#Not just fur broadly

[bonefall]

Question: Since the mutation that makes sphynx cats nakey (their hair is fragile and sucks) can just happen at random. How would a Clan treat a nakey cat born among them? Could they make them a coat?

I think, at first, there would be concern that it's some kind of sign. Hairlessness looks like mange, a very serious and contagious condition. This could be a terrible omen-- that mange will be brought down to us.

But it would become apparent the kitten isn't a fader, it isn't a StarClan warrior who came down to deliver the others, or a mere sign. It's pink and wrinkled, like a newborn rodent, but moves as the other kits do. Did StarClan... forget its fur?

There's another feared creature without any fur-- humans. It looks human.

I think the poor thing would have a lot of problems with the other cats its age and maybe the more superstitious members of the Clan, but a warrior of the Clan is a warrior of the Clan. Life would be harder for them, but there would still be love that exists.

They'd be capable of making them a coat, and they WOULD need it, but I can see that cat trying to go without it for fear of being made fun of. That's another thing humans do-- wear pelts all over themselves because they have no fur of their own.

Unfortunately they'd also be prone to a ton of really bad health problems. This poor guy would be in the Cleric's den a lot, and may need to retire early or focus on campbound activities.

Health problems;

Pelt is a LOT weaker; injuries from battle or even training would be a lot more severe, Cleric may recommend them not taking part in fights.

Skin becomes filthy, and needs special cleaning. There is no fur to absorb the oil that the skin naturally makes to keep the coat healthy, causing buildup.

Even with proper cleaning, the skin is super prone to rashes, lesions, and constant irritation. Wash TOO MUCH and the skin will become dry and chapped.

SUNBURN. Especially in WindClan, where the warrior might spend a lot of time on the open moor in daylight, and RiverClan, where light reflecting off the water could cause an intense burn. It would be recommended the warrior take night shifts, but this could be an issue because night is cold. (BB!Cats are crepuscular).

Additionally; such severe, uniquely-placed sunburns are something Clerics wouldn't see very often. Lack of medical experience with these sorts of injuries could prove dangerous.

Ear infections. Cats naturally have hair in their ears, which their earwax production accounts for.

Both heatstroke AND frostbite. Very bad temperature regulation leading to severe ailments. Fur helps stabilize body temperature.

So in conclusion...

Life would be very difficult for this individual. Fur isn't just full-body hair; it's almost as fundamental as a top layer of skin. This would be a serious disability for a Clan cat to have, and it may invoke the image of detested humans leading to social stigmatization.

But because they're clanborn, they are unambiguously a member of the Clan. It's likely that the Clan would make clothing for this warrior out of fur pelts, but in their struggle with internalized ableism, they might have conflicted feelings about wearing it.

The Cleric would recommend campbound activities, night shifts, and WEARING YOUR PELT, DAMN IT. They would need to take full baths every few days, not too much and not too little, plus frequent ear cleanings.

#Clan culture #Hairless cat #Disability #for the record. Im not pro-sphinx breeding. I think that's obvious but... I don't think this is ethical. #They can live full lives with extra proper care but I don't think this is just a cute trait that's ok to select for #we shouldn't intentionally breed animals that produce oil for fur we've altered out of them #And they're so prone to rashes and lesions and wax buildup... #There's WORSE breeds but that's also not okay. #they are also not hypoallergenic. Common misconception. They will still bother your allergies if you are allergic to cats. #Because the allergen is the OIL AND DANDER #Not just fur broadly #BUT an animal born this way still deserves sympathy and a full life #and Clan cats always care ferociously for their own. #So if it popped up as a mutation they would be cared for #But if they had the chance to become a kittypet... that might actually really be their best option #Or a daylight warrior even!

[widowmaxff]

the magic of christmas

pairings: natasha romanoff × daughter!reader | aunt!wanda maximoff × fem!reader (all platonic)

warnings: angst, happy ending?, natasha being a really bad mother, reader sees wanda as a mother figure, really mom issues!

a/n: this was supposed to came out on christmas lmao sorry

You hated Christmas. But not just it, you hated all the celebrations that reminded you that you had no one to spend it with. You hated seeing all those kids opening presents, hugging their parents and believing in the magic of Christmas. Maybe you just wanted that too. Maybe you just wanted a normal family. If you had a father would things be normal? Or maybe if it weren't you who came out of your mother's womb, maybe if it were someone else the family would be normal.

When you discovered that all that magic didn't exist, you were a kid, around seven years old. At that time you were at the Avengers Compound, the place was completely decorated while you stared open-mouthed at all those decorations. In the small apartment where you and your mother lived, it was not decorated like the big Tower. Natasha didn't care about that. So, you ran to every room in that big place to admire every bit of it. Soon, you arrived at the kitchen with your light steps and noticed your mother and uncle Steve talking with their backs to you.

“What did Y/n ask for for Christmas this year?” Rogers asks making you stop on your feet as you listened to their conversation.

"I don't know." your mother says. "Wanda always comes to my apartment a few days before to read the letter and buy her what she asked for." Your Auntie Wanda was your favorite person. She seemed to be the only one who cared about you. She was the one who helped you with your homework, who asked if you were okay, who knew your favorite food, color, movie, book and song. She knew everything a mother should know, that Natasha didn't know.

You never asked Natasha to help you with your homework, you never asked her if she would like to play with you or just watch a movie, because you knew she would say no. Since you gained awareness of your own mind and memories, you cannot remember any time when Natasha wished she was your mother.

"You should care about her a little more, you know." Your mother just takes a deep breath, she was starting to get annoyed talking about you.

"I didn't want a kid in the first place."

And it was on that day that you realized that this magic never existed, but Wanda did everything she could to make it exist in you. May you have a normal childhood that your mother would never give you.

That Christmas morning, all the Avengers were gathered around the Christmas tree, including you, who was sitting next to Wanda of course. Each of them opened some of the gifts scattered around while you just watched, quieter than usual. "Now it's your turn, my love." Your Auntie mutters to you, while all eyes were fixed on you. Walking to the tree and picking up your gift, you notice a letter attached to it that a little later that day you would read.

'From: Santa Claus

To: The Brilliant Y/n Romanoff'

It said on the package. You laugh for a second, knowing at that moment and from then on that the one who really would have given that to you was your Auntie Wanda. You delicately open the paper, trying to surprise it even though you knew what was underneath. Your eyes lit up when you saw the large plush of a white bunny with pink details. You never asked for expensive toys and things for Christmas, because you knew there were children in the world who deserved much more than you.

"He's so beautiful, I loved it." You spoke almost like a whisper, but the people around you could still hear you. You stroke the rabbit's soft white fur while smiling broadly. Your eyes stop on Wanda for a moment, who appreciated you with bright and affectionate eyes, happy to also make you happy. "Thank you so much, Auntie Wanda. I really love him."

The smile on Wanda's face disappears when you finish your speech. How did you know she was the one who bought you the gift? Was it that age when children stopped believing in Santa Claus? "Oh." Someone murmurs among the circle of people, falling into total silence as you get to your feet and return to your starting place. Laying your head on her shoulder, still stroking the bunny that became yout best companion on your days alone.

At that moment even your mother was silent, but her eyes never met you. But it doesn't change the fact that Natasha has a great eye, of course, she was once a assassin. You just wished that one time, she would use it to look at you.

You remember arriving at your apartment that same evening with your new stuffed animal clutched to your chest. You enter your room and sit on your bed. The letter that Wanda wrote - or that Santa wrote - was in your hands as you adjusted yourself into a more comfortable position. You open the envelope and notice the handwriting, with perfect letters.

'Dear Y/n Romanoff,

Over the year, I have observed your good behavior and the wonderful things you have done. Your kindness, generosity and efforts to be a better person did not go unnoticed. It fills me with joy to know that there are children as special and unique as you in the world.

I came here through this letter to tell you how important and special you are! Never forget that every day you bring great pride to everyone in your family, especially your mother. They are extremely grateful to have you by their side. They love you very much. Remember to always be that sweet and understanding girl that you are. Your smile and your laugh are bright and you should never stop showing them.

I hope you like your gift which I and someone who loves you dearly, chose from our hearts!

Lots of love, Santa.'

You read those words as if it were Wanda who had write, and it was really her. So the comfort of the lyrics made that magic of Christmas still be in your head, even if it was in the deep layers of your mind. You loved your Autie so much, and the way she wrote about you made you think that maybe some day Natasha would see you the way Wanda does. Your Auntie would always say that you were the most understanding girl in the world. You weren't sure about that, you just knew your mother couldn't take one more burden thing in her life.

And the next year, there was no letter for Santa on the table beside your bed.

Now you were 16, almost ten years since that magic ended for you. It was Christmas Eve again and you just wanted this season to pass. Your room was dark and you really thought about just spending the day lying in bed like some other days. But still, you got up.

You knew you wouldn't find your mother somewhere in the apartment, she was never here. It had been almost a week since you knew anything about her or had seen her. Natasha was probably on some mission or maybe she just didn't want to be breathing the same air as you, why would she want to? And it wasn't like you wanted to see her either. Every time you looked at or remembered her, your eyes begged to release tears.

It had been a few years since you really gave up trying to have her as a mother and having any hope that one day she would treat you like a daughter. So even if you met in some room in the apartment, no words were exchanged between you two, and that was okay with you. Natasha always kept food in the apartment and left you an 'allowance' at the end of the month, maybe this was her way of showing you that she still cared, or maybe she was just doing the minimum.

The ringing of your cell phone in the almost empty kitchen takes you out of your thoughts. You place the coffee mug on the table and reach for the device. 'Auntie Wanda' said the name on the screen and a smile appears on your face automatically. "Hi, dear." It's the first thing you hear when you answer the call, making some of your frustration go away.

"Good morning, Auntie Wanda." You respond, trying not to seem discouraged so that you wouldn't be another burden on Maximoff's life, but it seemed like she always knew when something was wrong with you. "I called you to see if you wanted to spend Christmas with us?" She asks. You really have nothing against Wanda's family - now made up of Vision and their twins, Billy and Tommy -, you just felt that being around them during that festive season that was supposed to be spent among families was like you were an intruder at the moment.

"Oh." You stop for a moment. It was obvious that you wanted to, but the guilt grew even more in you for invading that family. "I don't- I think I'll just stay here today."

"I'm not taking that for an answer!" She laughs, making you roll your eyes but with a smile on your face. "The kids miss you and I even bought matching pajamas for us!"

"Right, right! I want to spend Christmas with you, Auntie Wanda." You speak, hearing your aunt's excited screams on the other end of the call. "Vision will pick you up in... one hour. Okay?" You hummed for her quickly saying goodbye to go pack your things before your Uncle Vision shows up at the door to get you.

After hearing Wanda say that they really wanted you that holiday season, something in you lit up. Maybe Christmas isn't that bad, you just haven't experienced the good part of it. The part where you feel loved by the people around you and who really care about you.

You put your backpack on your back with some things you would probably need if you wanted to spend Christmas away from home. You put on your headphones, stopping for a few seconds to choose a song, but the sound of keys in the front door made you completely stop what you were doing. Natasha was finally home. A part of you thought that maybe she would be back to spend Christmas with you, but you knew deep down that it was impossible.

She enters the living room and looks at you, who was still looking at your phone choosing some music. Your mother looks at the backpack and the shoes next to you that you were still putting on, making her tilt her head. "Where are you going?"

You frown. "Auntie Wanda invited me to spend Christmas at her house." Why? Why do you care? - you almost asked, but decided to just keep your head down, not laying your eyes on her.

"Are you going to walk there?" You see from the corner of your eyes Natasha crossing her arms.

"No. Uncle Vision will come get me in a bit." You reach for your shoes next to you and start putting them on a little faster than usual, perhaps trying to escape that uncomfortable moment where you and your mother finally exchange a few words after more than two weeks.

She nods. "Um... do you want me to pick you up tomorrow?" Natasha murmurs, making you finally lay your eyes on her.

"Why do you care now?"

“... Because you’re my daughter, Y/n.”

"Daughter? You know you've done really good ignoring me my whole life." You remain calm and with a low voice, getting up from the sofa and collecting your things.

Natasha takes a deep breath. "Okay, then you can come back with Vision or something." She uncrosses her arms and leaves the living room, heading towards the kitchen. Excellent. When your mother finally gives you some attention, you ruin everything, as always. You roll your eyes and head out of the apartment. The quicker you get away from her, the less guilty you feel.

[...]

"I missed you so much!" Wanda hugged you tightly as you hugged back, making you laugh.

"I saw you last week, Auntie Wanda." You say. She rolls her eyes before running the palm of her hand through your hair and ruffling it.

"Yes, and it's a long time!" She kisses your forehead and holds your hand, pulling you through the large house towards the living room, where the twins were. "Come on, the boys missed you." You laugh at her enthusiasm, feeling loved by that family.

"Y/n!" The boys shout your name when they see you. They quickly get up from the sofa and throw themselves on top of you, hugging you.

You mess up their hair, imitating your Auntie Wanda's action from earlier. They lead you towards their toys, making you sit on the floor and play with them. You did this without any complaints, because you adored the twins and deep down, you considered them your little brothers, consequently considering Wanda as your mother too - but you would never tell any of them that.

"I'm so excited for Santa to bring our presents!" Billy says as he moves one of his toys through the air. “What did you ask for Christmas this year, Y/n?”

You didn't know what to answer: the truth ruining their Christmas or lying? You obviously chose the second option. "I didn't ask for anything. We don't have a Christmas tree at home, so Santa can't bring me what I ask for." You make up anything, trying not to talk about how the old man hadn't been in your life for a long time.

"Do you think if we put a letter from you here at home he would bring your gift tonight?" Tommy asks. You place one of their toy characters next to another, as if they were fighting.

"I don't think so. Santa Claus has probably already seen all the things the kids want. But it's okay, you two don't need to worry about that," You speak to them. "you guys need to worry about... the tickle monster!" You 'attack' the two boys with tickles, making them laugh until they can't take it anymore. Billy and Tommy get up and start running around the house, screaming at you.

Wanda and Vision, who were hugging each other sitting on the sofa, laugh at the three of you. You get up from the floor and fix your clothes. "I'll find you two! Don't hesitate to run!" You speak loudly to them as they continue to run around. Wanda looks at you lovingly, making you feel at home.

That Christmas Eve was incredible. You watched a lot of Christmas movies and it seemed like every time someone did something affectionate towards you, all your problems would go away and that parental void would gradually be filled. "Come on, Y/n! We have to go to sleep or Santa won't show up with our presents!" Billy says as he jumps on his bed excited to wake up in the morning and see all his orders under the Christmas tree.

You were ready to go to bed in the guest room, which for years could be considered your own room in the Maximoff's house. "Okay, I'm leaving!" You laugh at the boy, leaving a kiss on his forehead and saying goodnight. The other boy, on the contrary, had already been under the covers for a few minutes, probably dreaming about the next morning.

You walk towards the door seeing your Auntie Wanda looking at you affectionately as she waited for you to say goodnight to the boys. You close the door and walk with her to the guest room - or yours. "I'm glad you agreed to spend Christmas here." She says, sitting next to you on the bed.

"Me too. You guys make me like this kind of festive season."

"You know you're always welcome here, right? The twins even see you as a big sister." Wanda tilts her head, looking at you deeply.

"Really?"

"Yeah. And I feel like I raised you all your life for them to feel this way." You lower your head looking at your sock covered feet with Santa. "You did and I'm glad you did it. I can't imagine myself without at least a little affection from someone older."

"I will always take care of you, my love." She leans in and leaves a kiss on your head, stroking your hair subtly. "Now, go to sleep or Santa Claus won't show up!" You laugh, rolling your eyes at her before getting under the covers.

