long as the slentine soldiers quickly turned their weapons on the stampede of human madness and animal rage.

WISHING MY GIRL WAS BY MY SIIIDEEE!

“You are most definitely seeing this pup, the crazy humans went and did the impossible again…WARRIORS OF CANTRAXA!” Krillna called out to the stunned warriors behind him, filled with a renewed hope for victory.

“DRAW YOUR BLADES AND RELOAD YOUR WEAPONS, THE HUMANS HAVE GIVEN US THIS CHANCE AND BY THE FIRE PLAINS OF OUR HOME WORLD I WILL NOT STAND BY AND MAKE NOTHING OF IT!” Holding his blade high above his head the Pack-Master let loose the battle cry of his ancestors with such ferocity that it seemed to ring from the very heavens, turned from his comrades and ran face first into the chaos of the newly evened battle.

ALL THE THINGS IM MISSIN’

Three hardened battle packs of Cantraxa warriors, thought to be beaten down by sheer numbers and attrition, thought to be defeated and simply too stupid to understand… howled. Each and every one felt what the humans referred to as battle lust and with the feeling of fire singing in their veins each and every one reached deep into their souls and called the ancient war cries of times long past. GOOD VITTLES, LOVE AND KISSIN’

The humans sang on, swinging wildly from the sides of the Gierophants or hanging on with one hand and firing with the other, seemingly oblivious to the rounds of enemy’s fire flying past them. With every human felled the others seemed to sing louder. Krillna was in awe of these small hairless creatures as he ran towards the battle, they rode the great beasts of this world like they were born to it, they faced a horde of enemies without fear and sang their defiance in the face of death and defeat. ARE WAITING AT THE END OF MY RIIIIIIDEEEEE~

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

The battle was won, the slentine ranks had been broken in half by the stampede and when the front ranks turned to fire on the new threat they were drowned in an avalanche of fur and fang, bullet and bone from the Cantraxa warriors.

The humans had run over and shot down much of the enemy, the field had been churned to a bloody mud pit of broken bodies and weapons, the Gierophants were long gone by then, the humans had dismounted and returned to base.

Krillna watched in curious amazement as the humans went about their post battle chores.

Groups of humans combing the battlefield for survivors, pulling bodies from the muck and determining if they could be saved or not. Slentine and Cantraxian alike were given final honors or medical aid…mere hours before these small hairless maniacs were riding juggernauts of death into battle while singing and laughing and now, they were providing aid and respect to not only their comrades but the enemy as well.

Amazing graaaceee

A hauntingly sad and seemingly profound song floated like fog over the battle field from somewhere among the humans.

How sweet the sound

Funeral pyres and graves were dug according to cultural wishes, wounded were cared for regardless of species or alignment in the war. Bodies counted and tears were shed that day and as the last sun in the sky fell below the horizon, Krillna found himself surrounded by his warriors and humans.

Holding a strange liquid in his cup, the humans called it beer…or maybe stout?...Krillna looked to the leader of the humans as she stood upon a table laden with food and drink.

“Tonight, we celebrate our victory!” The humans cheered and the Cantraxans yipped and howled like pups.

“Tonight, we mourn our glorious fallen!” With a silence that choked the very soul, every human raised their drink to the memory of those they had lost and drank deeply. Krillna and his warriors all mimicked the humans in their silence and honors.

“Tonight…we honor our worthy enemies.” The commander of the humans raised her cup one last time and as one all the humans followed. Krillna could not see the reason behind the last one but was not about to comment on it while surrounded by humans.

Instruments were tuned and soon employed to their fullest extent as humans began dancing and singing, wagers were made, games were played and for a few moments Krillna could almost believe that they were simply back in his homeland celebrating the lunar convergence festival.

Spotting the human leader on the outskirts of the revelry Krillna silently approached the human as she slowly drank and watched those she had shed blood with. Stepping on a fallen can of some kind alerted the commander and as she whipped her head towards Krillna, he froze in place…the look in her eyes was not that of a celebration, but rather that of battle mad soldiers. Items within reach categorized as weapons, responses and plans ranging from peacefully violent to disturbingly chaotic flashed through her face in seconds. Her grip on the cup she held and the tensing of her muscles told Krillna that she had to stop herself from launching the cup at his face.

Raising his clawed hands in a sign of peace Krillna approached the commander slowly. As he approached the tiny human, no more than five feet tall, Krillna noticed tears leaking from her eyes in a steady stream cutting tracks through the remaining dirt and grime upon her cheeks. Hands shaking the commander raised the nearly impromptu projectile to her mouth and took a steadying sip before addressing the large warrior.

“What can I do for you Pack-Master?” Asked the commander as she turned her eyes back to the celebration before her.

“You do not celebrate victory like the others? Why do you spill tears so freely War Mother?” Krillna asked, using the honorific of the greatest female warriors of his people.

“I uh…it just takes a little time for me to wind down from battle and get into the spirit of things, eventually I’ll head out and show these youngsters how to really party but for now I will just have to deal with the aftermath of the adrenalin.” The commander said with a small shake to her voice.

“I have heard of this adrenalin, most species would simply die if exposed to it but you humans produce it naturally?” The Pack-Master asked.

“Yes, our bodies naturally produce it and well…it dissipates quicker for some and for others it sticks around longer. Battle madness, bloodlust, berserker rage and more are just different names of the same thing, active or excess adrenalin…our minds are changed and muscles freed of restraints while under its influence but afterwards we have to put the beast back in the cage and deal with the mess it made, physically, mentally and spiritually.” The commander responded with a look in her eyes that said she was looking deep into the past.

“How did you humans tame the Gierophants? It was previously thought impossible to even safely approach them never mind ride them or direct them.” Krillna asked in an attempt to steer the conversation away from the maudlin thoughts the commander seemed to be sinking into.

With an almost visible brightening of her features the commander looked up at Krillna.

“We didn’t actually tame them, we were trying to find either a good escape route to get everyone out or possibly a way to ambush the Slentine army, make them fight on two fronts as it were. We ran across the herd of Gierophants by accident and sort of came up with the plan on the spot, we figured if they started to stampede in our direction the base would be destroyed but if they went just little to the side they would hit our enemies. Jackson over there used to be what we call a ‘Cowboy’ and said if you can point a bull’s nose in one direction the body would follow, so we made some lassos and climbing rigs and well, the rest is history.” The commander finished with a small shrug and a decidedly less shaky sip of her drink.

Krillna was almost to shocked to breath.

“You found a herd of the planet’s largest and most dangerous animal, decided to irritate them into charging you with the enemy directly behind, hoping that they would run over said enemy and while they did that you threw ropes on them so you could climb onto them and ride them…you humans are insane.” with a shake of his great furred head Krillna could only thank the seven skies that these lunatics were on their side.

With a laugh the commander tipped the last of her drink back and wrapped her hand around one of his fingers, his hand being large enough to completely encompass her own, and began to pull him towards the firelight of the bonfires, a mischievous light in her eyes and a smile that spoke of wicked delights to come on her lips.

“Oh you haven’t even begun to see the madness of humanity, come and we shall sing you songs of our people.” The commander laughed as the crowd enveloped them, music wound through the air like smoke, soldiers and warriors alike danced and spun and Krillna could only laugh as he downed the rest of his drink and threw reservations to the wind with a final thought.

‘Humans are weird, but wonderful.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are weird #ao3 fanfic

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akiswife1237 · 2 months

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AMORALITY

When the king of curses stuns himself by falling for someone who represents everything he's not.

This will be a series! I'll try to update frequently but again, tag if you want to join the ride!

tw: smut, violence, mentions of violence, angst,

true form sukuna, this also takes place in the lovely heian era

This story will kind of go backwards LOL, it starts with Sukuna being a confused simp and then it delves more into the angst hehehe

Again, I'm not religious at all so heavily religious ppl i mean no harm or disrespect! there's no specific religion mentioned as well

The sky was adorned with an intense blue, the clouds scattered all across as they hover over the blossoming flowers that have grown beautifully over time. The warm wind blew gently over the grass and you smiled peacefully as you tended to the community garden in front of the church.

Your, church.

Due to the good deeds you had done for your village and decently populated community, the people decided to appoint you as their priest. Someone who would spread the word of their god, someone who would provide wisdom and comfort, and someone who was pure.

You thought the task too heavy at first, but afraid to let down the people who relied on you, you gave in.

Things got easier over time, and you performed just as everyone expected of you; you gave them everything they needed and more. It was the least you could do for the people who adored you so dearly.

As you continued to tend to your garden, you halted in tilting your watering can when you felt a strong aura behind you, it was so heavy that you could feel it all throughout your body, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as you froze in place.

As you fought against this unknown feeling, you forced your self to turn around, your eyes widening when you saw an absolute beast of a man standing in front of you.

He was as tall as ever, definitely taller than 6 feet, thats for certain. His well-kept and muscular body was nearly covered in what seemed to be tattoos? You couldn't tell. But what caught your eye the most was the two pairs of arms that he had, one pair was seemingly ready to strike you as the other hands on his lower arms rested against his hips. He did little to cover himself, and you didn't fail to notice the presence of a mouth near his abdomen as well.

Craning your head upward, you were met with crimson-red eyes—no, multiple crimson-red eyes staring down at you—and the pink-haired man's face wore a slight scowl.

Despite looking like a beast and a half, you couldn't deny that, despite his unique qualities perplexing you, he was indeed handsome.

Sukuna had been busy traveling from his fruitless missions and was as irritated as ever. Though the reward had been heavy in gold and luxuries, the requests he took on were pretty much useless and resulted in him just burning the shameless town to the ground.

He needed something else to satisfy him, and fast.

As he headed north, deep in thought, he suddenly paused, a wicked grin painting his face when he remembered just what was in the town he'd be passing through.

A church.

He had heard from passerbys that the priestess's there were absolutely divine, hopeful, and represented purity itself.

He couldn't wait to ruin them. Perhaps he'd kidnap one after the mass slaughter, if he felt generous enough.

He had nearly made it to the entrance before pausing when he saw someone outside, his wicked grin only growing wider.

Perfect, his first victim.

As he drew closer, he suddenly paused when the priestess tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He now had a full view of her face, which made him freeze once he got a good look at it.

He felt a sudden rush in his chest, his heartbeat quickening the longer he stared. The rush he felt wasn't the normal one he had; it wasn't one of adrenaline, but one of... surprise?

He was stunned, to say the least.

He tried to ignore this feeling and drew closer to the priestess, he had his own mission after all, but he couldn't deny the foreign feeling sitting heavy in his chest.

He was now behind you and just as he was about to strike, the priest' instincts suddenly kicked in and she turned around to meet his gaze.

He scowled when he realized he couldn't come as quietly as he hoped, oh well, he was never good at being subtle anyways.

The moment your eyes met, though, he couldn't move, he felt his world slowing down and he gulped as he stayed in place, the scowl still on his face.

Your innocent eyes batted up at him with confusion and your lips parted so perfectly that it was enough to turn his brain into mush. It didn't help that the sunlight highlighted all of your beauty perfectly.

You were unlike anything he's ever seen before, absolutely breathtaking...

...What was he here to do again?

an: that's chapter one! stay tuned for chapter two hehehe, again comment to be part of the tag if you want to be updated !!

tags: @getossluttt @busyreader17 @scarasluvvr @unknown5029 @koshii-meji @genderfluidnuggettt @sterzin

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #sukuna x you #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #king of curses #amorality #divider by cafekitsune

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cakexblankett · 2 months

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Lap dance

Character

Larissa Weems

Rating

Red

Words

1.804

~•~

It was a chill sunday evening when you received a message from Possum.

Possum:

Wish you could be here with me, mommy is feeling very naughty tonight.

10:30 PM

You bit your lip, reading the message again and again.

You had been texting this misterious woman, who called herself Possum, for a couple of months now. It all started innocently, she found you on Tumblr and sent you a message. You remained intrigued by her, her way of texting was sweet and passionate, especially when she talked about what she liked- fashion shows and fashion in general, she could go hours telling you about it.

You stalked her account; she reposted pictures of cats, and, obviously, fashion related posts. She seemed innocent but refined. Soon enough, you found out she wasn't that innocent after all.

She started asking you personal questions, at first normal one, like what was your colour or your favourit dish, then getting more insidious, like what was your favourite position in bed or if you liked to be toped.

You didn't mind, you took a liking to her, so you replied truthfully, knowing she would do the same. And before you knew it, she started wanting you to call her mommy and even asked you if you would be willing recording you touch yourself. You declined, but not because you didn't trust her or because you were ashamed or shy about it, but you would have prefered leaving this kind of things for when you would meet in real life.

You:

Then maybed I should come over and make mommy feel good.

10:35 PM

It was time to get things in motion and see who you were talking to. You imagined she was a beautiful woman, she said she was in her forties, and you loved middle aged women, so that was surely a point in her favour- and in yours. You imagined she was a freak in bed- all those messages she sent you, about how she would have liked to try different positions with you, made you certain she was a beast in making love.

You waited for her reply, while your thoughts filled with fantasies of her touching you. You didn't even know how she looked but that didn't stop you from dreaming.

Possum:

I'll send you my location. Don't make mommy wait.

10:40 PM

You jumped off your bed and ran towards your wardrobe. You were wearing your pajama, so it was evident that you needed to change. What to wear, though, was a dilemma. You wanted something that would have caught her eye, something luxurious, sexy, but easy to be undressed from.

After a while, you opted for a tight skirt and a blouse- you left the first three buttons unbottuned. You wore a choker with the word "pet" spelled on it.

You smiled, calling a taxi and giving the driver the adress. The ride there was torture, you nimbled on your bottom lip, thinking of all the ways she would make you come undone. You were already feeling the ache, the need to feel her touch all over you.

Once arrived, you paid the taxi driver and texted Possum.

You:

I'm here.

11:19

You looked around you. The neighborhood was quiet and you could tell from the villas and expensive houses that she was rich like everybody else there.

You glanced at your phone, seeing that she read your text. You waited for a second, before the door in front of you opened and your breath itched in your throat.

