#alas they get covered by his scales

[skyedancer2006]

We couldn’t resist doing this with BT!Kieran banbfnsbfbsbf

It’s too perfect for him

#gotta love doodling that BT angst #it’s so fun and silly #also Kieran with freckles supremacy #alas they get covered by his scales #bridged toxicity au #pokemon au #pokemon #pokemon Kieran #kieran pokemon

[chaos-in-deepspace]

LNDS Rafayel: Questions That Keep Us Up At Night (18+)

I started writing this yesterday but then a certain SOMEONE made me brainrot over Xavier, so here we are today. My only goals today is to finish the Xavier brainrot I have and then get a request page set up. Wish me luck and enjoy the torture I put our local fish boy through. This was supposed to be another crack fic but alas here we are.

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+. Warnings: Suggestive Questions, Non-Human Mating Suggested, Teasing Synopsis: You just needed to know the answers to some of the questions that kept you up at night. Who knew Rafayel would be so...flustered over them. Word Count: 1,597

Blog Information | Masterlist

Rafayel

Questions That Keep Us Up At Night Reader x Rafayel

“So do Lemurians lay eggs?” It had been an innocent question, one that you asked so casually you hadn’t even bothered to look up from your phone. The room was suddenly silent, the noises of chopping from earlier had disappeared and you finally looked up from your screen to see Rafayel just staring at you from the kitchen.

His face looked complex, a mixture of amusement and horror crossing it as he processed what you had just asked him. He blinked a few times before taking in a deep breath to reorient himself. He should be used to your eccentric questions at this point, hell he often asked you some pretty weird things. He just wasn’t expecting this on a Tuesday afternoon.

Rafayel finally managed to look back at you, “Oh, I didn’t realize you were so curious about Lemurians.” He was putting on an air of indifference it would seem, “Out of all the questions though, why this one? You aren’t thinking of trying to do something to me, are you?”

“Okay well first off, always thinking about that.” You began, making Rafayel choke on air for a split second, “Second off, I’m just curious. Mammals are known for giving live birth, but most aquatic life lay eggs. So where do Lemurians fit in all this?”

“If I’m not mistaken, mammals are classified as having hair or fur on them, so by those standards, Lemurians would be considered mammals, or did you forget that with your brain in the fish bowl?” Rafayel teased, a sly smirk crossing his face.

“Okay that might be true, but the lower half where the babies would pop out of is fish based. Covered in scales. Mammals don’t have scales unless you’re referring to Pangolins.” You explained to him as simply as you could.

“A pangolin?” Rafayel asked, having no clue what those were.

“Scaly anteaters.” You explained.

Rafayel was silent for a moment, “...Did you look that up just to see if mammals could have scales to prove your theory?”

“Obviously…although now that I think about it, if the bottom half is that of a fish and the top half is a mammal, would you lay eggs, hatch them, and then produce milk to feed the baby?” You said, tapping your lower lip in question.

“I’m stopping you right there…why are you asking all these questions?” Rafayel said, trying to get back to what he was doing earlier.

“These are the questions that keep me up at night, and only you can answer them for me, Raf.” You admitted. You didn’t even want to think about the multiple times you had woken up in the dead of night and laid in bed, thinking about Lemurian eggs for literal hours. 

Rafayel smirked as he leaned over the counter, “Does this mean you’ve been having thoughts of me when you’re trying to sleep?”

“I’m not trying to incriminate myself, Raf.” You said, pointing an accusing finger at him, “I’m just saying that the question about Lemurian eggs, amongst several other things, have been on my mind.”

“Other things?” Rafayel murmured just loud enough for you to hear it. He looked at you, curiosity but also hesitance crossing his features.

“Well ya, for instance I know that some aquatic creatures have two.” You said, holding up the number two with your fingers.

Rafayel sighed, looking almost pained as he wanted to clarify what you were asking, “Two of what.” He was hoping it wasn’t what he thought it was.

“Dicks, penis, cocks, levers, fun handles, joysticks.” You said, listing off both the actual names as well as some euphemisms you knew.

Rafayel once again stopped what he was doing. You watched as he put the knife down next to him. You wanted to ask him why he was stopping since he had been so deadset that he’d prepare lunch this afternoon. You had been waiting ages for the salmon salad he was making.

“Really?” He asked, gesturing to the food in front of him, “Right in front of my salad?” 

You couldn’t help but stare directly into those beautiful eyes of his, “You didn’t answer any of the questions, Raf. What are you hiding?”

“Believe it or not, I don’t actually have to answer your questions.” He said, leaning over to where you were sitting at the bar counter.

You then decided to press your luck even more, “So if Lemurians supposedly cry pearls, is their cum like pearlescent or something else entirely?” You watched as Rafayel’s cheeks took on a rosy hue and you barked out a laugh, “Oh that reaction tells me everything! So it’s not like humans!”

Rafayel groaned, covering his face with his hands and shook his head, “Why do you want to know about Lemurian…cum…I hate that I even have to ask that.” Rafayel said as he gave you a disappointed glance.

“It’s just a question, now I have more.” You said as you stood up from your stool, “Do Lemurians ever enter heats or ruts? Would Ebb Day be considered one of those because that day you were kinda…” You thought back to Ebb Day. He had looked so damn good with his scales and the slight sheen of sweat. If only he wasn’t so damn delirious that day you might’ve made a move to pursue something more with him.

“I was kinda…?” Rafayel said before stopping himself, “Wait, hold it, bite your tongue, I don’t think I want to know what’s going through that head of yours. I think we’re done with questions for the day.”

You couldn’t help the pout that went on your face, but Rafayel was looking away from you, not daring to make eye contact right now. His cheeks and ears were flush as he picked up his knife and continued cutting up salmon..

You slowly stalked over to him until you were standing right behind Rafayel. He, of course, knew you were there as he scrapped the salmon on top of the lettuce and put the dangerous object into the sink. As soon as he was cleared of any knives that he could stab you with should he break due to your insanity, you tugged on his sleeve.

Rafayel, despite his pouting, let out a sigh. He then moved a bit away from the counter and you didn’t even realize what had happened until you found your back digging into the counter of the kitchen. Rafayel had quickly spun you around and pinned you, both arms locking you in place as he gripped onto the cool marble.

You caught the confident glint in his eyes as he pulled a full 180 from earlier. His cheeks, ears, and chest were still a bit flushed, but he seemed to be in control for the moment, “If you’re that curious, I could always give you a demonstration of Lemurian mating habits.” He finally said.

You were stunned into silence, your mouth hung open and you could feel your cheeks heating up as you looked at Rafayel. Then, after the shock wore off, your entire face lit up at the prospect.

“Wait really? Oh man, I need to grab my notebook. I have so many hypotheses on things that I can’t wait to try out!” You said, placing your hands on his chest, “When are we gonna do this? Now? Later? Now?”

It was Rafayel’s turn to be shocked at your enthusiasm. He was aiming to fluster you like you had done to him; he wasn’t expecting you to want to jump his bones right now. The only thing he could utter was “You have a journal…?”

You nod your head, your hand going over to his neck where you remembered those iridescent blue scales had been. You pressed down slightly at the area and you could feel Rafayel’s pulse jump. You licked your lips at the thought of seeing them again, as well as his tail that he swore up and down he didn’t have until one day he slipped up and admitted to it.

“Of course silly, how else am I gonna know the best ways to unravel you?” You said, your head tilting to the side as you smirked.

You watched as Rafayel managed to turn into a darker shade of red, his mouth opening and closing before his eyes narrowed, “If I had known you were like this, I would’ve been more cautious about letting you into my home.”

“Not only did you let me in, but you gave me a key so I can stop by whenever.” You teased him, “Hopefully I will catch you in a compromised setting one day.”

Rafayel groaned, his hands going to your hips, placing his head over your shoulder, “You’ll be the death of me…” He murmured out before taking a deep breath, “Were you serious though, about uh…”

“Only if your offer is on the table.” You said and Rafayel chuckled, his warm breath fanning over your neck.

“It was supposed to be a joke.” He teased, “But with how excited you got I feel it would be cruel to take the offer back now.”

“It would be so cruel.” You said, your arms going around his shoulders, “Although perhaps we should move things a bit…slower. We can discuss it over lunch?” You said and Rafayel nodded.

“That sounds good.” He said, not moving from his position as he nuzzled his face into your neck “But in a few minutes. I’m comfortable right now.”

Your hand found its way into his purple locks as you gently played with them, “Sounds good to me.”

#loveanddeepspace #love and deepspace #Rafayel Love and Deepspace #Lnds #Lnds Rafayel #lnds x reader #x reader #reader insert #rafayel x reader #l&ds #l&ds rafayel #l&ds rafayel x reader #lads x reader #lads rafayel #lads rafayel x reader

[fagidarity]

y’know generally i try to limit colour palettes to as few colours as possible to make things more cohesive but despite my best efforts only jay ended up being able to stick to that </3

ANYWAYS here’s the as-of-right-now fully updated designs for these dickheads. these will no doubt undergo even more tweaking as i draw them more but this is a start i guess. also pls open the pictures to look at them properly i worked so hard LOL

some random notes under the cut yaaaay

chip —

he jingles when he walks. somehow he’s still stealthy. i do not know how

kept the platinum ring that bonded him to gillion in the block! because hey he doesn’t really have a reason to take it off (and it’s a nice reminder of how much gill cares about him, and how far their friendship has come since that ice arena)

his tattoos shift and flicker like actual flames, and sometimes (harmless, purely aesthetic) sparks fly off them when he’s excited

i just think smoke coming out of his mouth when he’s angry would be cool :]

chipped teeth from biting rocks and coins all the time :/

he has scars from the red lightning, they’re just mostly contained to his back and shoulders. they’re a similar red to his coat even once they’ve healed

gillion —

the tail sleeve thing is so he can rest it on the ground without damaging his scales, he doesn’t usually wear it when he’s just on the ship because the wood is soft enough that it’s usually fine + it can hinder swimming a bit. it’s mostly meant for places where there’s cobblestone or gravel streets and such. i think his armour would probably have a version that looks similar but covers the whole tail minus the fins, maybe with some armour plating of its own. i didn’t draw it because there wasn’t any room lol

his scars from the lightning are pink mostly because red stood out too much tbh. they softly glow in the dark the same as his coral and the pink parts of his fins

also kept his ring! his hands aren’t really made for jewellery, though, because the webbing means it won’t sit very secure on his finger. so he keeps it on the same chain as the necklace he got from aslana to keep it safe

tried to make him look a bit bulkier and more his age than in my original design? i feel like i was leaning too much into the naivety and. shortness. originally lol. he also has thicker eyebrows now and i’m still trying to decide how i feel about them but i think? i like it? i don’t tend to give many character thin eyebrows so it could’ve been a unique thing for him but alas

i think i made the sword too small but like ignore that

also forgor to include pretzel </3 that’s okay though she can get her own design sheet later. she’s special like that

jay —

i believe in tall jay supremacy

blue magic! i was considering gold but that’d look a bit more like a canary than i wanted for her wings so. blue jay :]

her hair is supposed to look kinda like fire to mimic her dad ! kinda showing that even if she runs from her family and the navy they’ll always be a part of her. and also i just like drawing messy hair

i gave her sturdier gloves just because i feel like it fits her better. also changed up the shirt to more of a button up solely because i don’t like tank tops very much LOL

i did WANT to make her outfit a bit flashier to match the boys better but i couldn’t quite figure out where to Put the flash. maybe that’ll come later, the way the story’s going i might get to design some cool prosthetics for her or something

overall —

because there’s just so many fucking colours i triiied to add at least one or two colours from each of them into the others designs. jay has her necklace with each of their main colours on it, her wings are the same blue as gillions eyes, her jacket and right eye are the same dark blue as destiny’s blade, her hair is the same orange as the lighter part of chips tattoos. chip has a dark green sash under all the belts, the same as the hilt of destiny’s blade. they all use the same shades of black, gold, and brown

the only real exception is gillion doesn’t have anything from the other two because he has Such a specific colour palette and he already had so much going on as-is orz jay was obviously the easiest to do this with because she has both warm and cool colours in her palette by default lol (and i did her design last, so that helps)

#.png #jrwi #jrwi riptide #just roll with it #jrwi chip #gillion tidestrider #jay ferin #jrwi spoilers #THEYRE FINALLY DONE zoo wee mama #the lines are thicker on the little armour drawings because i did the sketch thing and then went yk what. good enough. and just coloured tha #also got rid of gills button nose it was too annoying to draw #i’m so used to straight and aquiline noses #another thing that could’ve been unique for him in terms of my character designs #but nah #pls ignore that i drew them all standing on diff planes/angles btw i wasn’t trying very hard w that #weirdly proud of myself for managing to give them all pretty unique profiles #that’s normally something i kinda get stuck on. drawing people from the side #in different ways besides nose shape

[angelizs]

[Octopus piercing - Jade Leech]

Summary: Hand slipping down from his cheek to his chin, you pull away to take in the whole picture. Jade, octopus piercing covering his whole ear, skin flushed a delightful shade of light pink, eyes looking at you the whole time, entranced. 

Notes: gn!reader, based on the early concept of punk Jade, in this household we like flustered Jade who's down bad while also being a tease, now I'm certain he had a punk phase at some point and still has the piercings!

"Oh? What's this?"

Your voice rings out in the otherwise silent room, being quickly replaced by the sound of clinking metal.

Jade turns his head around your direction, tilting it to the side in interest. If you had been looking at him, you might have noticed the ever so slight widening of his eyes as he realizes what you found (you always do, as attentive to his expressions as he is with yours), but alas, something else had caught your eye.

It's as if the air in his bedroom stilled and time had stopped for a moment as you lift up your hand to look closer at your finding. He watches attentively, wanting to drink in your reaction.

You don't disappoint (you never do). Your lips part as you let out a breath of amazement, your eyes shining as they reflect the light of the jewel. Something so simple managed to mesmerize you. Your fingers delicately, as if afraid they could break it, toy around it, spinning it from one side to the other, taking in the texture and the coldness.

Jade gets so deep in watching you he almost forgets his comeback. Almost.

"Prefect, you shouldn't mess with other people's things, it's not very polite."

You turn to him, making him feel exhiliration tickle down his spine from having your attention on him, your humorous smile directed at him and only him. 

"You didn't seem to share the sentiment a few months ago, huh?" You refer to the little... incident with Azul's contracts at the end of the year. It was all water under the bridge now, but you still liked to tease them about it.

"These were very different situations, wouldn't you say?" 

For emphasis, he lowers his voice and slides to the side you're seated on his bed, his leg touching yours and his face close enough you could count his eyelashes if you wanted to, but not enough for his nose to touch yours. 

There's a hitch in your breath, so quiet that if it was anyone else they would have missed it. Jade doesn't. His smile turns more genuine at the corners.

"No, I don't think so." 

Instead of trying to get away, you stay where you are, attracted like a moth to the flame. Your hand comes between your faces, putting the object of your fascination in display.