[...]

"Y/n wake up!" The door is opened brutally as the boys run towards him on the bed. You grunt as they start jumping on your bed and screaming your name. "We need to see if Santa brought our presents!" Billy shakes your body making you laugh briefly.

"So, let's go!" You get out of bed, pushing the two screaming boys towards the door again. Wanda and Vision were outside laughing at the three of you again.

The boys run towards the stairs, almost falling on the way. You follow the twins to the living room and when they get there, Tommy and Billy's eyes light up when they see the Christmas tree filled with gifts with different colored wrappers underneath it. They run towards the presents before looking with lost puppy eyes at their parents. "Can we open them now? Please!" Tommy asks Vision and Wanda who were walking towards their children.

"Of course you can."

The boys' parents and you sit on the big sofa in the living room, watching Billy and Tommy open their toys. With each gift opened, they ran in front of you to show you each present - with you having reactions of interest to the objects. At the end of that mess of gift wrappers and toys thrown around the living room there were still two big presents under the Christmas tree, but you were too distracted by the boys showing you the toys to notice.

"Oh, I think there are still two gifts missing." Wanda says, making you smile at the boys knowing how excited they are to open more presents. "But you've already opened all yours, haven't you?" She says to the twins, who smile widely at her, nodding in agreement. "I think it's for the other child here."

They all look at you, making you frown. "For me...? But I-"

"Open your presents, Y/n!" Billy rushes you, making you shrug and walk towards the gifts with a little nervousness. You hadn't done this in so long, you didn't even know how to react to this kind of thing. You place the smallest of them on your lap, looking at the small tag written in pretty handwriting glued to the wrapping paper.

'From: Mom Wanda, Dad Vision

and your two little brothers,

Tommy and Billy

To: The Brilliant and Lovable Y/n'

Y/n looked around the room, her eyes settling on the smiling figures that now filled the space. For the first time, you felt the comforting warmth of belonging.

You turn to the first gift, delicately opening the light blue wrapping. You gasp when you see three vinyl records of your favorite albums. Recently, Vision had given you the record player that he kept but was barely used along with an album by The Beatles. You spent hours and hours listening to the same album that Vision gave you, since you didn't have much money saved to buy others. But now, you could listen to three more full albums.

"Oh- my God!" You shake your head. You look down at the vinyl records on your lap, looking like you've seen something magical. "This is- thank you so, so much! I can't believe it!"

"You're welcome, dear." Wanda says with a large smile on her face. "Now open the other one."

You had a gigantic smile on your face, delicately placing your three new vinyl records on the floor, immediately picking up your other gift. "I didn't need any of this, really." You murmur to the elders in the living room. Wanda shakes her head and moves her hands for you to open your last gift.

You again gently remove the purple wrapping from a slightly heavier box. When you open the lid your eyes widen at the things inside. You start to take out canvases, brushes, paints and many other drawing things from the box. Your eyes sparkled with your new materials. You loved drawing and painting in your daily life, you usually spent drawing and listening to vinyl music, that helped you concentrate on what you were doing and not think abou your life too much.

"Thank you! Thank you so much!" You were almost crying with happiness when you received all those things.

The family setting was new, but the feeling of safety and love was overwhelming. You realized that you were no longer alone, that now there was someone to share your joys and sadness. The emotion showed in your smile and teary eyes, because you had finally found an emotional home and people who loved you. You wanted to cry because when you received those things, you finally realized that those people cared about you.

You didn't hate Christmas. You didn't hate all the celebrations. You didn't hate seeing the twins opening presents, hugging their parents and believing in the magic of Christmas. Now you had that too. Maybe now you just had a normal family. Or maybe it didn't matter who gave birth to you. Who really mattered were the people who care about you, who really love you. And the magic of Christmas really was inside you somewhere, and that family managed to bring it back.

#avengers imagine #marvel cinematic universe #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #black widow #black widow x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha marvel #natasha romanov #wanda marvel #wandavision #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda maximoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x you #wanda x reader #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha x reader #natasha x you #black widow x female reader #black widow x y/n #daughter reader #black widow x you #vision

[justporo]

A Shuffle of Cards

Another shorter one-shot in which Astarion and Tav just waste an evening playing cards and drinking wine and the vampire learns he doesn't know everything about sleight of hand that there is to know - yet.

Pairing: Astarion / Fem!Tav (You) Rating: Teen (just to be sure)

(Gif from here!)

“How did you-?“ “A lady never tells.” Astarion snorted – you flipped him off. “Well, is it your card or not?”

Astarion groaned in frustration: “Yes, it is.” You grinned at him – equal parts proud of yourself and mischievously happy. Then you turned the card over so you could see which one it was. “Oh, Queen of Hearts – so fitting, don’t you think?”, you said and raised your eyebrows cheekily at the vampire. But he had no capacities for teasing – you must’ve gotten him good.

“Show me again!”, he demanded, his ruby eyes already fully concentrated on your slender hands again, brows furrowed critically. You rolled your eyes at him. “You didn’t get it the last six times I’ve done this, what makes you think this time will be different?” “Just show me again!” You breathed out in annoyance and went to shuffle the deck of cards again.

The two of you had gotten cozy in front of the fireplace in your living room while an autumn storm was roaming outside – right on the cliché fur rug, each seated with crossed legs on a pillow. You had been playing cards and emptying a bottle of red wine (“hm, rich taste with a bouquet of red berries and a hint of almond”, Astarion had said after taking his first sip – to you it tasted like good stuff to get wasted on), when you had suddenly exclaimed: “You wanna see a card trick?”

Astarion had scoffed in arrogance and waved at you sneeringly to go on, expecting child’s play. And now he was sitting there trying to figure out how you managed to get his chosen card right every damn time – for fifteen minutes straight. His hands were pressed to his knees, elbows up, while he leaned to you to watch you shuffle the deck artfully. His gaze basically bored into your fingers.

“Love, there is nothing yet to see.” “Maybe I just like to watch what those sinful fingers can do”, he smirked at you, his eyes moving from your hands to your face and grinning even more broadly. The warm orange light of the fire shone in his eyes and illuminated his face in warm tones. He looked so beautiful right then and there, you almost dropped the cards.

But no! You wouldn’t be distracted by him this time. He already almost got what he wanted from you all the time by working his charms on you because you were so desperately inclined to give him everything that would make him smile at you like this.

You unceremoniously placed the cards on the ground before you and spread them out. “Pick a card”, you said to him in an annoyed tone to demonstrate how much you weren’t affected by him making eyes at you, even though one of his soft white curls had fallen adorably onto his forehead now too.

Astarion pouted at your demeanor: “Not giving me the whole show, my sweet?” You slowly blinked at him not reacting further. “Come now, love, this is the last time, I promise”, he then said pleadingly and stretched out his hand to grab you by the neck and pull you towards him for a quick but sweet kiss.

You sighed in defeat and picked up your cards. “Alright, one last time.” You shuffled the deck once more, making the cards jump from your one hand to the other then spread them out in a neat curve with one swift movement – the space between all cards perfectly balanced. Astarion whistled in astonishment which made you look up at him. He smiled and winked at you and you blushed at him cheering you.

“Sooo, would you honour me with choosing a card, Astarion?” “Oh, I would love nothing more, darling!” He made a show of letting his fingers wander through the air above the cards before settling on a card and elegantly dragging it out. “Now, would you please look at it without showing me which one it is and memorise it well.” The vampire drew the card close to his chest and raised his eyebrows mockingly being overly secretive. He took a peek at his card then threw you a glance to make sure you weren’t trying to watch – you sat there waiting for him to be done with your mouth pressed into a line. “Alright, I memorised it”, Astarion said while keeping the card pressed to his chest, eyebrows still raised at you.

“Well then”, you replied and grabbed the remainder of the deck with another swift movement until you had them all in your hands. Then you split them in half and held them out to the vampire. “Please put your card back in.” He did as he was told while acting being hesitant about it. When he had placed the card down, you put the other half above it.

Astarion’s lips opened in anticipation and his eyes were trained on your hands again – now being completely serious about it.

He wanted a show, so you gave it to him – you artfully split the deck up again in thirds and made them whirl around your fingers with an incredible speed. You knew exactly where his card was at any given moment.

“No, no, no – this isn’t fair, love!”, Astarion exclaimed in desperation and pouted at you again, but you just stuck your tongue out at him and kept shuffling. When the vampire looked positively dizzy from watching your shenanigans you stopped and lifted up the top card with its face to Astarion. “Is this your card?”

His eyes widened in surprise then he angrily snatched the card from your hand with furrowed brows. “Yes”, he grumbled while you broke into laughter. “Which one was it?”, you asked him while you put down the remaining cards. Reluctantly, Astarion showed you the card he was clutching in his fingers. “King of Hearts”, he said still pouting.

“Uuh, what another great coincidence, don’t you think?”, you cooed at him cheerfully and slapped your hands on your knees. Astarion narrowed his eyes at you and kept brooding.

“You know”, you said while pursing your lips “because you certainly are the king of my heart.”

You saw it – you saw the light twitch at the corner of his mouth; you got him. “Just as much as you are the queen of mine, my sweet sweet darling”, he answered dramatically and grabbed his goblet of wine to down the rest of it in one go.

“You are only trying to distract me because you lost the last five rounds of cards”, he offered dryly while he licked a remaining drop of “rich, red berry” red wine of his lips. You watched, being mesmerized by the tiny gesture. “Well, is it working?”, you retorted while you kept watching his lips. Astarion noticed your staring and cocked his head: “Hmm, I don’t know might’ve worked better if your clothes had been off.” He leaned back on his hands and watched the effect of his comment unfold. You tried miserably not to blush – damn, would you ever gain some tiny shred of immunity against his charms?

You coughed and rearranged your sitting position. “I only lost because you keep cheating the entire time”, you threw his way to which he lifted a hand to his chest, so taken aback. “My, what a dire accusation. When have you ever known me to be dishonest, my love?” You threw him a single glance. He kept up his dramatic posture.

“Tell you what, you win the next game fair and square, I’ll show you how the trick works.”

“Deal, sweetheart!”, Astarion agreed happily, picked up the cards and started shuffling and dealing you each a fresh hand of cards.

Tonight no new chapter of my longer fic A Night of Song and Laughter (I honestly need a bit of a break, I lost too much sleep the last two weeks or so). But I still wanted to write something. Hope you enjoyed!

#astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader #astarion x mc #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x oc #astarion x you #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion ancunin #bg3 spoilers #one shot

[petrapalerno]

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #12

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, pregnancy, overstimulation, anal play, gagging, violence and murder.

MASTER POST

PREVIOUS

The entrance to the hunting cave is nearly invisible. Golden vines twine over the leather door flap, nearly obscuring it from view. 

Sweat drips off your brow. The humidity of the jungle is so different from the dusty deserts of this planet. You find it hard to believe these two eco systems exist so close to each other. 

Drohako removes the saddle bag from Graysi and sets them near the rocky wall of the cave.

Pushing through the saffron colored brush, you notice the sweat on your arms mingling with the blood of the fallen alien attacker. 

You took someone’s life, extinguishing it in a single act. A full fucking grown Volkroth warrior. 

And he fucking deserved it. 

You think about your life before, how you wouldn’t be able to do what you had just done. 

But things are different now. You love an alien barbarian, you’re carrying his child, and you’ve run away from what little civilization exists on this planet. 

You should feel worse about murdering someone, shouldn’t you? 

Drohako’s hand caresses along the messy skin of your arm. 

“Your first kill?” He questions, although you can tell that he already knows the answer when you nod. “You are strong, you protected your family—wear his blood with honor.” 

Our family. 

You push your way through the overgrowth on the door and into the cave. 

As the leather flap snaps free from the grasping vines, dirt sprays and you cough, your lungs assaulted by the dust. 

The hunting cave is even more primitive than you expected. Unlike where you’ve fled from, there are no comforts. No furs line the sleeping space, the fire pit is tiny, and a thick layer of dust coats everything. 

“You don’t get to do much hunting, do you?” You ask with a sarcastic smile. 

“Hunting seasons are short, especially in spawning years,” he shrugs, pushing past you. 

Drohako removes the incubation pod from his satchel as if it was the most fragile thing in the world. His thick fingers struggling to hold the tech just barely bigger than a gallon of milk.

“Hard to think you were ever that small,” you sigh as you flop down and pat your slightly swollen belly. “I feel like I can’t even feel him in there, you know?” 

A panicked look flashes across his purple face. 

“I mean, he’s in there, but I thought it would feel different—like a parasite.” Your alien frowns, and you get that your choice of words has you sounding less than enthused. 

“What I mean is, it doesn’t feel wrong—it feels natural, like it was meant to be.”

When you look back up at my mate’s face, you can see his gaze soften. 

“It’s fate,” He tells you. “Come, the pod needs a blood sample to activate.” 

He reaches his scarred hand out to you, pulling you to standing. When he taps a button along the incubation pod’s side, a robotic arm pops out. 

“It’s strange Volkroth’s births are so high tech, aren’t it? Because, well,” You gesture broadly to your surroundings. The primitive cave isn’t really where you would expect the Volkroth to live after seeing this little space age orb of white metal and glass. 

“We choose to live in the ways of our ancestors—but we’ve adapted to breed without female Volkroth, and it’s mostly thanks to this tech,” He keepings talking even after the little robot arm pokes your finger with a quickly appearing needle. 

“Ouch!” you yelp, as Drohako grabs your hand to prevent it from recoiling from the machine. 

“Still, it’ll be over in a second,” he mutters as he watches the collection tube meet the small droplet of blood welling on your fingertip. With a whoosh, the machine sucks the sanguine fluid away.

As the blood enters the pod, it glows with an orange light. The intensity pulsing like a heartbeat. 

“Done. That wasn’t so bad, now was it my tiny warrior?” His face is filled with pride as he stares down at your still blood covered body.

“Well, no, but—“ he interrupts your words by sucking your finger into his mouth, his rough tongue licking the needle’s wound.

“I promise you pleasure earlier,” he growls as my finger drops from his lips. The sound of his voice is making your pussy quickly slicker, as if on his command. 

When you feel his hand go lower, skirting the hem of your wrap. You grab his wrist. 

“Stop.”

Maybe you’re still full of adrenaline from the attack, or maybe this feeling has always been under the surface–but you want to be in control for the first time in your life. 

“Mate?” His body is frozen, maybe shocked by your command.

“I think I’d like to call the shots this time,” you whisper to your barbarian.

“That’s new,” Drohako cocks an eyebrow. The muscles of his body relax slightly, but his eyes bored into you with a new intensity. “So, what do you want?” 

“I want you to listen, but don’t worry–you’ll enjoy yourself if you do. Will you be a good boy for me?” 

His pupils dilate and he looks like he can taste colors as he looks at you with hooded eyes. 

“If that’s what my mates wants, a good boy is what she’ll get.” 

“I need something comfortable to lie down on,” you say with an unpracticed coolness that surprises you both. 

Drohako swiftly steps past you, pushing the leather flap out of his way, as he grabs the saddle bags from outside. Once back indoors, he kicks some dead leaves and twigs away, clearing a spot on the dirt floor. 

He looks at you with a pleased smile as he unrolls a few of the thick yellow furs from your former home. 

“This will do.” You shrug off your makeshift clothing, already feeling one hundred percent better than before. There’s something so natural about wearing nothing at all around Drohako that makes your heart sing. 

His gaze on your naked body is that of a predator’s, hungry and all-consuming. You lay down slowly, deliberately, spreading your legs so he can take in the view. 