Before you stood the most beautiful woman you had ever layed eyes upon. Her white hair was in an introcate updo, her plump lips were painted a sinful shade of red. Her blue eyes were watching you curiously and hungryly. She was tall, very tall and she wore a tight, beige dress, that accentuated her curves in a delicious way. You imagined she was beautiful, but she was divine, she was more than you could have ever dreamed of.

"Please, do come in."

You smiled, making your way into her house. It was huge and well decorated. She wasn't lying when she said she liked fashion. Everything was curated meyiculously, every detail added to the perfection of the interior.

"This is nice. You are nice."

She raised an eyebrow, smiling. You were so nervous, you felt your cheeks flush red.

"Am I just "nice" or do I make you feel something more... carnal?"

You gulped. You had just met her and yet you were ready feeling inebriated by her. It made you feel dizzy, like you were dreaming, but you hoped it was really real, that she wasn't just a fantasy born from your imagination.

"You make me feel everything at once."

She hummed and you had to close your eyes, the sound going straight to your core. Her voice was something otherworldly. Her english accent made her sound refined, and her voice was sweet and low, making you feel like a sailor at sea, called by a siren. You were doomed, you could have easily fell for a woman like her. Maybe you already did.

You opened your eyes at the feeling of her hand on your throat. You gasped, her fingers tracing the letters on your choker. She giggled, an exquisite sound that you wanted to hear more of.

"My little pet."

You watched her lips move whilst she said that, feeling the need to know how soft they were. Her hand closed gently around your neck, squeezing gently. You let out a moan, watching as Larissa's eyes grew darker. Then her lips clashed on yours, it was so fast you could have missed it if it wasn't that now you two were kissing, and her lips were soft as feathers, your wanted to stay like that forever.

Her tongue swept on your bottom lip, asking for entrance, and you gave it to her. Her tongue didn't have to battle with yours for dominance, because you were more than alright being the one seduced and dominated. The fact that a woman like her wanted you made your ego reach up the stars.

"Come."

She took her hand and led you up the stairs, to her bedroom. The room was spacious but almost empty. There was a huge painting on one wall depicting two women having sex. It was beautifully made, it almost looked like a photograph. There was a kingsized bed, who screamed for you to use it.

She kissed you again, more gently than before, and started unbottuning your blouse.

"If you're not feeling comfortable, tell me to stop and I will."

You shook your head, helping her undress you.

"I want this, I want you."

She gave you a quick peck on the lips before taking off your blouse. The skirt followed it on the floor. She took two steps back, glancing at you.

"Hm beautiful."

You blushed, her compliment meant the world to you. She made you sit on the side of the bed, then she slowly started taking off her dress. Her legs were long and toned, almost in contrast with her pale complexion that made her look like she made out of porcelain. When she remained in her undergarments, she sat on your lap and began moving on you, giving you a lap dance. It was funny, her, the tall and mature one, giving you, the small and young one, the lap dance. But you didn't complain.

She knew what she was doing, roaming her hands on your body, her hot breath on your ear. You clasped your hands on her butt, helping her move easily on you.

"Tell me what you need."

Her whisper made you shiver.

"Fuck me."

She stopped her motions and got off you. She kneeled and opened your legs. You moaned at the sight. She looked at you with doe eyes while she took off your panties. The fresh air hit your wet center and you whimpered. She stroked your folders with two fingers, feeling just how ready you were to be taken.

"Is this the effect mommy has on you?"

You nodded frantically, seeing her on her kneew, between your legs, made you horny like nothing else could.

"Do you want mommy to make you feel good?"

You nodded again, letting out a small moan. She was so hot, so seductive, you wondered if she was ever like this or if she learned to be.

"Say it."

"I want mommy to make me feel good."

"Hm good pet."

She licked your slit, latching on your clitoris, sucking at it and swirling her tongue around it. Waves of pleasure washed over you, you felt euphoric. She swept her tongue one last time on your bundle of nerves before entering you with two fingers. You let out a whimper, grasping the sheet under you. She curled her fingers inside you, making you see stars.

"Good girl, taking me so well."

You were a moaning mess, soon you felt the orgams wash over you. She helped you ride it, still moving gently inside you.

"Such a good pet, did mommy make you feel good?"

"You made me feel more than good."

She smirked, taking out her fingers. She put them in her mouth, looking at you straight in the eyes. She moaned, tasting you on her digits. Your pupils dilated, feeling yourself grow needy once more.

"Do you want to make mommy feel good too?"

She took off her undergarments, and positioned herself between your legs. Her clitoris touched yours, and you felt a jolt of electricity run in your veins. She started slowly moving her hips, the friction making you whimper. Your clitoris was still sensitive, but it felt good to feel her moving on top of you.

"Hm you're going to make mommy come."

She started riding you faster, her hips swaying up and down quickly. In a matter of minutes, you two were pn the edge.

"Come with me, make me hear you scream my name."

You only needed a few more movements and you both came.

"Larissa!"

She layed beside you, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. You hugged her, feeling her warm skin touch yours. You could get used to this.

"It was awesome."

She laughed.

"You had doubts?"

You smiled, shaking your head. She cupped your cheek. You tried to take a picture of her in your mind. Her lipstick smeared, her updo slowly falling apart. She somehow looked better than before.

"If you want to, you can stay the night."

"I would love to."

You both smiled. You felt incredibly lucky to have met her, and you knew that night was the start of something far bigger and marvelous than you could have predicted.

#fanfiction #ff #lesbian #actress #gay #gxg #larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #gwendoline christie x reader #gwendoline christie #x reader

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gallusrostromegalus · 9 months

Note

What kind of wildlife is around in the Spirit World/Realm? The show had riding boars and river fish that I can remember, and if they grow things then the right kinds of little bees and gnats must be Around, but Just Those don't make for a full healthy environment, right?

We don't see a lot of animals in canon because animals are rarely a problem that shinigami have to deal with but some notes:

Thylacalines are not extinct in the spirit world! Actually, it's kind of a problem- Thylacalines will ONLY reincarnate as Thylacalines, and since there are none on earth, the entire peak population of them lives in the southern Rukongai. This is a problem unique to Thylacalines, as most extinct animals will reincarnate as other extant animals or humans or whatever, but nope. Not these assholes. Furthermore, killing a thylacaline in spirit world just makes it respawn elsewhere in the spirit world, as it was and with it's memory intact and those motherfuckers hold GRUDGES. They're also not native to any of the places the human souls in Soul society come from so nobody has a damn clue what they're doing here. Well, they know what they're doing- Mostly eating anything that will fit in their mouths and occasionally mauling people who don't respect their personal space- but why they're doing that HERE is unclear.

The Migratory Bird Act of Year 1066 was established shortly after the Seki-Seki stone wall and spirit barrier surrounding the Seireitei was established, and within the week, catastrophic numbers of birds died flying into the invisible barrier. The act was actually spearheaded by Yamamoto, who was immensely distraught by the unintentional carnage, and had to actually threaten the Central 46 with bodily harm to get them to legally change the Kido spell on the barrier to only block Sapient Souls and let the birds come and go as they please. It was a landmark legal case that established the soul society's remarkably robust environmental protections, and the Central 46's policy of isolation from the Shinigami, which would prove disastrously fatal to the organization almost 1,000 years later.

Many creatures we have on earth exist in Spirit world, but at massive Scale and varying degrees of intelligence. The Nago Boar was a wild boar of average porcine intelligence, but spectacular scale- 15 feet tall at the shoulder and many tons in weight. It was an infamous monster that made the Nago region borderline uninhabitable from it's rampages. It was one of the rare animals that became the problem for the Shinigami, who tried in vain to kill the beast for the better part of two centuries but unlike a Hollow who acts on instinct and has a very breakable mask, the boar was quite cunning and ended up with three zanpaktou lodged in it's cranium to no ill effect before the Gotei-13 decided to just pay the remaining farmers to leave in 1219. It was slain by a hired swordsman protecting a geological survey in 1308, and the battle was immortalized in the Epic Multi-scene Screen Painting "The Slaying of The Nago Boar" by Minami Zasso, who was working as a surveyor and illustrator when he witnessed the event firsthand. The swordsman in the painting is unnamed, but there is a persistent rumor that the distinctive facial scar of the unnamed swordsman matches that of Eleventh Division Captain Zaraki Kenpachi, but that would mean the man is at least 700, more likely over 1000 years old! Surely not!

The Eleventh Division has another peculiar association with an animal of ridiculous scale. In 1272, the annual "Ranking Day" tournament (in which the members of the 11th division and anyone bold enough to take part would battle for ranked positions in the division- including the right to be captain) took place outside the Seireitei in a relatively isolated area of the rukongai because 1271's Ranking Day had turned into an outright riot that destroyed part of the city. The commotion and blooshed attracted the attention of a supernaturally large Monitor Lizard, who joined the fray without hesitation, and devoured the 4th Kenpachi. Having met the requirements of "Defeat the standing captian in combat in front of 200 witnesses", and because nobody was brave enough to remove the captain's haori from where the lizard had become entangled in it, Tokagero Kenpachi was named the 5th captain of the 11th division. Tokagero Kenpachi remained captain of the 11th division for an astounding 234 years, the longest reign of any Kenpachi, and via highly suggestive hissing and occasionally eating people she disagreed with, lead several important reforms within the division like "Pants Required" and "No showing up to work drunk" and "instituting the first 5-day work week and successful labor strike in Soul Society" though that last one was mostly the work of her long-suffering lieutenant, but her apparent taste for strikebreakers certainly helped the cause. Tokagero Kenpachi was lost in the infamous Tonsure Riots of 1606 when she vanished down an open manhole cover and into the sewers. No body was ever recovered, and her wherabouts remain unknown to this day.

#AEIWAM #an elephant is warm and mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic

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specter319 · 4 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄? (Ace Combat x CoD 141)

A/N: As a little Christmas present, I decided to work on a little something something, seeing a random anon state in @mockerycrow's Ask about fighter jets and Task Force 141 got my interest real quick, having been someone who got introduced to these two fandoms 1-2 years ago I absolutely adore the storyline in regards to Trigger and Count, but also the storyline as a whole, neatly wrapping up the reason why three strikes is called three strikes, if only a certain other game could have the same sort of stable plot- Complaints about the plot aside for those who stumble upon it have fun with this little short story that's been brewing in my head! Please enjoy the Homoeroticism of Ghost and Soap Trigger Warnings: Mention of Blood Word Count: 2.5k Words Characters: John 'Soap' MacTavish x Simon 'Ghost' Riley, mentions of Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick and Johnathan Price.

From the moment John MacTavish’s Scottish blue eyes gazed upwards into the beautiful atmosphere above him, he knew he was utterly and completely fucked. It all started with one moment in time, watching the infamous ‘Ghost’ launch one of their newly brought F-35s testing it out for another squadron, making sure all systems were in check. Watching it from the fences as the utter decimation of their ears thanks to the lack of protection were good faith to the man taking it, for what seemed to be a joy ride. And as Kyle and John stood there, seeing it hovering just mere meters above the runway, their joy was all but uncontainable in knowing just who was behind the sticks.

Conversations were the only thing that took over the engines' mighty roar as Kyle and John yelled at the inanimate object in celebration.

“Ooh yeah! Ooh yeah!” Kyle yelled out.

“Ooh, go ‘un, go ‘un” John egged right back.

And then, just as it pulled up, sure it was now at best pulling upwards of 5 gees, the men on the ground cheered.

“Go on you fuckin’ beauty!” Just as it was making its way further into the clouds, graciously curving its own form into the shape of them.

They were ecstatic, joyful, even, at least one was, to see a man so tall, almost built like a damn statue from ancient history managing to tame a beast so wild, and wicked. And yet, knowing that it was almost second nature in that man's blood to fly it, because that bastard was the only one allowed, thanks to the great charm of the bastards in the west, to have an F-22 Raptor. The only one in the UK, belonged to a man who had no name, never showed his face to the people he didn’t know, including the two men who stood there on the grassy knoll outside of the airbase cheering him on.

What a weird shitpot of luck that was, almost as if the gods of fate above had been watching the two men above, seeing them be so supportive of a man who never had the cheers of his fellow squad members, but instead, feared him. Tried to rebel against him, just to get a far enough away distance to stay away from a man and his, as some people called it ‘Raptor’s Ghost’.

Those that had seen it, had been lucky enough to tell the tale, at least, on the side he came back to, fellow squadron and captain, but those who had been on the receiving side of those guns as they lifted from their molded seam, only saw a wisp of a dark gray aircraft, before a fiery explosion filled their cabin.

Yes, there was one thing to be known about this ‘Ghosts’ jet — he’d specified that he must have it in a darker gray. Just a couple of shades darker than what the original metal was painted as. And the thing was? Somehow, amongst his captains ranking, the government and even the fuckers down in Lockheed — they’d said yes to the request. Even if a few bureaucrats in the Pentagon were waving the red flag from the start.

So he guessed that’s what the plan was then, to go and catch a sneak in the middle of the night of what it looked like, though Kyle tried with all of his might to persuade him otherwise, John was dead set on seeing the beauty that stood in the dead of the night in Ghost’s hangar, wielded far away from the rest of the base, but close enough to know that the rest of the team always, haunted by a Ghost, he guessed that’s where the name came from then. Given that this was usually seen beside the B-2, a call sign of Ghost would’ve been fitting for someone in a something like this. And it seemed like fate was tempting him all and amongst this, because, as John approached the hangar, as big as it was, there was a crack left open, not closed, like all the other times he’d passed it in his own jet. Only to then realize this was the reason why they had called him Ghost to begin with, no one thought he was around, until it was too late.

Everyone knew this Ghost, was a guy, they’d heard his voice, never heard him laugh, was only ever a man of a few simple commands and went off when requested. What caught John MacTavish off guard however, was not only the hangar open, but the place had reeked of oil and fuel, only to be diverged its acoustics of the tin metal in the sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, a far cry from the throat roar of the hotdogged engines, John could already tell what Ghost had been doing to the poor thing. Either someone had been here recently or there was still someone here, but that never mattered as his Scottish blue eyes once more, got him fucked over, classical music be damned.