It was an octopus tentacle piercing, one that would curl around the top of the ear and pass through the earlobe. It was quite detailed, with all the suction cups carefully craved in silver.

"It's beautiful. I didn't know you had other earrings."

There it is, that curious look in your face, the one that promises to deliver endless entertainment. He decides to indulge you to see where you're heading with it, although he already has an inkling.

"That must be because I only use this one nowadays." He touches the signature scales earring he's using. "But there was a time I was still experimenting with my appearence. I suppose I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them."

"It's a bit hard to imagine you using anything other than this one, but..." Your gaze turns to the octopus earring, evaluating it, before sliding to his face again. Jade feels as if he was being examinated from the inside out, as if you could investigate his very soul from the intensity of your stare. "I think this one would look pretty good too."

"Shall we check?" 

His fingers do quick work of taking off the backing and pulling his current earring away from his ear, leaving it bare. He puts it on the nightstand and turns around, exposing his side to your ministrations.

You stare for a second, caught of guard. "May I?"

"Of course, go ahead."

You hesitate for a second longer, hearing him let out an amused huff of laughter, before your fingers approach him. You tuck the longer strand of black hair behind his ear to give you space to work. In the process, your warm hand brushes against it, making him shiver. 

Taking your time, you let your touch ghost his cold skin, captivated by such a rare chance to be so close to his space. You notice, for the first time, that there are more little holes alongside it, where other piercings might have been before. The image you conjure in your head is charming enough to make you smile.

The pad of your thumb strokes his earlobe before you insert the post and screw the back, holding it in place and sliding the cuff to hook it on his upper ear. 

Your hand stays in place as you admire your work, rubbing the helix absentmindedly. You hum, your other hand cupping his cheek to turn his head in your direction so you could see how it looked.

"Something's wrong?" You whisper, noticing how he feels warmer under your touch.

Jade's pupils look slightly blown when his eyes meets yours. "Go on." It comes out in a rushed breath. 

Humming once more, your smile widens. "As you wish." 

Hand slipping down from his cheek to his chin, you pull away to take in the whole picture. Jade, octopus piercing covering his whole ear, skin flushed a delightful shade of light pink, eyes looking at you the whole time, entranced. 

"What's the veredict?"

"I was right, you know. It does look good."

"Is that so?" There's something to his tone, something you can't quite name.

You turn his head around, enjoying the thrill you get when he complies and lets you do as you please.

"Actually, maybe I wasn't."

At this, he turns around by himself, a calculating look on his face, trying to guess what you where going to say. He catches up just before the words leave your mouth, but it doesn't make them any less enjoyable to say.

"It's more than good. You look lovely."

The sincerity in his answering laugh is elating.

"You flatter me, prefect. If this is the reaction I'll get, then I might change around my looks more often."

"There's more, right? I'd like to see them too!"

The pleased glint in Jade's expression turns into mischievousness as he pulls away from you, moving to get up.

"Perhaps another time. This would take time I can't afford without risking running late to my shift at Mostro."

"C'mon! Just one more!" You hold his arm before he can move out of your reach, looking through your lashes at his towering form. "Please?"

Sighing, he concedes. "If you insist so much, I suppose we could look at another one." You cheer, pulling him back to where he was, already looking through his other piercings in the drawer. "For a price, naturally."

You only deadpan at him, earning an amused chuckle.

"My, my, what's with that face? Can you say you weren't expecting it?"

"Of course I was, it is you after all. What will it be then?"

A sharp grin exposing his teeth blooms. Most would be scared by it, but the only thing passing through your mind is how this expression goes quite well with this new piercing.

"Not backing down? Very well. How about you participate in this week's Mountain Lovers Club meeting?"

"Deal." There's not even a moment to blink before you agree. Truly, you didn't mind going on his club meetings. In fact, they were very enjoyable most of the time, and if that would make him happy you could sacrifice a few hours from your day. Besides, you were having a lot of fun with your new discovery. "Now, how about this one?" 

You show him the piercing you chose, a little fish skeleton that looked cheaper than the other one. You thought it would look quite cute.

"This was a gift from Floyd, so I'm rather fond of it." You can tell it's true from his softer tone. "We have a deal, you can go ahead."

Letting you have full access to his ear once more, you explore the options where you could put this new piercing. Since the other one covered a good part of the available space, you decided to insert it on the helix, where they wouldn't clash.

You carefully hold it on one hand while your other supports his ear. It's almost reverent the way you insert it, treating it like it was a precious jewel, watching intently as it pierces the skin and appears on the other side, nimble fingers screwing it in place.

Like before, you take his chin between your thumb and index finger, taking in the sight of him. Your lips pout as you think, his eyes darting to stare at them as if in a trance before quickly glancing back to meet yours.

"If feels like there's something missing..." You mumble, thinking out loud. "Oh! Maybe if I just..."

Without further explanation, your free hand combs his hair backwards, messing with it enough to get a spiky look that could rival his twin's. The strand of black hair you had tucked behind his ear gets loose, only half of it staying in the place you left.

Thumb gently rubbing his skin, you push his face away. The messy hair alongside the piercings made him resemble a delinquent. If it wasn't for his awestruck expression, Jade would look quite intimidating. 

"There you go! You look great!"

A second passes where he just stares at you, as if taking this moment in and commiting it to memory, before there's a signature smile adorning his face.

"I trust you did a good job then."

"Nah, you already did before, I just tweaked with a few things here and there."

The amused huff of breath he lets out warms your fingertip. You feel your cheeks getting hotter. 

"I see. In this case, thank you for your assistance. Hopefully Azul will be able to appreciate this new look as much as you do."

Imagining Azul's reaction to his usual put together employee going to work with such a carefree look makes you chuckle.

"I have no doubt that he'll love it. Not as much as I do, but close enough."

"That's a relief, seeing as I have to go now in order to not get late." 

He gets up again and extends his hand to you. You take it, letting him help pulling you up to your feet, standing so close you're pressed against his chest. You can feel his hum resonate through it. Your arms embrace his torso to keep you balanced.

Before you can make a comment, his hand holds your chin, mirroring the position you were in minutes ago, while his other tousles your hair.

"I enjoyed our time together, it's truly too bad it had to be cut short. Let's meet up another time for you to look at the other piercings, yes? There are quite a lot of them, after all."

"I'd like that." You close your eyes to enjoy his touch, leaning into it.

"I'm sure you do." Jade's teasing actions turn softer as he starts to stroke your hair affectionately. "I'll look forward to our next meeting, prefect." 

His tone makes you open your eyes to peek at him. It sounds far too tender, far too sincere. His smile betrays nothing of his thoughts, but you know he said the truth. 

"Me too. Make sure to prepare a special activity for the club meeting since you'll have a special guest!"

"I'll do my best to keep you entertained, don't you worry. I'm sure you'll enjoy what I have planned."

"You sure know how to make someone curious." You tease, hoping he'd give you a hint at what he had planned, but no luck.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see."

You sigh exaggeratedly. "That I'll do." 

"I promise it'll be worth the antecipation. Now, I truly must get going." 

Leaning down while his hand combs your hair backwards, his lips leave a fleeting touch on your forehead, an almost kiss that leaves you wanting more.

"Until we meet again, dear."

With that, he leaves the room in quick strides, leaving you alone to process what happened. Your hands shoot up to your forehead as you splutter, trying to get your thoughts in order. 

Just what was that?

Sighing, you decide you'll have to wait until the mountain lovers club meeting to confront him. It's shaping up to be quite an eventful day and you can feel your excitement bubbling up.

Jade sure knew how to keep someone on their toes.

Glancing one last time at the nightstand, the light catching on his scales earring laying there innocently, you leave to go to your dorm.

Your thoughts turn to the mental picture of Jade, flushed face and blown pupils, messy hair and piercings on his ear. Involuntarily, your lips shape into a giddy smile. 

There was a jewellery shop at the island's city, right? Maybe you'd take a look at which piercings they had next time you go run errands.

BONUS SCENE!

"Azul! Jade's here!" Floyd's excited giggle rings out in the otherwise silent office as he opens the door with a bang.

"Finally! I was starting to think he forgot about his shift..." Azul trails off as he takes in the sight before him.

Right next to a smiling Floyd was Jade. His outfit was in perfect condition and his posture was as formal as always. Still, Azul couldn't stop staring at the different hairstyle and piercings he was using.

There was a time when they were first years and very new to living on land in which Jade decided to experiment with his appearence. He got a lot of piercings and cut his hair in what could be known as a "punk hairstyle", contrasting terribly with his buttlerly personality. He seemed to find it very amusing, but after getting in trouble with the teachers for breaking the dress code and getting bored of the usual reactions he'd get from the other students, he decided to take them off and let his hair grow, going back to his usual look.

So it was quite a shock to see them making a comeback, although in a much tamer way than how he used to be.

"What... what has brought this back?" Truly, Azul thought he'd gotten used to the twin's antics by now and couldn't be surprised anymore, but they always found a way of surpassing expectations. 

"Yeah, I wanna know too! When I asked you to put them back you just ignored me." Floyd pouts, crossing his arms and slouching dejectedly.

"It's a long story, but it started when the prefect and I were studying in my room..."

"Wait, you know what? You can stop right there, I don't want to know. Please just get to work." Azul sighs, massaging his temples.

Whenever Ramshackle's prefect was involved, there surely was some crazy story following, and they were already behind schedule as it was.

"Of course, as you wish." Jade agrees with his usual polite smile, but no one in the room was fooled by it. They both knew he was extremely amused by their curiosity. 

"Awn, I wanted to know." Floyd complains, whining. 

"Perhaps I'll tell you another time. Right now, let's get to work, shall we?"

With a groaning Floyd in town, Jade walks out of the door as if nothing was amiss. Azul simply accepts that he'll have to deal with this new development and decides to have a talk with the prefect later. Not that it would change much of anything. When Jade had his mind set on something, he didn't stop until he was satisfied, and for some reason or other he seemed to be interested in experimenting again.

The Octavinelle dorm leader could only wonder what had caused this sudden interest.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #jade leech #twisted wonderland #twst #azul ashengrotto #floyd leech #wonderland wonder #jade saying many times he has to leave but not wanting to part ways with you just yet... finding any excuse to linger for longer... #oh to express your affection by tenderly putting a piercing on his ears #fr when I read that Jade's early concept included a punk visual I became OBSESSED. #and thus this was made <3 #anyway on another note #THANKS EVERYONE FOR YOUR SUPPORT ON MY NEWER WRITINGS <333 IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Now I’m Covered In You [Chapter 3: Blood Moon]

Series summary: Aemond is a prince of England. You are married to his brother. The Wars of the Roses are about to begin, and you have failed to fulfill your one crucial responsibility: to give the Greens a line of legitimate heirs. Will you survive the demands of your family back in Navarre, the schemes of the Duke of Hightower, the scandals of your dissolute husband, the growing animosity of Daemon Targaryen…and your own realization of a forbidden love?

Series title is a lyric from: Ivy by Taylor Swift.

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+), dubious consent, miscarriage, pregnancy, childbirth, violence, warfare, murder, alcoholism, sexism, infidelity, illness, death, only vaguely historically accurate, lots of horses!

Word count: 6.2k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

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“I wish you could join us,” Nico says, almost sulks, snow catching in her hair. She’s riding a gorgeous white mare that the Duke of Hightower purchased for her. He’s in no hurry to gift you a horse. King Viserys—epochs ago, on your wedding day, on the blood-orange July afternoon when you looked into Aegon’s glassy, shadow-ringed eyes and knew exactly what sorts of demons you’d be sharing your life with—once promised you an Andalucian for each child you gave your husband. He hasn’t mentioned it since. It’s slipped his mind, most likely; that’s what happens to the king’s notions that concern the Greens. They stumble around in his skull for a while, find a window, jump from the ledge and free-fall into oblivion.

You smile up at Nico with your feet planted firmly on the ground like fertile roots and a hand resting on your belly. Five months along, over halfway there, farther than you’ve ever been before. The season is winter, but you feel like spring. You feel like blossoms unfurling, like ivy scaling walls of frozen stone. “Next year, with any luck.”

“But what if I’m with child by then?”

“Then you’ll get to return the favor and gallantly wave me off as I gallop into the distance, a vision of Boudicca herself.”

“Didn’t that story end with mass murder and suicide?”

“Nico, not everything needs to be said out loud.”

She laughs, raucous and jarring. Horses’ ears go back; crows take flight from stripped trees. It’s Christmas, and that means it’s also boar hunting season. The feast tonight will require a boar’s head to be served—a tradition that dates back to ancient Norse pagans, to faiths of earth and thunder and sea—and the court has assembled to procure one, the men armed with spears, the women riding along to cheer them on, hounds braying and circling agitatedly, servants sprinting around with jugs of wine. “Alas,” Nico says. “I cannot help it. I am Italian.”

Then she reels her mare around and trots off to join the hunting party. Once not so long ago, you had no true friends here. Now you have at least one. Two, if you count Aemond…although you can’t decide if Aemond is a friend. Sometimes he feels like less, other times much more. He grows close and then is far away again, a tide that’s always a few hours from receding. You watch Nico depart with hardly any heartache. Your relative incapacitation will be finished soon enough, your position vindicated. The clock is ticking.

Daeron compliments you as he canters by on Tessarion, heavy hooves leaving impact craters in the snow: “Princess, that’s a lovely gown.” Lavender, purple, the color of royalty, a declaration of your own worth. That’s not something you can rely upon others giving you. You’re between worlds at the moment: neither fully Navarran nor English, not an outsider nor a future queen.

“Thank you, brother. Good luck!”

Daemon reins up beside you, peering down with glittering dark eyes. When anyone ventures too close to Caraxes—whether horse or human—he snaps at them like a wolf. Surely there is no beast better suited to its master. “I think you’d look better covered in red. Isn’t that the color of your people, Navarre?”

“Prince Daemon,” you purr, one hand still on your belly, your victory in progress. “Enjoy the hunt. I know you get restless when you haven’t murdered anything in a while.”

He should quip back, but he doesn’t. He just grins, his gaze locked on yours; and his grin stretches wider until it sends a bolt down your spine like cold lightning. You have the sudden, dreadful impression that there’s a joke you aren’t in on. “You have no idea.”

Caraxes squeals and jerks back his head as Vhagar shoves between you, massive withers and haunches making space where none existed before. Caraxes nips Vhagar’s shoulder, drawing blood; Vhagar snorts in reply, a low rumble like a storm. Caraxes retreats, ears flattened, but Daemon pitches you one last crooked smirk as he leaves, a threat, an oath.

“Perhaps we should serve Daemon’s head at dinner,” Aemond says.

“He certainly looks like a pig to me.”

“You aren’t too disappointed, I hope. To have to stay behind.”