He inhales sharply and pushes the heel of his hand down over his loincloth, onto his quickly hardening bulge. 

“Who said you could touch yourself?” You drawl as my finger traces up your slick lips. “I don’t think I gave you permission.” 

“I thought this was supposed to be fun,” He scowls, clenching his fists at his side. You don’t let the fact that he’s still listening to you go unnoticed. 

“It will be, because the anticipation is part of the pleasure.” 

Whatever’s possessed you to be so bold, you love it. Could it be that letting yourself be used like you’ve always wanted has you finding some new confidence? Have you found my power through being submissive? 

You rub small circles over your clit. The blood of the fallen male mixing with your own slick–Drohako’s breath catches as he watches you work.

“I want you to want me, to feel every pang of desire.” 

You twist your nipple with your free hand, not even attempting to stifle the moan that falls from your lips. 

“Can I touch you, if I can’t touch myself?” His voice is needier than you’ve ever heard it before. 

“Are you uncomfortable? Does my having the control cause you this agony?” You ask him, dipping your fingers into my opening—thrusting deep. “Don’t you wish it was your cock plunging inside me?” 

“Is torture your idea of fun? Does our Volkroth babe fill steel your heart as a barbarian?” Despite his suffering, he smiles. His eyes hold a menacing glint.

“Seeing you squirm is fucking delicious, a reward all in itself.” You pick up your pace, throbbing need ebbs through your core. “Ask me for what you want,” you moan.

Drohako licks his lips, stepping closer. 

“I want to taste you,” he growls. 

“Then crawl and beg me for the honor. Prove to me you want it.”

Drohako, the mighty alien warrior that he is, drops to his knees with a thud. He rakes his nails over the dirt floor, pushing his glorious ass high. Each scrape of his fingers over the ground sends shivers up my spine.

When he finally reaches you, he presses his lips against your trembling skin, worshipping every inch of you with fervent kisses. You moan in ecstasy as he continues to worship at the altar of your pleasure. His tongue laps up your honey, teetering you on the edge of bliss.

You're both consumed by our primal desires, oblivious to the world around you, fueled by an insatiable hunger for each other’s bodies. 

“Make me come, mate,” you hiss as you buck your hips, threading your fingers through his coarse hair and wrapping around his horns.

Drohako probes his fingers into you, spreading you wide with his hands alone. When he sucks on your clit, your core pulses sharply and you shatter.

Your legs attempt the snap shut over his ears, but he pushes them open. His tongue is unrelenting. 

“Stop!” your voice is hoarse as you yell. 

Despite his history of loving your overstimulation, he does. With just one word from you, he immediately ceases his ministrations. He’s under your command, afterall.

“You’ve done such a good job, you deserve a reward—” 

“Serving you, mate, is enough.” He pulls himself until his strong jaw rests on your stomach. His face glistens with your juices. 

He brings his hand to either side of your hips, kissing the small swell on your stomach. He stares adoringly at the pooch, and the promise that lies within.

#monster fucker #monster romance #monster smut #monster lover #smut #terato #monsterfuqqer #aliens #alien romance #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort #i love aliens #monster fuqqer #alien x human #alien x reader

[smokerswifey]

The way I will never stop obsessing over this official art .

Gray's small smile-smirk towards the camera, relaxed, with his hands in his pockets .

Juvia next to him, acting casual as well ( for once lmao ), wearing her gorgeous blue dress with the white fur that matches her hat and her bracelet . She's smiling broadly , saluting us .

And Wendy, my sweet lil Wendy, she's standing in the middle wearing the most adorable dress EVER with matching ribbons in her twin tails that she curled for the occasion, and her curls look just like Juvia's- aaaaa-

Her smile is a bit more timid than the others but she still looks amazing !

They look like a family, Gray and 'Via the parents, and lil Wendy their adorable daughter 😭😭😭.

I need some more content of these three fr.

#fairy tail 100 years quest #fairy tail #pro juvia #juvia lockser #pro gray #gray fullbuster #pro wendy #wendy marvell #gruvia #family

[blindmagdalena]

Do you think Homelander would be a dog or cat person? And his reaction to his S/O giving him a puppy or kitten

broadly speaking, Homelander's not an animal person period. he doesn't hold any particular affection for animals, and in general he's pretty dismissive of them. his reaction to being given either would be... confusion. but let's say it was a kitten because i think a cat would be a good fit for Homelander.

His brows shoot up to his hairline and he laughs, the orange kitten dangling in his hands, held out from his body. "Wow! Look at that. That's... What is this?"

"It's a kitten," you say coyly.

"Yes, I see that," he says tersely, shooting you a look. "Why's it here?"

"Because it's your kitten," you say, pushing his hands to his chest so that he can cradle the little beast properly.

He grimaces at the sound of the kittens claws catching on his suit as it adjusts itself. He looks at you quizzically. "What the hell possessed you to get me a kitten?"

"You should name him," you deflect, petting the kitten's head. He looks down, listening to the fervent way it begins to purr. It's little paws knead at the patting of his suit. "Aww, look. He already likes you."

He pointedly does not name the little beast. He more or less tolerates the presence of it from that day forward, relenting on keeping it in the house because it makes you happier than it annoys him.

Though, the first time it attacks his cape and scales all the way up his back, he does consider putting the thing in a cardboard box and flying it to a shelter several states away.

Luckily for the kitten, you're already much too attached for him to follow through with it.

Despite all of his stubbornness, the cat does like him. No matter how he verbally refutes it, all it seems to care is that he's talking to it. It curls up against his thigh and purrs incessantly. It rolls its paws through the air, staring at him all the while. When he makes eye contact, it even murrs.

"Fine, fine," he relents, reaching out to ruffle its belly.

Immediately the kitten seizes him, clawing and biting into the soft leather of his glove. "You little shit," he says with a laugh, using both hands to gently rattle the creature, spurring on another round of playful bites and swipes.

While he never formally names the cat, 'little beast' becomes recurrent enough that you both start calling him Beast. Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. Beast graduates from a pest to a companion, and frequently can be found curled around the back of Homelander's neck or nestled happily in his lap.

While you don't much care for how much Beast loves to play by biting the absolute shit out of your hand, Homelander is delighted by it. He can often be heard growling out encouragements as the two roughhouse, Beast's razor sharp claws and teeth no match for his invulnerable skin.

By far, your favorite moments are the quiet ones. The moments where you can watch Homelander absently petting his new friend, reflecting on what life was versus what it is now. He admits to you one night that when he was a child, he had desperately wanted a pet.

"By the time I could have one, it felt like I shouldn't," he says, smoothing Beast's fur down in gentle swipes while the cat sleeps. "Like I couldn't. They were just a stupid thing for kids."

"It's okay to want the same things you wanted when you were little, the things you were denied," you say gently, your fingers interlaced with his other hand. "It doesn't make you any lesser."

He looks at you, eyes glassy and wounded. He squeezes your hand. Tightly, he whispers, "Thanks."

You squeeze his hand and lean in to kiss his cheek, settling closer against him, the two of you soothed by Beast's persistent little purrs.

#ask and you shall receive #darling anon #homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander headcanons #my writing #homelander fanfiction #fluff #oops got a lil sad at the end there but in a Good way

[lipglossanon]

Road Trip

puppy!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader - SFW

warning: hybrid Leon/puppy Leon, cuteness 🥰

not proofread ✌️

“Why is there so much fog?”

You cut your eyes over to see Leon nearly pressing his face to the window, one ear flopped back showing off the soft tan fur inside. 

You giggle and tug on his arm, drawing his attention to you. 

“It’s because it’s still early. I wanted to get to the cabin as quickly as possible,” you ruffle his hair, righting his ear in the process. 

He hums, preening under the head pats while his tail thumps against the seat. 

“Kay.”

He pouts and whines once you pull your hand back to grab onto the wheel. 

“Now be good,” you murmur, “it’s only a few more hours.”

He huffs but settles back in the seat, eyes returning to the window. 

“It sure is pretty up in the mountains.”

You nod, “Yeah, I thought you might like a change of scenery. We can go on all kinds of hikes while we’re out here.”

“Really?” 

He raises up in his seat, unbuckling his seatbelt so he can worm his face underneath your arm and nuzzle into your chest. 

“Leon!” you half laugh, half scold, “I’m trying to drive.”

He squishes his face into your stomach, “Just wanna be close,” his muffled voice makes your heart melt.

You drop one hand down to pet through his hair and rub his ears making his tail wag. 

“Okay, but once the road gets less paved, you’ll have to go back to your seat, alright?”

“Yes’um,” he slurs, laying his head out on your lap, half lidded eyes staring up at you. 

“You’re so cute, Leon,” you coo. 

A pink blush covers the bridge of his nose and he grins bashfully, “Thank you.”

Letting go for a second, you turn up the radio, letting your fall ‘mixtape’ softly play from the speakers. You put your hand right back onto Leon’s head and card your fingers through his hair, relaxing into the driver’s seat.  

Stopping for gas, you coax Leon out to stretch his legs. He bounds off into the store and you’re mentally thankful you remembered to snap his collar around his neck. After paying at the pump, you pull up to the front of the gas station, getting out to go inside after Leon. 

“Miss owner!” He practically bowls you over as he presses into your side. 

“They have beef jerky,” his blue eyes  widen as he grabs your hands to kiss the back of them, “can I have some, pretty please? I’ve been so good!”

You bite your bottom lip to fight down the urge to smile and let him pull you over to the aisle with the aforementioned beef jerky. He gestures broadly and turns to you with the biggest puppy eyes.  

“Alright,” you laugh, watching his ears perk up and tail wag, “but you can only pick one, okay?”

“Okay!” he grabs one off the front and presses it into your hands.

You grab your own little snack and make sure to grab more water before checking out and guiding Leon back out into the car. Once you’re both buckled in, you notice him staring at you making your eyebrows raise in an unasked question. 

He smiles and licks a stripe up your cheek before giving you a messy kiss. 

“You’re my favorite, Miss owner.”

Your chest flutters and you smile back, “You’re my favorite too, Leon.”

divider: @firefly-graphics

#lipglossanon #lipglossanon masterlist #lipgloss masterlist #promptober 2023 #lipglossanon promptober 2023 #promptober 2023 day 10 #puppy!leon kennedy #puppy!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #puppy!leon s kennedy #fem!reader #hybrid!leon s kennedy #hybrid au #hybrid!leon kennedy #fluff #short and sweet

[inexplicifics]

Hi the fashion designer in training again, you posted my og ask and it got me thinking about it again (as if i ever stop) and I was thinking about how different monsters would be categorized and how that might change the fashion sense of things too. For example, theres humanoids, animal adjacent, insect adjacent (broadly), and plant adjacent.

Humanoids, to me, would be creatures/monsters that have little to no animal, insect, or plant otherness, such as trolls, drowners, bruxa, even sirens (even though they overlap into animal). Witchers obviously have magical uses from their kills but from a fashion/mundane perspective a lot of what these creatures provide would be equivalent to that of what a human might. Now, there is a lot of real world history that is sensitive and triggering about the use of human remains, especially in recent times of widespread slavery that has a lot of themes of cannibalism, farming practices, and lack of humanity even after death, such as leather tanning for clothes, the use of human remains in parchment (as parchment is made from animal remains and not wood or plants, that’s what differentiates it from paper), and more. This is why anything that leans more human than monster (such as a bruxa, vampire, succubus, etc) I don’t think I’ll touch with a ten foot pole unless it is to deal with their unique remains. Creatures that lean more monster such as trolls get thrown through the wringer though.

Trolls specifically have really thick skin, which in a tanning process would take… forever to turn into leather but the results would be potentially amazing. Thick strong leather would last for centuries if treated right, I have no doubt in my mind that troll leather would make fantastic saddles, boots, furniture — awful clothes but the other implications mean a lot to me because it might just make excellent armor.

Sirens, as the middleman between humanoids and animal adjacent, would be excellent to discuss scales. There is a company that currently helps with fish scale waste and uses them to make clothes that are naturally soft and have added benefits of being moisture managing (helps with retaining moisture in skin in dry environments) and also is naturally anti-odor! This is incredibly cool for the fashion world and I could see it being a real thing for the witcher world… if they had the time to do it, as I fear modern technology would need to be replaced with magic and I’m not sure mages, researcher included, would be interested in going out of their way to collect siren scales to create fabric (unless they could imbue it with magic? 🤔 A potential concept to long lasting charmed clothes) So very interesting but not as plausible in a fantasy world.

But! Reptilian scales are highly sought after in fashion designs and are not as wasteful as fish scales. The Witcher basilisk is reptilian in nature, which would make for excellent clothes, anything in fashion you can think of in scales you can bet it exists. Scales are widely loved and used even today, so basilisk skin? Oh yeah, it’s up there for fashion. Even says so in various wikis 😉.

Animal adjacent clothing will look a lot like what we have for animals now, adjusted as needed. Basilisks are large so their hides would be easy to convert to many items, whereas snake skin is small and you would need several to make a significant piece of cloth. This would make it far more valuable. Not to mention the claws, claws which are used in various forms. From clasps on just about everything, to jewelry, to decor, to piercings, I know a basilisk claw would be on a noble’s cloak or belt, I just know it.

This translates to, as mentioned before, wargs and other furred animals. The larger, the better, the more you can take, the better, the more *dangerous* to prove your worth, the better. A bear claw is nothing compared to a warg fang, and so on and so forth. I haven’t even gotten started on the length of griffin feathers and what that would do for fashion. No one understands what length in natural materials means to me except for other people who’s special interests are fashion, fantasy worlds, and survival skills. I cannot explain *length of feathers* in gowns. In cloaks. In *jewelry.* But that’s a post for a little old me who isn’t up at 1am on a school night.

Enjoy my midnight ramblings, I realize that this got out of hand and is uh… not really well connected in terms of thoughts but I hope it made sense to people who aren’t deep in the trenches like me lmao

Please imagine me sitting here with my chin on my hands, staring at you with hearts in my eyes as I listen to your interesting and informative midnight ramblings.

#questions answered #accidental warlord au #witcher fashion

[jungle-angel]

And Kitty Makes Ten (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob take in a stray just a few nights before Halloween and it ends up being the best thing ever

Warnings: Pregnancy, cuteness overload as usual

You and Bob were all snuggled under the blankets on the sofa, completely engrossed in Tim Burton's "Corpse Bride" with two steaming mugs of cinnamon hazelnut coffee sitting on the endtable near the sofa.

You melted into Bob's touch as he caressed your belly under your shirt, his warm hands on your skin as he felt the growing life inside kicking against his palms.

"Calm down, princess," he cooed to the baby. "You're acting like you've never had coffee before."

You laughed a little bit as you held your hand over his, completely relaxed and in utter heaven as Bob pressed his warm lips against your forehead.

"You hear that?" Bob said suddenly.

You shook your head.

Bob turned the volume down on the tv, the two of you listening intently when you heard scritching at the front door. Bob helped you up before you both found your way to the front door.

"Oh hello," Bob said upon seeing a pair of glowing green eyes in the dark.

You gasped when you heard the frightened meowing coming from the black cat that hid a little around the corner of the threshold. Bob held out his hand for the cat to come and sniff, the scraggly little form curling her tail around him.

"We might wanna shut the door, it's getting cold out," you told him, shuddering as goosebumps formed on your arms.

Bob coaxed the cat inside, her slinky black form noticeable on the beige carpet in the entryway and the living room. She meowed like crazy, even as Bob had gone to the kitchen to get her something to eat, returning a moment later with a bowl full of milk.

"I don't see a chip or a collar," he said, gently poking through her fur a little bit. "If anything she must've come from some hoarder den somewhere and run away."

