#and more variety than your usual monsters

[playsthetics]

The Signs as Monsters/Cryptids

(requested by @singingsongsoflove)

-

Aries: Dragon, Oni, Cerberus.

Taurus: Dryad, Satyr, Minotaur.

Gemini: Banshee, Chimera, Shapeshifter.

Cancer: Werewolf, Selkie, Ghost.

Leo: Vampire, Phoenix, Manticore.

Virgo: Dybbuk, Grim Reaper, Sasquatch.

Libra: Siren, Harpy, Witch.

Scorpio: Gorgon, Demon, Shinigami.

Sagittarius: Boogeyman, Mothman, Djinn.

Capricorn: Basilisk, Erinyes, Baba Yaga.

Aquarius: Zombie, Frankenstein, Yeti.

Pisces: Rusalka, Naiad, La Llorona.

#I tried to include a few options for each sign #and more variety than your usual monsters #astrology #Aries #Taurus #Gemini #cancer #Leo #Virgo #Libra #Scorpio #Sagittarius #Capricorn #Aquarius #Pisces #the signs as #the signs #monsters #myths #creatures #cryptids #mythology #legends #ghosts

[timey-fandom-stuff]

I liked how my art for Monsterswap Kris's valentine turned out enough to just slap that into its own post and throw it out there, so here! one goofy critter that is definitely a totally normal dog.

they might not care for the romance part of Valentine's, but they are excited about the prospect of impending discount chocolate. and, as it turns out, being able to point and hearts shoot out is actually kind of on theme for this holiday. who'd've thought.

#kris dreemurr #deltarune #deltarune au #kris deltarune #monster kris #Deltarune monsterswap #this was actually the first time i can recall trying to shade a true dual light source situation and i kinda like it tbh #not to mention messing with colored light too #are they usually this peppy? no. if they're smirking like this you're in danger. hide your heckin candy kids they Want it #but they ARE generally a little more upbeat outwardly than canon Kris for a variety of reasons. that'll become clear later! #my art

[cycloplasm]

You'll never ever guess who this guy was initially (it's my 2000s spamt concept but i turned it into an oc) so far he's based on and called Mandarin Orange. Not sure what bug he is but probably mosquito (no one ever saw this one coming)

So he's essentially like, Al from toy story 2. He's the type of guy to collect toys (2000s ones exclusively) and keep them in their packaging. However he always get 2 of each pet shop animals, because he wants one for his house and one for his car (glued on the center console, he can't drive without all his many lps bobbing their little heads). You can easily get him to passionately talk about 2000s movies he loves like Treasure Planet. Needless to say he's a big fan of the 2000s. But he has a problem: the 2000s don't really exist in his world, so people think he's a futuristic weirdo. It doesn't help that the dating sim world he lives in consistently objectifies him. Mandarin himself doesn't do anything outside of being passionate about his main interest; but the narrative seems to do what it wants with him due to him being initially programmed as a female character. The result is his animations and camera angles during cutscenes being out of his control, and it often makes him feel like a toy himself, played with in a scenario he doesn't want to be in. He does his best to detach himself from scripted situations and even occasionally ties to glitch out of events- which led him to be disliked by other characters in the game (they never like fruitbugs that play with the game's code). As a result he's kind of a (albeit passionate) loner who lives in a toyshop no one visits. But YOU could change that...

#koncept drawign #o #rose'socs #fruitbugs #fruitbugs mandarin orange #i feel like the explanation is messier than my usual introductions but tbf this is like. A rough essentially #both in design and concepts. I had to at least start somewhere- i had this idea for a long while now #hopefully i'll get the right idea(s) soon so i can start on his more. Finished version and afterwards draw him in situations #said situations are like. Him and his lps glue car for example #for new people: this is part of my Fruitbugs project which is a fictional dating sim video game (like ill never make it) #in which the fruitbugs are guys that have humanoid fake appearances but are actually bug monsters. #they're all based on real fruits because the goal is to have a character for every fruit. Including some varieties and hybrids #and that's like. The tip of the iceberg of this project there's a lot more planned for it #at the end of the day though. The idea is that these are my boyfriends and they can be yours too if you like them #it's a fictional dating sim so the only limit is sexi stuff (they're all asexual sexless characters) but other than that. yeah bug bf real