You smile, petting Vhagar’s silky muzzle. She has a white blaze down the front of her face, white stockings like patches of snow on rich spring soil. “It’s temporary.” What was Aemond like on my wedding day? You try to remember. All you can conjure is a vision of him staring at the floor as you linked your trembling hands with Aegon’s and the priest spoke, as if the match was so ill-fated he could not bear to witness it. It took you a year to learn that he didn’t disapprove of you after all. Something else weighed on him that day, something else dragged down his eyes like an anchor moors a ship.

Aegon passes you both on Sunfyre. “I’ll bring you back something, wife!” he vows, swaying drunkenly in the saddle, his chaotic silver hair shagging in his eyes. Fortunately, Sunfyre seems aware of his rider’s limitations; his steps are lithe and cautious, almost timid. His coat is a river of gold beneath grey skies. When Aegon urges the horse to go faster, Sunfyre ignores him.

You turn back to Aemond and raise an eyebrow. “Make sure he doesn’t break his neck?”

“As always.” And then Aemond is gone too.

The king will not join the hunt. He is getting too old for it—although no one would say that aloud—and Queen Alicent, ever-sacrificial, is staying behind in the palace with him, overseeing preparations for the feast. The other royals vanish into the forest: Daeron and Nico, Aemond and Aegon, Daemon and Baela and Rhaena, Jace and Luke, trailed by the rest of the cast of characters, Blacks and Greens alike. Joanna Montford was replaced by Agnes Stafford, who was replaced by Sibylla Beaufort, who was replaced by Cecily Chaucer. There is no shortage of young women whose fathers are rabid to push them into the bed of the man they call the heir to the throne. A servant brings you a cup of apple cider, and you sip it as snowflakes melt into the fur of your coat.

“It’s not personal,” Rhaenyra says. You whirl to see her and Syrax; they have appeared like ghosts, both pale and ethereal, both fearsome without being malevolent. “Prince Daemon’s taunts, I mean. Any of our antagonism. Distrust that swells into hated.” Her hair is long, loose, strands of ivory in the wind. Her eyes—clear water, cool and stoic—flick down to your belly and then back up to your face. She’s a lot like Aemond, you think, seeing the extent of their resemblance for the first time.

“It feels very personal.”

“I could have liked you in a different life,” Rhaenyra counters, like parrying swords. “You have just enough ruthlessness in you. A river, but not a sea. You thirst for freedom. You wear chains called obligation. But when my father named me heir, he painted a target on my back. Even if I renounced my claim, there would always be men willing to take up arms for me. I would always be a threat to Alicent and her children. Just by breathing, just by having blood hot in my veins. Either I will be queen…or I will forever be at the mercy of the Greens. Would you trust your life to the Duke of Hightower, if you were standing between Aegon and the throne?”

“No,” you admit. You can barely bring yourself to trust the Duke now…and you’re on his side.

“And so we are destined to be mortal enemies.” Rhaenyra shrugs; no great loss, she means. “I only wanted you to know that it would have been just the same if you had been sent to England from Portugal, or Sicily, or Castile, or Bohemia, or Genoa, or Naples, or France, or anywhere else for that matter. It’s not about who you are. It’s about what you’ve married into.”

And then she takes off on Syrax, joining her uncle-husband and her eldest sons in the forest, dissolving into a gnarl of branches like tangled threads. You retreat back inside Westminster Palace to do what you do best: watching, wondering, waiting for the future to decide to arrive.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the hunting party returns hours later, Prince Aegon is empty-handed. He’s also soaked to the skin. Water drips from his face, begins to freeze in his hair. He shivers and gripes as servants throw blankets over his shoulders and usher him away towards his bedchamber to be warmed in a bath cloudy with herbs and steam and rose petals. Cecily Chaucer hurries after them, her lovely brows knitted together with girlish concern. Of all Aegon’s mistresses, you like Cecily the best. She’s insatiable; she keeps him so busy that he rarely totters into your bed to paw at you before being reminded that you have been temporarily exempted from your marital duties.

“He fell into a stream,” Nico informs you, in equal parts disapproving and amused. “Aemond and Daeron fished him out like a trout.”

Your eyes scan the group: shaking snow from their hats and their coats, congratulating each other on obstacles jumped and animals killed, Prince Daemon accepting applause from his fellow Blacks for being the attendee to slaughter the requisite boar. A good omen for their side, surely. Servants carry the gigantic, bloodied carcass off to be prepared by the cooks. But one face is missing from the crowd. “Where’s Aemond?”

“Oh,” Nico recalls as she yanks off her gloves by the fingers. “He has something for you.”

“For me?”

“In the courtyard,” she says. Daeron approaches to collect her, taking her hand and kissing the back of it, his large blue eyes bright and adoring. He’s gentler than his brothers, more content, less complicated. And he’s proud of being a Targaryen. He’s growing out his white-blond hair; it’s already longer than Aegon’s. “I think you’ll find it…” Nico grins mischievously. “Perfectly bearable.”

You trudge out to the courtyard through the mounting snow, cold wind tearing at your hair and clawing pieces of it out from under your hat. Aemond is the only other person there…and he’s elbow-deep in a colossal black-furred monster. There is a pile of entrails on the snow beside him glistening like rubies, garnets, rosalines, wine. Servants ferry away bowls full of offal: a lung here, a rope of intestines there.

“What is that?”

Aemond stands and waves at it cavalierly, drops of blood flinging from his leather gloves. “A bear.”

“What am I supposed to do with a bear?”

“It’ll make a fine rug for your bedchamber. You can place it by the fireplace and lie on it on cold nights. Read your books, do your embroidery.”

“It was bold of you to assume you’d be able to find me a Christmas present on Christmas day. Not much room for error.”

“This isn’t your Christmas present.”

“Then what’s the occasion?”

“Congratulations.” He glances at your belly, rounded out like ripening fruit with his brother’s child. A stain of blood like fever rushes into his cheeks. He blushes very rarely, and only ever around you. No one else seems to know that he’s capable of it. “For being over halfway there. It must bring you great relief.”

“Yes, I suppose the Duke of Hightower won’t get to ship me back to Navarre now. In a crate, like an animal that couldn’t be tamed.”

“What a waste that would be.”

You shrug, stepping closer, though mindful not to squash any bear organs beneath your shoes. “I wouldn’t mind being sent home if there was anything for me to go back to.”

Aemond stares at you, alarmed. “You haven’t grown attached to anything here? In nearly a year and a half?”

“Well…there are a few things,” you say, smiling at him. Aemond smiles back. His long silvery hair is secured in a single thick braid, his gaze curious. You try not to imagine what is under his eyepatch; that strikes you as something he wouldn’t want you to think about.

“Vhagar,” Aemond teases.

You laugh. “Yes, mostly Vhagar.” You look up at the grey sky, thick with clouds like steel. “But I miss my family. I miss the heat, the mountains, castles and cathedrals the color of golden sand. I miss riding horses and sparring with my brothers. I miss being understood, being loved. In Navarre I was alive. But in England…ever since I arrived here…it’s like I’m locked up waiting for someone to let me out. But the prison is my own flesh.”

Aemond studies you. “It’s not for much longer,” he says at last, soft and solemn. “And I would change it if I could.”

“In any case, I really can’t go back, I think. It wouldn’t be like it was before. My siblings are marrying and spreading out across Europe. My parents are getting older. And if my husband discarded me for being incapable of producing children, no one else would ever want me. I’d never have my own household. I’d be doomed to be a spinster, forever dependent upon the charity of my parents or my siblings. Either that or in a nunnery. Although, truthfully, Navarre has some beautiful nunneries.”

“You’d make a terrible nun.”

“Because I’m too vicious or too lustful?”

“Vicious, without a doubt. Lustful…I don’t feel qualified to speak on.”

“Depends on who’s in front of me, I suppose.”

You contemplate each other across the gutted bear carcass, snowflakes filling up the space between you instead of words. Again, Aemond’s cheeks flood red. When he wrings his hands together, you notice that they’re shaking. His hair is sopping; beads of melted snow pool along the edge of his jaw, slither down his throat. He could catch his death out here.

You go to him, pull off a glove, and press your bare palm against his forehead and then his cheek: the scarred one, the ruined one. “You’re burning up, Aemond,” you say, worried. “Are you alright—?”

“Fine.” He shies away from your touch. But then, without thinking, he moves to tuck an escaped lock of hair back underneath your hat. As his thumb grazes your face, you feel the warm stripe of bear blood that he inadvertently marks you with. “Goddamn, I’m so sorry—”

“No, that’s perfect.” You smile up at him. “You know I secretly favor red.”

“Princess?” Nico calls from the doorway, and you cross the courtyard to meet her. “You’re still out here? You’re missing a riveting game of Tric-Trac—” She cuts off, her eyes going wide as they skate across your cheeks. “Sweet Jesus, how’d you get blood all over your face?”

You glimpse back at Aemond as you answer. “Carelessness.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re weaving ribbons the color of evergreens into Nico’s hair when he comes into your bedchamber, carrying a long thin box made of pink ivory wood.

“Oh, marvelous!” Nico trills, clapping her hands. “What’s inside?”

“Poems, I hope,” you say.

“I hate to disappoint you,” Aemond replies placidly. Half of his hair is pulled back from his face, the rest flowing freely. He’s wearing a dark, rich, jade-like color, just like Nico is, just like the Duke of Hightower and Alicent and Daeron will be. Someone has probably even stuffed Aegon into something green. You are the lone nonconformist in a deep purple like the skin of a plum. In truth, you can’t win. People will gossip no matter what you wear. Red makes them think of what Daemon calls you, of the wasted blood you’ve spilled. Green makes them speak of how you’ve yet to serve their faction properly. Black is out of the question. At least when they see you in purple, your name gets to live in the same sentence as the word royalty.

“Well?” Nico prompts eagerly. “Open it!”

You look at her, apologetic. So does Aemond.

“Oh,” she realizes, then sighs theatrically. “Alright. I understand. I’ll deport myself now. Ciao.”

Only when she’s closed the door behind her does Aemond open the box. The lining inside is crimson velvet. It cradles a sword. You gasp and lift the weapon out of the box by its hilt, then pull off the scabbard. It is lightweight, silvery, perfect. You can see your own reflection in the polished steel. There are shallow engravings down the length of the blade: mountain ranges, twisted oak trees, bridges and cathedrals, the flag of Navarre. You can only see them when you tilt the sword to catch the rage-orange glow from the fireplace.

“I had it custom made for you,” Aemond says, abruptly nervous. “So it wouldn’t be too heavy or too long. The hilt should fit your grasp precisely. I took one of your gloves for measurements.”

“A thief.” You marvel at the sword, twirling it a few times. The blade cuts through the air, soundless, seamless. “Aemond, this is…this is so far beyond what I deserve. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“It’s part pleasure, part necessity. You might actually need to protect yourself one day.”

“It’s a shame I’ll only be able to bully you with it under the surreptitious cover of darkness.”

“Just until Aegon is king. He wouldn’t care, I don’t think. He wouldn’t forbid you from training.” He gestures to the blade. “And the engravings are—”

“All things from home.” You beam at him. “From Navarre.”

“That’s what the common people call you, you know. The Princess from Navarre.”

You glide the sword back into its scabbard and return it to the box. “They must hate me. For failing to secure the succession.”

“I wouldn’t assume that.”

You take the pink ivory wood box from Aemond’s hands and place it in the chest at the foot of your bed, your preferred spot for squirreling away valuables. And then you lift out Aemond’s present: a vast tapestry that he helps you unfold to reveal the design of.

“It’s incredible!” he exclaims. “It must have taken you ages!”

“Well, all I’m allowed to do currently is needlework, so I’ve done a lot of needlework. I made one for Aegon too, although I’m not sure what his hobbies are besides drinking and fucking Cecily Chaucer. So his tapestry is mostly landscapes.” You point to various scenes on Aemond’s. “There’s King Arthur and Guinevere…and Sir Lancelot, arriving to ruin them. There’s Beowulf battling Grendel’s mother. There’s Robin Hood…there’s the Rollright Stones and Stonehenge…and in the middle is Saint George slaying a dragon. I made the dragon black, with little white whiskers if you look very closely. And I’ve named him Daemon.”

“They’re from the stories I told you,” Aemond says quietly, examining the tapestry. “On that afternoon back in July. When we took Vhagar out together for the first time.”

“It must have been memorable.” You smile. “And then the border is ivy and roses, mostly green, of course…except for one little red rose I added down here in the bottom corner. And that’s—”

“That’s you,” Aemond says. “Red like Navarre.”

“Yes.” Your voice is suddenly wistful, a little sad. “You’ve made me like the sound of that word again.”

“What? Navarre?”

You nod. “Hushed, gentle…” Reverent? Awed? Protected? Cherished? “Like a prayer. Like a poem.”

You help Aemond refold the tapestry, avoiding his eye. The only sounds are the crackling of the fireplace and the muffled echo of violins and lutes through the palace halls. Outside the window hovers a blood moon, a ruby in onyx, a drop of fury in an ocean of void. He takes his Christmas gift back to his own bedchamber, and then he returns to escort you to the feast.

“Oh, darling,” Alicent says when you sit down beside her at the high table. There are sprigs of holly in her hair, but her dark eyes are glazed and melancholy. They often are. Sir Criston Cole—a knight whose family are vassals of the Duke of Hightower—is her shadow, peering watchfully around the Great Hall. “Be sure to eat plenty of boar…and bread…very good for the baby. But no fish! And not too many vegetables. Here, let me get you some of your apple cider…” Alicent waves to a servant, and they promptly fetch you a full cup.

King Viserys gives you a distracted nod but no other acknowledgement. He is deep in conversation with Jace; Luke is gawping, mildly disturbed, at the severed boar’s head that adorns the table, cherries shoved into the sockets where its eyes were this morning. Rhaena offers you a kind, demure smile. Baela glares at you as she sips her wine. She’s the most war-worthy of any of the Black children; you imagine that Daemon will have a sword and armor waiting for her when the bloodbath begins. Surely she’d inflict more damage than either of Rhaenyra’s docile, dark-haired sons, like skittish lapdogs always looking around for someone to tell them where it’s alright to sit. Baela’s Arabian, Moondancer, is small but remarkably swift and agile. She’s the best jumper of any of the royal horses.

Far from the table, in the midst of dancing nobles, Daemon and Rhaenyra are enmeshed in whispers and caresses: he tilts up her chin, she grasps the small of his back. You feel a yearning, a hollowness beneath where your ribs circle your heart and lungs like a halo. Without thinking, you glance to Aemond. He’s been looking at you too; he pretends he wasn’t and begins sawing through a slab of boar meat with a serrated knife. Daeron is asking him about sparring techniques. The Duke of Hightower is parading Aegon around the hall to pay his respects to the nobility of Southern England, men who will kill and be killed for him one day before too long. Aegon is bleary-eyed and bungling, tripping over his own feet; the Duke is practically dragging him around from his scruff like a kitten.

“Sweetheart, will you dance with me?” Queen Alicent asks Nico, who immediately leaps up from her chair.