"Think we need to comb for fleas?"

"Better to just be on the safe side."

You and Bob were surprised that the cat willingly let you wash her off in the small downstairs bathroom with the special flea and tick shampoo, drying her with a warm towel before she crept back into the kitchen to finish off her milk.

No sooner was she back in the kitchen than Salem, the male black cat, came creeping up from the basement, often hiding in the little apartment you had holed out for Bob's parents. He purred and rubbed against the female and she against him, as though they had known each other all their lives.

"You see this?" Bob chuckled.

You laughed yourself as they skittered away into the living room, curling up together on the blankets, their tails twitching happily.

"I think she's here to stay," you told him, smiling broadly.

"If that's the case, she's gonna need a name."

"Well," you mused. "Seeing as it's almost Halloween......Pumpkin?"

Bob kissed your lips. "That sounds perfect."

And so it was, that Pumpkin had come to stay. Very quickly, she and Salem had become inseparable, in a way, feline soulmates that seemed to mirror you and Bob. You can't help but see that she's the sweetest little kitty, especially with Auggie and Patrick, never using her claws on them and keeping it to the scratching post. By December, two weeks before Christmas, you and Bob welcome your little princess, Diedre Brigit who has a new crib-mate in Pumpkin. Yet your biggest surprise comes Christmas morning when you find Pumpkin and Salem under the tree in their sleeping basket with a new litter of kittens, happy and warm with each other, just like you and Bob.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #dagger squad

[runwayrunway]

THE MAN ON THE TAIL: AN ALASKA AIRLINES WHOISIT

Last time on Runway Runway...

The short answer, reiterated: nobody knows.

The long answer: Nobody knows. A lot of people have no idea or have never even thought about it. Many people have a person in mind they think he resembles, but they know that it's probably wrong. A non-negligible number think they know, but they do not necessarily agree with each other. After the research I have done on the topic, I believe that I do know who this face is, but this is not going to be an argument for my position - merely a presentation of this logo's origins and the theories as to who this face represents, a few thoughts about community and feeling like something is part of yours, and the story of an incredible man.

But first, a content warning, and a disclaimer:

This post will discuss use of an outdated term used to refer to Inuit and Yupik peoples which is broadly considered offensive. It is, unfortunately, inseparable from the story of the face on Alaska Airlines' tailfins. While I have discussed somewhat heavy subjects, including racism, on this blog before, it has generally been in reference to statistics or vague allusions to commonly held offensive sentiments, and I think that discussing a specific word which has caused pain to a group of people requires a little bit more of a specific warning.

Below the cut, there will be discussions surrounding Alaska Airlines' use of said word, with a bit on its broader context. This post is not meant to be a downer, and I don't think it ultimately is. But there is a lot to the story of the "happy face", and there is no use telling the warm and fuzzy parts inside the hood of the parka while ignoring the temperature outside of it. There is so much more to this story than outdated language, but it is still a part of it that can't be left out without overlooking the very people who the tail represents.

I imagine the context of that warning, unfortunately, becomes clear immediately.

Indigenous Alaskans make up 15% of the state's population, made up of various groups of what are called 'circumpolar peoples', who historically lived in the very northernmost habitable parts of the planet - Alaska, Siberia, Greenland, and parts of Canada and Scandinavia. While these groups are broadly somewhat related they are distinct in culture and history.

Alaska, specifically, has over 200 federally recognized tribes, around the same number as is present in the entire rest of the country. (That has its own context, but my point here is to illustrate the diversity of indigenous Alaskan background.) These cultures include the Athabaskan, Aleut, Eyak, and the two that those without personal familiarity tend to think of - the Yup'ik and Iñupiaq. All of these terms themselves further comprise multiple communities, and indeed Yup'ik and Iñupiaq refer to specific groups of peoples from the larger groups of Yupik and Inuit peoples - the groups in question being the ones who live in Alaska rather than Siberia or Canada.

The reason this is important is that it is generally agreed that the face on Alaska Airlines' airplanes is an Alaskan Native, and specifically a member of one of these two groups. A few people apparently assume him to be Abraham Lincoln or Bob Marley or some other famous person (in fact, I am editing this to say that one of the replies to my first post was someone saying they'd always thought it was Abraham Lincoln) but I doubt these theories are ever serious. It would be weird to put a representative from Kentucky on a livery for Alaska Airlines (...which admittedly is based in Washington). The reasons for this assumption are fairly straightforward - it's a reasonable leap from a face surrounded by what looks like a fur hood being identified as Alaskan. But I wouldn't be making this post if the answer was just 'eh, some Alaskan Native'. (And I would find using the generic ornament of an indigenous group as branding more than a little tasteless, in all honesty.) It is broadly thought that this logo is based on the likeness of a specific individual. The question is who.

MEET OUR MYSTERY MAN

So, let's start at the obvious place. He's their logo, so...what does Alaska Airlines say about the identity of this mystery man? Let's take a look at the press release for their 2016 rebrand.

I'll be honest, I wasn't keeping up with airline livery news in 2016. Indeed, I wasn't keeping up with much of anything and I can't recall much from that period. So I...did not know about this, and it took the wind out of me a bit when I learned it happened.

So, let's begin with that term. 'Eskimo'. I feel gross even typing it. This is an exonym used to refer broadly to Yupik and Inuit peoples, though many who use it aren't necessarily aware that the term refers to multiple distinct cultures. I've heard it used for the Alaska Airlines man, and I had always assumed this was out of the ignorance of individual people. I live in the United States, where it's still often used casually (as are a few other unfortunate terms other places avoid - the country seems to have perpetually not gotten the memo, so to speak). In Canada, it is more or less universally considered to be offensive, due to the groups in question expressing their opposition to its use, and this seems to be the general trend over time in the US as well. So while, unfortunately, I do hear people casually say it from time to time, that's mostly annoying classmates. I didn't expect to hear it from Alaska Airlines.

The phrasing, however, is just as much of a problem. 'Our' Eskimo, as a probably unintentional consequence of phrasing choices, implies ownership of not just the logo but the man himself. I don't think I particularly need to explain why some might take issue with this.

And take issue they did. There was a petition! The hashtag #notyoureskimo was started on the website formerly known as Twitter. Anchorage Daily News quotes user angelascox making a statement I think really cuts to the quick of it: "No, @AlaskaAir … you don't own an Eskimo."

Alaska Airlines did listen.

Well, that's..........better, I guess. Unfortunately, it does still use the word 'Eskimo'. And I should note that it isn't universally considered offensive and I've found Alaskan Natives who state that they don't mind use of the term, but these seem to be the minority, and as time goes on it's being phased out further and further. In the context of Alaska Airlines' use, the Anchorage Daily News provides a few perspectives:

Maria Shaa Tlaa Williams, director of the Alaska Native Studies program at the University of Alaska Anchorage and Tlingit, said in an email the broader issue is about the use of "a somewhat antiquated word." "(Eskimo) is a colonial term and it should be: Inupiaq, Yup'ik/Cup'ik, Siberian Yupik or even Inuit, or even generic term such as Alaska Native," she said. Bobbie Egan, media relations director for Alaska Airlines, said the company made the decision to keep using the word "Eskimo" after conducting focus groups with Native leaders throughout Alaska, but she did not have details about those focus group results. "Many of our employees and customers commonly refer to themselves as Eskimo and we've always sought the input and counsel of employees and customers," she said.

I do wish those focus group results were made public, but all the same this isn't particularly surprising. Whenever a term begins to be considered offensive this opinion is generally adopted in a bit of a mosaic fashion, with typically younger people first expressing discomfort and those from different walks of life having their own opinions - some more swayed by the distasteful aspects, while others refuse to let that stop them from using a word they've called themselves their whole life. This is broadly true across all sorts of contexts. I do think it's never an outsider's place to critique someone's choice to use whatever language they feel best represents them, but if there is a large portion of the group in question who find it derogatory we should avoid using it ourselves. There are certainly 'outdated' terms I use for myself but would feel a bit unhappy seeing used carelessly by someone who didn't understand what it meant and was using it, bluntly, because they didn't know better or didn't care to know better. If you are from a group which has historically been derided by others you can probably fill in your own example here.

There are a few reasons for the distaste many have for the word 'Eskimo'. To begin with, it's an exonym. This term was not used as an identifier by any of these groups, but by outsiders to refer to them, and particularly by Europeans and settlers who heard these words from other groups they encountered earlier and then never bothered to ask the people in question what they actually called themselves. Beyond the inherent issue of self-determination, the fact that these were the historical users means that it was often pejorative and othering and ought to be left behind with terms like 'oriental'.

The term is generally thought to have originated from a corruption of an exonym used by one or more Algonquian-speaking groups. The most popular conception is that it stems from a Cree term meaning 'raw meat eater', which people understandably find pretty offensive. There are a number of other theories, and recently linguists seem to most support an interpretation that it is derived from an Innu-aimun word meaning 'one who laces a snowshoe'; it could have evolved from both of these terms or neither, and I don't think it matters when it is already widely perceived as meaning something offensive. 'Well, actually'-ing somebody who says a term is offensive to their ethnic group by pointing out a benign linguistic origin is a pretty pointless thing to do - we've had this conversation before about the name Lufthansa. But beyond that, basically every slur I can think of was once a completely innocuous word that just needed someone to invent a hateful enough way to use it. And people have been using this word rather hatefully for centuries. Regardless of origin, it is a dated exonym, and if the groups it refers to don't feel it represents them that's enough reason for me to stop using it.

The other reason that this term is broadly bad to use is that it's just not a good way of conveying which people you're talking about. 'Eskimo' is generally agreed to encompass Yupik and Inuit peoples, which are two large and diverse populations spread across Siberia and North America. These may be closely related and similar cultures but they are not interchangeable. 'Inuit' has recently seen more frequent use as a replacement, which is at least a step away from the language, but is often outright factually incorrect, as it will be used to refer to Yupik people - who are not Inuit, but are the largest indigenous population in Alaska. 'Alaskan Native' and 'circumpolar peoples' exist as umbrella terms which are understood to be umbrella terms by just about everyone, but there is a legitimate misconception that these groups are all the same because of the use of a single term for them.

Maybe Alaska Airlines uses the term because they think 'Alaskan Native' is awkward for a slogan and they don't want to tie themselves into knots by committing to specifying whether the man is Yup'ik or Iñupiaq. That would be a problem, as they don't actually know who he is.

Beyond the term, there is the issue of objectification on a larger scale than phrasing. Annie Wenstrup, the writer of the petition linked earlier, makes an important point - if the Alaska Airlines man is the likeness of a real person, that person has not been paid for its use. Beyond that, Alaska Airlines is using the very concept of an indigenous Alaskan to market itself. There is definitely a dehumanizing element to it. Alaska Airlines is far from the only company to have ever used ethnic groups as branding, and I think that ultimately it's not my place to linger on this topic. It would be wrong to not mention that this is an element of his story, that people do raise this issue, and that this is a discussion that should be had. I, however, don't have a fully developed opinion. This is a conversation for Alaskan Natives to have, I think - I just don't understand the context of their relationship with the airline specifically, and I have no more ownership of the man pictured than Alaska Airlines. Because he was not an object. There is every likelihood that he was a real person.

WHO IS THE MAN ON THE TAIL?

The website mentions a short film. Unfortunately, the Way Back Machine didn't manage to get it, but it did catch the associated article. The thing this article communicates most clearly is that nobody knows who this man is.

Whether the artists were inspired by [a real person] remains a mystery to this day – both within the company and without – as no official documentation has ever been uncovered indicating that [...] the Eskimo [...] was based on a specific person. Even Alaska’s archivists, a team of retirees and long-time employees passionate about preserving the company’s history, can’t agree.

As someone who is myself studying to be an archivist, I am currently tearing my hair out and flinging tables at people mere decades ago for never keeping any records!!! What is wrong with you people?! Why do you never think of me in the future wanting to know the context of things you probably think are obvious?!

Well, anyway, this might indicate that he's just a generic representation of an Alaskan Native. That would not just be a disappointing answer to this mystery, it would also be pretty offensive. I know that the NFL (an organization known for its racial sensitivity, as I think we're all aware) is a bit slow to catch onto this but I think at this point in history we're all on the same page about using indigenous groups as mascots, right? It's weird and dehumanizing. But that's generally in reference to a stock character based on a stereotype of this group, and often one which is an offensive caricature. Given the percentage of Alaskan Natives in the population, some of whom were certainly involved in making Alaska Airlines what it is, isn't there a chance that this is a loving homage to the group native to the land this airline represents? A way of saying 'this is who this airline connects to faraway places'? I think this was certainly at least the intention, and whether this is still tokenizing, whether the phrasing on the website - a warm, welcoming presence and a reminder of commitment - stirs up an uncomfortable feeling is ultimately a question for Alaskan Natives, and one with a far less unanimous answer than that of outdated terminology.

However, I'll say this up front: he is not a generic representation. He is a specific individual. If he weren't I wouldn't have written a whole post about him.

So let's go all the way back to the beginning. If we do this we find our mystery man was actually not created to be a generic literal face of Alaska Airlines. The intention was not an indigenous mascot, but to represent Alaska's heritage...in more than one way. Mr. Alaska Airlines was once a jellybean.

YOU MIGHT AS WELL PUT HIM ON THE TAILS

image: Vic Warren

In 1972 a set of four new "Alaskana" liveries were introduced for Alaska Airlines' relatively small 727 fleet, replacing the older 'Gold Nugget Jet'. (I will definitely be reviewing those one day.) They were designed by Vic Warren and meant to represent the heritage of Alaska's population, and came in four variants:

"The Prospector" - in red, a miner with his pick, representing the people who flocked to Alaska from the lower 48 during the Gold Rush

"The Totem Pole" - in green, a totem pole design representing Southeast Alaskan indigenous groups such as the Eyak, Tlingit, and Haida - I wish I could be more specific but I can't seem to find the specific totem pole this is based off of

"The Onion Dome" - in fuchsia, today I learned that's actually what those are frequently called! They are meant to represent the history of Russians in Alaska.

And, "The....you know. Him." He's in blue. You may notice he looks a little bit less genial here. , and there's a bit of lighter color detail. No elaboration needed.

It does feel distinctly less tokenizing when there's a white prospector right next to him. In fact, the rephrasing in the quote taken from the archivists is actually because they were referring to both our mystery man and the prospector, whose identity is even more lost to history. This feels quite a bit less sinister than naming your football team a racial slur. It's like if an airline representing Massachusetts (keep reading, Cape Air, this is a free idea for you) had a set of jellybeans featuring a Wampanoag person, a furious man in the process of being given a traffic citation, a whale, a large textile workers' strike, a university-aged Dunkin Donuts employee who can just barely cover the rent at the two-bedroom apartment they share with seven roommates, Giles Corey being pressed to death, Paul Revere, the Harvard University logo, and Tom Brady. It goes from feeling exclusively dehumanizing to

Over the years, though, use of the other three designs dropped off. I'm not sure why it did (well, I can hazard a guess about the Onion Dome) but that's just the reality. Maybe the totem I understand being difficult to immediately identify as a totem when it's in monocolor with little detail on a large plane. I do think it's a bit of a shame - I love jellybeans and I love representing more than one culture in a place as large as Alaska - but I get it, their fleet was small.