The metallic gray was no longer present, much like he had seen on the various photos that had beautifully given the thing a personality of beauty, and yet deadly. But instead, it was given a more, mature grayed look, as if it was a rehashed version of the F-35, the very same one he had been seen in this afternoon in a reskinned jet. Sudden realizations hit the man when thinking in Ghost’s logic, not too shabby for a Ghost when John had realized that much to his enemies disliking, when they suddenly realized that the jet was no longer a most recent US fighter, it was too late to break off anyway.

And much akin to John’s own footsteps, he’d realized that he was pulled in by the absolute sheer squared beauty of the thing and had moved right into the Ghost’s trap.

“What are you doin’ in my hangar?” Ghost lowly spoke, standing to the side, having seen him since he strolled in here.

“Jesus wept!” John spoke as he suddenly turned around, the closed distance between them was something almost scary at just how close and personal this man had gotten, and all amongst that, he seemingly had the goal to wear a bloody balaclava, all the while wearing a stripped down version of the gear they would have to haul around on their bodies. Was he really that comfortable in wearing the same shit each day? At least the only thing invading his senses was oil and fuel.

“I said what are ya doing here?” Ghost questioned before his eyes glanced over at the hangar “Squadron leaders gonna know about this,” his voice loomed.

“Sorry,” That’s all the weak bastard had as he tried to pick himself up faster than he could pull back on his own stick. “A’m interested in that piece of art ye’v got there, heard you were the one flying the Lightning around this mornin’”

“So you were the two hanging around the fence”

John stiffened at the sheer mention of that, he’d seen them? He didn’t think he had given the height already gained as he passed the pair of them from the runway.

“Wanted to watch her give her a proper launch, sir” John hesitated as Ghost only snorted and shook his head at the mention of the last word.

“Flight Lieutenant to you” This Ghost guy seemingly didn’t want to have him out of his hangar after all, but there was no doubt that heavy brown eyes were on him, painted darker then the plane before him as his eyes registered on MacTavish’s uniform still barely on given the zip that was seemingly fought with, the sheen of sweat that was just above the ridgeline of his eyebrows gave away just how much he’d been working during the rest of his day, when he seemingly wasn’t cheering this man on, then again. MacTavish did seem like a familiar last name, what could hurt but to take a guess.

“Apologies,” John moved ever so closer to the jet, almost as if he were to go ahead and, to the thought running in the back of Ghost’s mind, steal it. Poor bastard, probably wouldn’t be able to handle the ride as well as he could. “Does that mean I get to call you LT then?”

The cocky chatter over the radio, often with another teammate, only gave Ghost all the more confidence to take that stab in the dark to try and pinpoint just who he was.

“You can, so long as you tell me if you’re the one flying that bloody F-16 around.”

John’s eyes suddenly went wide, and of course, that cocky Brit saw it, and with his own pair too. His soul had actively left his body in the acknowledgement that someone had noticed his maneuverability, everyone else had F/A-18’s. But MacTavish was the one that stood his ground when he said he wanted a former fighter pilots F-16, ready to be given back to the Americans, decommissioned, probably in a scrap heap, and yet, here he was, breathing new life into it and treating it like it had just come off the factory rollers. Though, his only fault that he seemingly had with it, was that of the lack of gun ammunition, paling in comparison to something like the beast that stood before him.

“Uh, and why would tha’ be?”

Ghost paused, raising a brow in confusion, maybe he was going to have to talk to John’s squad leader, had he really not seen beyond his two feet at just who he had under his wing, the man could maneuver the thing as well as he could like the jet he stood before and maybe, if he ever took the chance (which, in high unlikely doubt he would) he could probably pilot Ghost’s, if not, with just a bigger amount of hesitation.

“Just wanted to give a recommendation to the squadron leader as to who to take under our wing, old talents retiring at the end of the year, figured I’d give whoevers flying that F-16 and the one with the yellow strip along the body of the ‘18 a fighting chance at joining the 141” He brushed it off, like it was a chance to come clean. Ghost knew that MacTavish was the one flying the thing, often put in a good word about it to Price. And Price often agreed, that and ‘Gaz’ who was often his wingmanaccording to Price’s notes were often hotshots, but never in an egotistical, ‘wanting to show who’s boss’ way, it was always one of teamwork, and he quite enjoyed seeing them chant as one of their other teammates took down a target before they did.

“The 141?” MacTavish asked

“Yeah, just need to find out who the pair are in the two jets first” Ghost was toying with him as he finally made a move over to his own, inspecting the various scratches that were seemingly evident in the light, but gave the aircraft a seemingly weathered look, one that, Ghost admired.

“There a reason why they call you the Ghost?” Quick this one was to change the subject, avoiding it, but copying him all the more in his movements as John did the same, placing a gentle hand along the aircraft as his calloused fingers felt a deep scar along the face of the jet, maybe that’s why he rarely had repairs done to the thing other than ones that were required. Maybe that’s why he wears the mask, he’s damaged, just like the bird before him – but he still flies, still finds meaning in the daylight and blue hues of skies.

“There a reason why you’re dancing around the question?” Their hands moved along the surface of the steel at almost the same time, unknown, but as if they were tracing one another's patterns as the question was left in the air for a bit too long before they finally moved to the nose of the aircraft, having no choice but to look at one another as they did so.

“Could say the same,” He watched as Ghost moved towards him, facing him, how he towered over the man with that stature of power, and yet, the only real dominating power he seemingly had left was his rank, and the jet. Because all the smug bastard did was place his hands behind his back and look down at the Scotsman, as if inspecting him as he did the jet, to see if like him, he too had scars beneath that mohawk and blue eyes that seemingly contrasted ever so beautifully along the dark gray. “What happens if one of us already knows the answers?”

“Then I guess one of us will have to await the answers of the future, but if they already know the answers, they shouldn’t have to wait too long” They both knew one another were staring, helplessly, but stopping it neither as eyes behind that mask squinted ever so gently. So he did have his scars, one on the chin, must have had a bad accident for it to get that bad, and the blood from it too.

“Then I guess I’ll ‘ave ta’ see me way out of this museum then huh? Wouldn’t want ta make a scene now aye?” John smiled, physically having to retch himself from the spot he stood in, not wanting to move away from the view that was before him.

“Don’t quite appreciate customers making a scene and disturbing the nature of this art” So he wasn’t the only one to quickly move along with what he was suggesting as he followed him, only ever a few steps behind, maybe that’s why he got that name, loud as anything in a jet, then he never exists once the engines shut off.

Ghost eventually stopped following him as John made his way out near the doors of the hangar, lingering around just a bit more before he stopped in his tracks, just maybe, if he really did have the answers, he could see how his future LT would respond. “Don’t think I could handle two pieces of art in a museum, never been able ta handle more than one” He swore up and down he saw the man’s head snap into place about that comment, a slight squint at the body language that John was trying to portray as he moved through the hangar doors. “Have a good night, LT”

“Officer Mactavish.”

Payback time.

“Aye sir?” And they’d fallen into line already, a wingman, of sorts, to a Ghost.

“Call me Simon”

Now MacTavish was standing there, being a complete idiot, baffled by the fact that he, of all people, managed to get into the inner circle of a man named Simon, a Ghost. A snort was then heard through the airy atmosphere as he suddenly turned around and walked back towards the stairs of his office, looking back over his shoulder, leaving him in a scrambled state that was the brain of John MacTavish.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” He paused, “For a F-16 Pilot.”

So that’s his name.

#spectersblog #cod #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod mw22 #specterwrites #soapghost #call of duty #ace combat #ghost x soap #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain price #john price #kyle gaz garrick

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spinchip · 6 months

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NEVER THE DARK

Chapter 11

Read on Ao3

Prologue - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10

Warnings: discussions of addiction, body horror

Chapter art by @artqueen02 (Thank you!!)

THERE ARE WAYS OUT.// THERE IS A LIGHT SOMEWHERE.// IT MAY NOT BE MUCH LIGHT// BUT IT BEATS THE DARKNESS.

Lloyd keeps quiet as they walk, lost in thought. He analyzed the dinner conversation in his head to see if he could gather any new information, but Birdy and Samira both were skilled at saying nothing of note if they spoke carefully enough.

“Are you alright?” Birdy asks quietly.

“As much as I can be in this situation.” Lloyd grimaces, “There’s things I want to ask you.”

“Later.” Birdy promises, “When we’re outside the nest.”

They round the corner into a downward slope that takes them all the way back down to ground level. Birdy confidently passes several branching pathways until they come to the last one, walking the corridor in silence. At the end is a large vaulted room that opens up to a massive cave mouth in the side of the mountain. Ila is there with her back turned, but the moment Lloyd and Birdy step closer her tentacles wiggle and tap at her until she spins to face them.

“Oh, hey guys.” Her tentacles deliver two old fashioned saddles, presenting them to the two men with a flourish. Only now does Lloyd take a moment to look around at the wooden stalls around the room. In Ninjago these saddles would settle onto the backs of big wooly wallopers, but there’s a distinct lack of massive horns poking out of each stall. Instead…

Lloyd gasps, “Are we going to ride horses!?” He demands excitedly, pointing at the unassuming brown beast resting in its stall, “Do I get to pick mine!?”

Ila looks surprised, brown eyebrows raising, “I figured you wouldn’t want to. You like them…?”

“They’re adorable!” Lloyd gushes, walking over to a hoofed monster and raising a slow hand to pat its thick tree-trunk of a neck.

“Well, uhm, sure, you’re welcome to pick then. Anyone other than Topstitch, she’s Samiras mare.” She glances at Birdy and offers a knowing smile, “I have a feeling Suncup is off the market as well.”

Birdy approaches a white horse that makes an adorable whinny as he steps closer. The horse's mane and tail are a pale gray and its coat is lightly mottled with more of that color. It’s eyes are a deep, intelligent black, “Suncup is the horse I typically use.” Birdy explains, smoothing a palm down the colt's long nose.

“He’s beautiful,” Lloyd remarks, “But I think I like…” He squints at the nameplate by the stall door, “Honeysuckle.” She’s a beautiful solid brown mare with a light colored mane, and she noses her head under Lloyd's hand when he reaches out to see if she’ll accept a pet, lavishing under the attention.

“Honeysuckle is one of the sweetest and most reliable we have. Good choice!” Ila hands the two of them a bundle of straps that she shows Lloyd how to place along with the saddle so that both horses are prepared for the trek. After the horses headgear is all in place, Ila passes them both a small rucksack of food and water for the trip.

“Thank you, Ila.” Birdy takes his bag and Lloyd parrots him.

“It’s already big news in town that you’re headed to the graveyard.” She informs them, “Three funeral flowers… Birdy, that’s a tall order.”

“I will see you soon.” He promises and she nods, uncertain.

Birdy motions to Lloyd and demonstrates how to get on the horse. After only falling two times, Lloyd successfully mounts the ever patient Honeysuckle and they head out the garage entrance and onto a hard packed pathway into what must be a courtyard or garden area that separates the palace from the rest of town. They wind their way around the maze-like walls and open pasture space slow but steady as Lloyd gets his bearings on horseback riding. It’s not so different from a Walloper, really. They wave to several guards who raise up the gate leading out of the palace farmland before finally stepping foot back into town. Just like Ila said, the people on the street are watching them and whispering to themselves. Lloyd catches funeral flower more than once in the hushed gossip.

They get through the heart of the town with no incidents, but when they pass through the market on the outskirts someone steps in their way, their horses coming to a stop and awaiting direction from their riders. Lloyd can’t tell what species she was originally, if she was from Ninjago or not. She’s got long tubes protruding out of her skull, like horns made of flesh, and her body is covered with patches of fur, feathers, and bald skin. Her face is distinctly inhuman. She has no mouth.

She holds up her hands and does a series of quick signs. I heard you are going to the graveyard. Is this true?

“Yes, it is true.” Birdy confirms.

“Was that sign language? You can understand her?” Lloyd asks curiously. Birdy shoots him a glance, intending to answer but the woman waves to keep his attention on their conversation.

She hesitates a moment. You will do me a favor. I will owe you greatly.

“What favor?”

“What’s she saying?”

She reaches into her satchel before pulling out a small bag and stepping close to discreetly hand him the precious cargo. Birdy takes it and glances inside at its contents.

Deliver these to Deacon. She signs firmly.

Birdy takes a moment to consider her request, weighing how much time they could afford to lose. He closes the bag up securely, tying the rope to make absolutely sure none of its contents spilled, “We will do this for you, Elona.” He promises.

I owe you.

“You owe me nothing.” Birdy says firmly, to which the woman just repeats her previous signs again, but firmer this time.

After Birdy tucks the bag into his shirt, the two continue on. It isn’t until they’re well past the city and into the living fields that Birdy speaks again, “Yes, that was sign language. Specifically Cloud Kingdom sign. Elona has asked us to deliver a gift to her partner Deacon. He lives next to the graveyard.”

“What was the gift?” Lloyd asks curiously.

Birdy pulls the bag back out of his shirt, opening it and letting Lloyd peek inside. It’s two bright pink spheres, smooth and clear like little marbles, and one black oblong shape. He points to the pink ones first, “These are Pink Pills. They are painkillers- highly potent and highly addictive. The mutations this realm causes are debilitating and painful, but these pills make living bearable. That is how Samira stays in power. She controls the production and distribution of these pills, and anyone who is subservient to her is supplied.”

“She gets people hooked on painkillers to get them to do what she wants?” Lloyd frowns at the information, clenching his hands around Honeysuckles reigns.

“Yes. I would even assume…” He trails off before reaching over and taking Lloyd's travel pack given to him by Ila, rummaging through it until his hand lands on another small satchel. He pulls it out and opens it, revealing a perfect pink marble. “Just as I suspected. She provided you with a pill in the hopes you would take it without realizing what it is.”

“She put it in with the food.” Lloyd realized, “It was a setup from the start.”

“Yes.” Birdy confirmed, “She hoped to get you hooked. I am sure she will try to offer them to the others too.”

Lloyd looked back at the city in the distance, “They know better than to take candy from a stranger. I think.”

Birdy points next at the oblong black pill, “This is the Cure.”

“What?”