“Of course, Your Majesty! It would be my pleasure. It’s a shame that the king cannot join us. It must be difficult having a husband so much older than you are. Nearly your father’s age!”

Everyone at the table stops what they’re doing and gapes at her.

“Oh,” Nico begins haltingly, mortified. “Oh dear. I should not have said that. I cannot express the depths of my remorse.”

King Viserys booms out a laugh, and then Nico is smiling again. “Go on,” he tells her. “Enjoy the festivities. Keep the queen entertained when I cannot.”

As Nico and Queen Alicent descend to join the dance, you remain where you are, where you always are: on the outskirts, inside the glass bowl. But not for much longer, you think gratefully, running your palm over the swell of your belly. You eat as much as you can, but you don’t have much of an appetite. Your hips and ankles ache, your body forever adjusting to a never-before-known burden; there is torsion like a sailor’s knot in your lower spine. When the discomfort refuses to abate, you excuse yourself from the table and make slow, meandering laps around the fringes of the Great Hall, draining cup after cup of apple cider as servants bring them to you. The Duke of Hightower casts you a stern warning of a frown before he resumes wrangling Aegon. Aemond, still at the high table talking to Daeron, follows you with one intent blue eye.

“You can’t honestly believe he’d make a good king,” Daemon says, materializing out of the crowd like a bat at twilight. Enormous Scottish deerhounds—Christmas gifts from King Corlys and Queen Rhaenys beyond England’s northern border—trail after him, growling at you. Daemon flicks his strange, deep-set eyes towards Aegon. “He’s a drunk. He’s an embarrassment. He has no athletic prowess whatsoever. I’m sure you can confirm that from firsthand experience.”

“I can confirm that he hasn’t murdered his first wife yet, surely an attribute by anyone’s calculation.” You watch the Duke tow Aegon from one exchange to another, and for the first time, you wonder what sort of man Aegon would have been without the weight of the throne on his back.

“But of course, it wouldn’t actually be Aegon ruling if the Greens won. It would be Otto…and Alicent…and Aemond.”

Daemon puts great emphasis on this last name. You turn to him, startled.

“Oh, forgive me, have I said something that gets under your skin? Or…rather…into it?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Daemon grins, baring his teeth like fangs. “Of course you don’t,” he says. “Tell me, would you happen to know who Otto is planning on marrying him to? I’ve heard rumblings.”

“Someone with parents who have ample soldiers and equipment with which to mutilate you, surely.”

“Helene of Austria.”

“Helene?” The breath evaporates from your lungs, vanishes like brief winter daylight. “The daughter of the Holy Roman Emperor?” It’s an immensely powerful match. It’s a match so ambitious it has rarely even been suggested. You summon triumph to your voice, an arrogant glint to your eyes. “This is very bad news for you.”

“And for you too, I think.”

He knows, you think, terror-stricken, aware you aren’t doing enough to hide it. That I desire my husband’s brother. That I want Aemond. That maybe I even love him. You try to fling some flippant retort at Daemon; you cannot find one, it’s like scratching your fingertips along the bottom of an empty box. Victorious, he swigs his wine and begins to saunter away, panting Scottish deerhounds on his heels. And then you call after him: “It didn’t get you far, did it?”

Daemon halts mid-step and slowly—very slowly—turns back to you. “What?”

“All that Targaryen blood. All that bone-white hair and ferocity, charisma and swordsmanship. King Viserys still chose to reject you as his heir. He still doesn’t trust you to advise him. He still denied you his daughter’s hand in marriage, and you were spineless enough to let him. You left her alone to suffer first. With a husband who couldn’t satisfy her, with a lover who could only give her bastards. And now you expect the world to forget who you’ve always been: reckless, savage, deeply selfish. All those things you stalk around here so proud of are worthless, because you’ll never have what you really want. You’ll never have the throne. And neither will Rhaenyra. You are the same as I am, Daemon. I am an asset and yet a curse to Aegon; you helped win the North for Rhaenyra, but the South will never yield to you. They will fight you with everything they have, every man and horse and blade. But there is one difference between us. When I bear Aegon a son, my curse will be lifted. You will never stop endangering Rhaenyra, her cause, her inheritance, her children, her life. And if she burns, it will be at least half because of you.”

You’ve never seen him truly angry before, you realize now; you’ve never seen him without the undeniable upper hand. His grip rests on the hilt of his sword. “I should—”

“Go on,” you dare him in a fierce whisper, your fingers closing around his wrist. “Slay Aegon’s wife and child in front of all the court. It’s the kindest thing you could do for the Greens. Make yourself more enemies, win us more friends. Everyone suspects that you are a beast already. Prove them right.”

Daemon rips his hand out of yours. “Happy Christmas, Navarre,” he hisses. “If fate is just, it will be your last.” And then he storms away from you, Rhaenyra meeting him at the other end of the hall and speaking with him there—conspiring? inquiring? scolding?—in urgent whispers.

Nico pushes through the throngs of dancing nobles to reach you. “Are you alright?” she asks, a palm laid on your shoulder.

“Fine.” Helene, you think, rubbing the aching curve of your back with one hand, sipping apple cider with the other. They’re both trembling. Beautiful, wealthy, coveted Helene.

“Are you sure? You don’t look good. What did that bleached weasel have to say…?”

But you can’t hear her, because the pain in your spine is now reaching like poison through veins to spread across your belly, to tighten, to clamp down, to gnash with steel teeth like needles, like knives. Your cup tumbles out of your gasp, spilling apple cider across the floor. You yelp in pure shock at how unexpectedly the pain comes. And then you begin to understand what it means. “No,” you plead in a whisper. You stagger backwards until you hit the wall. “No, no, no…”

“What?” Nico asks frantically. People are beginning to notice; heads spin in your direction. Tears are springing from your eyes. Blood is snaking down your legs, slick and hot on the velveteen inside of your thighs. Soon they’ll all be able to see it: your agony, your ruin. The Greens, the Blacks. The Duke of Hightower, Prince Daemon.

Nico doesn’t understand. You don’t know how to tell her. I’ve killed another child. I’ve failed again. You can feel Aegon crawling back into your bed. You can see letters from your mother—so proud at last, so full of praise—shredding themselves into dust. And then it flashes like cannon fire in your mind, not just the loss of an heir but the loss of a life: a name that will never be given, a voice that will never be heard, steps that will never leave imprints in sand or soil or snow.

I have to get out of here. How am I going to—?

An arm circles around your waist, strong, shielding, taking as much of your weight as it can. “Walk with me,” Aemond says. And then he half-carries you through the nearest door and down a passageway, Nico struggling to keep up, chatter exploding at the feast you left behind.

As soon as you cross the threshold into your bedchamber, as soon as you are out of sight of ill-intentioned observers, you collapse to the floor. Your palms and knees bruise against wood; a wail tears from your throat. “Not again,” you sob. “Aemond, I can’t do this again, I can’t—”

Nico says: “Are you sure it’s a…?”

Aemond is kneeling on the floor beside you. He’s helping you pull back the hem of your gown. You see it on his face before you see it on your own skin: there’s blood, a lot of blood, too much for it to be anything but lethal to the child. It’s all over his hands and his clothes; it’s all over the floorboards.

“Oh God,” Nico moans, covering her mouth with both hands. “Oh…oh my God…”

“Get the physicians,” Aemond tells her. “Speak to no one else. Go now. Go!”

Nico rushes out of the room. You can’t stop sobbing. The pain is excruciating, not waves but one continuous, saw-toothed twisting, a feeling like being gutted, like you’re a slaughtered bear and someone has their fingers raking around inside your womb.

Aemond is trying to pull you to your feet. “Come on, I’ll help you get into bed—”

“Aemond, I can’t.”

“Yes you can—”

“I can’t!” you cry out, weeping helplessly. Then he stops trying to lift you and instead sinks down to join you on the floor. You clutch wildly at him—at his forearms and his shoulders and his long silvery hair—and he doesn’t flinch away. He draws you into him, his hands staining you with blood everywhere they land. You don’t care; you don’t want him to stop. You bury yourself in the warmth of his chest, his arms around you like the border of the moon, like a ring.

“Shh,” he soothes through your hair. “Shh, shh. I’m here. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t leave me. Please stay.”

“I’ll stay,” Aemond says, his voice hoarse. “Of course I’ll stay.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Scenes like fragments of a dream, things that later you aren’t sure were real:

The physicians and midwives delivering your dead child, Aemond tilting a cup of strong wine against your lips. Your ladies washing blood off you with dripping rags as Aemond stands with the physicians in the doorway. They think you’re asleep, but you’re not; you’re not awake either. You’re halfway here and halfway not. Parts of the room are foggy, others are as clear as glass, as still water. A physician is telling Aemond that the child was a boy, perfect in every way except the one that matters most. He doesn’t breathe and never will. Too early, too small, beautiful and doomed.

“Don’t tell her that,” Aemond is saying. “Don’t tell her anything unless she asks.”

Now it’s later—two minutes, two hours, it doesn’t matter—and he’s dragging someone into your bedchamber. They’re fighting him, they’re trying to cling to the doorframe so he can’t force them inside.

“Get in there,” Aemond growls.

Aegon replies: “I don’t know what to say to her, what the hell do I say—?”

Your husband is at your bedside, undoubtedly miserable but not in a way that makes you feel like he sees you. There is the scent of wine and sweat drenched with perfume, lemon and lavender. “I’m sorry,” you murmur like a faint wind.

“It was not your fault, wife.” Aegon’s eyes are bloodshot, his shoulders hanging low and limp. “It is a great tragedy, but it was not your fault.” And then he glances at Aemond to make sure he’s done the right thing.

Now your husband is gone, and Aemond is holding a cool cloth to your forehead. He speaks in little more than a whisper. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“Just send me back to Navarre,” you say weakly. “I can’t do this. Talk to the Duke. He’ll get the marriage annulled. I know he will. He can find another wife for Aegon, another alliance. He’ll be glad to be rid of me.”

“You aren’t going anywhere.”

“I’m ruined. I’m worthless. Just send me home.”

“You are home,” Aemond insists.

You watch the firelight as it flickers over him, smooth skin, brutal scar. “What happens next?”

“You’ll try again.”

“There’s no point, Aemond.”

“Look at me,” he commands, cradling your face with his hands. “You’ll try again. And again, if you have to. But you will have children. I know you will.”

His voice is breaking. His eye is glistening, tortured. This is how the father should be. This is how Aegon should be. “Aemond, why are you so hurt by this?”

“Because you are suffering,” he says. “And because they’re pieces of you.”

You lose sight of him, float for a while, return again thinking of Aegon and the Duke of Hightower and Daemon and Rhaenyra. “No one here really knows me. No one loves me.”

Aemond is standing beside your bed. “Nico loves you.”

You gaze listlessly up at him and say nothing.

“Aegon loves you, I believe,” Aemond continues, but he won’t meet your eyes. “In his own way.”

Still, you look at him. Still, Aemond doesn’t look back.

Say it, you think, desperate, aching, tears biting in your eyes. Say that you love me too. Even if it’s just as a sister, an ally, a friend. Please, Aemond, just fucking say it.

He doesn’t say it. Maybe he leaves, maybe you are submerged in unconsciousness, maybe both. The memory dissolves around the edges until it is a pool of star-flecked obsidian like the night sky.

But this next part you know with certainty was real, because it is something you can touch, like a millennium-old relic from Egypt or Athens or Babylon. You wake in the morning to find three items on your nightstand: a cup of apple cider, a cup of strong bitter wine for the pain, and a single piece of parchment folded and tied with a red ribbon. You blink confoundedly at it for a while as muted winter sunlight seeps in through the windows, not being able to make sense of it. And then you open the parchment. Aemond has written at the top of the page in his hectic, uneven letters: Ivy. You read his words and all the anguish that went into them—smudges from his own fingerprints, wayward drips of black ink—like falling down the rungs of a ladder.

Scream into me, I’ll be the jar for your fury; I’m starving

for anything that tastes like you. I’ve been counting the lines

on your knuckles, the boards of the floor, wondering if you’ve

figured out that I’d wear fractures and bruises like amethysts

if it means you’d touch me. For seventeen months you’ve been

the ivy on my walls, vines like the needle-width legs of a spider

carving out my past, every last notch and shadow—splitting ribs,

scraping marrow—until there’s no part of me left that can remember

a time other than this, your voice and your wit and the scraps of you

I’ve stitched into me. Ask me what I burn for and I’ll whisper like

the dawn: you growing over my skin until I’m covered, tendrils

twisting down to the bone, everything I was before

ash and myth beneath your hands.

#aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you

[ask-annamary]

Do you make your tuna sandwiches correctly? As in, devoid of those dreadful pieces of celery, properly salted, and with the right mayo-to-tuna ratio?

I have an inkling as to who you are, Anonymouse... but I will not make any assumptions.

To be completely honest, it is actually quite easy to keep tabs on what you consume and how your perchases impact the world around you. If you wish to have a tool around to help be more mindful of your food, I highly recommend https://www.seafoodwatch.org/ , it is an immensely helpful resource and I even used it to formulate this response. You can even contact them for printed guides on what you should and should not eat. I personally carry around a few cards for myself and to share with-

Ah... I have noticed a good number of you expressing interest in hearing more about my "infodumps", so I surpose it wouldn't hurt to indulge every now and again. Many of my coworkers have commented about how verbose I can be, so I try to scale down my words from time to time. This will not be one of those times.

Ah yes... the world of industrial fishing. To be as clear as water, I am fully aware of how flawed that system is as a whole. Certain practices are downright devastating to oceans, but alas it is what these companies do to "make ends meet." If you asked me I'd believe the only end they're meeting is the deep end.

Now, where should I begin... ah, let's tackle Bluefin Tuna as a whole. The reason behind this strict avoidance is shrimple: it's overfising. The rate at which these fish are being collected far exceeds the rate at which they can reproduce, meaning that if current practices continue on these fish will not be able to make up for all the numbers lost to fishing.

The method of which these fish are caught can also be quite problematic. Methods such as FADs and drifting longlines can be detrimental not only to tuna, but to many other ocean going creatures. Drifting longlines for example, have a dire habit of getting other creatures ensnared by their hooks, such as various sea birds and sea turtles. FADs, fish aggregating devices, are floating structures created to attract the attention of Tuna, but they bring along other fish that are not intended to be caught like various species of sharks. The phenomena of animals other than the target species being caught is called bycatch, and many of these animals needlessly perish in this process.

Now, one may think farming these fish will be the shorefire solution to this conundrum. Many fish can be sustainably farmed, but one must keep in mind that tuna are gargantuan predators with appetites to match their size. It can take up to FIFTEEN TONS of fish caught from the wild to just produce one ton of tuna meat, meaning more fish are hunted for a mere fraction in return. On top of that, these farms produce a great amount of... er... effluent into the surrounding waters, which then throws the local ecosystem off its balance.