[theemporium]

idk if it's blurb material but remus' girlfriend being all quiet and shy until #theprank, and she just loses her absolute shit and tears them a new one for putting remus in that position but also is ultimately the one who helps bring them back together in the aftermath

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“Babe—”

“No! Don’t you even try to ‘babe’ me right now, Sirius Black, or I will hex your ass back into the sixties, you hear me?”

“...yes, ma’am.”

No one had ever seen you so angry. No one even knew you could be angry. 

When Remus Lupin had told his friends that he was talking to a girl over a year ago, none of them quite expected to see you. Not for any bad reasons at all, it was more so just the fact that Remus himself could be quite quiet and shy, so they didn’t really expect a girl who was shy and quiet herself. 

But you and Remus just worked, and it was never a concern for them as long as their boy was happy. 

They had seen you in a variety of situations and moods. They had seen you on the days you were agitated and would snap at someone, only to profusely apologise less than thirty seconds later. They had seen you get frustrated to the point of tears, usually closer to exam season or assignment deadlines. 

But never once in the last year since you began dating Remus had they ever seen you this mad, and that was all thanks to Sirius’ great idea to prank Snape in one of the stupidest ways you could ever deem possible. 

The aftermath had not been pretty. Not for the boys, not for Remus, not for anyone involved and you had spent the better part of the last two weeks with your boyfriend, almost hiding away from the world. 

And now, you were doing what you needed to be done even if the rage inside you was still very much alive and burning.

“I didn’t mean to upset him,” Sirius spoke up eventually as he followed you down the empty corridor. You hadn’t said much to him or any of the boys in the last two weeks, so when you stormed into the Gryffindor common room and told them to follow you, they listened without question. “It was just meant to be—” 

You whirled around, the anger in your eyes clear and evident. “I don’t care what it was meant to be, Sirius. It was fucking stupid.”

James’ eyes widened at the curse word. “We know—”

“And yet you still did it,” you snapped back, your hands clenched into fists at your side. “You knew what you did and you still did it.”

Peter cleared his throat a little as though he was going to speak, but one look from you had him quickly taking a step back to hide behind Sirius. 

“I know what we did was wrong and stupid, trust me I know it’s wrong,” Sirius sighed, his jaw trembling a little as he tried to get the words out. “The guilt—”

“No,” you sneered, pointing your finger at him and shaking your head. “You don’t get to use that word. Not at all.” 

Sirius opened his mouth but nothing came out.

“You know very well how long it had taken Remus to let us in, let you in about his secret. You knew how big of a deal that was to him as he opened up to you about the very thing that made him the most vulnerable,” you gritted through clenched teeth, your finger poking his chest as you punctuated each point. “You knew how much he feared that he would become the monster that hurt him, that he would do to someone what was done to him and yet you still fucking went out of your way to put someone in that position—to put Remus in that position.” 

All three boys remained silent.

“That guilt would have killed him,” you croaked, your eyes tearing up as you let out a shaky breath. “But the thing is that no matter how mad and upset he is, I know what he needs is his friends. Even if they are the ones who made him feel this way.” 

“We want to be there for him,” James whispered.

“And you will be,” you said to him in a firm voice, glancing between the three boys. “You all will be, or so help me I will make you all regret the day you were born.”

“Thank you,” Sirius murmured but you shook your head.

“I’m doing this for Remus. Not you, Black. Now follow me.”

.

#remus lupin #marauders #harry potter #hp #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin fic #remus lupin oneshot #marauders x reader #marauders x you #marauders x y/n #marauders fic #marauders one shot #harry potter x reader #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter fic #harry potter oneshot #hp x reader #hp x you #hp x y/n #hp fic #hp one shot

[eldritch-spouse]

I need a threesome with Comie(?) and Pebble. Just I need to be knotted as I suck off honeyboi.