“It is exactly what we are traveling to find. A single funeral flower can be reduced into enough concentrate to make fifty of these. When the pills are taken, they reverse the effects of mutation slightly.”

Lloyd gapes at the unassuming thing, “And Elona is just giving it away? Why?”

“Deacon is further along in his sickness.” Birdy explains, brushing off a few of the rubbery octopus plant tendrils trying to wrap around his feathered cape. The horses don’t blink at the plants, used to the ticklish vines attempting to stop them in their tracks.

Lloyd mulls over this, “Why doesn’t Elona take them to Deacon herself?”

Birdy is quiet for a moment, “Deacon is losing himself to the change.” He says carefully, “It is dangerous to be near him. That, and Elona is weakened by her own mutation. There is no guarantee she will make it.”

Lloyd lets them lapse into a short silence.

“She asked you to deliver the pill to him. She had faith you wouldn’t take it.” He lets the words sit in his mouth for a moment, “She trusts you.”

Birdy inclines his head, but doesn’t say a word.

They pass through the field and head into the forest. Lloyd had been too busy watching their captors last time they’d walked here, but now he can take in the terrain. There are tree-like plants that shoot up from the ground thick and fat, with smooth shiny surfaces and circular leaves on top. Mixed in are short blue trees with hanging purple branches like a weeping willow. Moss grows in sporadic patches along everything, the plant shuddering and popping unnaturally. A thin bush is in the midst of agonizingly slowly pulling its roots up from the ground to migrate to a better patch of soil. The forest is filled with sound, and Lloyd finds himself searching for the sources as they trek further and further.

A low whistle comes from a large curled single-petal flower that expels its pollen with a burst of air through its petal. He finds the source of tiny clicking noises when he realizes there’s camouflaged multi-legged creatures skittering on the surface of the smooth trees. Underlying all those and more is a faint, constant buzzing.

Birdy seems lost in thought, walking ahead of Lloyd slightly. It wouldn’t hurt to take a closer look, just to see if he can find the source, right? Using his ninja skills, he silently slides off Honeysuckles and pulls her to the side of the path, stepping into the thicket of trees and tuning his ears to that buzz. He leaves her there to wait for him as he walks slowly through the undergrowth, passing trees and strange bushes and rocks that swell like they’re breathing until his ears prick. There, to the left- one of the weeping willow trees. It’s only a few feet taller than Lloyd, and as he approaches he realizes there’s tiny little moving lights on the branches. A closer look, and he can see minuscule beetles puttering about on the plants surface.

The smell hits him then, a sweet tang that sits thick on the back of his throat. It smells like fresh cotton candy, a Caramel dipped apple, one of those massive suckers from mad monster amusement park- the kind Lloyd had played endless carnival games for until he won one. It’s from the tree, there’s no doubt about it. The fizzing noise gets louder as he parts the tree limbs, stepping under the canopy into the darkness. Faint blue light peeks from between the plates of the tree bark that all lead to a large dark hole in the center of the trunk. It’s big enough for Lloyd to walk in without crouching, and he approaches the blackness curiously. The fizzing is so loud, but it's not frightening.

He’s right on the edge, about to peek inside that cavity, when the roots below him part suddenly and he slips, skidding down the roots into the black hole in the trunk- at the bottom, a pit of glowing blue liquid pops and bubbles, the half-digested remains of a horse slumped to one side. He jerks to a halt with a gasp and when he looks up Birdy is standing over him. One half of his spear is shoved through the roots into solid ground to keep them anchored as he hauls Lloyd up. The roots are slick and Lloyd can’t get his feet under him, reaching up to grip Birdy's arm so he doesn't fall.

Birdy grunts, looking around. “Hold on.” He says and Lloyd tightens his grip before Birdy lets go of the staff.

“What- you hold on!” Lloyd says in panic as they both slip deeper into the pit.

Birdy grabs a low hanging branch and yanks it with them into the pit, and almost immediately the tree begins to pull them out of the pit by its branch. Its roots firm up to the point where Lloyd can scramble to his feet and scamper out from under the tree with Birdy right behind him.

Lloyd only stops running when they get back to the pre-worn path, sagging against one of the safe-to-touch smooth trees. “Did I almost just get eaten by a tree?” He wheezes.

Birdy doesn’t seem winded at all, “A fizz tree.” He confirms, “Not actually a tree, but they are most similar to a pitcher plant or Venus fly trap in the way they catch prey.”

He squints over at Birdy, “How did we even escape?”

“A fully grown fizz tree like that will not grow new branches. What it has now is all it will get.” He explains as Lloyd catches his breath, “The acid in the pit of the tree will destroy that branch, and it simply was not worth it to the animal.”

“Animal? I thought it was a plant.”

“Technically-”

“I don’t want to know,” Lloyd covers his face with his hands, “I miss Ninjago.”

“I do as well.” Birdy says emphatically, approaching Suncup to hoist himself back up. “We need to make more headway before nightfall.”

Apologetically, Birdy begins to move on. After Lloyd collects Honeysuckle from down the path, he follows, keeping closer this time after that fiasco

He thanks Birdy for saving him to which the older man waves off the gratitude, but Lloyd keeps thinking about it. He jumped in without a second thought. To save someone he hardly knows. Birdy's earlier words have also intrigued him, starting him on a new line of questioning.

“So you’re from Ninjago. When did you come here?” He knows a good bit of Ninjago history, wondering if he can puzzle out which of the evils of the past that mysteriously vanished that Birdy might be. Part of him knows that it’s a dead end- Birdy just… he doesn’t seem like a bad guy.

He doesn’t expect a straight answer and Birdy delivers on that expectation, “Time is hard to track here. I’m not sure how long exactly.”

The fact that he answered at all is an encouraging sign, “What’s your actual name?” He decides to jump in, fully commit to the questioning.

Birdy turns and looks at him blankly, not answering.

“Oh come on! You know my name.” Lloyd argues.

With a shake of his head Birdy doesn’t sigh even if Lloyd thinks he wants to, “Very well.” He acquiesced before flashing four quick hand movements at Lloyd, “Did you get that?”

Lloyd blinks, “Get what?”

“My name. I just told you.”

“What..? You- oh- sign language!” Gasping, Lloyd glares at him, “that’s cheating! I don’t know Cloud Kingdom sign!”

“You did not clarify how I must tell you.” There’s definitely a smile in his voice.

Lloyd narrows his eyes, “Touché. Fine. Show me again, then.” He looks intently at Birdy's hand, fully intending on memorizing the sign to ask someone later.

Birdy shakes his head, “I already told you. I am not telling you again.”

Looking at him disbelievingly, Lloyd groans, “You’d make a great Lawyer with how much you like loopholes.” He grouses, petulantly riding beside him.

The weight Lloyd carries with him feels lighter. The realization hits him slowly, then all at once. He wasn’t… acting like a leader. The past three years, Lloyd had placed so much responsibility on himself to be a good leader, to make the right calls, to keep his team safe that he had put up a wall between him and the others. He’d been sitting on the other side of that wall trying to hold up the world, holding himself to an impossibly strict, serious standard. He studied day and night, pushed himself to examine and learn from his mistakes almost obsessively, and kept himself from relying on the others.

Here in this realm, he didn’t know anything. He had to rely on Birdy, had to defer to his knowledge in a way he hadn’t been able to- hadn’t felt comfortable enough to- do in a long time. In three years. He shared the burden with Birdy. The realization bothers him deeply.

Birdy seems to pick up on the mood shift. After a moment of hesitation he breaks the silence, “I cannot tell you my name but I will offer you… three questions.” He nods to himself, “Three questions I will answer truthfully- within reason.” He tacks on at the end.

Lloyd looks at him, surprised, “Really?” At Birdy's confirming nod, he taps a finger to his chin while he thinks. They move on in a companionable silence as Lloyd thinks over his question options, “You seem awfully comfortable in Oasis. You even have your own usual horse… Why?”

Birdy looks at him with surprise, maybe hoping Lloyd would ask something broader- something he could dance his way around to keep his past concealed. He hesitates for a long moment but… it doesn’t set off any warning bells in Lloyd's head. Despite how this should all be one big red flag, he finds himself… not quite trusting, but not suspicious of Birdy.

“I used to work with her.” He says carefully, “Before I realized what she was doing. When I first arrived in this realm I was not… in a good place. I needed a purpose, and Samira could offer that. Once I understood who she really was, I took off. As for my relationship with Samira… we have… an understanding.” He seems to be unsatisfied with that, worrying Suncup reigns as he tries to reword it, “I know a deadly secret of hers, and she knows a deadly secret of mine. We are at a stalemate and as such are on even ground. There are not many people that are on that level with Samira, and I think she enjoys the company… as do I.”

“So you’re friends?”

“Is that your second question?”

“No,” Lloyd answers immediately, “It’s an extension of my first question.”

“…Friends is the best way to describe it, I suppose.” He acquiesces.

“So after you worked with Samira you just left to go lone wolf?” Birdy cringes ever so slightly, and when the pause goes on a bit too long Lloyd adds, “That’s my second question.”

Birdy sighs gently, “I was alone for a bit but… I met another loner, and we ended up traveling together for several months. He…” He trails off, and Lloyd wisely keeps his mouth shut so Birdy can sort through the obvious complicated feelings around that time of his life.

“He called himself Farley. We… went our separate ways.” He says haltingly.

Lloyd winces, “Messy breakup?”

Birdy chuckles lowly, and there is no humor in it at all, “Something like that.”

They break out of the forest to a long open glass plain, the same brittle grass Lloyd remembered them trekking through before. The sun shined dully behind the overhead clouds, but it's brighter than it was when he’d first walked this area. It’s… beautiful, actually. Colors mottling the pale earth, turning it into a rainbow that stretches out in front of them endlessly.

“It is, sometimes.” Birdy agrees to Lloyd’s sentiment that he hadn’t even realized he’d said aloud.

They take a moment to admire the way the grass blades wave in the evershift, colors glittering and floating over-top of each other.

“What question do you have for me now?”

“I’d like to save this one, if you don’t mind.” He shoots him a sly grin that Birdy tilts his head at in amusement.

“I will allow it.” He says graciously before getting more serious, “We need to move quicker. We'll set up a gallop across the plains. Slow down at my signal.”

With a quick squeeze of his heels, Suncup takes off in a run and Lloyd quickly spurs Honeysuckle to follow.

Uh. How did he tell her to slow down again?

The wind whips around his face and blows his hair back as he grips the reins, hunched down over his horse as she races across flat ground. She has a smooth gallop but he still bobs up and down with the arc of her spine and he feels a familiar, euphoric glee bubble up his throat until he shouts out in joy, hollering and laughing as he basks in the feeling. It’s like riding dragon back- something he hadn’t done in years. He smiles at Birdy, who had gone from hunched over and serious to sitting back more like Lloyd, enjoying the ride just as much as Lloyd. Lloyd thinks he can hear him laugh too- lighter, more high pitched than his speaking voice-

Familiar?

He doesn’t dwell on anything but the feeling of the wind in his face, the power of the animal under him, and the scenery whipping past him. He feels younger than he has in a long while.

They don’t stay in a gallop for long, but the horses are still moving too quickly for casual conversation as the transition from glass grass to hard packed sand- not like the desert from before. This is a barren, empty place- and in the distance is a wall of thick mist that is pointedly different from the heavy smog that clings to the realm. There are large, naturally formed holes in the earth, caves and tunnels that the Horses have no problem avoiding.

Finally, Birdy motions for Lloyd to slow down. Honeysuckle follows Suncups lead, which is good because Lloyd still didn’t remember the right command to get her to stop. They’re not too far from the wall of smog as they stop in front of the dark mouth of a tunnel, the ground sloping steeply to allow them under the surface.

“This is Deacons cave.” Birdy informs him and he dismounts from Suncup. “Wait here.”

“What? No way.” Lloyd says immediately, hopping down from his saddle next, “You said Deacon was dangerous.”

“I have tough skin, Lloyd. I can handle him, you could get hurt.”

“I’m not letting you go down there alone.” Lloyd says firmly, surprised by the wave of protectiveness washing over him.

Birdy holds his gaze for a long moment before backing down, “Okay, but stay at the entrance. Do not follow me past the first column.”

Lloyd will take what he can get, “Fine.”

With a soothing pat to each of their horses, Lloyd and Birdy step down the slope into the hole in the ground. There’s a moment when they’re plunged into pitch dark before Lloyd eyes adjust to the glowing… webbing? Along the wall.

He touches it before he thinks, snatching his hand back in case that sets off Deacon.

Birdy notices, “You are free to touch the webbing, just be careful.” He says, motioning to the spot when Lloyd had touched. The webbing in that area went dull and stayed dull long after they passed it. Finally they reach the mouth of a deeper chamber in the cave, that same webbing covering one half of the room. The other half is strangely carved and connected, barely visible in the low light.

Birdy stops Lloyd from walking inside, “Please, stay here.”

There’s a low groan, animalistic with a distinctly human wail beneath it.

It’s only now that Lloyd fully realizes what he’s looking at. The part of the cave that was shrouded in darkness… is Deacon. He’s spread out across the wall and floor like a living mass of slime and skin, his body lacking bones or any real definition other than the sheen of oil and sweat from mutated pores. From formless lumps of skin poke fingers, toes, an ear- teeth and tongue too. He’s massive, body stretching in thick sheets and thin strings from floor to ceiling, the whole mass pulsing with a heartbeat or shuddering with heavy breaths.

“Good morning, Deacon.” Birdy says delicately.

The whole mass quivers unhappily, rolling over itself and more into the light at the voice. A single eye flops out with the shuffle to stare at Birdy. It’s impossible to tell his expression.

“How are you? Elona says hello.” He reaches slowly to the pouch at his side and undoes the ties, shaking out the pills, “She misses you.”

“Lon…” Deacon makes the approximation of her name, a low and deep vocalization from somewhere in what must be his chest.

A pillar of flesh whips out and slams into Birdy's hand and he hisses, balling up his fist so he doesn't scatter the medication across the stone. The flesh wraps around his wrist and squeezes so hard Lloyd can practically hear his bones creak.

Birdy holds up a hand so Lloyd wont rush in. He still has the situation under control.