As for why our mystery man won the deadlock with the Prospector, that's beyond me, but it almost feels like it was destined given he was the initial basis for the concept at all. Again from Vic Warren:

The first time the Eskimo art was used was in a large newspaper ad promoting Arctic Tours. [...] Since it was a newspaper ad, the initial appearance of the Eskimo was as a large, strong black image. The marketing director at Alaska hated it, even though the ad performed well. [...] A few months later, [I was] given the assignment to create a new corporate image for the airline [...] At this time the airline [...] only flew from Seattle to Alaska and within Alaska. They had recently moved their headquarters from Anchorage to Seattle and were taking a lot of political flak for abandoning Alaska. Our direction from the airline was to “create something very distinctive and modern, yet totally Alaskan.” In retrospect, it sounds easy, but I worked for three months on every kind of jet design I could think of. [...] the airline’s account executive was sitting with me in my office. [...] He stood up and stomped out of the room, shouting, “Oh, to hell with it! You might as well put that damned Eskimo on the tails!” Ta-daaaaaa! [...] I looked at the history and culture of Alaska and came up with four designs [...] But it shortly became evident that the Eskimo was the most popular image. And it was expensive to use all those different designs, so the other three left.

And thus Mr. Alaska Airlines was brought on board properly. And people were very attached to him. The thing mentioned earlier, that the airline was getting flak for losing their Alaskan identity - that comes back later in 1988, when the airline considered replacing him with a logo of a stylized mountain in the shape of the letter A. People hated this new logo so much I cannot even find a picture of it. This attempted replacement was for reasons unrelated to the criticisms I've mentioned earlier - he looked bad when printed small, was difficult to recognize, and might suggest to the people of California that Alaska Airlines only flew to Alaska. People were so incensed about this idea, however, that the state legislature decided this was a problem for them to tackle. From the LA Times:

The Alaska Legislature, which went into session on Monday, will consider a resolution asking the Seattle-based airline not to junk the colorful logo for one featuring a stylized mountain, said state Sen. Tim Kelly of Anchorage. [...] Alaska’s 20 state senators have voiced support for the resolution, he said.

Do they not have anything better to do with their time? No...zoning laws or tax brackets or ordinances? I mean, they've got some experience in aviation, I guess - they did make it illegal to push a moose out of a plane, or to look at moose from a plane. You also can't get a moose drunk. Actually, they have a lot of oddly specific moose-related laws, which I think is a form of environmental storytelling. You also can't wake up a sleeping bear to take a photograph of it. Safety is a priority, though - it's illegal to sell a child a stun gun and you need a concealed-carry permit for slingshots, so their priorities are clearly in important places.

Regardless, one thing Kelly said stood out to me. Emphasis mine:

“It may not be the best representation of an Eskimo, but it’s our Eskimo,” he said. “(Alaskans) feel an affinity with the airline. Alaskans feel it’s their airline.”

Okay, so this could be one of two things: a coincidence (more plausible, I guess, since it's not that weird of a combination of words) or an intentional reference to this statement by the company, which I think I would respect a bit more - a nod to history, all that - but if this is the case it seems quite strange they wouldn't have mentioned it as context for the use of their phrase when apologizing for it. Not important, just wanted to bring it up.

Despite the fact that the airline got a letter of support - “a graphic designer who is related to a pilot thought it was good"- they obviously did not replace him. Vic Warren actually weighed in himself on the topic:

My position was that if the airline’s image was confusing, it was because of the name Alaska Airlines, not the Eskimo logo. If they wanted to be a more amorphous regional carrier they should change their name to a version in the Air West mold or, at any rate, something less specific than Alaska.

And I do think I agree with him. You can choose between being relatable to everyone or having a heritage, making your brand just as much about where you started as where you are. I prefer the latter, but I have the opposite mindset of an airline. I am all about history and expression, and don't remotely care about attracting customers or making money. There is a reason Alaska Airlines doesn't have a tumblr blog.

“The Eskimo is a friendly, human symbol of the north, of the spirit of Alaska,” wrote Satch Carlson, an Anchorage Daily News columnist. “Take him off the Alaska planes in favor of some abstract, hip, meaningless design, you’re taking one step closer to that impersonal austerity that characterizes most other airlines today.”

...wow, so even in '88 they were tired of Eurowhite, it seems.

THAT LOGO THAT LOOKS LIKE MY TIO

So of course they kept the face. He got tweaked over the years - the 'fly with a happy face' campaign adjusted him to look a little bit less stoic, and of course the details were updated as graphics technology improved. But this is The Alaska Airlines Guy now. People are attached to him. An interesting effect of this attachment, though, is that a lot of people are pretty sure they know who he is, and that he's from their town.

People already recognize him as any number of a massive slew of celebrities. I find this extra fascinating because I actually have congenital prosopagnosia - I cannot recognize human faces, and while I can generally identify people in daily life by context like voice, posture, fashion sense, and hair, recognizing people from photographs is far more difficult. Unless I have two pictures next to each other and can compare the individual features it's basically useless - I never get that sort of 'click' of recognition - so it's been really interesting reading all the different associations people had, of which I have seen literally dozens if not hundreds. Reddit user DaBigBird27, in one of my favorite anecdotes, relates an experience where he was told by an LAX employee to look for the logo that looks like "his tio". And isn't it incredibly fascinating how that works? How you can tell someone you've only just met to find the picture that looks like your tio, and they'll know what you mean?

Look, there's something about grandfathers. I don't know what it is. (Uncles too, probably - I don't have any, though.) I hope I'm not insane for saying this, so any other grandfather enjoyers can weigh in, but I feel like grandfathers occupy a certain formative place in everyone's mind. He is one's earliest exposure to an old man and thus becomes their fundamental conception of one. Unless he is phenomenally cruel this ties him together, part and parcel, with the features of old men that can bring you comfort and happiness. I certainly experience this with my grandfather, despite having known him for a really tragically short length of time. If I were able to recognize faces, I think there's a very real chance that I would have thought the Alaska Airlines man was him for a moment.

And this seems extra true for those from Alaska. The Anchorage Daily News continues to provide a lot of anecdotes of locals discussing the universal feeling of proximity to the logo.

Perry Eaton, an Alutiiq artist who is originally from Kodiak Island but now lives in Anchorage, said that some people insist they know the Eskimo's true identity. "It's always been sort of a tongue-in-cheek conversation," Eaton said. "Nobody's gotten emotional over it, it's just sort of interesting. He's very iconic. Some folks are adamant that they know who it is."

“If you’re from Barrow, you think maybe he’s from Barrow. If you’re from Kotzebue, you think maybe he’s from Kotzebue. If you’re from Nome, you think maybe he’s from Nome,” says former mayor Lukin. “I have not met an Eskimo elder who doesn’t sort of smile like that.”

Another piece of writing, although accompanying a story that (as far as I can tell) is fiction, or at least dramatization, contains some context that is definitely not:

By the way, that page also had a lively discussion which included a number of other theories about the origin of the image, a number of people claiming a family relationship with the person depicted [...] Whatever the case, the image has obviously evolved and become less stern over the years. When the image was digitized there were further touch-ups and adjustments made. Most sources agree, though, that a remarkable number of native Alaskan people say that the person: “looks just like my grandfather!”

Even Alaska Airlines' own (archived) website describes this phenomenon.

“When I was a little kid, we all thought it was our own grandfathers,” says former Kotzebue mayor Maija Lukin. “We all thought it was our tata. Even if it didn’t remotely look like our grandfathers.”

Well, let me finally get to the point, because at least some of these people are correct. While he was intended to represent Alaskan Natives as a whole, the man was based on the likeness of a real person. There are two leading theories thought to be plausible. Both were real Alaskan Natives with ties to aviation who lived memorably in the proper timeframe to have inspired the logo.

CHESTER SEVECK

I'll begin with Chester (his full name seems to have been Chester Asagaq Seveck Downey but he is most frequently called Chester Seveck), who is the more common theory. (And indeed the man on the tail is frequently referred to as 'Chester' by people who think this.) The above-quoted Kotzebue mayor, for example, is convinced it's Chester, who was himself a Kotzebue resident. It's a remote place which relies on air travel to provide necessities, and Chester was said to have greeted passengers and crew as they left the airplanes together with his wife. He was often mentioned to be a reindeer herder, but I was afraid that this would be all I could find about this man who clearly was beloved by so many people that to this day he's remembered this widely.

Thankfully, unlike so many people who pass into history with only vague and distant reference to memorialize their full and remarkable lives, Chester Seveck has written a memoir, published by a bush pilot who considered him a close friend. It's called Longest Reindeer Herder and is available in its entirety for free, with the pilot and friend in question, Frank Whaley, including a selection of photographs he himself took of Chester. I really recommend everyone read it. It's not very long but it's extremely dense with information, giving a first-hand account of the development of airborne connections between remote regions from the side that doesn't normally get to tell their story. It also tells a lot about Chester, his family, and the incredible things which happened to him. One that really stuck with me was the time he was shot with a rifle but unharmed, because his parka absorbed the force of an entire bullet! It reads almost like a journal, very matter-of-fact and brief recounting of events which would have at the time been whirlwinds of emotions and little details now lost to the steady flow of history, but all of this was put to paper at once, and it's staggering just how much one life really is, how much we can learn from just some of one man's memories. About him, about the world he lived in, and about reindeer herding.

When it comes to aviation, Chester's experiences are a joy to read. He recounts his first time coming to the US, together with his wife.

Then Jack Whaley take us to Los Angeles. We flew in night time. We saw the lights down under us. I remember when we newly married in the year 1912 July 12th, I was dreaming my wife and I we saw the stars and sky under us. We were above the sky and stars I told my wife. Now my dream come true. 

Eventually Chester, too old to continue his work with massive herds of reindeer, retired and began to work for Wien Airlines, traveling for promotional tours and guiding tours in Kotzebue. He refers to this as 'herding tourists'.

There are stories of the Lower 48, too, of the tours he went on with his wife. He mentions appearing with Steve Allen, Art Linkletter, and even Groucho Marx. He appeared in a minor role in "Ice Palace" (1960), a very poorly reviewed film which also happened to be the motion picture debut of one George Takei.

The final section of his memoir:

For long live and joy life, I believe these things--Keep busy and do good work. Have much good exercise. Eat good food, no waste anything and every day enjoy what it gives and do not spoil this day with much worry of tomorrow. Be happy. I know this way how I be "Longest Reindeer Herder." Start 1908, finish 1954, altogether 46 years herd reindeer.

Chester was undeniably a gregarious person. He seemed to really genuinely enjoy the high profile his partnership with Wien brought him, not for any material gains but because seeing the world and showing it to other people made him happy. He had a high opinion of himself that he wasn't afraid to share but there wasn't an ounce of pompousness in it; he just knew what he was worth. He loved talking about himself and his story - I found at least one other interview he gave. If more people were like Chester I think the world would be a much happier place. I really envy the people who got to have him show them around Kotzebue.

His memoirs were taken down in 1973, and the ending sort of reads as if he's right at the end of his life, but that's not true. He lived until 1981, dying ten days after his ninety-first birthday. He has many living descendants, with 172 grandchildren and great-grandchildren at the time he wrote his memoir. I actually saw a couple of them in the wild while researching, talking about growing up and being told he was the face on the airplanes.

Chester is by far the most common claim for the Alaska Airlines face. People from Kotzebue are proud of this. I saw another Reddit commentor, who has since deleted their account, mentioning their mother telling them about him growing up.

I think Chester is a fantastic person to feature. His connection to aviation and his warmth and kindness, eagerly welcoming tourists into his home village, makes him a fantastic symbol of Alaska. This post has been my favorite to research of any I've written. Reading people's warm memories of BWIA and learning about the incredible history of aviation in Sri Lankan folklore are both things I cherish, but reading Chester's account of his own life was genuinely almost overpowering. I am a history student. Sure, I study public history specifically, but I still study history. I read about history. I read long textbooks, in-depth research documents, and primary sources. I read old newspapers, memoirs, observations by travelers. My sophomore seminar was an in-depth study of remarkably preserved legal documents from one specific witch trial in 17th-century Germany. It's rare that something comes around like Chester's memoir that reminds me how much I adore humans. We have always had so much to give. There is a legitimate debate about the ethics of Alaska Airlines monetizing the likeness of an indigenous group, but I'm happy that they put a face on their tails if only because it means I got to read Chester's writing. I wish more people did.

But there's one other person frequently speculated to be the face of Alaska Airlines, and it would be remiss not to discuss him.

OLIVER AMOUACK

There is less available about Oliver than there is about Chester - at least, less I could find. He appears to have lived from 1895 to 1987, and unlike Chester, who I only ever saw called 'Eskimo', Oliver was known to be Iñupiaq. In the 1950s he was a performer in a travelling show called "It's Alaska!", but that's about all you can find with search engines.

image: Alaska Airlines Corporate Archives This is more or less the only image of Amouack I could find. He's the man on the left. Look familiar? That's not a rhetorical question. I'm face-blind.

That isn't all there is to be found, but what else there is I don't have access to at present. Brenda Ritchey, Oliver's granddaughter, has written a biography of him - "Know the Happy Face: Biography of Oliver Amouak", published 1997. The thing is, this book is crazy hard to get your hands on. Buying a copy is definitely way out of my price range. It's hard to find them for double-digit dollar amounts, and they go up over a thousand. There are several copies held by public libraries but most are in Alaska, which is pretty far away from me. Thankfully, there is one in a collection in New York, and I'm trying to get it on interlibrary loan. If I can get access to it, I'll make a follow-up post, hopefully adding context to Oliver's story like I did for Chester's. Clearly, his granddaughter thought it was worth telling.

Although Oliver is the less frequent claim, a few people are very confident that it's him. And it is impossible to prove conclusively whether it's him or Chester, or neither...or is it?

POINTING THE FINGER

This is where history ends and speculation begins. What you read from here is not fact - it is my own conjecture, made by someone with around a week's worth of research - someone who is literally unable to distinguish human faces, no less - and I encourage questioning it. But I'm going to make my argument: I am loosely convinced that the face on Alaska Airlines' airplanes is, in fact, Oliver Amouack.

The first set of reasons are contextual. Oliver, when he was in "It's Alaska!", was directly employed by Alaska Airlines, while Chester, though he did greet tourists for the airline, seemed to have much closer ties to Wien Air Alaska. If someone was looking for inspiration in Alaska Airlines' archives I think it's far more likely that they would have stumbled on Oliver's likeness than Chester's.

The second is, admittedly, rather weak, but I still feel it's worth mentioning. While the modern "happy face" is smiling, the original Alaskana image was not.

Take a look. This man is very poised, but he's also definitely got a bit of a stern look.

Now, while there do exist images of Chester Seveck where he isn't smiling, they are rare and mostly candid, taken while he's focused on doing something, like herding reindeer or singing, and often faced mostly away from the camera. They also tend to be from when he was younger, which the man in the image is clearly not. Given how frequently he was seen looking overjoyed just to be wherever he was, I find it a little bit unlikely that Chester would inspire an image I would go so far as to describe as 'frowning'.

image: Vic Warren

Now that's a bit more like Chester, but this isn't the original image. Rather, it's a later edit to make him smile, for Alaska's "fly with a happy face" campaign. I find it somewhat hard to believe that, were this Chester, it would have needed editing at all.

I also think that, were he to be the basis for the image, Chester would have brough it up when putting down his story. His memoir is from 1973, and the livery was introduced in 1972 with an even earlier newspaper ad featuring the same image. Chester had the healthiest high self-esteem I've seen in my life and he would definitely have mentioned this with pride. Maybe he was never told, but I suspect if this were the case he would have asked about it. It would be a little hard to not notice your own face on an airplane while greeting its occupants.

There's a major spanner in the works, though. That spanner is Vic Warren, designer of the initial Alaskana liveries, himself. Although it is no longer up, the Way Back Machine has helped me find an old post on his blog, discussing the logo and his design process. When I quoted him earlier, that's where I got it from. And he does kneecap my theory quite a bit - he outright states it's Chester.