P. S Love you Pinnie. Thank you for your hard work 🙏

[It's "Colmei", but you got it basically. You didn't really specify, so I'm putting you in the "Admin" role. Love you too! <3 Fem reader.]

TW: Knotting; Food cum (as in, it's literal honey); Slight cultish themes.

The bug monster always intrigued you.

He wasn't made by The Clergy's Eye. Your lord didn't weave him into existence either.

That you know of, this... Man? Male. He just showed up. Installed himself in the garden. A ridiculous notion, it really reminds you of Fank-e.

You recall the initial commotion.

Krulu had been alerted to the entity's prolonged presence and effectively wanted to remove said unknown monster from his grounds. Because, after all, if he wasn't there to make some sort of exchange and be sapped at like the rest, then he was a waste of space and resources- Especially when the uncivilized monster decided to station his colony in the garden.

What stopped your lord from rightfully removing the witless intruder from his domain were the desperate plights of Patches and Nebul, both undead monsters exhibiting great fascination with the likes of Colmei, as he's come to be called. You don't even remember which of the two baptized him anymore... When push came to shove, you chose to voice an opinion, siding with your coworkers. Not to spite Krulu, never. You truly just shared their fascination with the bee man. Besides, the garden actively benefits from the actions of his well-coordinated bees, that can't be denied.

And he was left alone, begrudgingly.

"Bee man" is a misleading term. From what little of his body you've seen, he's nothing like a bee-based monster at all. If anything, you'd liken him more to a parasitic entity inhabiting the garbs of a medieval beekeeper, like a snail's shell. His sleeves are always long and down, like Nebul's. His mask is usually always in place, and although many people would wonder about the monster's ability to see, you know better. You've learned a lot in your time working here. Masks and lack of visible ocular organs means nothing. You know Colmei can see his surroundings the same way you can- And even if you didn't, Patches' extensive research on the specimen more than proves it. He can circumvent objects in his path without scent or palping, he can differentiate colors, he has depth and perception like a human's, a field of vision standard in your species. He's a little wonder, you've combed -Pun intended- through reports on him more than once.

And, although he's not officially recognized as a "garden anomaly" by anyone here, you lump information about him next to Hellion and Pebble's cases. In fact, now that you recall things, didn't Pebble form after Colmei's arrival? Probably, you'll have to check later. The two get along well enough, which already can't be said about Hellion's relationship with the bee caretaker. Then again, Hellion has a strong personality, to say the least...

Speaking of, you're sacrificing some of your free time this morning to satisfy one of Patches' requests. He needs a sample from Colmei. Saliva was easy enough to get, the monster does eat, and with those three slobbering tongues you've caught glimpses of, it was hard to miss a chance to get a swab of his drool. The problem came when Patches attempted to get a "seed sample". You've long since stopped questioning why he wants to work with reproductive fluids, and considering the stunts you've seen this dullahan pull using a variety of organic elements, you have to at least admit there's some merit to what superficially comes off as pure depravity. Even if you'd like it if he stopped obsessing over homunculi...

Patches is old, he knows what he's doing sometimes.

Point being, whenever the undead tries to get handsy with Colmei, the bug monster blatantly rejects him, buzzing angrily. He doesn't often fall for traps either. Relatively speaking, you'd assume Colmei would be very receptive to sexual attention ever since he discovered ejaculation is harmless, in much the same way Belo underwent a somewhat prolonged lustful fever the moment he was bedded by you and lord Krulu. And, effectively, Colmei spends an inordinate amount of time stimulating himself, perhaps in an effort to make up for all the times he was left frustrated and hopelessly libidinous for no reason. Although he frequently brings himself to completion, the garden inhabitant doesn't allow people to approach him sexually often. Santi was briefly allowed to stroke him through his garb, but the moment the demon attempted to get a better feel, he was quickly hissed and buzzed at.