He runs a soothing hand over Deacons… hand? “I know you are in pain, my friend. I am here to help. Elona sent me to help you.”

“Help… Elona… Lona…” His voice has a distinctly devastated tone to it. Heartbroken. “Hurt…”

“Elona is okay. She forgives you.” Birdy pats the lump of flesh that slowly uncurls, “You are not feeling well. She sent me to help you feel better.”

“Elona…” Deacon wails, releasing Birdy and letting the lump that used to be his arm flop flat to the floor.

Birdy squats and gently drops the pills onto his skin. He brings his fingers to the part of his mask where a mouth would be in a cone shape, “Eat.” He says as he motions it again, “It will make you feel better.”

Deacon slowly drags the lump back to his body.

There’s a long pause before- are Lloyds eyes tricking him? Was this the power of that pill? His skin seems to pull in on itself, growing tauter as a form takes shape in the lumps. His body is still mostly loose but there’s definitely the suggestion of a head and shoulders, even arms and fingers. His eyes, mouth, nod even nose form properly on his face.

“Birdy.” Deacon says hoarsely, “Are you alright?”

“You did not hurt me.” Birdy says gently.

“…Thank you… I must repay you…” He closes his eyes

“This was a favor for Elona, you do not need to worry about anything.”

Already, Deacon was swaying, body shimmering and loose, “I will not stay lucid long… please go… Tell my better half that I adore her… I am in no pain and I am to sleep…”

“I will, Deacon. Sleep well.”

His body drops back into the mass of lumps like water dropping back into a lake, but there is still a human silhouette in the mass. Birdy backs out of the room, keeping Lloyd behind him until he deems them far enough to turn their back on him.

“Are you okay?” Lloyd asks, reaching out to touch Birdy's injured wrist.

“I am.” Birdy assures him, guiding his hand away from the injury as they trek through the tunnel.

“You were so… nice.” Lloyd winces at his words, “Not that you shouldn’t be but just… when he lashed out…”

“He was not himself. I understand how that feels.” Birdy swallows, “The mutation process… it is cruel, Lloyd. It is unjust. These people, no matter their crimes, don’t deserve this type of torture. They need compassion and kindness. I wish I could help them more than I do.”

Lloyd looks away, “You remind me of my friend…”

He goes to say more as they surface from the pit but loses his voice at the massive beast hovering over their horses. It’s got six spindly weevil legs poking out of its perfectly round thorax. Attached above its body is a mass of skin stretched taut with the same gas of the graveyard, small streams of mist drifting from vents in the top of its sac. In between each set of the legs are several praying mantis-like limbs, and currently each limb was extended down below itself to touch their horses experimentally. The beast isn’t being rough with them, just examining them closely with its feelers.

Honeysuckle seems completely unperturbed by the animal, but Suncup is shifting nervously each time the feeler brushes his flank.

“That,” Birdy begins calmly, before Lloyd can panic about their horses, “Is what we can an Undertaker.”

“Undertaker? Like someone who deals with the dead?”

“Yes. And as soon as it realizes the horses are not dead, it will move on peacefully.”

Almost as if on cue, Suncup kicks out behind himself and clips one of the beast's arms. It jerks its arms back in surprise, folding them up alongside its thorax politely once it understands the animal beneath it is still alive and carefully steps over it. It doesn't approach the two, instead moving in a random direction with small steps as it searches for other, actually dead things. It reminds Lloyd of, if his limited memory of biology classes in Darkleys was correct, a massive bacteriophage. With a shorter neck.

As it leaves, Birdy moves forward to pat Suncup and calm him.

“They are scavengers, they primarily eat bone.” Birdy goes on, “They are completely blind and deaf, and they use touch to find their meals.”

Lloyd watches the beast approach and enter the mist of the graveyard, casually disappearing into its depths. He feels a pang of sadness, “So it doesn’t know it's going to die in there?”

Birdy shakes his head, “The undertakers live in the graveyard. They are only able to breathe the mist- the one we just saw was holding its breath in order to scavenge. They take bones and such back to the graveyard and wait for the mist to soften them enough so they can eat them. They can go an exceptional amount of time without breathing.”

Lloyd follows Birdy's example and mounts Honeysuckle as he hops back onto Suncup. They urge their horses to follow the undertaker over to the place where the graveyard's wall of mist rises into the sky, and they dismount right upon the border. The horses won't approach the mist closer, aware of its caustic properties.

“…now what?” Lloyd asks as Birdy slings his satchel off his shoulder and begins to rummage around in it.

“Now you wait here, and I will go into the mist to retrieve the flowers.” He says, taking out a tightly wound length of rope.

“You seriously think I’m going to let you go in there alone?” Birdy doesn't waver at this like he had at Deacons cave, steadfast in his resolve that Lloyd stay out of the mist.

“You must. You cannot handle the mist for long, while I can.” Birdy says firmly, brokering no room for argument, “I will tie one side of the rope to my belt and you will hold the other. If I do not come out by tomorrow morning, drag me out by the rope. Do you understand?”

Lloyd feels a swell of helplessness at those words but nods begrudgingly, “…Fine.” He says, clearly unhappy.

Birdy wastes no more time talking, looping the rope tightly around his blue belt and, with a nod to Lloyd, disappearing into the mist. Lloyd paces a track in the sand to pass the time. He counts grains of sand and tries to find shapes in the clouds for a while. He brushed honeysuckles mane for a while, until she got annoyed and bit at him so he would leave her alone.

He even sticks his hand into the mist to feel it, marveling at the tingly feeling spreading over his skin.

Night passes agonizingly slowly, but it does finally end. The sun rises in the sky easily, casting an increasingly familiar dim glow through the clouds.

Birdy doesn’t come back.

#ninjago #zane julien #lloyd garmadon #ninjago never the dark #spinchip fic #ninjago au #body horror #mentions of addiction

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strawberry-cow-smut · 11 months

Text

Satan's Classroom Shenanigans

🌸Ageless + Minor = DNI🌸

Characters: Submissive, Top Satan (Obey Me)

Reader: Gender Neutral, Dominant, Bottom Reader

Exploring: Public Play, Secretive Play, Classroom Fucking, Blowjob, Exhibition (if you squint), Dick Riding, Overstimulation (Satan), Begging, Multiple Orgasms, Almost Getting Caught, Infirmary Fucking, Multiple Creampies, Abandonment of Restraint, Demon Form (though not playing a huge part)

Satan struggles to keep his head. Normally collected and focused, sharp as a knife in the classroom, he suddenly finds himself unable to think about anything aside from the menace hiding under his desk, prodding and rubbing at his cock during the last lecture of the day.

He's struggling to sit still. How could he when you're undoing his pants here of all places?! Do you have any idea how many people would see if he moved from his desk? What if the professor asks him to demonstrate a spell? You both would be exposed in a heartbeat.

You dig your nails into his thighs as his hips buck slightly, dick standing tall and proud before you. It's a miracle the tent in his pants didn't rip the fabric. He's leaking precum already and you've barely even touched him. He's so cute when he's this sensitive. You wish you could see his face right now, but that'd blow your cover, and you're going to be too busy blowing him.

His poor pen bears the weight of his restraint, teeth sinking into the cheap plastic covering and nearly puncturing the inkwell within the center. The professor's speaking. The class is entirely silent aside from them, and Satan couldn't stand to bear the embarrassment of moaning mid-lecture like Asmodeus had once done eons ago.

"Satan? Page 164, if you please."

Oh no.

He stands slowly, his left hand gripping the edge of his desk to the point his fingers turn white, his right hand shakily holding the textbook as he sucks in a sharp breath. The desk is at waist height, barely tall enough to hide you sucking his cock like it's the last source of water within an endless desert.

"Magical... Magical Creatures, Chapter Seventeen. The Gryffin is a-ah! A mythological beast whose body resembles that of a lion from the humAN world, and possesses the wings and head of an eagle. They range in size from as SMALL as ah... a mouse to as large as a small tank."

"Thank you, Satan. That will be enough. Are you alright?"

"Y-Yes! I'm perfectly fine! Just... a bit under the weather is all."

"Are you sure? I believe it would be in your best interest to see the nurse."

"I'll be j-just fine. I just need to relax a bit more."

Oh, he'll relax alright.

The professor dismisses him without another word, ending his lecture and instructing the class to continue reading the rest of the chapter on their own. Satan sits with a shaky sigh, cheeks flushed from embarrassment and sweat dripping down his face. He surely intends to show you who's in charge when the two of you get home, but as for now, you're the one holding the metaphorical leash.

As soon as he's relaxed enough, you decide it's time to up your game. Without any warning, your nose is pressed up against his torso, his dick down your throat as far as it can reach. It's a miracle how you can keep quiet with all the spit and the pace you're bobbing your head. He's digging his claws into the seat of his chair now, surely leaving deep cuts that go against the grain of the wood.

He's so fucking close to reaching a peak. Satan hides his head in his arms, forehead pressing against the cool lumber next to his open textbook. Tears prick the corners of his eyes as he struggles to resist coming undone. All he needs is just a bit more. He's torn between wanting to finish and wanting to maintain his dignity in front of his peers, but there's only so much he can do when you're sucking his soul out so feverously.

Satan gives up. He gives up almost completely as his body begins to shake and his claws dig further into the dark oak of his desk. He lets out a sharp whimper, filling your throat with a flowing white river. His classmates and professor look at him, concerned for his wellbeing.

Satan is panting, shaking, barely holding himself together at this point. He pants and takes a few deep breaths to catch his own before looking up at the professor.

"Satan? I do believe you'd better go to the nurse before your condition worsens."

You're quick to clean him up and fix his clothing. Satan's still shaky but agrees with the professor after noticing nothing would be amiss if he chose to stand, thanks to you.

"You're right, Professor. I'll be heading there at once. I-I apologize for concerning you all."

He gathers his belongings and shakily exits the classroom without another word. Some students utter words of concern as his legs threaten to give out with every step. You have no choice but to remain silent in place until the end of the lecture, only able to escape the room once all the other students and the professor have left first.

As the last of the students leave, you join the endless sea of demons and other magical beings flooding the halls between classes. You make your way to the nurse's office, deciding to check and see if your friend is "recovering" alright. Satan's in the third bed, closest to the wall and farthest from the door. The nurse is out for a moment, not an unusual circumstance considering it's their lunch hour.

"You! You almost got us caught with your little stunt in there! I can't believe you had the... the... the audacity to go that far! I didn't expect you to continue until I finished! We're unbelievably lucky the professor mistook me for being unwell."

Satan sighs as you draw closer and sit on the edge of his bed, taking his hand and bringing it to cup your cheek. He brushes his thumb over your cheekbone, sighing.

"Well... I suppose it wasn't all bad. That was... exhilarating, to say the least, even if it may be a bit troublesome to deal with the aftermath. Maybe this sort of thing wouldn't be bad every once in a while. I'm glad we got to explore this side of our relationship together."

He always gets so sweet and sappy after he's coming down from a high. It's sweet. He's always going on about how much he loves you and how he's so happy you both can be as rough or as gentle as the other needs them to be. Unfortunately for him, you're not ready to be sappy. There's still one more thing on your mind, and it's back in his pants.

You stand and pull the privacy curtain shut, closing the view of the bed off from the rest of the world. He stammers, questioning exactly what it is you're doing, a tiny glint of fear peaking through his normally collected demeanor. You turn towards him once more, staring him down as a cat does an injured mouse.

Your pants and undergarments hit the cold tile of the infirmary floor. You climb onto his bed, legs straddling his thighs as you pull his pants and boxers low enough to expose his half-hard cock. He's visibly excited, but his long refractory period prevents him from standing at full attention for a few more minutes. No matter, you reposition your core and take him in completely.

His growling and whining resurface and he lets out an unrestrained moan that fills the room. It's fortunate you two are the only ones in the infirmary, otherwise, there would have been no hiding exactly what's happening behind the thin white linen walls.

You grind against him with every drop of your hips, the pace unbearably fast as his erection continues to harden within you. Your nails dig into his chest, and his own claw at the sheets of the bed, eager to grab hold of something but not wanting to hurt you. He doesn't trust himself not to dig his claws into those thighs he loves so much when he can't even be bothered to restrain his voice for the moment.

Incoherent, muffled voices outside the door begin to grow louder as passing students flood the halls on their way to their dorms and extracurriculars. The only thing you're concerned with is riding him like the insatiable, cock-hungry animal you've become.

"Please! Ngh, fuck! I'm about to cum again! You need to slow down before-- Ah!"

Fuck his moans are beautiful. They start off melodic and end with an enticingly lewd growl. You didn't know he could be this expressive in bed before today. He's practically begging for mercy, still sensitive from the classroom shenanigans.

You do not grant it.

Satan's back arches and his hips thrust upward into you as he orgasms a second time. You're lifted up as his hips stutter beneath you, voice filling the room with lewd curses strung together as his eyes roll to the back of his head and the sheets begin to tear under his grip. He begins to still after a few moments, but you don't stop. You don't even slow down.

Satan's hands frantically look for anything to ground himself, worsening the tears in the fabric below him. His frantic gaze lands on the pillow lying underneath his head. He grabs at it, hoping for something to help relieve the intensity of the high you're pushing him towards, but in his overstimulated and careless state, he can't control his own strength. It takes mere seconds before there's a mess of feathery down and fabric scraps surrounding the head of the infirmary bed.

His eyes are starting to glow. Feathers are pushing out sporadically against the skin around his neck. Horns pierce through the golden hair on his crown His canines are growing sharper and his growls start sounding far less than human. There's not much left of his ability to control himself, though with you there was hardly ever any to begin with.

His claws slip from the mangled mess of a pillow and find their way to your hips, digging his nails into your sides and rutting up into your core; fucking his seed deeper without the restraint he desperately clung to before. His speed is almost unbearable. The way his cock drills into all the right places has you seeing stars and crying his name in response.

The thrusts are losing their regularity. Hips stuttering and nails threatening to pierce the soft skin of your hips, Satan bites down on his own lip until he's the one bleeding; filling you for a third time this afternoon.