Back in 1973, when I designed the Eskimo, an elderly Eskimo gentleman in Kotzebue was working as a greeter for the airline on its Arctic Tours. You got off the plane in Kotzebue and he was one of the folks who came up and helped you into a fur-trimmed parka to protect you from the cold. It was sort of an Eskimo version of the Hawaiian lei. We had photos of him and others during the welcoming procedure. I used one of those photos as the basis for the art. His name was Chester Seveck Downey. Surprisingly, lots of rumors have announced that the art was based on all sorts of people, including Richard Nixon. Once, I heard a story that he was really Bob Marley!

So that should settle it, right? Maybe. Actually, though, I think Vic Warren may be misremembering. I don't mean to gaslight this artist who created an extremely recognizable and enduring logo, but he already states that the design was done in 1973, which is impossible because the liveries were introduced in 1972. He actually gives 1973 as a date throughout the post multiple times, even though I've seen it claimed the design was in the works as early as 1970. The post was first written in 2014, so I think it's perfectly reasonable for your memory to slip over 40 years.

Getting a date slightly wrong and forgetting who you based a logo on are two different levels, but I'd like to further argue my earlier point - if the reference truly was Chester greeting passengers I am absolutely sure he would have been smiling, and I can't imagine why Warren would have changed this in his art. I think it's possible he misremembered, and I also think it's possible he assumed the photograph of Oliver was of Chester somehow. Far be it from me to accuse someone I've never met of racism, but, look, most people fail implicit association tests. I think it is entirely plausible a (presumably) white man contracted by an airline he didn't work for personally could see a photograph of one indigenous man and just assume that it was of a different one he was more familiar with, especially if Oliver and Chester have similar faces, which I assume people who can tell think they do.

I don't think any of that conjecture is particularly convincing. I wouldn't personally be convinced by it. The burden of proof here is a lot higher than 'maybe he was confused'. But what finally swayed me to believing Amouack is most likely our man was a post on, of all sites, the digital sewer pipe known as Quora.

An aside: Quora has introduced a feature where at the top of the page you are given a response by ChatGPT. While this is going to give you an answer of higher quality than many of those provided by the 'human' users of the website, I find the answer it generated for this question both incredibly factually wrong and somewhat disrespectful.

So the most obvious thing is that ChatGPT is misgendering Oliver/Chester. This immediately makes it clear that this answer is fully nonsense to basically anyone sentient, though it still may well fool some Quora users. The 'names' given, Tlingit and Haida, are both those of indigenous Pacific Northwest peoples. As in ethnicities, not individuals. Fred Kabotie was a real person, and a real artist, and accomplished and prolific, and someone you should absolutely learn about, but he was not Tlingit - he was Hopi. As in, from Arizona.

image: Grand Canyon National Park

I am rather confident Fred Kabotie has nothing to do with Alaska Airlines.

What really disturbs me is that, while there is an option to ask more questions in an app, and an option to downvote, there is no place to state that the information given is wrong, never mind to correct it. Even the app formerly known as Twitter has that.

Beyond that, there's no way to give this feedback to the bot. Downvoting isn't the same thing as actual negative reinforcement. This means that there is no way to stop the bot from giving the same answer to the same question in the future, even though it is wrong, and even though in this particular case a major aspect of its wrongness is that it seems to believe all North American indigenous people are one coherent group to the point it considers Hopi the same category as Iñupiaq, which is a bit like lumping together Spain and Norway.

So, not to pontificate, but this is one of the reasons ChatGPT is so potentially dangerous. It can generate text which seems quite a bit like an answer while being completely gibberish, and it could certainly fool people. Deep-learning algorithms, as of right now, are not capable of fact-checking. You should never rely on them for answers.

Besides that, though, there are actual human responses. Most of them are, as you may expect of Quora, total dreck. But sandwiched in between someone who seemed to be under the impression that it's ambiguous if Chester was from Kotzebue or Nome and someone who appeared to believe the term 'prop' didn't encompass turboprops was an answer given by Keith Holmes, whose qualifications are 'knows Dutch'.

That doesn't sound promising, but he actually came with evidence. I'm going to give you the short version, but you should read his answer. Here is his method:

He took the original image of the logo, then flipped it horizontally to match the image of Oliver Amouack from the It's Alaska! poster.

Then he overlaid them and very slowly lowered the opacity. Like, it's torturously slow, so I'll just show some 'keyframes', but that slowness means that even I, faceblind as I am, could clearly see that they line up nearly perfectly.

In the 1970s, this process would have been done with physical paint. But nowadays it's incredibly easy to just up the contrast and lower the saturation on an image. So Holmes (aptly named) did precisely this.

...yeah. I mean, there he is. I think we found him.

AN IDENTITY UNCOVERED

So, there it is. People's opinions vary about who this man is and whether he should be on the tails at all, but I think it's Oliver Amouack. But I want to finish off this post, which has had its ups and downs, on a somewhat open-ended yet positive note.

No matter who this face is, there are people who love him. And I'm not talking about people who love making money off him, or about senators. I mean regular Alaskans. Even Annie Wenstrup, in the original text of her petition, acknowledged that there is a warm fuzzy feeling that people have about him. Though its inclusion is definitely potentially a bit sinister, the Alaska Airlines page discussing the history of the logo released concurrently with the rebrand touches on it.

“When I see that face, I feel proud. I feel like I’m home,” says Sallee Baltierra, a concierge in Alaska’s Anchorage Board Room airport lounge. “I love to see that Eskimo on the tail in other cities that we fly to, from Liberia, Costa Rica to Nashville, Tennessee. It makes me feel like there’s a little piece of home there waiting for me.”

The ethics of how it is done in this particular case are worth discussing, and whether the logo as it stands now should be retired is not something I am in a position to weigh in on. For better or worse the happy face is part of Alaska Airlines' history. The mystery has been put out there for people to solve, and it won't go away if they take him off the planes.

And while there are good reasons, reasons I agree with, that people scoff at the idea of representation being the same thing as justice, particularly when those with no skin in the game are making millions off it, Alaskan Natives are most of the history of Alaska, and they have propped up Alaska Airlines from its earliest days. They have been pilots, cabin crew, ground crew, maintenance, customer service, passengers, and, yes, tour guides. They have been there from the earliest days of McGee Airways, and when Alaska Airlines finally goes under they will be there on its very last flight. There is a difference between acknowledgment and objectification, and that line is not one for me to draw, but it is at least good that the question of who this man is can lead people to the stories of the real people who are so often forgotten.

The fact that I believe the happy face is Oliver doesn't make that reality. It could well be Chester. It could be someone else. It could be your grandfather. It definitely isn't my grandfather, but I showed my mother a picture and she did say that he looks very much like my grandfather...we are not Alaskan Native, I think it goes without saying. I don't think anyone I'm related to has ever even been to Alaska.

But I think there's something positive to be taken from his anonymity to most of the world. There are certainly negatives, the sticking points of profit and objectification, but were it not for the fact that there was a mystery here to dive down I would have never known Chester Seveck existed, never mind read his memoir. I wouldn't have known Oliver Amouack existed either, and I hope I can read his memoir too. If there is any reason for me to 'well, actually' someone who says the face is definitely Chester - and I'm not sure there is - it wouldn't be because it isn't him, but because I want to give Oliver the same recognition.

And I hope other people wonder who the face is, and look for the answer online. My blog isn't very large, and I'm entirely happy with that. I love writing my incredibly niche posts about airlines, and I'm not doing this with any expectation or hope of fame. But given the small amount of articles on the topic I hope that my blog shows up in the search engine results, maybe on the second or third page, and that maybe it can direct someone to Chester's story. I am overjoyed to have read it and I want other people to read it too. His life was a unique and meaningful one and I am grateful that he chose to share it with the world. I am excited to pass it on to all of you.

I set out to find the identity of the man on Alaska Airlines' livery. What I found was the story of a man who touched far more than Alaska Airlines. The happy face could be anyone. He could be your grandfather. He could be (and probably is) Brenda Ritchey's grandfather. In a sense I think, although his literal family should be compensated for use of his likeness, he is your grandfather - not because he is literally your grandfather, but because he carries that poised warmth that so many grandfathers have. I think there is a real benefit to leaving this open-ended - at least enough to keep that mystique that drives people to make that Google search and learn about the overlooked and thought-to-be-nameless indigenous men who make Alaska what it is. Maybe the real happy face was the grandfathers we thought he resembled along the way.

And Alaska Airlines be damned, Chester Seveck herded reindeer for 46 years and had his dream of stars and sky beneath him come true. That's more valuable, to me, than having a famous picture based on you. Pictures reflect reality, but Chester was real, and it is accounts like his which make history human.

#double sunrise #alaska airlines #era: 1970s #jellybeans #region: north america #region: united states

[gglitch1dd]

Not the Only One (Fantasy AU)- Pt2

Dragon Kirishima x Dragon Reader

<Part 1> <Part2>

Context: After freeing you from dragon hunters, you and Kirishima grow closer and he finally decides that it's time to make you his.

Warning: SMUT! AFAB reader, fingering (f receiving), breeding kink, language, FLUFF

Your eyes opened slowly as you adjusted to your surroundings. You slowly lifted your head up from the bed of soft pelts and furs you were sleeping on. A heavy fur blanket was over you. You looked around as you sat up slowly. You were in a large tent that was currently unoccupied other than you. It had many things around it, you were in a more secluded side of the tent, angled away from everything.

You were going to go and investigate when something drew your attention away. Entering the tent was Kirishima. He held two bowls in hand. The large male dragon shifter rolled his shoulders as he walked. He had to bend his head to get inside due to the horns that sat on his head. He moved deeper into the tent when his eyes strayed over to you. His figure perked up once he saw you awake. He smiled broadly. “Hey!” He moved towards you slowly.

You were going to back away from him but then you halted your movements. You remembered him. The dragon male that saved you. Kirishima stopped in his tracks. By reading your movements and your facial expression, he could tell you were still hesitant, and he couldn't blame you. He bent down, his pupils expanding slowly as he moved closer towards you. He walked slowly, crouching down to your level. You watched him carefully. You could tell that he meant no harm at all to you. He handed you a bowl with a spoon carefully into your hands. You sat up properly and looked down at the bowl. It was soup, still very warm by the steam that rose from it.

Kirishima carefully sat down outside the array of soft material that made his bed that you were currently sleeping in, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. You had slept through the whole day and with it finally being dinner, he was glad you woke up on your own so that you could eat something.

He crossed his legs as he watched you sniff at the bowl. He chuckled. He let out a gruff to catch your attention. He took the spoon in his hand, showing you what to do. He took a scoop and lifted it to his mouth. He motioned for you to try. You followed what he did, lifting the hot substance to your lips and not caring for the temperature. Dragons preferred their food burning anyways. You ate it and your eyes grew at the taste of cooked seasoned food. You started to viciously eat the soup. Not caring about how messy you were eating.

Kirishima laughed. “I’m glad you like it. The cooks would be glad to find someone who likes their cooking so much.” He ate alongside you, not as excited as you however but he was always hungry. “I guess you haven’t been in your human form for a long time, huh…” He spoke as he spectated you. Most of your body was still wrapped in fur blankets as to hide your naked form underneath. Kirishima looked down at his bowl. “I can remember a time where I was just like you.” He voiced out, not entirely meaning to tell you a story. He wasn’t even sure if you could understand the language he was speaking in but he kept talking anyways. Unbeknownst to him, you had slowed down your practical inhalation of food to listen to him. “I was being hunted in my hybrid form. Hunters had been tracking me for days and I was practically on death’s door. That’s when the king found me, and he saved me. He helped me get back to my full strength even when I could barely communicate with him, still trying to regain my speech back. I owe him my life.” He looked up to find you leaned forward, listening to his story intently. Your eyes locked onto his form as you listened as best as you could. His eyes widened. He pointed a finger towards himself. “Can you understand me?” He asked.

For a moment you didn’t give him an answer but then you slowly nodded your head. You pointed a finger towards him. “Ei… Eiji… Eijiro.” You tried to pronounce his name. It was a bit slurred, but it was undoubtedly his.

Kirishima’s eyes lit up at that. He moved closer to you. He nodded his head. “Yes!” He exclaimed. He gave you a happy dragon chuft to communicate to you on a deeper level. “Yes, that’s me.” He put down his bowl and took your free hand. He placed it against his chest, where his heart was. He didn’t get cold fast so his opened sleeveless denim jacket suited him just fine. You could feel his beating heart under your palm. His chest ran hot under your hands, the thick warm skin of a dragon. You could almost feel the flames that resided in his heart. He stared down at you intently, pupils wide. “Eijiro. Eijiro Kirishima.”

You looked up at him, searching his eyes. Their warm and expansive colour of a deep ruby red, more magenta than that of blood made you almost feel the pure strength and unhindered flames that he carried. You pulled your hand, but just when he thought you were going to return it back to your lap, you snatched his hand that was previously holding yours. You pulled his big hand closer to you roughly, making him bend slightly to get closer to you. You moved the blankets a bit on your chest and placed his hand right over your own heart. You stared at him with the same big-eyed stare he gave you. “Y/N.” You stuttered out your name. You tried pressing his hand closer. “Y/N.” You reiterated for him.

“T-that’s… that’s your name? Y/N?” He asked shocked. Even though he had told you his name before, you had sort of passed out before he could ask you yours.

You nodded your head adamantly. “Y/N.”

Kirishima let out a breathy laugh in disbelief. He took the bowl out of your hand making you frown. Before you could growl at him in anger, you were tackled back down onto your back. You let out a surprised yelp at the affection. Kirishima nuzzled your neck, a dragon purr moving through his body. The action made you laugh at how ticklish it was, as the soft locks of his hair brushed against your skin. He held your body close to his, overwhelmed with excitement and joy. Once he was satisfied, he looked down at you with those bright red eyes of his. You looked up at him with a tilt of your head. You understood his affection and excitement. You rubbed your nose against his, reciprocating. Kirishima was stunned for a moment, he scoffed but his smile broadened. “My beautiful draikana.” He rumbled out of his chest. “We’re together now. It’s me and you. Y/N and Eijiro.”

Kirishima was safely enamoured by you. Everything you did, everything about you, had him grinning like a lovesick idiot and looking at you with hearts in his eyes. Once you had found your barring, Kirishima introduced you to the Bakusquad. They were all very excited to meet you, especially Mina who had some dragon blood in her too, she wasn’t a full blood like you and Kirishima but enough for you to recognise her as one of you.

Bakugou found the two of you like two excited puppies. Just when he thought he had to look after one, now there were two of you. But with the way Kirishima was so happy, Bakugou couldn’t dislike you even if he wanted to. Besides it was like training Kirishima all over again. They had to teach you how to speak again, how not to attack the chickens whenever they passed by you (Kirishima once placed a chick in his mouth whole, Bakugou had to wrench the poor baby chicken out of his jaws). Also, how to interact with people and not just sniff at them. It was a rather fun experience for the Bakusquad again.

What really made Bakugou approve of you was when Deku was visiting the Barbarian camp and you lit Deku’s cape on fire when you sneezed. The demigod was thoroughly freaked out for a second, but you all quickly helped him to get the fire off his cape. Albeit you setting his cape on fire was accidental, but Bakugou wouldn’t stop boasting about it. It made Kirishima glad that his best friend took a liking to you too.

After a few short months, you easily found your own place in the tribe of barbarians. You often stayed in their camp while the squad went out on their missions with Bakugou and other warriors. You didn’t like all the fighting and just wanted to enjoy life now in peace. Kirishima was, although he didn’t want to admit it, extremely glad for that. He had just found you and he didn’t want to put you in anymore danger.