You think the incubus is still a little sore over that. Heh.

Nevertheless, you've decided you'll get this over and done with it today. Because you're not just anybody, you're the Administrator of this establishment, and what needs to be done will get done, so help you.

It's all a matter of waiting. Colmei's going to get bothered at any moment, you know he has nothing better to do in the mornings, because his hive has adapted to The Clergy's Eye's schedule. His army of bees all remain mostly dormant within early mornings, because the garden's flowers too are dormant, meaning there's no pollen to collect. That's just how this tilted world is. Cleverly, they rest and save energy for the evenings and nights. Colmei wakes from slumber much earlier however, has to, acting as a guard for his smaller colony elements.

You've been sitting on a lonely bench (who, miraculously, isn't Sybastian) for a while now, bidding your time. Occasionally, you'll make conversation with your currently busy higher, other times you'll catch Hellion shift in his sleep atop a tree's fat branch. Generally, you don't have much trouble sitting placidly, rolling the tube-like vial in-between your gloved fingers. Some people get maddened by the waiting game, Krulu has taught you better.

Your first plan of action is simple, coaxing. If that fails, which it just might, there's no doubt in you something can be schemed. This is far from the most daunting of challenges you've taken on.

Time passes, the fog hugging your home's dark walls recedes ever so gently, some of the plant life sways and plumps, as if the building is yawning, waking itself up. The fountain comes alive, sprinkling water in all the wrong directions, as usual. Today, it sports a curious, hourglass shape, adorned with well-sculped crows seemingly flocking around it. Lord-Master would enjoy the sight of it if he was paying attention to your whereabouts right now.

From then on, it's fairly soon when you hear a more pronounced buzz coming from the sides of the establishment. Seeing as it's usually quite silent this time of day, it can only be the beekeeper. You smile knowingly, aware of what he'll most likely be doing in a little while.

Rising, measured, slow and muted footsteps carry you closer to the source of the sound. You trail the edges of your establishment, ears almost twitching with the way they're perked at every insect-like noise. When those sounds dip into a slightly familiar rhythm, strong but interspersed with breaks of abrupt silence, like gasping, your pace quickens.

Turning around the front left edge of the building, you see him there, predictably. Colmei leans against the dark brick walls of The Clergy, some fair distance away from the oversized colony structure attached to it. Monochrome robes pool messily around his hips, held there by pitch black arms that dip between full thighs and grasp a humanoid appendage with fervor.

It's a silly thing to say, but being that you've witnessed so many foreign genital configurations, it's become a novelty to find a "proper" set on monsters these days. You'd expect something as bizarre as Colmei to sport a wet and curling thing moving this way and that, but no- There it sits, humanoid balls beneath a humanoid shaft. Very odd indeed.

He's doing exactly what you predicted he would, somewhat clumsily palming and squeezing himself, grip on the base of his cock but mostly static. He may have learned to bring himself to fruition, but he's not practiced at it, perhaps that's why he spends so much time agonizing like this. Once more, you'd think masturbatory motions would come near instinctively to the parasitic entity, yet that doesn't seem to be the case. The head of his already slick cock drips something incredibly viscous to the ground, this darkened orange-ish string that, if seen from afar, could almost be mistaken for something else.

You've seen traces of it on the garden at times, spattered messily atop flowerbeds. Patches could just collect one of those and use it, but he insists they're not appropriate, have been tainted. Frankly, you think he just wants an excuse to make someone touch the garden monster.

Amused, you observe Colmei clumsily paw at himself, throbbing against nothing, chest filling out as he tries to angle his legs in a better position. He almost figures out how to cant them well, then gives up. It's as endearing as it is aggravating to watch. You think he made an odd droning cry at some point. You're getting as frustrated as he is just watching him try to find a good method. Part of you only wants to rush there and hold those meaty hands over his length properly, pump him decently, make him curl his grasp here and there, grab his full balls and slap his ass when he finally gets the gist of it. One would assume Colmei would get the hang of it by watching the drunk stragglers that stumble into the garden and beat off in their highs. Then again, usually something ends up happening to them.