It's almost unbearable. With the way his cum flows out of you like a river, you're mindlessly thanking yourself for having the foresight to make sure neither of you were still wearing your uniform pants.

With shaky legs and sweat covering both of your bodies, you fall to the side to catch your breath, grabbing some nearby tissues and cleaning the both of you up enough to at least redress before someone walks in and manages to put two and two together.

Satan's head flops to the side to gaze at you; chest heaving with every breath.

"Haah--that was... that was amazing." A hand comes up to push back his golden locks to unobscure bright green eyes, softening as they settle upon your glowing form.

His hand comes to rest gently against your cheek as he tilts your chin for a tender kiss, wanting to cherish this moment. As much as you want to indulge him and relish this moment, the growing sound of clicking heels interrupts the saccharine air of your post-orgasm bliss.

You shoot out of his infirmary bed, standing up straight and wiping the remaining sweat off your face in a flash, just in time for RAD's nurse to pull back the curtain and stick a thermometer in his mouth without a word. A minute passes silently without them acknowledging your presence. until the thermometer's beep cuts through the still air.

"Hm." The nurse pulls the thermometer out of his mouth and jots down the reading onto their clipboard.

"Professor called ahead for this one. Sweating, flushed cheeks, heavy breathing, abnormal behavior in class, sluggish and lethargic disposition. Sounds like a classic fever." The nurse turns towards you.

"You live in the same building, correct? Make sure he gets home safe and gets plenty of rest and fluids. He should be fine by Monday if he listens and takes some standard fever-reducing medicine from the drugstore. He's to stay strictly on bedrest until he can stand without losing his balance. "

"Oh don't worry. He'll definitely be getting that bedrest."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tags: @snowsnetwork

#om! satan x reader #satan x reader #om! satan #satan obey me #obey me smut #strawberrycowsmut #holy fuck sorry this took so long i literally was stuck for MONTHS in my head and just like not in a good way #this has literally been in my drafts for ages and im not so in love with the way i wrote it compared to when i first started it but #hey at least it's done now #pspsps satanfuckers pspspsps come get your poorly made crumbs

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writing-by-mimi · 2 years

Text

Prize of War

Adult content, read at your own risk. Not beta read.

Diavolo watched from his horse as the kingdom burned. It was fitting for the rage inside of his chest. I wouldn't be long now until the man who had betrayed his father when he was a boy would be brought to him.

This plan was years in the making. Revenge for all he had suffered. Years at the hands of others, taken from him as he was forced to be no more than a slave to survive.

After eleven years, now a man instead of a fragile child, would he take back what was his. The castle, the lands, all of it down to the tiny pebbles that rested in the gardens. It was his.

"Barbatos, status report." His eyes never left the flames. It would take years to rebuild after the seige he laid, but it mattered not to him. It would all be his again, and until every brick was remade, replaced and put where it belonged, he would reside on the lands he had first bought.

"The 'king' is captured." He turned his horse to meet his generals. "Lucifer is working on bringing you a prize. For all of our intel, it seems it was not enough."

"What of the 'prize'? Surely something of such value to be considered as such was not over looked." He crossed his arm, continuing to watch the flames lick up the side of the wing where his bedchambers once rested.

"I did not believe it myself, but I know that you will have true revenge now."

True revenge... the only way it would ever be so close is if he could take this man's life infront of a child's. To leave them haunted for years to come and make them nothing more than a servant.

A child would have been known. It would not have escaped the intel. Yet as he watched Lucifer ride with a wiggling body, it would have to be exactly that.

Even bound, you struggled against the man that had ripped you from the passage way the servants had hid you in. Ankles tied and hands bound behind your back, your ribs felt like they were on fire as the horse continued its pace. The strong hand holding you to the horse had not let up since it had flung you onto the beast.

"Beelzebub has secured the king, he was only a minute behind me. It will not be long now."

"The woman?" He raised his brows.

"Princess of the castle. The servants tried to hide her among the escape tunnels you spoke of." He let the grip on the back of your dress go and pushed you from his horse.

Hitting the ground feet first didn't help keep you from the ground. While still bound you hadn't been able to correct your landing or catch yourself. Covered in mud and wet from the ground, you did your best to struggle more against the ropes as someone lifted you up to your feet.

Pulling against the man, you had tried to flee. For what good it would do, you weren't sure. Being so tightly bound you'd only be free if someone untied you. "The servant told me everything before I ran them through. The reason no one knew of her was because she is a bastard child to one the kings many whores. The mother died birthing the child."

Diavolos eyes traced your body with a heavy gaze. A bastard princess concealed in the castle walls. Perhaps wishes did come true.

Beelzebub had come as Lucifer spoke, unceremoniously throwing the man from his horse to the ground.

Diavolo couldn't help the smile that crept onto his lips as he dismounted his horse and pulled the man up by his hair. Did this man even remember him? Would he recognize the man standing strong and tall, the one who had laid seige to his ill gotten gains? It had been years since the man laid eyes upon him, but surely he would not forget the small child he slit a man's throat in front of...

Without saying a word, he marched the man infront of the woman Lucifer had found and pulled a dagger from his hip. This blade had seen its fair share of blood, but today it would be repaid. Made whole by a false king after taking the rightful kings so many years ago.

Barbatos grabbed the woman by the hair and forced her eyes open. It would do no good if you were not to see.

Revenge had been quick. The man's words of promise for riches and jewels dying on his tounge as the blade swiftly moved through flesh and ligaments.

Diavolos eyes never left your face. Even as the blood of your father covered you leaving you with nothing but shock and confusion. Had his face looked as yours?

"Long live the rightful king." The man released you and bowed. All you could do was rest on your knees as tears slid from your eyes and mixed with the blood of your fathers. He may have been a stranger, but he had chosen to keep you though you were a woman born of another, not of the queen. He never treated you unfairly, other than your concealment, yet the kind stranger that now laid dead before you, your father, was no more.

"Shall we end the line, mi'lord?" A hand in your hair pulling roughly at you stirred you from your thoughts. Ending the line...they wished to kill you too.

The man before you seemed to debate your fate for a moment before letting out a hearty laugh as he mounted his horse. "Bring me my prize Barbatos. I know of ways to make use of her."

#obey me #obey me!#obey me diavolo #obey me! diavolo #diavolo x reader #diavolo x mc

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a-world-of-whimsy-5 · 4 months

Note

Greetings M :) Sending you a request for the prompt: "Hot Chocolate and marshmallows - modern AU" with Fingon x reader please? Thank you!

Pairing: Modern! Fingon x Reader (second person POV)

Themes: Soft/Fluff

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 600+ words

Summary: Fingon looks forward to enjoying a cup of hot chocolate after coming home.

Minors DNI

Divider by @estrelinha-s

Fingon peeled off his wet jacket and hung it on the wall-mounted rack by the door, looking about as miserable as he felt. The weather was particularly vicious this evening, with snow falling relentlessly and the wind having a sharp bite to it. All in all, it was a most wretched journey home.

At least the water ran hot while he showered, and the soap smelled faintly of orange while it glided over his skin. Ten minutes was all he took, but those ten minutes were glorious. When the last of the icy chill was driven out of his body, he stepped out of the shower to dry himself off and put on a pair of jeans and a comfortable sweater. And while the scents of fresh flowers on the mantle and the pine from the Christmas tree were invigorating, it was the scents from the kitchen that truly enticed him.

“Ah, what scents.” Fingon made himself comfortable in his usual seat at the breakfast nook. He took a deep breath and sighed dreamily. “Tomato soup. Grilled cheese sandwiches. Chocolate?”

“Hot chocolate and marshmallows for later.” You set his dinner on the counter and took your place beside him, giving him a discrete, measured look. Even in a pair of old jeans and a sweater, everything that was Valinorian about Fingon shone through. Tall and sharp, and with that sleek, waist-length dark hair of his, he stood out wherever he was and in whatever he wore. “I swear you are as skilled at sniffing things out as that beast your cousin calls a dog.”

“Tyelko will not take kindly to Huan being called a beast.” Fingon swallowed the first spoonful of soup and closed his eyes. Fresh tomatoes. Herbs. Spices. It was just what he needed after a long day at the office and a miserable commute by train. “And you are an angel for making this for me.”

“I will make sure to remind you of that when we go gift shopping,” you remarked merrily.

Soup went down the wrong way when he laughed. “Make sure that you do,” he managed between a fit of coughs. It cleared soon enough, and he returned to his meal. The soup continued to be a feast for the senses, as were the sandwiches that followed. The bread was crisp and warm, and the cheese melted in his mouth with each bite. Fingon then helped himself to more soup, and brought a second serving for you as well.

Dinner passed in companioble silence for a while. You then asked Fingon about his day and about his journey home. He grumbled about work and about the new troubles with his half-uncle. Then he complained about the project that had to be completed before he left for home. Finally, he turned to the weather.

“It started snowing an hour before I left work,” he continued, “and it continued to snow during the train ride home, and it was still snowing when I walked here. And it looks like it is going to keep snowing until tomorrow morning. At least I do not have to worry about going to work tomorrow or the days after that.”

"Well, I know of something that could put you in a much better mood than the soup,” you decide and return to the stove. The smell of soup slowly gave way to the sweet redolence of cocoa and chocolate and milk. Fingon pushed the bowl away from him, so eager was he to accept the steaming mug of hot chocolate you poured for him. He clapped his hands with glee when you sprinkled tiny spheres of white marshmallows on top, then grated nutmeg over them.

“Hot chocolate,” you smiled indulgently, “and marshmallows. Just like I promised. Because I am, as you say, an angel. Remember that when we do go gift shopping.”

A great deal wiser this time, Fingon waited till his laughter died before taking that first sip.

#whimsy's christmas fics #fingon #fingon soft #fingon x reader #reader insert #reader insert requests #the silm #twelve days of ficsmas

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imaginedreamwrite · 1 year

Note

Picture Number 1 is giving Thick Thighs save Lives vibes.

City girl visits the stables to see the boys but can’t find them. She sees this beautiful horse and starts talking to it and walking forward. The boys walk in and start getting nervous and trying to get her away because the horse tends to have an attitude but she gets near and the horse loves her. Very Snow White-ish 😂

“Boys are off property and outside doing work,” Becca addresses you before you can even get your boots on, sending the directive with a kind of smirk like she knows what you’re going to go before you do it.

“I’m going for a walk, not a…” you bite the inside of your cheek, teeth tugging at the skin that was nothing more than a bad and nervous habit, “…I’m not going to have sex-”

“Save a horse-” Becca chortled, teasing you and even continuing to speak even after you’d left the house and slammed the door.

You stepped off the porch and listened to the gravel crunch beneath your boots that Ari bought you after your first riding disaster. The first time you’d been on a horse, your foot slipped through the stirrup due to a lack of heeled boot, and your toe hit the horse at an odd angle. While your mount hadn’t bucked you off or got spooked enough to run, it had prompted Ari to buy you boots.

The on-site vet was concerned about you, and the horses well-being, and had returned the next day with a brand new pair.

“Save a horse ride a cowboy.” You scoffed and stepped through the open door of the barn, watching the few horses inside either pay you no mind or watching you carefully.

You’d been in the barn with Becca a handful of times before, and of course with Ari, Bucky, Hal & Steve. Being here on your own was a different experience, being here on your own had given you a different perspective of the structure that was a safe place for their horses.

“You’re new,” you crooned at the horse you hadn’t seen before, its plain black and white face peeking over the stall door, “when did you get here?”

Of the horses that were kept inside, you’d ridden one and helped groom the others but the third you’d never seen before. It was beautiful and solid, tall and appeared healthy although seemed to be unsure of yourself.

“You’re so pretty,” you reached for the horse, keeping your hand flat and almost completed unexpecting to have have its nose pushed into your palm, “okay, you want attention. I get it.”

“Baby!” A voice from the other side of the stall hadn’t deterred you from stroking your hand down the horses’ cheek and neck, slowly familiarizing yourself with the gorgeous animal.

“Bucky-”

“Baby, that horse is-” He stepped toward you, just moving enough to draw the horses’ ire.

You were mildly stunned when the horses’ ears had been pinned to its head, turning from you toward Bucky. You stepped back, watching the horse snap its teeth as if it was trying to bite Bucky. It was clear the horse didn’t like him, although when its attention was back on you the horse was pleasant and charming.

“-a beast.”

“Beast? No.” You cooed at the horse, laughing under your breath when it nodded its head and neighed in response to your voice and petting. “You’re not a beast, you’re a beautiful baby. You’re a baby.”

“Its not a baby-“ Bucky took another step toward you, stirring more ire from the horse, and Bucky had stumbled back it kicked the door with force, ears pinned.

“You’re beautiful.” You addressed the horse with nothing but tenderness, smoothing your hand down its neck. “Bucky’s just mean.”

“Clearly he has a favourite.” Ari’s voice came from behind Bucky, the two of them watching you and the horse with no name, one of them was prideful and the other cautious.

“Good, she can have the beast.”

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theyareweird · 1 month

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Nurturing Beastman – Chapter 1

The Beast World

White flashed across their vision. Onica gasped. Their pulse spiked. This was a bad time to suddenly go blind. Fortunately, their eyes didn’t go dark. Onica’s surroundings weren’t completely black. Instead, the white vanished from their pale blue eyes and their blurry sight returned. Rapidly blinking, Onica squinted through their sunglasses. It was bright outside as they suspected, but their environment changed. The petite person furrowed their thin eyebrows together in confusion. All the tan houses of their neighborhood had vanished. Onica was now surrounded by a thick forest of oak trees. Instead of a concrete sidewalk, the person was standing on lush grass. Chirping birds and various buzzing bugs filled the air rather than the quiet atmosphere of the desert Onica grew up in.

Due to the sudden change, Onica froze in place. Their mouth agape and eyes wide. They had no idea where they were. All Onica knew was they were taking a casual stroll around their neighborhood before they suddenly ended up stranded in the middle of nowhere. Despite being in a bit of a daze, they decided to breathe. Slowly inhaling and exhaling, Onica’s breaths were shaky. They needed to calm down. If they didn’t obtain enough oxygen throughout their respiratory system, they were going to become paralyzed and collapse into a blackout.