Truly the best way to avoid these issues in fishery is to focus on Tuna whose species are not threatened by over fishing, and more importantly to make sure the fisheries you are purchasing them from are not practicing harmful methods of fishing. One more thing to keep in mind is which ocean they hail from. While species such as Skipjacks and Yellowtails are by no means threatened in the Indian Ocean, many fisheries do not follow rules put into place to prevent over fishing.

Did I cover everything? Or... most of everything? That must be a lot to take in at once, but I am not quizzing any of you on anything. Again, if you are feeling unshore about what youre buying, whether it be tuna, trout, tilapia, or really any seafood, don't hesitate to consult a Seafood Watch guide.

The Deep Diver's excitement slowed to a stop as he remained silent for a moment, realizing how long he had gone on and on and on about... what, something that had initially begun as a debate on tuna sandwiches? Lights within the dark of his helmet began to glow dimly... as if she were... blushing!

... Thank you for listening. I have work to dive back into. Goodbye.

#deep diver #toonblr #toontown #toontown corporate clash #ttcc #prob art #corporate clash #RRAGHHHH AUTISM ATTACK GO🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟🐟

[skippyangel16]

My final post…

The Waypoint when ‘it’ was given life and perhaps they lost their way for good?

Three’s a Crowd…and it always appears there’s three in this ‘public marriage’. 2018…when they ALL took on their roles!

Whilst they could be contractually obliged to deny their relationship, no one could make them do what they have done.

They gave it life and it continues to grow…

We’re doing it now people, action!

The ‘directors’ direct…

Sam has his prompt, Cait guides Tony…oops nearly walks past🤣

Oh we’re doing this now, let’s make it look convincing…

#awkward 🫣

Tony has had a makeover ….Sam takes it all in… looks like he’s about to 🤮

👇What it could have looked like if authentic 🤪

Below👇Cait is talking. Sam replies ‘right, okay?’

Cait speaks again whilst giving him a reassuring arm rub 🥰 the love in that arm rub speaks volumes!

Sam asks (appears to say) ‘Do you get all this shite?’ eyes immediately looking at….🧐 whatever she replied his smile says it all. They are both happy together despite the shit show. Happy to deceive?

Let’s not ever forget just how staged this is!

How anyone can’t see the performance 🎭 is beyond me? Pure Hollywood…

Since then they have both actively supported the narrative more and more each year so whilst you can feel sorry for them back in 2016 (when they appeared to be pressured to go underground)today it’s harder. With every performance they do they make it more unlikely that they will come out anytime soon. His book reiterated Cait is the only woman but it also brought the brother/sister relationship to the fore again🤮. I’m afraid that’s pretty much made my mind up there’s no imminent plan to come clean. He has cemented his single commitment free life in black and white, any u turn on that now revealing a totally different version with his ‘perhaps sister’ would have a huge backlash from those who part with 💰 for his products. Alas although his alcohol business is growing it’s likely he is more reliant on fan sales than he would like to be. Maybe one day it won’t be so but perhaps single Sam will be around until the scales tip the other way?🤷‍♀️

There is no denying they actively manipulate all sides of the fandom…ours included, but the fact remains our side is basically them just being themselves and most of the time it just happens naturally! IMO 🤪

But it’s not all innocent …

Some wise words from Jamie.

When you have to sell your part truth…can’t imagine the stress and damage to your soul!

He (allegedly)is a good man leading a fake life and when you can’t have your truth, it will destroy you. Can you be a good man if you deliberately deceive, lie and manipulate?

Can you really feel 💯 % proud of it?

Someone recently said on one of my posts they have ended up with the ‘cover up’ book and will think twice about what they buy in the future. That’s a fair comment.

When I look at this card I have an overwhelming urge to add IT to his SH.

The shit show lives on…😢 I just wish they would stop feeding it!

Keep your secrets but tell us no lies…

Alas I am all done here, the book has shown a lost man. If anyone needs to pick a lane it’s Sam, he’s trying to be everything to everyone, so who looks crazy? Single Sam will never be convincing when all he talks about is his married co star and when in her presence looks at her as if she is the only woman on earth.

Lies are poison, a sure path to self destruction. I don’t wish to watch that happen or anymore cycles of this shit show. They are actually abusing their fans by doing this imo. Excuses will always be made for whatever Sam does by thousands here, his god like persona and charm are like a spell that keeps us all engaged. His ability to come out of everything smelling like roses is truly amazing. He knows exactly what he’s doing and what he will get away with. Denying his family as his truth ✅ yep seems there’s nothing he can’t or won’t do and yes fans have already excused him. JMHO.

Everyone will continue to make excuses for him until you can’t, my tipping point is him denying his family in his memoirs. Call it artistic license if it makes you happy, or blame the ghost writer, but I wouldn’t want to put that out into the universe.🤮

Sold it as His truth…totally supporting the narrative, nothing good about that.

I knew once I reached the point that I believe they are totally complicit in their fan manipulation for their own gain I would leave. They may not have started out that way or intended to reach the level they are at now but that’s how toxic Hollywood works. ‘It’ has become their normal. They are their own jailers and complicit in their own narrative imo. It’s their life and their choice on how they want to play/live it. I choose not to watch it any further. Sam has shown his true colours in this book, no one to hide behind. Who is Sam Heughan? Well con artist springs to my mind at this point in time but that’s JMHO. I no longer like what I see so therefore I just don’t care anymore. I still believe they are together but there is no joy in watching this farce, there are no winners here.

I came here for a love story but all I see is a public tragedy on display and a private tragedy waiting to happen as their lies engulf them…I hope they find their moral compass and follow it again soon. What could have been their best years have now gone by. No doubt they will one day cash in on their Hollywood love story, may even star in it as themselves…but that’s some way off imo. They are as free as they want to be, the only one that actually needs freeing is Tony but maybe he’s happy and got a job for life?

His book is my waypoint out of here. I can finally see them for who they really are, as I don’t wish to blog negatively I’m freeing myself of their lies and manipulation. They only have themselves to blame for what the fans believe here whatever side your on. It’s an ugly, sick game and a total turn off… it’s not good for anyones mental health!

Officially signing off from blogging S&C but I wish them nothing but happiness.

To everyone here thanks for making me welcome and all the discussions!

Wishing you all good health and happiness!

😘

Over and Out…

#@skippyangel16 #tumblr #samcait #final post #post Nov 2022 #waypoints don’t get lost #waypoints

[danwhobrowses]

One Piece Chapter 1099 - Initial Thoughts

And we're back

After a week break it's time to see if One Piece will take the lead in emotionally devastating me for this week, given how other things are leaving me on 3 week breaks of ship-based anxiety, not that you could tell of course I've kept it sooooo well-hidden

Anyways, it's time for more One Piece and so, more Kuma backstory, let's see where we go from here

Spoilers for the Chapter, Support the Official Release also

Oden cover this time, Tanukis are giving him a makeover

We pick up where we left off two weeks ago, King Becori has returned and has been burning down the south

Kuma though is fighting through the fire to save people

Becori got the idea from the Goa Kingdom fire, figures

The people though are a lot more resistant to the act than the Goa Nobles were, so Becori orders a few to be killed to silence the mob

Kuma is here and he is fucking pissed

The church is being used as a shelter, as Bonney worries for her dad

Despite Becori's threats, Kuma lays out the entire castle, the One Man Revolution of Sorbet

News travels to Marejois about a new king in Sorbet, as Saturn learns that the people voted Kuma to rule

Kuma though says he's just a figurehead, since a previous king, Bulldog, is actually running the country

A much more adult looking Bonney is running laps in the church though, surprising everyone in how much she looks like Ginny

Seems she somehow ate a Devil Fruit, but also wasn't aware of it, since her aging up was unintentional and she was just trying to up her stamina

As the others try to see how much control Bonney has over the fruit, King Bulldog arrives at the church

Hey it's that old version of Bonney she used in the Reverie, but also Bonney here...

Turns out Queen Dowager Conney was an actual person, explains some things at least in how she made it to the Reverie in that disguise

Kuma yelling at Conney at the back thinking it's Bonney XD

Conney is Bulldog's mother, and Bulldog as Kuma's advisor has come with news

Becori's still about, running a smear campaign on Kuma, thus the moniker of 'The Tyrant'

The propaganda means he's still backed by the World Government, and thus it's only a matter of time until they come back to finish the job

Wanting to protect Sorbet, Kuma leaves it in Bulldog's hands, and goes out to confront Becori again at sea, this also means Bulldog and Conney will take care of Bonney in the meantime

'But I'll be so lonely' welp that's another knife in my riddled heart right now

Alas, Kuma does confront Becori, sitting pretty on a Navy ship and accusing Kuma of usurping him and being a corrupt dictator

Kuma sunk the armada, which got him a bounty (Carrot meanwhile sinks a bunch of Yonko ships and doesn't even get one bounty...yes I'm still sore about it the anime did not help validate her conclusion in Wano)

'He was a hero' 'I don't care, he was my dad first' - Oda please my heart doesn't have room for all these knives

Bonney also wants to be a pirate when she's 10 and cured

Kuma journeys out for info on Sapphire Scales, traveling to all the places he sent the Straw Hats to

He first goes to Chopper's island, since they had vast medical information

Then to Mihawk's island, doesn't look too occupied back then

Oh hey it's those Grand Fleet guys, Jeet and Abdullah

The bounty hunters of course fail in trying to claim Kuma, this was very pre-Dressrosa

Vegapunk's old home is next but they don't have answers

Tequila Wolf is sailed past again (Kuma and Oden have now sailed past it), I don't know what the next one is but it looked like Kuma helped it out, maybe it was Brook's island?

Then Weatheria (Nami's island) and the Boin Archipelago (Usopp's island) with Heracles'n

The stress is creeping up on Kuma though, dead ends and Bonney's 10th birthday is getting closer

Now that's a draconic ship there

The Revolutionaries have found Kuma, Morley has joined and Betty is still looking way different to how she does now

Dragon has a drink with his old Comrade, Ivankov and Inazuma are in Impel Down at this point, but despite all the news around Kuma he doesn't listen to media

Betty also gets Kuma's blessing to lead the Eastern Forces, since Dragon wouldn't allow anyone to take Ginny's position without it

Sabo and Koala also wanted to see Kuma, if only Dragon showed this much pride in his biological child

But he does give Kuma some intel, Vegapunk is moving labs and security is lax, good time for an audience

I think the move is implied to be the Punk Hazard incident too

Kuma is more than willing to rejoin the Revolutionaries once Bonney is cured, and Dragon is more than willing to welcome him back

Back at Sorbet, Bonney is learning how to fight, the scales are still spreading slowly though

Kuma takes Bonney to Navy Science Division Lab 08, which will later be where Egghead Island is, telling her it's a check-up

Got a little box for her like Nezuko

Everyone's surprised about how weird looking the other is

Vegapunk CAN cure Bonney, so clone theory might be done now

Bonney is playing with Sentomaru at this moment so she's not privy to the conversation

Stem Cell Treatment will be the method, real life solutions being thrown in there

The price is exorbitant though, equivalent to building a cyborg

Vegapunk also learns that Kuma's a buccaneer, even though his association with the WG would make that dangerous information

Vegapunk can't explain why Buccaneer blood is special, but he'd like more of it to clone him

Kuma is of course concerned about the idea of clone soldiers, but with Vegapunk using it as a form of payment he's more than willing to do it

Vegapunk hoped at least that the clone army's ability to deflect bullets and shoot lasers would scare evil pirates into submission, having watched Oppenheimer I think the sentiment is meant to be similar

But Kuma does like the idea of robots bearing his likeness protecting the innocent

Saturn meanwhile though has other intentions for them 'a weapon's worth is defined by how many it kills'

The bots are named Pacifista after Kuma's proclaiming himself a pacifist, two men looking to do some good without the hindsight of what damage they will wrought

This was a steady chapter really, could've been a lot more devastating for sure.

We've slowly built up again to all the stuff leading to Kuma's affiliation with Vegapunk, as well as his brief run as a pirate. Much like Corazon it seems most of his travels were fuelled by trying to find a cure for Bonney. A lot of blasts from the pasts this chapter too, though I suppose it makes sense that Kuma visited the places he sent the Straw Hats to, given how them being sent there was tailored for their skills or what they needed to improve on.

The Bonney Clone theory is likely dead, but I still can't put it past Oda to pull the rug, especially for Chapter 1100 - Oda and round numbers after all.

But yeah, it seems a brief alleviation for the moment, before it likely goes to hell again...

#one piece #one piece spoilers #op spoilers #egghead island arc #future island arc #bartholomew kuma #jewelry bonney #dr vegapunk #revolutionary army #monkey d. dragon #belo betty #pacifista #sentomaru one piece #saint jay garcia saturn

[prince-kallisto]

I remember seeing your art of Crowley as the cover of Butcher Vanity and I wish to share the possibility of cannibalistic Crowley

Due to this and instances of crows eating small animals(I'd show more examples but I'm kinda busy so I'm sadly only able to provide this) this means that Crowley will also eat small birds or birds in general i.e bird beastmen

Since there seems to be a small number of bird beastmen and due to how they're hardly mentioned and such, I like to imagine that bird beastmen are essentially endangered but aren't truly seen as a problem

But what's making them endangered? Dire Crowley

Plus his favorite food is wild game, aka meat. And what do birds and humans have in common? That's right, meat

Imagine he's able to by his hunger and can go a long while without the taste of flesh until it starts to become unbearable and he then consumes some poor soul

I'd go into more detail, but alas I haven't thought about this as hard as I truly should, my apologies

Hello! (＾Ｏ＾)☆♪ Oh wow, these are incredible concepts! I’ve admittedly toyed with the headcanon of cannibalistic Crowley for a while due to the whole carrion thing (the death symbolism in both him and NRC is not for nothing), but I love how you dove more into this concept!

It’s very interesting now that you mention it about bird beastmen, because there’s a relatively popular fan theory of Rook being (or half) a bird beastman! This is an excellent overview of the theory here. I have noticed some interesting dialogue from Rook relating to Crowley- which feels befitting since they seem to both inspired by corvids. In the Special Leason where Crowley drops in, Rook says he feels like the quarry, or prey. I found it intriguing because Rook considers himself to be in the hunter position for even powerful mages like Leona, or even on a much grander scale of Malleus. He also akins birds to beasts and phantoms, at least in the regard of how they lure their prey in with vocal mimicry.