Stepping into the very corner of Colmei's field of vision -Well, assuming his vision isn't totally tunneled, which it might be- You make a soft coo at the monster.

He heard it. Heard it very well. You commend his alertness even in a state distracted by arousal.

For a second, you wondered if the unknowable monster man was going to jump out of his robes, face swinging immediately in your direction and pitifully small wings spreading. It reminds you of Belo when he's upset, minus the parakeet fluffing. Whatever angry noise was beginning to rattle in his abdomen is halted when he realizes who's standing in front of him.

Garden anomalies have a primal, inherent understanding of the dynamics of The Clergy. They know who your lord is, can feel his work and his presence everywhere. They know to respect him, and they understand who his vessel is. As such, you're very often treated with less mischievous intent and never shown a wink of genuine hostility unless they're deeply aggravated by an exterior agent. Colmei isn't a garden anomaly however, which makes his similar reactions all the more interesting. He learned from the others that you're a figure to be cautiously regarded, to be mildly subservient to.

Maybe he can sense Krulu, maybe he can't- It's still hilarious that he treats you like an untouchable figure just because others are doing it.

Which is to say, your hypothesis here is that he won't deny your advances because he thinks more of you than he does the rest of the staff.

Colmei's buzzing is now muted and soft, uncertain. Incredibly enough, his static hand is still wrapped around a neglected member. Though you can clearly gouge he's extremely tense right now.

" Colmei. "

He reacts to the word, perking, knowing that's what he's called in these grounds.

" Come here. "

There's a communication barrier between you and the beekeeper, sure. But he's been learning the language ever since his stay here. He knows what those words mean, especially when you do a curt beckoning gesture. If your lord were available now, he'd facilitate the conversation, but alas. You're no baby, you'll get this done on your own.

When the beekeeper doesn't move a muscle, your first step forward is measured, the two of you watching each other like hawks in a standstill. That's definitely not the energy you're going for, so you put on a smile, glancing from his covered complexion to the treat he clutches and licking your lips. Come on...

Colmei's wings flutter, though stubbornly, he doesn't meet you.

Cautious steps turn to confident struts, unbothered by his evident turmoil. You halt right up close to Colmei, seeing the way he breathes faster, the noise of something wet shifting behind that grayed mask. Knowing he's clearly deliberating, you don't reach for the goal immediately, in fact, you just stare at him with a soft expression.

The pressure cracks him.

Colmei ultimately leans down, the bottom of his head garbs brushing barely on the crook of your neck. Whether it was done just to have contact or to somehow smell you, is irrelevant. Smiling, you gently crane your head, shifting to push cloth away, such so that the monster can see more of your neck. There's a sound by your ears, something being dislodged, pushed aside by a slimy protrusion that eagerly splays itself on bare skin, laving, relishing.

The noise you make in response is only a little bit hammed up. It does feel nice, but riling him up is more important right now. When the monster makes a strange rolling croon, soft and high, you inch closer to trail gloved fingertips on his right inner thigh, a teasing back and forth that might frustrate another male, but he seems content with it. Progress is made when the beekeeper's previously static hand jolts to life, stroking over himself more avidly than before, though still as clumsy. Another gross extremity comes to slobber on your neck, the two twining occasionally in the monster's enthusiasm. Drool is seeping into your clothes. Although your digits creep upwards just a tiny bit more with every to and fro, you bide your time.

He parts his legs further, almost imperceptibly so, and paired with his erratic wing flicking, you take it as an invitation. Colmei stiffens, in many ways, the moment you follow the curve of his balls and trace the root of him, hand venturing to join his and stroke his girth in tandem. It was sensuous, scrupulous, lazy.

But it was still too much.