Onica told themself everything was going to be fine. If they wandered around, they’d find people eventually and receive help. With that in mind, Onica decided to start walking. The ground was incredibly uneven. This was odd, but they assumed the forest was part of a reserve if it was untouched by people. Perhaps Onica was near the border and they would find a ranger station building soon. Unfortunately, they couldn’t walk in a straight line from where they started. Onica had to walk over and around various boulders and branches to maneuver their way around.

Although this should have been the least of their worries, Onica remembered ticks thrived in forests. They shuddered at the thought of one of those blood sucking bugs hitching a ride on their body from the trees. Onica hated bugs, especially ticks. But they eventually made their way through the forest.

On the other side, Onica slipped into further perplexity. A village constructed of mud huts came into view. There were no paths in the ground. Only bright grass covered the area. In some patches, the grass was as tall as the circular homes. Some trees dotted the landscape to provide shade.

Unfortunately, the change of scenery wasn’t the strangest thing about this predicament. There were a peculiar amount of cats outside around the villagers. Felines of every shape, size, color and fur type were scattered about. Cats sat outside the huts, laid in the grass or crawled around between treetops and the hay roofs of the mud huts. Although there were some male and female-looking villagers who appeared normal, the majority of the people possessed feline traits. Cat ears stuck out of their heads. Slit pupil, glossy eyes mostly stared back at Onica. Thin or bushy tails also fell out from underneath these villagers’ loincloths and skirts.

All eyes were on Onica as they approached civilization. They nervously gulped, hoping these people spoke their language. It was natural these villagers would be weary of outsiders, specifically modern outsiders. However, Onica couldn’t help but notice some of male and female-looking people’s tails moved.

“Little female, are you lost?” A male suddenly asked. A young man with black cat traits approached Onica. He wore a skirt made of black fur, but nothing else. The male was quite thin in mass.

“Um, yeah.” Onica sighed in relief. They could understand these people.

The male with pale white skin nodded in response. “I see. I’ll take you to our tribe’s chief.” He then turned on his heel and led Onica through the village. “My name is Niko. I’m a village warrior.” He smiled, revealing his sharp teeth. “What’s your name?” Niko asked.

“My name is Onica... and I’m not a female, I just look like one.” They mumbled. Even though this wasn’t the time and place for this, Onica fell into an old habit of correcting people’s assumptions of their gender identity.

“Are you a male?” Niko questioned. Onica shook their head. “I see. You must be a Nurturer who doesn’t care for gender.” He concluded.

Onica scrunched up their face in confusion. The longer they were in this strange place, the more questions they had. Onica cocked their head to the side. “Nurturer?” They repeated. “What’s a Nurturer?” Onica asked.

Niko frowned at Onica. “A Nurturer is a Beastman who possesses the ability to lovingly raise young.” He explained.

“Is that what you are?” Onica questioned.

Niko’s yellow eyes stared at Onica with concern and his ears dropped. “No. I’m a Nature Beastman. You can tell because I have animalistic traits, which means I can shift into an animal.” He explained.

Onica didn’t know what to say. At this point, they believed they stumbled upon a cult. However, Onica didn’t know how to explain the realistic cat ears and tails moving on these people's bodies.

“You must come from a quaint tribe”. Niko commented. It was clear to the beastman that Onica is incredibly sheltered. This had to be the case considering their little body. Onica’s chief and elders must have done this to protect the nurturer of their tribe. As a result, they severely lack basic knowledge regarding the beast world.

Soon, Niko and Onica arrived at the chief’s hut. The wooden door to the lumpy mud structure was already open. Approaching the door, Niko tapped the back of his knuckles onto the smooth surface. “Chief! I found a Nurturer wandering the village unaccompanied. It appears they’re not from our tribe.” The cat-like human announced.

When Niko stepped inside the humble abode, Onica removed their prescription sunglasses. They then unzipped their shoulder bag and pulled out a black case to switch out the sunglasses with a pair of seeing glasses. Slipping the rectangular lenses over their face, Onica proceeded to put their other glasses away and zip up the bag.

A man appearing in his forties then came forth. He wore a loincloth and sandals on his tan body. “A Nurturer not of our tribe?” The chief eyed Onica’s appearance. “Dear child, what kind of skins are those?” His green cat eyes held curiosity and concern. “–And what is on your face?” The chief questioned, his age lines stretched across his face as he spoke.

Onica then looked down at their appearance. They were wearing a black jacket over a red t-shirt, jeggings and a pair of black tennis-shoes. “Uh... they’re rare skins?” Onica awkwardly admitted. Based on how revealing these people’s attire was, most of them must have never heard of cloth before. “–And these are my glasses... They help me see better.” Onica said, tapping the side of the metal frames with their index finger.

The chief’s eyes widened. “Your tribe must have spoiled you for being one of the few... if only, Nurturer born to your people”. He then allowed his eyes to inspect Onica’s condition thoroughly. “You don’t appear to have any mate marks on you yet.” The chief stated. “My name is Chief Kiki.”

“May I please be the Nurturer’s first mate when they come of age?” Niko suddenly blurted, pleading to the chief.

Onica immediately snapped their head towards Niko’s direction. Their wide eyes were nearly popping out of their sockets. “What?!” Onica exclaimed.

“If the Nurturer is attracted to males, you may pursue them.” Kiki replied through a sigh. “However, remember it’s entirely up to the Nurturer if they want you as one of their mates.”

Niko nodded. “I understand, Chief. I’ll do my best to win the Nurturer until they mature. But I’ll back down if my efforts are futile.”

Onica’s mouth hung open. They couldn’t believe what kind of discussion had taken place between this man and his chief. Luckily, Onica looked much younger than they appeared. With their incredibly scrawny body and four-foot-eleven height, it was easy to mistake them for a minor. “I’m not into men!” Onica cried.

Niko’s ears dropped in disappointment. “Oh... I see.” He frowned.

Onica mirrored Niko’s saddened expression. They felt bad, but they couldn't lie about their romantic orientation or sexuality.

“You already know what you’re attracted to, dear child?” Kiki smiled. “You must not be far from reaching maturity!” He beamed. “In that case, we’ll introduce you to our many beautiful female Nature Beastman while you’re here. I’m sure one will attract your eye and you’ll take her as a mate in the future.”

“Huh?!” Onica was at a loss for words. There was more to a partner than one’s appearance or aesthetic attraction. Have neither of these people heard of personalities? In addition, Onica couldn’t understand how pairing a female to a genderless, but female-bodied person was a good thing for matting. They assumed a world like this would thrive with couples who could reproduce.

Before Onica could question the situation further, Kiki spoke up and asked, “How on Earth did such a tiny thing like yourself end up on your own?”

“I got lost while exploring my environment.” Onica replied.

Niko frowned. “I’m surprised you were allowed to leave the safety of your tribe alone.”

“What clan are you from?” Kiki asked. “Whatever clan you are from, your tribe must be worried about you. We’ll let your chief know we’ve found you and safely return you to your people.”

Onica’s shoulders rose up as they clutched their forearms. “Uh... What clan do you think I’m from?” They awkwardly grinned.

Niko held his chin in thought. “You have big eyes and a tiny build... You could be from the Cat Clan, like us.” He suggested. “This is the Central Cat Tribe. That’s why many breeds of cats are mixed in the area. The surrounding tribes each contain a specific breed of cat. Maybe you are from a poor and tiny cat tribe around here.”

Kiki stroked his stubble beard and hummed in thought. “If your people showered you with such luxury, perhaps you are from the Ape Clan. Those Beastman are known for their intelligence, but they’re the only clan whose Nature Beastman don’t possess the ability to shift.” He stated.

Onica gasped at the chief’s words. This could explain their cluelessness if they jumped on the idea. “Yes! That’s why I’ve never seen a Beastman who shifts.” Onica quickly blurted. Upon saying this out loud, they realized all those felines outside were people who managed to turn into cats.

#beastman #story #nurturing beastman #lgbtq+#queer #nonbinary

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hitomisuzuya · 1 year

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Scaramouche x Fatui!fem! reader. SFW In Which Scara discovers how you picked up on handling him when he got difficult to deal with. Featuring a horse. Some footnotes at the end with definitions of some horse terms used. Please enjoy❤️

You were looking a map with Scaramouche and a friend of yours. It was her map that you were looking at by the way. You felt guilty because you were the reason why they were even stopped to begin with, sort of.

You often rode your horse out on joint operations. Your friend, one of her subordinates or yours would ride behind you if your squads were travelling a long distance on foot.

You offered Scaramouche the same offer, but he only blew you off saying that he didn't get tired. "I swear that fucking creature hates me. It always looks like he glaring at me or sizing me up. It's offensive. It's like he can see inside my soul everytime he looks at me*." Men weren't allowed to ride behind you because it required wrapping their arms around your waist.

Let's just say that he was at odds with your horse in a competition for your affection and love.

Earlier that afternoon, your horse had turned up a little lame* when the frog* of his hoof clipped against a rock. He would be fine once you removed the rock.

However..

"Ma'am! I'm sorry but, we need you right away!" One of your friend's subordinates said, running up to you like his life depended on it.

Scaramouche glared, looking offended that he'd interrupted him while you discussed how best to proceed forward because one of the paths your groups was going to take was now blocked by a fallen tree blown down during an intense thunderstorm last night.

"What is it?" You asked before Scaramouche could threaten him and make the situation worse.

"We were only trying to help you and remove the rock from his hoof. But he..he just got so angry so fast that someone other than you or our leader was handling him.."

"Shit! I told you all to wait five minutes for me," you said, glancing at your friend before sprinting the clearing you'd left your horse in. Your friend and Scaramouche (who was walking) hot on your heels.

'Well at least they were smart enough to remove my tack* and tried to put a halter* on.' You thought, skidding to a stop to assess the situation.

Your riding equipment was all but dumped on the ground. Your tall, gray horse was rearing up, pawing at the air with his hooves. His liquid brown eyes were darting around, desperately trying to find you.

"Tch, I'll handle this," Scaramouche scoffed as he put his hat on your head. He knew he shouldn't, but your horse was lashing out so violently and at random that he thought you might get hurt. "Fucking idiots, all of them," he added, watching handfuls of subordinates trying to calm the beast down.

"Ugh, everyone stop!" You commanded, even Scaramouche was surprised at how fast he stopped. "Nobody move a muscle, especially you," you said as you walked passed Scaramouche.

The second your horse heard your voice, he seemed to calm down almost instantly. But he was still very frightened. "I'm following her," Scaramouche said, gritting his teeth.

"No you won't. Just stand here and watch, it's been a long time since I've seen her do her thing," your friend said, ignoring the glare Scaramouche gave her. You and your friend has grown up together in Snezhnaya. She'd even used her exceptional leadership qualities and skills in strategy to be placed on your squad so she could watch out for you when you joined the Fatui. She was your Lieutenant, and your right hand woman. You both led your squads together, grouping them together into one.

Scaramouche had to admit he was in awe even if it wasn't evident on his face. So this was how you were always able to handle him so well when he got pissy. It was all because of this difficult creature.

"Easy there, sweetie, I'm right here," you cooed softly, reaching up to pet his neck as he pushed his nose into your chest, nuzzling you. "I'm sorry everyone didn't listen to me and scared you so badly. They didn't mean to. They were only trying to help."

You motioned with your hand for one of the subordinates holding the halter to hand it to you. You put on, patted his neck, and bent down to pick up his hoof, flicking the rock out of it. "There we go, all better now," you giggled when your horse beared full weight on his leg without a problem, looking relieved.

"Avert your eyes, worms. I can see some of you staring at her ass!" Scaramouche snarled, making your horse turn his head quickly to look at him.

"And don't mind him," you told your horse, patting his neck again and rubbing his forehead, "He has a natural asshole voice. Scara isn't as bad as he sounds, I promise."

He heard your friend laugh when she saw him blush lightly from embarrassment as his reputation seemed to suffer a big hit.

*tack is riding equipment. A saddle and bridle.

*a halter is something a horse wears when they aren't being ridden. It's purpose should be self explanatory.

*the frog is the only feeling a horse has in their hoof. Thing of it like the bed of your fingernails. Ouch if your cut your fingernails too far into nail bed, right? It's in a triangle shape on the bottom of the hoof.

*lame is when a horse limps.

*a horse knows everything about you the moment they look at you.

@kichikichiko I know you are here. Do you see yourself in this. Thank you for the sweet Tighnari comfort headcanons. They really mean a lot and I will treasure them everytime I reread them.

#genshin impact #genshin imagines #scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #horses #fem! reader

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shadowfoxsilver · 21 days

Text

The evil managed (Part eight)

(Part seven)

Dream Beast was silent, but the key rings still glowed radiantly from their places on her tail. The Nega crystal was sharing its power with her, but somehow it still wasn’t enough! Nega Lightning grew concerned, wings hanging down a bit at her sides. Had her plan failed? Was Nightmare Beast truly undefeatable in the end? She started to lose hope until she heard a meow behind her. She then turned around to glare at the noise when she saw..Another feline?

The feline looked odd. They was a bit bigger then her, but had lightning marks under the darker eye. One of their wings was also like hers, but larger in size yet just as bright with electricity. It was so odd to stare at them. They looked similiar to the fusion she was part of yet still different. Where had they came from? The chimera of a cat then walked past her and stood in front of the Dream Beast. Their wings lit up with an electrical current as she lowered her head down to look at them before they playfully booped her snout with their face sending a powerful electrical current through her for support. It didn’t hurt, but it made ominous electrical bolts start to crackle around her tail spikes. Nega Lightning tilted her head a little, then heard someone land behind her after she had faced the Dream Beast. So she turned around again and almost screeched.

‘Jess’ was standing there, or at least one of her from another world. Behind her was many others Many more Jess’ from many other worlds and timelines known and unknown. There was also Queen Jess, the changeling queen that Lavandu had tried to turn against Jess but she had since became a close friend only appearing when she was needed. Tall, a bit scary to look at, but willing to help when it’s needed. Dark Jess was there as well; The strong darkness born of no love who would defend Jess at all costs after being befriended and seeing both had the same powers so long ago. Other Jess was there as well, though rarely seen she was still willing to do what she could. Ruby Jess was riding on the back of the unknown Jess who Nega Lightning was looking at. “…And what Jess are you?” Nega Lightning asked, having not met this one yet. Keykeeper was in dragon form to help as well.