And also, we learn in Leona’s hometown event that bird beastman ARE in fact very rare compared to other types of beastmen 👀 So you were right on the money with that! (Translation credits to Otome Ayui)

Theories aside, I think it’s very interesting that Crowley’s hunger has been emphasized in recent JP content- a type of hunger akin to Sebek’s and Grim’s. I think the mixture of his favoritism for wild game, his crow/raven inspiration, and his hunger was what made Butcher Vanity catch my eye (*´∀｀*) For Crowley to be surrounded in a school full of death symbolism (coffins, ghosts, funeral carriages), it feels inevitable that Crowley’s hunger could get the best of him- a crow to carrion

His favorite hobby is also vacationing…I hope he isn’t going around countries to soothe his appetite in a more secretive way lol,,,

To be hunted by Crowley is a frightening concept 😭 He flies so incredibly fast in his Special Lesson animations- those poor souls wouldn’t stand a chance 😭 But he just can’t help himself I suppose,,, 💦

Thank you for your ask and sending your idea over! ٩(๑❛ᴗ❛๑)۶

#tw cannibalism #Crowley thoughts #kallistopost #ask kallisto

[yandere-fics]

nsfw alphabet for the Evil Dragon?

ngl she could do whatever she wants with me

(It's like I posted that she was a seven foot tall dragon lady with two dicks and everyone gained a death wish lol. She would probably break most people lol. Don't worry I'm also very delusional when it comes to her but damn I got like five new asks for her overnight. I'm wondering which post of mine was the one that blew up. PS This took so long to write so please let me know if you're happy with it. I love alphabets but god they are so long.)

♡ Veronia's NSFW Alphabet ♡

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

If this is the first time, I must apologize but you probably won't get much. Dragons are heavy sleepers in two circumstances, one in the snow, or if they have just finished the mating bond with their mate. She'll try to be awake long enough to take you two to a tub covered in gems that she looted specifically for you, warm up the water slightly, perhaps have another round in the tub, and then lay on top of you and fall asleep. You better pray that she dressed you both or there's fur close enough for you to grab cause she's gonna be completely knocked out for the next half a day. If you're lucky she might roll in her sleep slightly and give you wiggle room to go sit somewhere else in the cave.

Any other time after that then you'll get the best care, and she might even fly to go get a nice pretty jewel for you to show how she appreciates you. Either that or she'll think you look cold so she'll go fight a bear so when the merchant comes for their monthly trip, she can get someone to turn it into a thick blanket for you. She does love burying you in furs.

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

It's the tail. Sometimes she'll go into a half human, half dragon form and so she'll have her tail visible. Though it's not at full size, but it's pretty big and thick and flexible, perfect for keeping you close to her when she falls asleep in the winter. Heads up though, do not try to initiate anything when she's in this form, she might wreck you. You'll die though it might be worth it.

For you, it's the boobas. Doesn't matter the size or if there's basically nothing there. Your chest is soft compared to hers and seeing the huge difference between your squishy human chest and her rough dragon chest, makes her absolutely feral. Use that information wisely.

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

Well she has two of them so it's getting everywhere regardless of what you do. Might want to bathe a couple of times afterwards. Don't worry, Veronia has stones that will conjure more water so bathe as many times as you need to get it off of you. Veronia truly would love modern plumbing but alas this is what you must work with.

She really has no preference with it because it's going everywhere anyways so it doesn't matter too much. She might get a bit upset if she can't ever do it inside, like please she has stones that work as birth control(she stole the stone from a prince having a tryst with his lover). She has a weird fixation on when it lands on your back as well. Can't really figure out why she likes that so much though.

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

She secretly really wants to make you ride her tail but she's a little scared that the scales will be too rough on your skin even if you find a softer part to do it on so she stops herself. She also very much likes when her claws are out and seeing them slightly dig into the meat on your hips when she holds you. She files them so they don't puncture the skin but the dragon instincts that she buries in order to not hurt you, really hope it'll pierce the skin even slightly.

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

What kind of experience do you think a dragon lady who sits alone in the forest and has been waiting for her mate for her entire life, has? She is a complete and total virgin. I mean instincts can guide her somewhat but there's no way that she's going to know everything the first time since dragon instincts can be rough so she's gonna need you to tell her exactly how rough or soft she needs to be. Veronia accidentally discovers oral and fingering, does not know she needs to prep you at all, she's just too curious not to try and is happy to discover the effect it has on you.

♡ F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) ♡

This one is not one that she is willing to do often because she doesn't want to hurt you and with two dicks, it gets complicated, but she loves when you're on your side and one of your legs is lifted. Might want to stretch properly cause this is one she favors after she wakes up from her long winter sleeps. Just be careful and tell her if she pushes your leg a bit too high or she might hurt you and then want to avoid touching you too much forever.

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

Veronia is very quiet most the time anyways so there's no much goofiness in her normally. If you try to goof a bit then there's a high probability that she won't understand what you mean at the time. Try not to tease her too much cause she'll think you're being actually serious and then might rail you harder.

She might get a bit cocky(no pun intended), especially if she has you folded over underneath her but that's the extent of your goofiness that you will get. If you're having a long session though then she might tease you back once she gets in the zone but she'll feel kind of embarrassed afterwards that she acted like that.

♡ H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) ♡

Her skin is rough and scaly, it's a wonder that she even manages to have hair on her head with how hard it is for any hair at all to grow on her body. I mean if you want though then she can find a way to grow hair in other places. She has scales around the base of her cocks, some scales on her shoulder blades, some around her side thigh/ butt area.

♡ I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) ♡

100% romance, even when she teases you and rails you until you feel like you might pass out, she's making sure her arm is beneath your head. She'll pull out midway through just to rearrange the nest of furs because there's a sudden chill in the cave. It's a bit annoying when she accidentally edges you just because everything needs to be perfect for the most precious thing in her hoard.

It will also prolong it for her which might make her a bit more tense, luckily you're there to relieve all her stress.

♡ J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) ♡

All the time, on the first day she takes you, she'll just randomly wander off for at least a week cause being too close to her mate after years makes her feel like she's going to blow up. Once you two settle into routine then she'll hold herself back most of the time so she'll only need it if you snuggle extra close to her in your sleep. Wow she's so respectful!

♡ K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) ♡

Seeing you draped in the things she has taken for her hoard. Especially if you use the things that have been freshly stolen. If you were to put on a cloak that she had just gotten back from looting, she would combust. It really makes adding to her hoard worth it and the time away from you is worth it if she can bend you over the vanity that she transported to her cave very carefully so you could get ready in the morning.

She stole a mirror lined with gems one time and accidentally developed a kink for fucking you in the mirror.

♡ L = Location (favorite places to do the do) ♡

Anywhere in her territory is game but her cave is preferred. If you're out of her cave then she has to make you ride her cause there's no way she's gonna let you touch the dirt during this time.

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

You in general. She is always a second away from combusting because her dragon instinct literally want to lock you in her cave forever, only wearing the furs that she has gifted you. Alas she doesn't want to make you unhappy so she has to hold back but it puts her on edge and makes her want to claim you at any provocation.

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

Hurt you on purpose, besides bite marks and claw marks. Degrade you, no matter how much you say you like it, she can't do it, she can't think of one negative word to say about you.

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

She is all for it in either way. She slightly likes receiving more but that's because to her it's a rare thing that she doesn't think she'll ever get since she doesn't want any chance of hurting you. But if it was something she was getting regularly then she'd probably like both equally. When she receives it lasts one round though, and when you receive, it goes for at least three.

In terms of skill she has none, you have to guide her through it so she can get better at it. What she lacks in skill, she makes up for in a long rough tongue and large hands that will hold you in place as you wriggle in her grasp. Might lift you in the air if she feels like you're wiggling too much. And if she tells you to sit on her face then fucking sit on her face or you might see her dragon instincts showing more.

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

Slow so she doesn't break you. You'll have to tease her alot if you want her to up the pace. If you decide that you want to take both cocks at once then she might actually break you because it's just so pleasing to her dragon, she won't be able to help going for three really quick, rough rounds. Don't worry you'll enjoy it equally either way.

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

You've probably tried to initiate quickies before she goes looting but that always winds up with her skipping the looting that day. There's no way that she's leaving you with your needs not fulfilled completely. Sorry if you had dreams of luring her into a quickie but she might get a bit riled up if you try to end it after just one round. Hold still and let her completely fill you or at least keep her mouth on you for a few hours.

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

You're taking a risk every time you sleep with her. She's literally a massive monster barely masquerading as a somewhat human muscle woman. The biggest risk she'll take is trying to fill you with both cocks at once but that is the amount she is willing to experiment. This poor virgin loser can't handle anything saucier than that.

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

She's been flying for miles for years so she's built up a great amount of stamina. Needless to say her years of intense physical activity will not go to waste. She's honestly built like a fucking machine. She'll break you if her full stamina is used on you, but she's pretty satisfied with only cumming once, for you though it's honestly probably the tenth time.

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

Where would she get a toy in the middle of the forest? Especially when the person who is inventing all the toys in the kingdom is literally a dragon slayer. There's no way she'd use something that Elisha invented, on you. No fucking way. Honestly a bit offended if you insinuate it.

♡ U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) ♡

If she gets comfortable then you're going to be teased mercilessly but usually she's holding back so she's gonna be mostly too focused on holding back to be able to tease you at all. Her teasing tends to be very sweet though and mostly accidental.

She might compliment you too much and start to make you feel embarrassed. She doesn't mean to tease you, it's just when she's buried within you and complimenting every part of your body, it's hard for you to keep calm. She doesn't even realize how heavily she's causing you to blush.

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

She's more of a grunter. She's also super sappy and the closer she gets, the more she babbles at you. Her true thoughts just start spewing out of her mouth, things about keeping you chained in her cave forever, luckily you're too far gone to pay attention to her concerning words.

♡ W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) ♡

She wants to yank on your hair but never lets herself do it cause she wouldn't know how much strength she could use without hurting you, you might notice her curling her fingers in your hair before stopping herself and going back to normal. She just really wants to know what sound you would make if she yanked your hair back lightly and started to kiss your neck.

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

One is longer than average, and one is thicker than average. The longer one looks a bit weirder, exactly like one a dragon would have whereas the thicker one looks more human.

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

Depends on how often she's getting it and how long she''s been with you. It's higher when she finally has you, and remains that way for at least a few years but once you get into rhythm it'll go down to every three days since sessions last a long time and she doesn't want to exhaust you too much. Heat makes it every second though, but heat is also very rare.

♡ Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) ♡

After your first time she might stay up for half an hour to make sure you get some care, in the winter it's basically the same deal. Normally though she'll be up way longer than you, just watching you sleep and feeling satisfied that she's fully claimed you.

#yandere oc #yandere lesbian #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere asks #yandere scenarios #my oc veronia #yandere nsft

[evilautismcrusades]

The Trials and Tribulations of the Jebble Sculpture

Once upon a six hours ago, I had a dream. It was a dream of creativity, of beauty, and of my beloved insane jester. It was a dream of cherishing him, a wish to hold him in my hands.

I didn't yet have access to getting my grubby mitts on an official Jebble talking plush, but what I did have was clay.

My first attempt begun smoothly. I had forgotten at the time that I owned oven-bake Sculpey polymer clay, and as such I used the more obscure Sculpey air-dry clay for my creation. I worked slowly, tediously carving each and every silly detail into his goofy round face, delicately attaching the pupils to his eyes and the ears to his head.

Working slowly was my mistake.

As I soon realized the fate to befall him, I began to panic, hastily kneading bits and pieces of clay in an attempt to finish forming him before he became too solid to work with. My efforts were for naught; in fact, in my rush to put on his features, he began falling apart, his features now messy and his body covered with divots from my nails. It was too late for him. There was nothing within my abilities that I could do to save him.

Thus, I had to make the difficult choice to abandon him. He sat on my dresser overnight and, in the morning, was as hard as plastic. His strained expression demonstrates his eternal misery, having to live with a half-finished body, wearing a half-finished outfit, covered in dirt and cat hair from the stickiness of the clay, but alas, there was nothing to be done.

This is how Pebble was born.

I wasn't satisfied with the outcome of my efforts. All this time spent on a dud, and for what? To leave him to sit barely right of my keyboard, forever gazing into my soul?

No. I had to try again.

That moment was when I realized how to do Jebble justice. I dug through my drawers, moving aside long forgotten craft books and papers, and pulled out my old box of Sculpey oven-bake clay.

When I say old, I mean old. I'd had this clay since four, maybe five Christmases ago, and that didn't make working with the already tough material any easier on my hands. It was dense, crumbly, and disheveled.

By some miracle from Toby Fox himself, I managed to make it work. Using the same original formula I had for Pebble, albeit at a slightly larger scale, I began sculpting. Two balls, one on top of the other.

The further I progressed, the more hopeful I became, but I tried to keep my expectations low. I hadn't sculpted anything since I was eleven, and most of my memories of it were the sadness that accompanied my beautiful pieces breaking.

And yet, I couldn't help but think he was turning out splendidly for my first time in so long. Even if his gums looked unnatural, and he had no bottom teeth, and he was currently little more than a slightly detailed head atop a sphere, he was beautiful. Surely nothing could go wrong...

I worked on him more and more throughout the evening as I binge watched Matt Rose and Jeaney Collects videos, often looking back at his ingame sprite for reference. He wasn't perfectly accurate, quite stylized in fact, but what did it matter? I loved him all the same.

It was here I realized I would have to make some further stylistic changes to his design, both for his own safety and for my own convenience. I knew from my own experiences that Sculpey's oven-bake clay could be fragile, especially without glaze (which I didn't have) or an internal wireframe (I did have crafting wire, but nothing to cut it with, so he unfortunately went without any). If I wanted to keep him for longer than a month in a house with my clumsy self and a cat who loves to knock things over, he would have to be optimized.

So, such changes were made. I decided to skip out on giving him arms, for the amusing rotund aesthetic it provided and to minimize the parts on him that could break. His legs would be simplified and his body would simply be placed directly atop his shoes. Black paint would be used to add the illusion of shorts. His tail would be made short and thick, curled closely to his body so nothing poked out too much. His ears and the bells of his hat were his only particular weak spots, but they looked nice as they were and couldn't be modified too much without rendering them unrecognizable.

He was still fugly, but it was a start.

I then would hit another roadblock: his collar. At first, it's quite difficult to distinguish just what it is based on looking at his sprite, and his other official depictions don't make it any easier; on the official Jebble plush, he dons the typical scrunchie-like poofy collar, but on the rest of the merchandise, including shirts and posters, it's more flower-shaped, for lack of a better word.

Personally, I am on the side of Jebble fanartists who portray him with the former, but I was quick to choose the latter for my sculpture for the sake of my own sanity; delicately folding all those ruffles would have been painful, and making and attaching a bunch of little triangles was infinitely easier.

Thus, this was his final design. Simple, skrunkly, and round.

Here's him fresh out of the oven, lightly toasted and ready to eat paint.

Getting paint to match his colors was quite an experience, helping me to remember just how blue he is canonically, despite how often he is depicted as purple. I, too, am guilty of making his blues warmer than they are, but what can a guy do? It looks good with the yellow and green.

Regardless, I wanted to stick to the canon colors for him, so I dug up my old bag of paints and mixed them up. Painting him went quite smoothly, and he was almost finished, but then...

One minute, I was holding him with confidence, taking care not to touch any of his still-wet paint as I added slightly darker shades of blue to his face.