The two of you were as close as any couple there, although you weren’t actually a couple just yet. You were patiently waiting for the redhead to start courting you. You had given him all the signs that you were interested in him. All the tale-old draikana signs to show a drake that you were willing to court. You gave brought kills for him (much to some of the non-barbarians in the tribe’s horror but Kirishima was in awe of your hunting skills), you stuck close to him, rubbing your scent on him whenever he left or commenting on how nice of a home he has and how nice it was for him to let you stay. You did everything you could remember and everything your instincts told of you, but the thick-headed himbo drake that Kirishima was…

he didn’t know how to reciprocate it.

“I’m hopeless!” Kirishima exclaimed as he dropped his head onto the table. The squad was all at Bakugou’s place (much to the blond’s distaste). Kirishima wallowed in sadness an upset whine going through him.

Sero sat next to him and rubbed his friend’s back in sympathy. “It’s okay man, how about you just talk to her?” He suggested.

Mina shook her head. “Nah, he can’t do that.” She sat near the fire, leaned back in her chair. Her hands joined supporting her behind her head. “Dragons court in a specific manner. She could find it rather offensive if he doesn’t court her properly.” She pointed out. Kirishima grumbled as he slumped deeper into his hole of despair. “Worst part is mating season is coming up.” She pointed out. “She might be more sensitive to courting manners right now.”

Bakugou groaned. “Don’t remind me.” He brought his hands over his eyes with a sigh. “My dragon is going to be out of commission for a whole two weeks!” He pointed out annoyed. Barbarians, even though being extremely close to dragonkin, didn’t have enough fire in their hearts and blood in their veins to be considered dragons. However, most of barbarians if not all of them, praised and worshiped the dragons and their sovereignty over man and all beasts.  Bakugou, however, was always a bit… different compared to his kind. Having ‘tamed’ Kirishima, the last one of the dragonkin known before there was you. Bakugou sat back up straight with a glare. “Fuck it. Eijiro, stop sulking!” He pointed to the redhead. Kirishima raised his head, his big candy apple eyes looking at the blond with a sad puppy dog look. “Go get that draikana the prettiest gem in your hoard, and court her, before I cut your damn fucking tail off!”

“Yah Eij!” Denki chirped in supportively. Denki threw his arm over his bulky part reptilian friend. “Who’s the man?” He asked.

Kirishima looked over at the electric blond. “I’m the man?” He asked still sounding sad.

“Yes, you are!” Denki affirmed. “What are you going to do?”

“Get a gem.”

“Then what?”

“Court her?”

“Yes! Then what?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re going to fuck her into next week Tuesday, that’s what!”

“KATSUKI!” Everyone shouted at the vulgar blond.

Mina shook her head in dismay at the blond. “Barbarians.” She rolled her eyes.

“What?” Bakugou looked at them all confused on what he had said wrong. “It works with barbarian women.”

Denki opened his mouth to object but he couldn’t find the other blond male to be wrong. He shrugged. “He’s got a point.” Denki said. Denki placed his hands on Kirishima’s shoulders and shook him gently. “Now wipe that sad look off your face and go get your draikana! How hard can courting a dragon be?” Kirishima, Mina and Bakugou looked at him with a raised eyebrow each.

“Eijiro.” You giggled. “Where are we going?” You asked him.

Kirishima had your eyes covered with his big hands as he led you away from the village. The two of you walked through the forestry moving up the landscape. You wondered where he was taking you and why, but he wouldn’t budge, no matter how much begging and bargaining you did. He shook his head, despite knowing you couldn’t see it. “We’re almost there, darling. Just wait a few more moments.” He told you. You frowned at still being withheld information but complied.

To say that Kirishima was nervous would be an understatement. He was so scared that what he had for you wouldn’t be enough, that maybe you would hate it but as soon as those thoughts entered his head, he made them disappear. He couldn’t think that way. He knew you and if he knew anything about you, it was that you liked him too.

Or at least that’s what he hoped.

Finally, the two of you stopped at the designated location he had. He moved his hands off your eyes, but you still had them closed. He temporarily let go of you to stand in front of you. “Okay... Now... Open.” You opened your eyes.

Your eyes widened in wonder at the place you were in. You were in a cave, the deepest part of it, by the looks of it but it wasn’t just any cave. It was a dragon’s den. You felt the feeling of nostalgia and memories flood you. Memories of being a hatchling and being in a den similar to this one, your hoard living together in the safety of a den, always returning to it. Warm bodies piled onto one another with expansive wings protecting you and all the younger ones.

Tears sprung to your eyes unintentionally as you looked around. There was a warm fire near the huge expansive area of soft pillows blankets furs and more. Close to the back was a pile of treasure, all shiny and glinting from the fire. Although what really struck you were the walls. The walls were marked with drakonic words only you would understand as more than just scratches. Stories of your people and all their expansive glory put on the walls. Drawings of dragons high in the sky with fires so hot they could melt mountains and tales of a time were baby dragons trampled and ran on the earth carefreely with no worry nor fear of danger. You were stunned speechless. In your eyes, it was the most beautiful thing you could see.

When you were finally ready, you looked to Kirishima. He had a soft smile on his face, his hands joined together as he fiddled with his fingers. “Do you like it?” He asked.

Did you like it?

You found that to be a stupid question. You scoffed in disbelief. You nodded your head as you wiped the tears from your eyes. “Of course, I like it.” You told him honestly. Kirishima dropped his shoulders in relief. “But,” You sniffed as you looked around. “Who lives here?” You asked. You couldn’t smell anyone other than Kirishima. You didn’t want to be trespassing on others dens and territories.

“Well, I was hoping...” Kirishima walked closer to you, he gently took your wrist into his big palm. He pulled out a beautiful sparkling ruby bracelet, making you gasp in surprise. He slipped it carefully around your wrist. Smaller clear jewels surrounding each red stone. Your eyes widened at how shiny it was. “I was hoping that you would live here with me.” Kirishima continued. He tilted your head to look up at him. “You have become my everything Y/N, and I couldn’t think of ever living my life without you by my side. You came into my life by unexpected chance and lit me up from the inside.” He professed to you, his words holding raw emotion and truth in everything he was saying. “I feel as though I am not just living for myself anymore. So... What I’m trying to ask is... will you be mine?” He asked softly, his eyes showing vulnerability to you as he awaited your response.

You smiled up at him, your heart filled with love and adoration for the handsome drake in front of you. From the tips of his red horns to the end of his toes. You placed your hand on his cheek tenderly. “I was, am and forever will be yours, Kirishima Eijiro.” You tell him, your voice coming out quieter than you wanted it to. You stretched up towards his face, pulling him down, your eyes went to his lips. “Now and forever.”

The kiss was soft and tender. It made your thoughts halt and your body start to hum. Kirishima couldn’t think now that he had you up against him. He didn’t want to. Then when his mind finally caught up with his body, you were lowering yourself away from him. Your eyes fluttering open as you stared up at him wanting.

His red soft ruby eyes went dark in desire for you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his warm body. His fingers digging into your skin in want. Both your hearts thumped loudly against one another. His head dipped down to your neck, his lips against a tender spot for you. You gripped onto him tighter, hoping, praying he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. “May I...” He breathlessly whispered. “May we...”

You nodded your head with a breathless, “Yes.”

Not needing anything more, Kirishima once again pulled you to kiss him again, now filled with passion and need. His hands on you turned harsh and possessive as they held onto you. He needed you, wanted you, had to have you, in every way. You melted into his hold letting him take the lead as he held onto you. Your bodies trying to get impossibly closer to one another. You released a whine from the back of your throat, wanting more. Kirishima chuckled in a reply.

He led the two of you down into the soft blankets and pillows. Your body on top of his. You backed away from his lips needing air. Your body was starting to feel hot and your rationality and thoughts slipping away from you. Instinctively you straddled him, your legs on either side of his hips. Your body was moving on its own according, moving out of instinct and what felt good. What felt right. Kirishima’s large hands took purchase on your hips, moving your hips down against him. The moment you felt the pressure you gasped. You both hissed at the friction but craving more. He brought his mouth to your neck and started to suck and lick, leaving marks.

There was something driving you that you couldn’t expresses. A deep and innate desire to be close to him. One with him. Something more primal and animalistic than you could ever truly understand in the moment and heat of it all. Heat. That’s what you were feeling. The bubbling burning fire of hope and the need to mate that was thriving inside of you. You had never felt it this intense out of mating season.

Your hands threaded through his bright crimson hair, being careful of his horns, earning a groan from the male as he held your hips tighter. Your hips ground down against him, craving more friction and pressure. You tightened your thighs around him. A whine escaped you as you tried to focus on moving your hips faster. Fire coursed through your veins as you keened, trying to bring him closer to you. His skin against yours burned and yet gave you solace like no other.

You bit down on your bottom lip as you ground against him, your sex aching.  You were already wet for him, dripping for him. You wanted him so badly. You whined. “Eijiro.” You brought your head to the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against sensitive scales. It wasn’t enough. You needed more. “I need you. Please.” You begged.

In a fluid motion, Kirishima had you on your stomach. You gasped as you were brought to present before him. Your ass up in the air and your chest down in the soft blankets. You turned your head back to look at him. The dragon was on his knees behind you. He tore at your bottoms finding them annoying and in his way. Finally, he could see your aching and twitching sex in all its glory. He hadn’t done anything truly and yet here you were already waiting for him.

Kirishima growled, his pupils expanding more. You could see him start to lose rationality and give way to the beast that was chained behind his eyes. “Wet.” He stuck a finger inside of you causing you to squeal at the sudden intrusion. You gripped the blankets under you and braced yourself. His thick finger moved in and out of you, slowly but surely.

You tensed at the feeling but soon relaxed. Relief washed over your body slightly at the feeling of finally having something inside you. It calmed your racing heart for now, and made you mewl in delight. You moaned as you arched your back some more for him to ease his finger into you. He let out a chuft in approval of your actions.

With that he added another finger. He had to make sure you would be able to take him. He didn’t want to hurt you after all, and yet, there was something so forbidden and primal about him wanting to just shove his beastly cock into your entrance. To feel you stretch and forcefully accommodate him in your insides. He knew you were made to take dragon cock, that much was certain, but yet he selfishly wanted to break you on his own. Adding a third finger he focused on the squelching of your sex and the slick dribbling down your thighs.

Oh he would take care of you so nicely. He would hold you so close to him and care for you in everyway possible. Your every need, want and desire would be fulfilled as much as he could satiate them. The two of you were made for each other. You were for each other. And just for such an honour, for such an honour that you have given him for being his mate, Kirishima wants to worship you. Worship your mind, body and soul. Touch you in such a way that together, your hearts would sync and he would hold you like no one will ever hold you.

“Eijiro.” You let out with a mewl. Your pupils blown out in lust and half lidded with desire. His fingers, although caused you an immense amount of pleasure, they weren’t enough. You needed more. You needed so much more. You needed his cock inside you. That’s what you needed. You whined as you  tried pushing back against him to get his fingers deeper inside you. “Take me. Breed me. Make me yours.” You begged him as you wiggled your ass to tempt him. The pressure at the bottom of your abdomen becoming too much to bare anymore. It was so uncomfortable, you could almost cry.

He chuckled at your lack of patience. “My draikana can’t wait, it seems.” He teased as he slowly took off his own clothing. “I can’t leave her unsatisfied, can I?” He grinned, his eyes seeming to grow darker by the second.

You nodded your head. You shrug off your own shirt leaving you both naked.

Kirishima flipped you over so that he could properly look at you. He was simply in awe. Everything about you, every roll, voluptuous, flat, or soft part of you, all for him to see. You looked up at him bashfully, with a soft smile on your face. He smiled as he ran his fingers up your thighs and pushed them up so that you could hold them for him. His large hands dug into your flesh and muscle instantly making you release a breath at the tension he dispelled from your legs. You let out a soft whine. His warm body made of warm muscle and glowing sturdy scales caged you under him. He placed a soft kiss to your lips, placing his forehead against yours.

“We’re going to become one, my darling. You and I.” He spoke softly to you.

You nodded your head. You brought one hand to rest at the back of his head to keep him close towards you. You purred at the affection. “Y/N and Eijiro.”

His face broke into a smile. “Y/N and Eijiro.”

With that, you felt the head of his fat cock push against your folds. You tensed slightly but soon relaxed knowing it best. You held him tighter as Kirishima slowly sank down into you making the two of you groan. Your thighs tensing as you greedily accepted him into you. Your head thrown back as you cried out at the stretch. Everything felt so warm yet so right. His thick cock pushing and bullying his way into you, slowly dissipating that aching feeling you had.

Kirishima finally was fully inside you and you released a sigh at the feeling. The beautiful and overwhelming feeling of you having and holding onto him. Kirishima bit down on his bottom lip as he groaned at the wonderful feeling of your walls pulsating and greedily squeezing his cock. You felt so good to him. Perfect for him. It was no surprise to him at all and yet he felt as though he couldn’t even dream of such a feeling. He kept a hand down in the blankets under you and the other holding your hips. With a growl, he shifted out of you, the whites of his eyes turned black.

He moved his hips back before pushing back into you. You moaned gripping some of his red hair at the base of his neck. You whined for more as he slowly moved in and out of you. You were overwhelmed by him. Every sense and every spec of attention, you wanted to give to him and only him. As much as Kirishima wanted to enjoy every second inside of you, he lost way to the dragon inside him. A dragon who finally had a draikana in his arms and would not waste a second at not breeding her. His pace increased making you cry out at the sudden battering feeling of him.

Kirishima let out growls and groans. His pace became merciless as he pounded inside you with need. You cried out your nails scrapping down his back. “Fuck! Eijiro!” You cried out only spurring his movements. His grip on your hip was bruising and unforgiving. He was like an animal in rut, insatiable and consumed by that innate hunger to breed you. You felt the tension in your abdomen start to build. Your legs tightening around him as you felt your oncoming release. “Eijiro! Eijiro! I’m gonna-”

“Cum.” He growled out, and your orgasm wrecked through you. It was harsh and intense, your body stuttering and squeezing him hard.

You arched your back, squeezing your eyes shut as you cried out to the heavens. You held your breath at the comforting warm feeling that spread throughout your body. You finally felt your lungs get air again after the intense mind-numbing feeling. Your body started to jolt and shiver as you realized that the drake over you hadn’t slowed down or stopped in the slightest. You whined but continued to hold him close. His cock head bullied your cervix, making you cry out in overstimulation.

“Eijiro! Inside. Inside, please.” You begged out with tears.

The moans coming from the man above you were like heaven to your ears. His hips snapping to meet yours, his grip on you and on the furs underneath you were harsh and almost tearing. His hair falling at either side of his head as he focused on his own pent-up release. His thrusts became less rhythmic and more desperate. Sweat dripped of his body and gleaming scales of a hungry beast. His mouth gleamed with saliva as he growled down at you. “Mine, all mine. I’m going to breed you so fucking good.” He growled out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…” With one last harsh thrust and his body shuddered as he released inside you. A loud rumble coming from him as he finally had you underneath him, hot copious amounts of cum inside you that only he could give you.

You both stayed put, not wanting to separate in the slightest. You threaded your hands through his hair with a hum. You then noticed that through it all he had conjured his wings. They wrapped around the two of you gently, keeping you safe under him. You chuckled at the sweet gesture. You hummed. “Eijiro.” You whispered. He let out a grunt showing that he was listening. His mind still felt cloudy, and his body still set on keeping you on his cock. “We’re mates.” You said with a happy tone.