“Just called me Perfect.” Perfect remarked with a big grin. “The cat is Chimera, and she helped me gather up these.” She motioned to the crowd behind her with a clawed hand. “I had a feeling my help was needed! So with her help I’ve helped these get here though some already was.” She added. “Now if you’ll excuse us..” She walked past Nega Lightning along with the crowd and stood in front of the Dream Beast. “You can’t do this alone. So let us help!” She yelled, and her horn started to glow with light blue magic. The crowd of Jess’ held up a hand, and a light blue aura began trailing forth and gathering onto the horn of Perfect. “And with our help..You will succeed!” Perfect then lowered her head as the aura faded and a blue crystal had covered her horn. “So go on. Show her.” Perfect then shot a charged beam from the crystal, hitting the Dream Beast herself. The crystal shattered. But the Dream Beast opened her mouth slightly, her fangs glowing a bright blue as electrical arcs of green and purple began to come off her body and the crowd quickly made distance as the very surroundings started to glitch with an electrical charge filling the air.

It was time. Nightmare Beast was about to meet her greatest enemy.

#Special story arc: The evil managed #long post is long

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smallestapplin · 1 year

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Hi it’s me the adaman and Mai with little sibling reader anon can I request Adaman and Mai recusing little sibling reader from an alpha Ursaring

Sure ^^ I did something pretty similar with Lian and Sabi

It gets annoying around the settlement sometimes, being the younger sibling to not only Mai but also Adaman, it left you with no time to yourself.

Everyone always needing you for something, or wanting your attention.

You never got a break.

Which is why you snuck out in the first place, finding an opening in everyone timing and bailing the second you could.

Just taking in the scenery, breathing in the fresh air as you walked down a hidden path, away from the settlement.

It was nice to finally have some peace and quiet.

You keep walking until you find a nice tree with some shade to relax under, and just envy the sunset. You know you can’t stay too long, as Mai and Adaman usually return just before the sun as gone down.

But you’ll take what you can get.

With that you leans back and breathe a huge sigh of relief, closing your eyes you let your mind wonder.

It couldn’t have been that long, maybe ten minutes.

You noticed the warmth of the sun dwindling, making you open your eyes.

Ah it’s getting late….

You really didn’t want to head back, but your brother and sister would worry for you.

Groaning, you stand up, dusting yourself off before looking around. Seems all the Pokémon are gone, or at least awfully quiet, how did you not notice how quiet it got?

As the coldness of the night slowly began to set in, a chill goes down your spine. This all feels wrong.

Dread slowly pools in your stomach, you need to get home and fast.

You hear it before you see it.

A loud, nearly knocking you to your feet with the Earth shattering roar the beast lets out.

You stumble, turning around to see what made such a sound, only to pale at the sight of the massive Ursaring.

The behemoth of a Pokémon standing tall, snarling as you lock eyes with it.

You shriek when the Pokémon starts speeding towards you. Your legs can’t move you fast enough as you take off, running from the beast.

It’s heavy footsteps get closer and closer within seconds, you do the only thing you can think of, and dive to the left, dodging the swing of its claw by a hair.

But it’s still not done, you only enrage it more.

Tears sting your eyes, you’re quickly getting out of breath, but your adrenaline keeps you going.

Every tree you zip behind gets broken down by the raging bear.

You have no Pokémon of your own to defend yourself, you know it’s only a matter of time until your body tires, or until you have nothing left to bob and weave between.

“Leafeon, quick attack!”

Adaman’s voice booms, followed by the sounds of his Leafeon attacking the Ursaring, who lets out another deafening roar.

“Mai get them out of here immediately!”

You barely have a chance to slow down, before the sound of hooves stampeding towards you follow.

You’re grabbed and pulled up onto Lord Wyrdeer.

“It’s okay, I got you.”

By then the tears just pour, as you cling to Mai’s tunic to sob, babbling apology after apology.

‘I shouldn’t have left the settlement!’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t think- I didn’t- I almost-‘

‘Thank you thank you thank you! I was so-‘

Most of your sentences being cut off by your loud wailing.

She only holds you tightly, gently shushing you as you two ride back to the settlement.

“You are okay, you’re safe now, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

She won’t lie though, her heart is pounding, anxiety pumping through her veins.

They could’ve lost you.

The thought makes her hold you tighter.

Lord Wyrdeer stops around a corner, the yurts being just far enough away.

Mai doesn’t want to make a scene, and when Adaman comes back that’s exactly what’s going to happen.

You two sit there on the back of the noble Pokémon, as she lets you cry it out.

Adaman is quick to find you two, eyes wide and full of panic as he rushes over.

“Are they okay!? No injuries? Oh by the almighty lord of time what were you-“

“Adaman, enough.”

The stern look on Mai’s face made him shut up. He registers you cries, oh dear, you must’ve been so scared, and he was about to lecture you!

Carefully he pulls you off the noble, and into his arms, holding you so tightly to his chest as he tries to breath.

He blinks back his tears, holding the back of your head with one hand, trying to ground himself in reality.

Trying to tell himself you’re still here, and that it’s okay.

“I’m glad you’re alright.”

His voice cracks a bit, he didn’t know how to process any of it.

It could’ve lost his sibling, and he never wants to have to think that, or worry about losing you ever again.

You cling to him, burying yourself in a sea of blue of his outfit.

There was a silent agreement to stay right here, just the three of you, at least until you all have calmed down.

#pokemon #pokemon imagines #pokémon #pokemon fanfic #pokemon adaman #pokemon mai #pla adaman #pla mai #sibling reader #platonic

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searchingforserendipity25 · 1 year

Text

The Straying | Little Red Riding Hood

Candy Hearts Exchange entry for @traveleorzea!

“Do not give your name to strangers,” Grandmother told you. “Do not wander from the Road, child.”

You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t. He was the one who heard you singing, and came in from the dark to chase you.

There was a time when you were not a friend of the dark places, and shied away from the groves where the high trees clustered together most thickly. Then, you had not lingered under the oldest trees, and sang all the louder to pretend not to hear when a fledgling cushat landed rustled the quiet and made it - not dangerous, but alive, or at least alive to the possibility of fear.

And before that, you did not notice the differences in the voice of the wild. The Road was steepled with golden shadows cast by golden light, and nothing stilled or hurried you. At the end of the Road was your grandmother's home, and the journey was however long it took your walking songs to warm your throat and rise in clouds of steam around your mouth.

That was before.

You do not keep to the Road now. The birds go still and silent as dead bone when you pass; but if you are very careful, and focus on your woodcraft, they will not notice you at all.

That is better. You can stand in the shadows, listening to the nightingales, watching the wild beasts as one among them. Waiting -

No one will frighten the birds on your watch. All the creatures curled warmly in their dens, the mushrooms blooming their strange and startling lives in the damp rot, the few human lives scattered and struggling their way in the valleys and dens and hollows where turf walls and peat smoke rises: they are safe. You, girl with the oxblood cape, keep them safe.

Sometimes, at twilight, your wondrous and treacherous feet betray even you, and your mind takes flight with the scattering of the nightingales. But usually, you notice it before you come to the moss mound where your grandmother once lived, where the forest grew as a barrow around your childhood.

“Do not give your name to strangers,” Grandmother told you. “Do not wander from the Road, child.”

You didn’t, you didn’t, you didn’t. He was the one who heard you singing, and came in from the dark to chase you.

—

You love him.

Something like love, in any case. Too intimate for anything else. Your family was poor and cold most nights, except for a few dizzying midnights in the summertime; your father was a lumberman and your mother was a lumberwomen, and they taught you to use the ax quick and sure before the hens knew enough to be afraid. Fear was cruel to cause, worse than death; it got into the taste of the stew, and the stew was always meant to last.

No one taught you to hate, and you were never so keen on schooling to teach yourself now. So it must be love. There is nothing for it.

You will be swift and sure, when the time comes. Not cruel. He does not know the difference between kindness and cruelty well enough to appreciate how much it costs you to give it.

—

He said, “Mistress, you sing like the river; you make the silence run and run and leap away from you.”

He said, “Good lady, gentle lady, will you point me to the nearest hearth, so I may be warm in the evening and not cold at night?”

He said, “Where do you go, singer in the Woods, with you satchels and your hampers, heavy in your burdens as a mule, noble in your bearing as a master?”

These days, you do not speak a great deal with each other. But you meet more often.

—

It never crossed your mind to fear him. The worn fur of his oversleeves, the golden surprise that was his eyes, the scars crossing his fingers under the sheen of his rings, silver and worked copper and the dull gleam even you could tell was gold, solid and very old.

Nothing that was unholy and unrighteous could walk the Road, whose stones were planted like seeds by kings and queens of Ages long past.

The cobblestones were worn, rounded. The dandelions grow thick in the cracks, sometimes tall grass thick enough to weave with; but the animals cross it without fear, and lost sheep are sure to find their way to eat and be found, bemused, under the shadow of some oak or aspen or stone pine, grown gnarled in the corner of a crossing.

These things you had known all your life. You did not fear him: he came in the guise of a man, and men never do evil on the Road.

—

You hunt him now. You, the daughter of the forest: your parents dead, your grandmother a burrow where hares with long ears and opaque eyes go to breed. You love him. Your mother’s axe is no longer heavy on your back where you carry it; you have grown the muscles you used to envy as a child, and the slow, steadiness of your hands gathering nuts and finding wild carrots and wild onions and tubers and nests full of rich, yolky eggs is the wisdom your father was known for, by the few who knew him.

But you learning singing from Grandmother, and your singing died with her. Where you go, silence follows; and he after the silence.

—

Once a fortnight you met him on your way to your Grandmother’s house, and once a fortnight he asked you a question.

That is not much, you used to think, because he dressed like a nobleman fallen to disaster, and the nuance of his voice was strange, curious, rich. Rich-sounding.You thought you were travelers going on opposite directions for the afternoon; you thought he had nowhere to go.

You were sorry for him. In those days, kindness came easily to you, with no hesitation in it. You were braver then than you ever will be again.

“A question for a question,” you said, the third time. Kindness with no excuse is only pity, and you had known even then he was not something that would allow itself to be pitied. It was the golden accent, and then way be tilted his nose, smelling, flaring, imperious.

And you were curious. That is one thing about you that has never changed.

Three times, sitting on the twisted roots that breached the stone path and ran from one end of the Road to the other. The first time, on different roots, under different shadows; the second, running for a place to rest when the sky opened with sudden rainfall.

It was the third time, and yours booted feet touched his, briefly; his eyes did not move from your face.

He smiled.

“Where are you coming from?”

“The Road, friend! Where were all come from.”

You laughed, not very amused yourself. “ Where do you go, good sir?”

“Who gave you that ring?”

He stilled. He was not, you knew then, a man who liked to be surprised.

“I did,” he said. “A gift for myself. Life is cruel enough without us being unkind to ourselves, friend."

Of course you realized that he must have stolen it. By then you knew him very well. You liked him: the idea of his quick fingers fondling a jewel-box, the shadow of his palms like paws around the hinges of a treasure hoard.

—

You were enchanted by the golden gleam in his eyes, around his fingers, in the limning of his curls when the light set. The fur sewn on his sleeves was soft as a living pelt. You stroked it once - daring - the last time he took you hand and bent over it with old-fashioned courtesy.

The last time. And then, after the last time you saw him as a man -

You think about his hands, now. As often as you used to. How still they were. How sure.

The fur, made a darker red by the blood, covers the skin as a growing thing. Part of a thing: a beast, a man, a wolf that turned to you, his face shifting from animal to Grandmother to wanderer. Your friend, one among many theater masks.

And beneath the illusion, the forest. Old, old, older than old, than the Road, than the kings, the queens, the mastering human stone. He looked at you with his eyes so golden, and you thought of how soft the fur was, how sweetly your hands hand crushed it between your fingers, so gentle a flirtation.

“Red Robed Mistress,” said he. He sounded so surprised.

The axe is your hand surprised you, as well. It was so much easier to carry than you recalled as a child.

—

You did not give him your name.

“Red Robed Mistress,” he said, and bowed from the waist, more genteel than any creature wearing boots of leather so worn ought to be. “Sweet friend, how good to meet you.”

Your grandmother taught you not to be too generous. Oh, how your mother used to complain about it! - her crusty manners, her precise stubbornness, her friendlessness, her love for remote places. But the lumbering season was long and harsh, and when you were very young you stayed with your Grandmother while your parents went Northwest to hack away at the ancient oaks, living in long cabins of cramped bunks to bring down enough wood for the hungry machines of the City’s factories.

So it was your Grandmother who taught you how to gather dry tinder. To carry old thread spun out of old coarse flax to tie the bundles and balance them on your back, or your head. Where to find the clearest spring water sprouting between hidden stone, behind the curtain of lichens, and where to leave freshly-baked bread for the creatures that kept the water clear and running strong even when the summers lasted long into drought on the other side of the valley.

Your Grandmother gave her name away to the forest, once. But that was a long time ago, and what Grandmother needed a name of her own, when there were children's children to be fed? You had not found the notion strange at all, or selfish, at the time; but then you were very young, and could not imagine wanting to be a Grandmother yourself, nor giving the forest anything bigger than the best loaf of bread - and even that seemed like too much of a sacrifice.

—

The questioning has become a vice. In his absence, which is full of him, more than his presence, you take up the habit. Where are you going, Mistress? Axe-carrier, deep-dwelling stranger, where go you?

You stray away from the Road. The forest welcomes you: its voice the voice of your life, untamed. He escaped you once, for of course the forest loves its fell beasts as well as its singing birds. But you have grown wise in ways your grandmother would approve and ways she would fear, and you give chase now, and you walk around the great roots with your long cloak a flare, a warning, a red promise shrouding you.

In the dark, something gold glistens.

#red riding hood #fairy tales #fairy tale fic #big bad wolf #my fics #legends and fairytales #candy hearts exchange

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