The next, he had fallen face-first onto my desk with a loud thud.

My heart was broken, and yet it was still racing in my chest as I internally hoped that nothing had fallen off of him, that none of his paint had been smudged in my panic to pick him up, but even then I knew hoping was worthless. In this horrific accident, he had lost a good chunk of his right ear and one of the bells from his hat. How could I let this happen to him? How could I let my confidence do this to my beloved boy?

I didn't have glue to repair him, and for a moment I sat there on the brink of tears. All of my efforts really were for nothing after all. I'd might as well hit him with a hammer so he wouldn't have to suffer the same fate as Pebble.

Somehow, through the fog of desperation and sorrow, an idea came to my mind. I still had the pieces that had broken off, and maybe, just maybe, I could reattach them with the air-dry clay.

I stuck small blobs of it to the places that had broken and squished them tightly together, then smoothed out the edges to somewhat blend it in with the rest of the clay.

Thank the stars it (mostly) worked. The bell that had fallen off was too small to reattach, and had to be remade entirely from the air-dry clay, but it worked. He was fixed.

Recovery was a longer journey for him than it was for me, but thankfully he had his beloved hubby and weird brother to comfort him in these trying times.

He even got to wear Spamton's jacket, which was somehow simultaneously too big and too small for him, and he wound up looking like he was T-posing.

But after all this, once his repairs were dry, I repainted him and he was finally finished.

Behold him in all of his demented gremlin grace.

To top it all off, here's a doodle of him happy and recovered. <3

#deltarune #jevil #spamvil #spamvil isnt at all the focus of the post but tis mentioned so i thought id tag it for ppl who cant stand the ship #i am a tumblr newbie im sorry if this is reprehensible behavior #clay sculpting #sculpey #jevil deltarune #and his weird younger brother pebble #we dont talk about him

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

"Bite down on this." :)

OvO

venom || So Cries The Wolf AU, 2k words (cw injury, mild suggestive comment)

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“I hate pricklebacks.”

You swung the staff with great enthusiasm and gritted disgust, the delivery end crunching into the bony cheek of the reptilian beast that was hissing down at you. The snake-like neck snapped back and forth from the impact, before coiling around to steady itself, long hooked claws digging into the earth to help it spring forward. Alas it didn’t get far, as Eclipse barrelled into its side, his own claws sweeping up and into less protected scales of the prickleback’s underbelly.

“The other prickleback was smaller!” Eclipse spat as the cryptid rolled underneath him, sending both tumbling over. He kicked hard, dislodging himself before he could suffer a nasty bite. “And furrier!”

“It’s a generic term for anything mean and covered in spines or quills!” you called back, swinging the staff in a golf club manner and cracking the prickleback in the head again. It swiped around, narrowly striking across your ankles, but you were very good at dodging such wild defensive attacks. It writhed back onto its front, back almost extending in length as the quills on its back rattled aggressively. 

“You couldn’t have told us before,” Eclipse griped, leaning down closer to the ground. “Oh no, couldn’t have said, giving us learning experiences.”

“Shut up and hit the damn thing!”

The prickleback lunged for you first, the nearest threat it could get its teeth into. But it stopped short, as Eclipse grabbed the tail with one pair of arms and sunk his claws into its hips. Squealing in pain, it bowed over and kicked back, knocking Eclipse loose and leaving him briefly exposed to several quills imbedding into his chest and arms. They snarled in turn, leaning into the quills instead so as to bodily lift the prickleback and swing it to the side, head slamming with a painful crack into one of the thicker trees in the grove. It staggered, swaying heavily and trying to steady itself on its front claws, only for Eclipse to flip it over and sink all four pairs of claws into the meat of the torso. Letting out weak wails of pain, the prickleback kicked up in a last ditch attempt, clawing at Eclipse’s legs. Even these movements too grew weak, as the blood trickled out and the cryptid became fully still. 

You and Eclipse stood over the corpse, both of you breathing heavily. Most of your energy had been expended on getting solid hits in and trying not to be hit back. You’d sustained a good couple of scratches from the initial jump on the cryptid, but Eclipse had taken the worst of it (through full fault of their own). Scratches bled through their purple feathers and quills stuck out their torso at odd angles. As he lifted a hand to start scratching at one, you quickly tapped his hand back down.

“It itches,” he grumbled.

“We’ll take them out when we get back to the cabin,” you said, firm but sympathetic. Prickleback quills of all kinds were incredibly painful or painfully itchy, your experience had given you that much knowledge. Eclipse’s feather crest flattened back against his head as his eyes squinted, mouth turning down in a grimace of irritation. But you knew all you needed to do was slide a hand under their chin, finding the spot along their jaw where their feathers were more like soft down than anything, and their eyes grew softer. Leaning into your hand, he let out a long exhale. Relief? Gratitude? Exhaustion? You weren’t sure. But he was smiling a little. 

You took one of his hands in yours for the first part of the return journey, until you reached the main park track and Eclipse had to vanish into the tree canopy. Even though he was a short distance from you, you missed his presence at your back. It was comforting, walking with a friend. More than a friend, really. 

However, when he descended from the trees onto the main path several minutes from the cabin safety, you felt an abrupt pang of concern. He was wobbling, feet unsteady as he clutched at his chest.

“Eclipse?” Hurrying to his side, you gingerly pulled his hands aside, where they’d started scratching at the quills. The claws trembled in your palms, under your touch.

“Hurts,” he wheezed out, staring down at you with only partial focus.

“Shit, okay. Just…hold onto me, okay? We’re getting back to the cabin right now, we’ll get you help.” It had to be the quills. Not all pricklebacks had poisonous quills, but you’d encountered at least one, and you’d had the misfortune of only having Montague be your doctor through that time. Now Eclipse was on the receiving end of such suffering, but you were determined to make it far less rough than what you’d had to go through. 

Eclipse clung to you like a lifeline, their hands wrapping around one of yours as you did your best to jog through the treeline and take a shortcut off the regulated and proper path. The trees disappointed in your actions, roots providing plenty of an obstacle to navigate, especially with a weakly demon to guide. They didn’t even gripe or complain, just breathing heavily (you should have started being concerned earlier) and letting out brief whines with some of the exhales. You shushed them and comforted in the same breaths, running your free hand over the back of his in what you hoped were calming motions. 

“It’s okay, it’s going to be okay, I promise,” you murmured, as you passed the final layer of canopy and into the dirt circle around your cabin. Montague’s form flickered in the open doorway, even though you hadn’t spoken his name. Guiding Eclipse to duck down, you navigated his swaying torso through the doorway (since when had it been so narrow). The pair of you just about managed to reach the sofa for Eclipse to collapse down over it. His eyes flickered over you as you crouched next to him, hands brushing his crest away from his face and then patting down his torso. Sweat matted his feathers, and you could feel his core burning underneath the metal of his skin.

“Eclipse? Clip, look at me,” you whispered, turning his head to look directly at you. “The quills have poison in them. The longer they’re in your body, the more they’ll be leaking into you. I have to take them out. It’s going to be painful in the moment but it’ll mean you won’t be hurting from the poison once they’re gone. Okay?” 

Letting out a tired groan, Eclipse nodded his head. Even with both of you on the sofa, you had to straighten up from your kneeling pose to be able to kiss his forehead before you shuffled off, hurrying for your closet of medical emergencies. Thick and long rolls of bandages, painkillers, and a thick chunk of old leather were all piled into your arms. It was with a small jolt of nerves that you realised you hadn’t actually performed first aid on anyone other than yourself in…five years? Six years? Not since that last night. You stowed that thought away quickly before you could dwell on it for too long, carrying your supplies back over to the sofa and dumping them down next to Eclipse. His eyes squinted across them all, focusing on the chunk of leather with confusion. You were a bit too busy rolling up your sleeves and disinfecting your hands to explain immediately, until you spotted his staring.

“Bite down on this. You have way more teeth than I do and I don’t want to think what they could do to the inside of your mouth,” you said firmly. The squinting became glaring, and the edges of Eclipse’s lips curled back, baring every sharp tooth in a vinegar-dredged glower. But you knew them well, and even as the edges of his crest began to glow from red to orange to gold, you held your ground. 

“Do you want to lose your tongue?” you snapped, impatience mixing with fear as you watched them shake from pain tremors. “You seem to value it so much for the snarky comments you make.”

“Fuck you.”

“Once we’re done, sweetheart.” God, you wish you were better with dealing with stress under pressure in ways other than deflecting with bad humour. While Eclipse was stunned into slack jaw silence, you squeezed his jaw the rest of the way open and shoved the stick of leather in past his teeth. He bit down on instinct, almost taking a couple of your fingers in the process, but the leather held with a vague squeak and left him glaring even more intensely as a growl bubbled up from his chest. But their eyes were still unfocused, and their arms lay limply at their sides. You placed a gentle hand on their chest, feeling mechanical lungs expand and collapse with each shaking breath. Licking your lips in a fast, unhappy motion, you gave him one more long look. Something that could have been said, but wasn’t, because you knew, and he knew too.

Your hand wrapped around the first quill and yanked. Eclipse’s spine arched, a yowl echoing out from his throat as the crest snapped out fully, feathers ablaze in white and crimson, the leather fins fanning out around his face and neck. Their arms thrashed wildly, and it took your legs straddled across their lap to pin down the lower pair under your knees.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whispered as you pulled out the next quill, tossing it after the first to the floor. Again Eclipse bucked underneath you, one hand swinging up to sink their claws into their chest, dragging the feathers loose as he tried to dig the next quills free himself. Your hands were faster though, grabbing and tossing the quills free before his hooked claws could do any more damage. With a grunt of effort, you pressed down on him, one hand in the middle of his chest while your other hand went through the rest of the work. It didn’t do anything to stop the claws, but it kept them from squirming away from your grasp.

A small scattered pile of a dozen quills later, and Eclipse had stopped writhing or yowling. Instead you sat against each other, gasping after a marathon, your sweat mixing with his oil that seeped out from the injuries he’d dealt himself. You’d heartily wager that the prickleback had left less of a physical impact in comparison (beyond the poison). Once your arms had stopped trembling, you reached across for the bandages, wiping down Eclipse’s feathered chest. He let out a low grumbling hum, leaning forward and coughing out the mouth brace into your lap. 

The stick of leather had been nearly bitten in two. Deep indents from his teeth had sunken in, the surface buckled inward. It was also slimy as hell, sodden by saliva. 

“Ew,” you muttered, more from instinct than anything, putting the soggy leather off on the side table. It distracted you enough that you didn’t notice Eclipse move until four sets of hands curled around you, two on your hips and two around your shoulders. He eased you against his chest, with just enough space for you to start wrapping up their injuries. A low rumble vibrated through their torso, sinking into the two of you. It made your task of tending much harder, as your muscles began to sag. Especially as one set of claws began to trace up the small of your back, practically dropping you fully against them.

“Good job,” Eclipse murmured, his jawline nuzzling into the top of your head.

“You too,” you mumbled back, as if he’d had to do anything throughout that besides lay back and try not to disembowel you. Which…actually was a far amount really. His legs tucked up behind you, curling himself around you on the soft sofa as his arms wrapped around tighter.

You could deal with this, for a while.

#answered #clockwork writings #justfangirlstuffs #friendly neighborhood mutual #so cries the wolf au #forbidden ending is Eclipse cashing in on Y/N's comment

[purpleyoonn]

Petrichor 10 Preview

P E T R I C H O R

Petrichor /ˈpeˌtrīkôr/  (noun)

“a pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.”

Summary: You had been working at Bangtan Corporation for almost two years now, and not once have you ever laid eyes on your bosses. That was, until you met them when out with some of your coworkers. Now, you almost wish you hadn’t. Almost.

Pairing: CEO BTS x Chubby MC

Genre: werewolf au, ceo au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, workplace discrimination, fat phobia, sexism, insecurities,

Some warnings may be added to the beginning of individual chapters.

Will be updated Saturdays at 5pm PST

Masterlist // Taglist

COMING SATURDAY JULY 16TH: 5PM PST

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“Excuse me, Minhyuk-ssi, but I think I must get my mate something to eat.” Jin had cut the man off, politely, as he noticed the glaze covering your eyes. He could smell your scent becoming darker, almost burnt, a tell-tale sign of your impending anxiety attack.

Holding you even closer to his side, he searches for the tables of the buffet he knew occupied a wall of the room every year. Upon seeing his wish, he helps you over to the table, not letting his arm leave you as he makes you a plate of the small hors d'oeuvres before bringing you to a round table that has his name covering two of the plates

“Talk to me my love. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” Jin pleads with you, hating the sight of your impending shut down. They’ve all noticed that you would rather remain silent over what bothers or upsets you, feeling like you would burden them otherwise, which was absolutely false.

“It’s nothing Jin. I promise.”

“So, it isn’t about the envious looks of jealousy you are receiving?” He raises an eyebrow at you, a little upset that you wouldn’t share what had you so uncomfortable.

He was not oblivious to the looks that you were receiving, nor was he going to stand back and let his mate feel the depth of those stares. Taking control of the situation, he chose to do what he wanted, pulling you out of your chair and placing you in his lap. You had gone to protest only to receive a tight grasp to your thigh and a look of warning. You bit your lip as you watched him move your small plate closer, and reluctantly opened your mouth so he could feed you from his hands.

You were hot as you sat in his lap, one hand covering the expanse of your thigh while the other fed you small pieces of fruit and bread. His full attention on you as he watched you chew and swallow each piece. Feeding you brought so much satisfaction to his wolf that he could feel the rumbles beginning to grow in his chest at the thought of providing for you in such an intimate and domestic way.

Plus, he reveled in the anguish of the people causing his mate distress. Watching them as they try to hold themselves back from causing a scene at the sight of his mate on his lap, and not them. He couldn’t help but smirk, hearing their upset and jealous whispers. Jin couldn’t help but want to stir them on more, to prove to everyone in the room that you were his, even if they already knew it.

He couldn’t help but want to stake his claim on you 24/7. He wanted to ravish you against the table, mark your skin with his lips and cum so the entire world would know you were his. Alas, he had to settle for something on a smaller scale to move with your own comfortability. He moved forward, nosing at your neck, still smelling his scent on you. Letting out a little groan, he pressed his lips to your skin, feeling the harsh swallow at his touch. 

“Jin, what are you doing?” Your breathing was becoming inconsistent and shallow, the stares on you making you all too aware of what your mate was doing.

You didn’t receive an adequate answer, only another open mouth kiss placed on the side of your neck, your pulse felt underneath the caress of his lips. 

#bts #bts au #bts werewolf #bts werewolf au #bts omegaverse #bts ceo #bts ceo au #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts mates #bts mates au #ceo wolf!bts #ceo bts #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly! #bts x reader #poly!bts x reader #bts x chubby reader #chubby mc #angst #pining #possessive bts #possessive jin #petrichor #purpleyoonn

[dragongirlcloaca]

Give it up for more self-indulgent smut!!