That took his attention. He lifted his head to look down at you. You were positively glowing with sweat glinting off of you and a smile on your face. You looked up at him like he gave you everything. He smiled softly and sweetly. He nodded. “We are.” He put a hand to your cheek. You leaned against it and smiled. His sweet candy apple eyes locked onto you as if you were the only thing that mattered to him in this whole world. Which was true. You were. “We are mates till the great fires of the world spread and consume the world and even after that.”

“After that?”

He nodded. “Even after that.” He placed his forehead against yours as he closed his eyes. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears came to his eyes as he felt emotional. “I’m not alone anymore.”

You shook your head, wrapping your arms around him. You felt yourself become emotional too. You placed a kiss to his head. “Not anymore.”

-Glitch1d

Tags: @akumicchi

#dragon kirishima eijiro #mha x y/n #kirishima x reader #dragon kirishima x reader #dragon kirishima #mha #eijiro kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro imagine #eijirou x reader #eijiro kirishima smut #kirishima smut #kirishima thirst #kirishima x you #kirishima x reader smut #eijiro x reader #mha fantasy au #dragon reader #dragon shifter kirishima #dragon shifter

[phlurrii]

Oh fuck

Oh fuck

Oh fuck

Remember this??? I put together a lot of pieces suddenly and oh no oh no oh Noe. I wonder why he has the kink in his second neck, eh? Could it just possibly be because Meau got hit by the axe in exactly the same place??? I’m extremely concerned about the possibility that this is why he formed early, because the damage somehow ripped the two of them apart. That seems like, y’know, a very good way to gain one ghost typing. And, y’know, a very good way for Meau to only have properly seen his original shiny form for a brief period of time. Did he “die” from the attack? Is that how he got the ghost typing? Is that why his fur darkened so much? Or even worse, did Meau come so close to death that he split off from her to be her replacement? Is that what his second purpose is? Did he appear early because Meau wasn’t supposed to die yet??? Bucket wasn’t in the picture yet, the universe needed a backup plan and our current backup plan didn’t exist yet. Fuck, our second palkia is shiny to replace the first, dead, normal one. You’ve even teased about the amount of shiny luck in this family. Can you truly tell me that’s not why Noe came out shiny??? I’m sure some of this is wrong, but you’d have to deny it directly for me to let go of the idea that Noe was the backup plan and that’s why he’s shiny like palkia. Quite frankly that has me making other conspiracy theories about Qari and ?????? and the fact that our arceus is shiny potentially meaning that he’s the second fucking arceus, but I’ll leave that for another unhinged ask later. Same with the theory that he got the darkened fur, ghost type, and glitchiness because arceus had to give him a temporary purpose when Meau didn’t die. In the meantime, Noe’s second purpose was absolutely to be Meau 2.0, and he absolutely has the second neck kink because Meau was hit and quite nearly killed in the second neck in the exact same place. The middle part, that’s not certain. How he formed is all kinds of unclear. But damnit, I see things that I really really like for Phlurrii and Fuzzball purposes and really really don’t like for Meau and Noe purposes. I love it to bits and also I’m extremely scared for the cat gods because none of the things I have listed are good things for anyone in front of the 4th wall.

;> wowie, you are barreling in the right direction ain’t ya.

Very impressed, very good deduction skills, there’s a few things in here that Broadly… are basically correct, minus some details here and there X3~

However… one thing I have to confirm because I’m both very excited and very proud you figured it out, Missingno.’s shiny was the first and brief appearance of a shiny mew that Meau witnessed… as for why it was brief, i can’t say as of now! Gotta wait for the in story visuals because that delivery will be eveyrthing X3

I loved reading this and it sincerely made me giggle madly, your first bit has a lot going in the right direction and even a few things just about spot on, later half is in the ball park, but not quite right. Very impressed ;3

#ask #funlovingfuzzball #council of theorists #ancient mew

[eiirisworkshop]

Title: That’s Me Rated: M Length: ~600 words Read on Ao3 here. Summary: Angel has a moment of understanding about his relationship with Husk—while watching some of his own porn.

They were in Husk’s room for once, Husk frowning against his headboard with his arms crossed, Angel lounging across the green quilt, both facing the old tube TV perched precariously on top of the dresser, which was currently playing one of Angel’s videos.  

The Angel on the screen leaned back against the big bull demon whose lap he was bouncing in, eyes closed and mouth open, gasping and moaning at a higher and higher pitch until he came with a mewling cry, splattering his own chest and stomach with jizz that clung to his fur pearlescent drops. 

Husk levered himself off the bed with an irritable huff and tromped to the bathroom, leaving the door open. 

“Hey,” Angel called after him, “you said you were down to watch.”

“I was,” Husk called back, taking a piss. 

“Then what’s with the tude?”

Husk rezipped his pants and came back into the room. “That’s not what you sound like.”

Angel made a face and sat up. “What are you talking about?”

“That’s not what you sound like when you come,” Husk elaborated, jerking a thumb at the TV. 

“Of course it is!” Angel also gestured at the TV, where the credits were now rolling over a slideshow of still pinup pictures of him. “That’s me! I—oh. That’s Angel Dust.”

Husk glanced between him and the TV a couple times, brow furrowed. “Yeah.”

“You don’t like Angel Dust.”

“Of course I do,” Husk said quickly, moving to sit on the edge of the bed next to him. 

“No, I mean,” he shook his head. “I know ya like me, but you’ve been real damn clear that you don’t like the whole,” he gestured vaguely, “pornstar sexy persona thing. That’s Angel Dust, and you haven’t been fuckin’ Angel Dust.” He continued quiet, almost to himself. “You’ve just been fuckin’ Anthony….”

“Anthony?” Husk asked. 

“‘At’s me,” he said, smile small, voice even smaller, almost embarrassed. 

“Your name’s Anthony?”

He nodded. “I mean, ‘Angel’ is my name too, and nobody but some of the studio paperwork ever calls me Anthony anymore but, yeah.”

“...would you want me to?”

“Hm?”

“Would you want me to call you Anthony?” Husk offered.  “Or, I dunno, Tony or somethin’?”

“Jeez, no,” Angel laughed, shaking his head.  “I never went by Tony—there were already two other Tonys on the street.  My sister used to call me Anth sometimes, though.  But, nah, Angel’s fine, Angel’s good.  Don’t worry about it.”

Husk smiled softly at Angel’s laughter.  “Can I call you Anthony?”

“Do you…want to?”

Husk shrugged, smile broadening lopesidedly.  “I kinda like it; it suits you.”

Angel shrugged too, blushing a little.  “Wouldn’t mind—least not when it’s just us.”

“Okay,” Husk agreed.  He found one of Angel’s hands with his own and interlaced their fingers.  “So, Anthony—” Angel smiled, eyes crinkling “—ya wanna remind me what you sound like?”

“I can do that,” Angel purred and tackled Husk onto his back with his head just past the edge of the mattress, hat falling to the floor.

“Shit—yellow!” Husk clung to Angel, claws digging into his arms.

Angel rolled back towards the center of the bed, pulling Husk with him.  “Sorry.”

Husk took a breath.  “It’s okay, just—watch the edge a the bed and watch the wings.”  He shook out his wings, grabbed his pillow, lay on top of it, and pulled Angel back on top of him, grumbling a fond, “Overeager little bitch.”

Angel straddled his lap and ran all four hands over his chest, grinning broadly.  “That’s me!”

#eiiri made this #fanfiction #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin angel dust #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust

[acti-veg]

Have you seen the video 'How to spin dog fur into yarn: Theo the samoyed floof'? What do you think about it from an ethicality stand point? Not that video specifically I guess, just the concept broadly?

As a broad concept I’ve no real issue with people making use of what are clearly waste products that an animal has no use for. This is strictly in cases where it is incidental production that does not harm the animal in any way, and the animal is not being exploited. This would rule out things like manure from farmed animals as well as backyard eggs, but could include things like shed hair, wool from sanctuary sheep and feathers.

However, I think as a general principle we should try to avoid finding ways to benefit from our relationships with animals, just because of how ubiquitous animal exploitation is and how easy it would be to slip into that, especially where profit is involved. For example, if Theo’s owner were selling products made from shed fur I’d have an ethical issue with that, unless the money was entirely going towards maintaining the animal or a non-profit.

Generally, it would be better if the animal community benefited from those waste products, rather than us. Fur and wool can make blankets or jumpers for rescued animals, for example. Otherwise, products being donated to homeless shelters or food banks is a good way to benefit our wider community rather than ourselves, assuming we don’t have real need of it.

#ask #vegan #dilemmas

[transgenderer]

Phoretic (living on the surface, but not parasites) organisms on sloths

A sloth moth is a coprophagous moth which has evolved to exclusively inhabit the fur of sloths and to use sloth dung as a substrate for the early stages of reproduction. Sloth moths include Bradypodicola hahneli,[1] Cryptoses choloepi,[1] Cryptoses waagei,[2] Cryptoses rufipictus,[2] and Bradypophila garbei.[2]

Certain lepidopteran moths of the snout moth family Pyralidae (namely subfamily Chrysauginae) have evolved to inhabit sloth fur exclusively. Typically, sloth moths follow a life-style broadly on the lines of Cryptoses choloepi, a moth in the snout moth family that lives exclusively in the fur of the brown three-toed sloth Bradypus variegatus infuscatus. Adult female moths leave the fur of the sloth to lay eggs in the sloth droppings when the sloth descends, once a week, to the forest floor to defecate. The larvae of Cryptoses choloepi live in the dung and newly emerged moths later fly from the dung pile into the forest canopy to find a host sloth.[3][4]

Chrysaugine moths, such as Cryptoses spp., spend their lives as adults in the fur of sloths, particularly the three-toed species, except when the sloths descend to defecate and females fly to the sloth dung to oviposit. An imbalance in population sex ratios favouring males has been noticed and surmised as female moths not making it back to host sloths after ovipositing.[1]Pale-throated sloth (Bradypus tridactylus)

Sloth moths are thought to get nutrients from the secretions of the sloths' skin and the algae present on the fur, as well as protection from avian predators.[1]

Some individual three-toed sloths have been recorded carrying more than 120 moths in their fur. Two-toed sloths are recorded as harbouring lower populations. Several different moth species may coexist on the same host animal.[1]

some people say that the moths eat the moss on the sloth but no. theres no moss on the sloth. there is algae on the sloth. and also mostly it seems they eat the sloth leavins of various kinds

on the algae:

Milla Suutari and colleagues found that the predominant algae inhabiting sloth fur was Trichophilus welckeri. It is passed directly from mother to offspring and young sloths gain the algae and other parasites by the time they are a few weeks old. This species of algae is host specific and has not been found to occur in any other environment. This finding adds strong support to the hypothesis that there is a co-evolutionary relationship between the sloths and the algae of the genus Trichophilus, which may well only exist as a symbiont.

special algae just for sloths.

but its not just sltohs and algae! there are beetles!

Beetles form a prominent portion of the arthropod community associated with sloth and sloth dung. A number of species of the coprophilous family Scarabaeidae are associated with three-toed but not two-toed sloths. The populations of these beetles can be quite large, in one case more than 980 beetles of the species Trichilium adisi were found in the fur of a single sloth. Beetles of the genus Uroxys have been recorded from sloths in Bolivia, Brazil, Colombia and Panama.[1]

Beetles appear to congregate preferentially in specific parts of the body. For example, scarab beetles occur near the elbow or on the flanks behind the knees buried deep inside the fur, while those of Trichilium spp have been found in the underfur of the lower back and thighs of Bradypus torquatus. Beetle larvae and some adult beetles use sloth dung for feeding. The population of beetles varies and the seasonal factors affecting the population size are yet to be ascertained.[1]

a little ecosystem just on the sloth... i wonder if other organisms filled this role before the sloth. arboreal dinosaur with bugs in its feathers!

[onboardsorasora]

I'm firing on all cylinders today! I know its not day 9 but I really wanted to do this prompt. (also unedited)

Part 1 | Part 6

Part 7

F1 Flufftober Day 9 - Mistaken for a Couple

They were wandering around the city centre now, Daniel had asked to see more of Monaco and Max had asked if he wanted to hike. Daniel, of course, sang his yes because there was nothing more fun than prowling through nature.

Max didn’t realize or anticipate that this would include singing, lots of singing. And animals. Soon after they made it maybe halfway up the trail, Daniel had deviated into the forest eagerly. Max, anxious because he had literally just glimpsed through the trees what could have been a fox, a deer or a boar– he truly wasn’t sure, dashed after Daniel.

He climbed over small boulders and through some dense underbrush– who knew Monaco was so lush? Before coming to a stop before a large tree, he bent over and rested his palms on his knees panting. 

Daniel was– Daniel was humming, as evidenced by the unusually large flock of truly random birds that hovered above where he sat cross legged on the ground. There was a…weasel on his shoulder, peering down into his arms. Daniel looked up from whatever he was cuddling to grin broadly at Max who was dumbfounded.

So dumbfounded that he ended up taking a picture and sending it to his groupchat with Lando, Alex and Charles just to….capture…just to prove that he was actually seeing this. He needed confirmation that this truly wasn’t all just a fever dream. When the boys didn’t respond in shock or concern, he placed the phone back in his pocket.

Because, Max truly believed he was taking this whole thing….really well. All things considering. His current baseline state of being remained neutrally surprised. If that even was a thing.

“Max!” Daniel whisper shouted, not wanting to frighten whatever it was he was holding. “Come look!”

Max, helpless to Daniel, picked his way forward. Stepping lightly to avoid any smaller animals that were wandering underfoot. He saw a field mouse skitter away and made an apologetic sound. This was all mental. He was apologizing to a mouse!

Still, he got closer, stepping around a lounging deer that tilted its head for a scratch. Without even thinking about it….Max gave it a little scritch between its ears. The small happy noise in return made him smile.

Daniel gazed up at him from the ground in wonder and Max swallowed the lump in his throat. Daniel shifted his arms, his oversized sweatshirt sleeves parted like a lavender cocoon and Max’s eyes widened in delight at the sight of two snuffling fox kits. They were tiny things, just growing their red fur.

The hike had been derailed after that and they’d spent the next hour in that glade as Daniel gossiped with each of the animals. They came to Max for a scratch or two, after he’s overheard Daniel telling one of the owls that Max was a friend and he was wonderful. Jimmy and Sassy were brought up a few times, described as happy cats, which also seemed to lend Max a little bit more credibility. He never realized he needed it or wanted it until now.

So now they were wandering around looking for a place to have lunch. Daniel wanted burgers but he also wanted ice cream. They’d found a shop that sold sorbet and Daniel had wanted that instead, so they got that and when they left the shop, Daniel had hugged Max tightly before frolicking off.

Max had stood there, stunned every time Daniel showed affection freely, and watched him eat his cold treat and follow a butterfly. An older lady tugged his sleeve and he blinked down at her diminutive frame, completely surprised that she was there. She smiled sweetly at him, in the way a grandmother does when they see something you don’t.

“You are such a beautiful couple. Take it from an old lady who loves love– you make him very happy, cherish him always.” She patted his cheek and walked off, going on her way.

Max’s eyebrows raised to his hairline, he opened his mouth to say something– correct her, but she was across the street now and he didn’t feel like yelling. He blushed as he thought of her words and then looked back to keep track of Daniel.

Only to find Daniel right where he had last seen him, already looking back at Max. Daniel smiled a softer, smaller smile and turned away, ducking his head to lick his spoon. And Max felt his rose blooming.

Part 8

#max/daniel #maxiel #F1Flufftober 2023 #day 9 #enchanted au #disney princess dan