[Extreme size difference, cum inflation, minor sheath play]

Ci rapped as loud as it could on the bottom of the apartment door, hoping its minuscule fist would be enough to alert Raya to her presence. It was just about to pull out its phone and text her when the door swung open, revealing a tall wolfgirl with a silky chocolate coat, absolutely towering over the 1’4” dragon standing outside

“Hi! Come on in!”, Raya said, smiling.

She led Ci into the apartment, careful not to step on it and giving it plenty of time to catch up to her gargantuan strides. The two entered the kitchen, and Ci fluttered up to the counter to make communication easier.

“Oh! I didn’t know dragons could fly”, said Raya, quizzical.

“Some can, but it depends”, replied Ci. “I do sometimes, but I get tired fast, and with my size I don’t really cover a lot of distance.”

“That’s still pretty neat!” the wolf said. “Tea?”

Ci nodded, and Raya went to put on the kettle.

“Sorry if it seems like I’m...well...ogling you, it’s just that I’ve never seen a dragon as small as you”, she said over her shoulder.

“It’s all good!”, Ci assured. “I’m pretty rare as they come. It certainly has its ups and downs, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“I think it’s cute as well”, Raya said, grinning, and Ci blushed, its mint scales showing a faint hint of pink.

The kettle soon finished boiling, and the two sat down for tea, Ci sitting on an overturned mug and drinking out of a shot glass. The two sit and drink, making polite conversation, before the conversation eventually turns to the matter at hand.

“So, what sort of stuff did you have in mind?” Asked Raya smirking, as Ci grew redder.

“Well...um...I was kind of hoping that...you would...-”

“That I would what, Ci? Good dragons use their words”, Raya interjected, dealing a fatal blow to the dragon’s final shred of dignity and causing it to take on the appearance of a flustered tomato.

“T-that you would treat me like a toy and use me however you want!” Ci blurted out, its snout buried in its paws. “Please?”

Raya grinned, fangs barely visible. “I can certainly do that, darling. Why don’t we start with some ground rules?” She leaned over the table, dwarfing the miniature dragon and drinking in the combined expression of lust and fear on its face. “First, unlike good dragons, good toys don’t talk. I would love to gag your pretty little snout, but alas, I doubt I have a gag small enough, so I’ll trust you on that. Secondly, a good toy also doesn’t move. Starting now, you’re just a cute little dragon fucktoy, completely helpless and powerless. And lastly, I want you to be absolutely aware that if it’s ever too much, just say so and I’ll stop right away, no questions asked. Ça va?”

Ci nodded.

“Good,” said Raya. I’m sure I’ll have lots of fun with you, toy.”

Raya rose from her chair, reached over, and lifted up the Ci, slinging it over their shoulder, and strolled down the hallway to her bedroom. Once there, she set Ci down in the middle of the bed, and walked over to her dresser, and added a few drops of oil to a diffuser, sending a pleasant floral fragrance wafting through the room. She dimmed the lights, and lit several candles scattered around the room before tantalizingly shedding her casual t-shirt and jeans to reveal stunning, blood red lingerie that left little of her lithe form to the imagination. Finally, she returned to the bed, seating herself down next to Ci’s limp form.

“I like the look of this toy,” Raya said, lifting the dragon her in paws as if to inspect it. “A real keeper, if you ask me.” She frowned. “I don’t think I’ll be needing the accessories, though.”

She began stripping Ci, setting its clothes and glasses neatly aside. She set it down on her leg, deftly dragging its panties down with a single claw and discarding them.

“What do we have here?” She inquired, lifting Ci and spreading its legs to study its cloaca. “Well, a hole is a hole.”

Raya dragged a claw upwards, running it over the dragon’s soft scales and up to its snout, where she gently pried open its mouth, pushing a finger in to measure. She deemed it satisfactory, and set Ci back on bed. Raya began shedding herself of her lacy panties, exposing her fat, furred balls and sheath. She toyed with it a bit, fucking her sheath with a finger, before picking Ci back up and pushing its snout into her sheath. Raya laid back against the headboard, propping herself up as she used the dragon to fuck her sheath. Pushing it in to her sheath with one paw, she absentmindedly toyed with its breasts with the other, pinching and twisting the tiny nipples. As she slowly grew erect, she could feel the head of her cock pressing into Ci’s snout. Raya pushed down harder, and her cock forced the dragon’s mouth open. “On second thought, gags are overrated”, she thought. She bottomed out soon after as her wolfcock became too wide for the miniature dragon, but kept Ci there, coating her cock in the spit leaking from its maw.

At its full length, Raya’s impressive cock was almost as long as Ci’s entire torso. Lubing herself up with a mixture of precum, spit, and the juices beginning to drip from Ci’s needy cloaca, she wrapped the dragon around her cock, pinning its wings to its sides, and began to stroke, rubbing along its entire body along her member and stimulating herself with the scales covering its belly. She sped up her stroking slowly, albeit mindful that she was using a live dragon as a fucktoy and holding off from full throttle. Raya soon neared climax, and with a lilting howl she ejaculated, covering Ci in thick cum.

After a moment’s rest, she wiped her dick off onto the dragon’s cleanest wing, and lifted it up and licked all the way from its hips to snout, cleaning her cum off of Ci and swallowing it. Raya paused, and then, smiling, wiped off most of the remaining cum with a finger and pushed it into the dragon’s mouth and forced it to swallow. “I’m really liking this new toy. Now let’s get into the real fun.” She laid the helpless Ci out on the bed, spread-eagle, and slowly, methodically traced a sharp claw down its soft stomach, taking all the time in the world before arriving at its cloaca, a beautiful pink flower in contrast to the mint scales covering the rest of its body. Raya leaned down and gave it a taste, experimentally pushing her thick tongue into the dragon’s tight slit. She lapped at the sweet slick flowing from within, and then brushed a pinkie with its claw deliberately trimmed up against Ci’s cloaca, tenderly feeling the delicate slit.

Ever so slowly, Raya begins to push her finger into the tiny dragon, feeling its insides gradually deform as she fucks it like a finger puppet. She licks her lips, and presses her other paw to Ci’s abdomen, feeling her finger inside its guts. She slowly pulls it out a little before driving it back in, using her other paw to hold Ci down to the bed. Raya takes pleasure in fingerfucking the dragon, salivating over how adorable its diminutive form looks pinned to the bed and treated like a lifeless toy. She slows her thrusts, removing her other paw to tend to her rapidly re-hardening cock. She begins to pump her paw down her dick as she fucks Ci, only pausing to smear some of its juices on her shaft to lube it up.

Raya continued to masturbate with animalistic fury until she could feel Ci beginning to quiver round her finger as it neared climax, at which point she pulled her finger all the way out, and stroked her cock until she was moments from letting loose another flood of cum. Fully consumed by lust, she picked the dragon up with both hands, set it on the tip of her cock, and pushed the massive organ as far into its cloaca as it would go- not very far, but enough to spread Ci wide open and give both it and Raya the last bit of stimulation they needed to climax. Raya shot a massive load of hot seed into the dragon, bulging out its abdomen as she bucked her hips in ecstasy. Eventually, her orgasm faded, and she set Ci down on her chest, cum leaking onto her fur.

“How was that?” Raya asked Ci, gently stroking the dragon’s bloated stomach. “You’re free to talk again now, darling.

“That w-was amazing,” it said, stretching out before collapsing onto Raya’s breast. “I think I could go for a nap now, though.

#Writings #A1 #D1

[shelving-spices]

@monmuses asked: (gestures that get me going) [ GRAB ] — sender playfully squeezes some stray pudge on receiver's belly + reverse (tanith to derren :3)

IT WAS ONLY AFTER Derren began to sleep with Tanith that he had noticed just how deeply warm she could feel.

Her being a naga, of course, it was readily apparent that she would have a harder time managing her own body temperature. However, there was something else the young man noticed– whenever she did properly get warm, her bodily temperature would come to last for a decent amount of time. This proved to be an advantage whenever the two embraced and otherwise kept each other close... no less, varying levels of fervor included.

Such was among the things he noticed, as he felt his eyes blink under the sunlight glittering through the blinds, one slow spring-weekend morning.

Owing to a night of deep indulgence and passion many hours prior... the two had easily fallen asleep, worn and satisfied from their course. The resultant heat they shared was enough to make them leave their blankets over their legs (and tail), upper bodies and torsos exposed to the open air of the bedroom.

Thankfully, given that it was well into spring now, the night had cooled them both... but not by too much– just barely, such that they both remained comfortable through their sleep. As Derren blinked further, raising a hand to clear out his eyes and scratch his bare chest, he first turned to his side, noticing the sleeping form of Tanith to his left.

Alas, they hadn't taken to wearing too much... at least, not after their escapades the previous night. He had only slipped on a pair of dark, navy-blue boxers— humble and sturdy enough, he supposed. Tanith, on the other hand, was wearing something a spot more elaborate: a loose-fitting garment of two parts, with one that draped over her chest, a slight ways down her upper torso, and another skirt that covered her own underclothes. Both were made of a thin and light material, too.

Past admiring his fellow naga's choice of clothes, his gaze trailed slightly downwards. Through the swerving silhouette of her massive, curled tail, he also took notice of her bare stomach. It was showing itself above the edge of the blanket...

It was more of a belly, really— its shape was slightly plump, even shapely... not to mention, per the blush fading into his cheeks yet, the significant amount of time he had spent giving it the sweet, earnest filling it quite deserved. And how he'd kissed it with such care, that warmth to her core...

—He sighed through those fresh memories, though unlike that night, his breaths never shuddered. He chastised himself lightly, shaking his head with a gentle grin, as he turned himself over, and got closer to Tanith.

He carefully, quietly, wrapped one arm over her shoulders, his legs meeting the base of her tail. His smile remaining yet still, a breath passing over his lips, he leaned into her a bit, placing his other hand upon her stomach. He let his palm smoothly rub over its soft surface, and he even noticed that it had a bit of pudge to it— he couldn't resist. Pushing his hand inwards, he playfully squeezed at her midriff in multiple places, feeling it cushion his grip, rubbing it in circles all the more, before moving around it to her lightly-scaled hips, and then back to her belly.

...and it was still quite warm, he'd noticed. Certainly cute, that was for sure.

#//coffee and tea: ic #//mountain air: rp #//shortcake and a drink: fluff #//juice on the side: orange #//pomegranate berry napoleon: derren and tanith #monmuses #(( tum indulgence 100 today #goodness me #||3c

[kyndaris]

Hello Madness, My Old Friend

From Octopath Traveler 2, I decided to keep with the theme of hidden cults and try my hand at the remake Sherlock Holmes: The Awakened. With only a few short weeks before my trip overseas, I didn't want to get sucked into a lengthy role-playing game and leave it unfinished while I was overseas. Which was why I chose to play games that wouldn't take too long but could still tell a compelling story. So, after enjoying the new direction of Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One, I was eager to see what Frogwares would do to change of their first Sherlock Holmes games. Coupled with my obsession with the Sherlock Holmes stories written by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the Cthulhu mythos, my excitement was tangible.

Unfortunately, The Awakened did not live up to the lofty expectations set by the predecessor. Still, given the developer is headquartered in Ukraine and the game entered production soon after Russia launched a full-scale invasion of Ukraine, I can forgive its many foibles.

Besides, Frogwares has never been a triple-A studio.

As such, I struggled with the stripped back gameplay and the jankiness of the game models. There were also several moments when the lighting, especially for hats, looked terribly strange and pulled me from the scene.

Faults aside, there were also many elements I loved about the game. Namely the story and the callbacks to Sherlock Holmes: Chapter One. This, more than anything else, made the two games feel connected. What's more, the backstory in Chapter One also felt conducive to the descent into madness that was Sherlock's story arc throughout the game. Yes, I would have liked some more backstory on the ultimate villain, with perhaps a nice tantalising story connection to our characters beyond a reference to the previous game of the same title, but alas.

Now, if you've ever played a Frogware Sherlock Holmes game, there isn't many surprises. In fact, I felt there were fewer instances for minigames. Gone is the combat and chemical mixing introduced in Chapter One. Sherlock is wholly dependent on the power of investigation and the occasional use of his extensive archives (which he seems to carry with him). This meant the story flowed better as Sherlock and John traipsed to several corners of the world in order to unravel the mystery of a missing Maori servant in the employ of the bullish Captain Stenwick.

It isn't long before Sherlock and John stumble upon their first major clue: The Black Edelweiss Institute. There, they unravel the mystery of the mental institution, including how the previous director was disposed and taken over by the distasteful Professor Gygax who brutalises the patients and uses the Institute as a cover to procure sacrifices for an unknown ritual.

Despite a brief encounter with the unknowable, Sherlock and Holmes find letters pointing them to New Orleans. So, off they trot across the Atlantic where they learn details about an auction selling precious black opals and journey into the bayou to save Mr Arneson, a local man. There, they retrieve an ancient book.

Returning to London, the local bookseller is manages to decipher the unknown language, which points to a mythical sea god that looks very much like everyone's favourite eldritch being. With the help of maps at the bookstore, Watson is able to pinpoint the location for this grand ritual. Everything culminates in a 'battle' atop a lighthouse on the Scottish coastline, with the duo putting a stop to the summoning of Cthulhu to our plane of existence.

Riveting stuff, I must say! Although, as I've stated before, it would have been interesting to have had some more focus on the villain and their underlying motivations. Still, the relationship between Sherlock and John was compelling. Especially as they were still finding their feet as flatmates at 221B Baker Street and had yet to establish the strong rapport they would come to develop in the latter games.

As I've stated above, the gameplay itself isn't as good as its predecessor. No longer are there multiple cases to solve. The Awakened is primarily focused on the one major mystery of a disappearing manservant, which dovetails into a world of secret cults and their attempts to ritual summon something beyond human ken. Of course, in so saying, the case does come to a proper conclusion instead of leaving it open-ended to the player. No longer did I have to ponder if I made the right choice when it came to the cases Sherlock closed as I interpreted the evidence to their logical conclusions.

And because of this the game is also much shorter.

I finished The Awakened in only a few short hours and Howlongtobeat.com seems to indicate it's about 9 hours at most. That isn't to say short games are bad, and I'm thankful I didn't have to pay an exorbitant amount for it.

Another gripe I had were the mechanics themselves, such as the map not providing an indicator for where Sherlock was located. Thankfully, though, each of the sets were quite insular and there wasn't any significant fear one would get lost. Although, I'm sure if I had my direction challenged friends play, they might still lose their way.

Yet, I must confess I was still hoping for a meatier experience. Time will tell what the next Sherlock Holmes game will be or if there might be any new changes implemented to the pre-existing formula. I, for one, would be keen to see a slew of quality investigative games for my favourite detective. But for now, I will continue to wait even as madness beckons to me.

#video games #sherlock holmes: the awakened #sherlock holmes #john watson #cthulhu #eldritch beings