The beekeeper jars, jumping away from your touch and presence in surprising speeds for such a large body. Monochrome robes are pushed down and he makes a distinctly hostile buzz much like the roar of an engine. Though, as quickly as it reverbs through the garden, Colmei appears to get a flash of self-awareness and strangles the rest of the cry into a high-pitched squeal. You raise an unamused eyebrow at him, watching incredulously when the hive guardian merely recedes into the distance, turning around the edge of the building to avoid you.

Hm.

Well that's a mission failed, for sure.

A bitter taste settles on your tongue. The defeat of sexual rejection is something you haven't had to deal with in a long time, although, Colmei's evident fear of being stimulated by another is amusing enough to wave that frustration away as you snicker to yourself. What is he doing now? Just sulking in the corner with a throbbing cock and tightened nuts? If he jerks off now and ruins your chance to get that sample, you're going to be so livid. What a pussbag.

...

Speaking of cowards...

A depraved little lightbulb dawns over your head.

You're going to lure Colmei into letting you touch him, by making him want to participate. But, for this next stunt, you need a volunteer. Not just anyone will do, criteria dictates said third element needs to have a moderately positive bond with the beekeeper.

You're not going to bother staff while they prepare for the day. Hellion is like a pest to Colmei, a nuisance in a good day. That leaves dear old Pebble.

Workable.

The fog that seems to poise over this infrastructure, shielding it, bathing the premises in properties you can't exactly comprehend, also affects plenty of the beings that inhabit this space. Naturally. The flock of gargoyles that's settled on the roof, the standard ones that is, seldom ever turns to stone in plain daylight.

You and Patches have conversed about this, it's likely due to the way the fog mutes some of the sunlight's qualities. Whatever sort of biological signals determine a gargoyle should enter "stone sleep" are filtered out. That's not to deny that there exist days where the sun is so potent it still manages to turn most into statues.

Pebble is odd. Of course he is, he's a mutant of the garden -Your sweet spawn of Krulu- But it seems he only partially turns to stone for a very brief span of time. You've caught him in states that weren't quite sleep nor consciousness, body shifting in jerky motions as he instinctively tried to stretch, looking around, but not able to move much aside from a step or two in ambiguous directions.

This half-awake half-asleep state appears to bother the gargoyle, so he's cleverly taken to nesting in spots that provide shade during the day, keeping himself mostly shielded and avoiding having his body paralyzed. In fact, you bet you won't have to search too much for him at all! Venturing to the opposite side of The Clergy's exterior, there's a flattish roof area there he tends to pick often. Although you could scale the building with your lord's arms, that likely won't be necessary.

" Pebble. " You call softly.

A few moments of silence pass.

" ... Pebble! " Comes out slightly more forcefully.

It's always a bit tricky with him. You don't want to raise your voice and make him accidentally interpret that you're angry at him. Having one monster run off is enough.

There's a sigh. " Damn it. Pebb- "

With a soft sort of click click clack of clawtips on darkened tiles, a paperbag clad head peeks out from the edge, followed by its twin.

The mutant offers you a confused, nervous glance, pinprick eye blinking tiredly before darting every which way. Yes yes, no one really likes getting woken from their beauty sleep. You understand him perfectly.

" Hi lovely. " Gentle gentle, he stares at you, still as quizzical as before. " Wanna come down here for a second? I need your help. "

The gargoyle hesitates. He always does, though you take no offense to it. That's just how he is. A good deal of time has passed ever since Pebble was welcomed into The Clergy, and the anomaly has come to trust some of the staff, you being one of them. If you didn't know better, you'd say he feels safe around you at times.

Making a brief come hither gesture, you wink cheekily at the blue mutant. " I promise it'll be fine. You can go back to sleep when I'm done. "

Another long pause settles, his arms steadying the monster on the roof. Patience is affordable today, you can't rush this plan, after all. So you merely stand there, silently and passively exerting pressure on the garden anomaly. It always works.

In a moment, robust wings stretch and flap, as if waking themselves up as well, and Pebble gets into position, leaping from the tall roof, down onto several sections, finally landing a small distance beside you with this ground-shaking-

THUNK

Yes, being made of solid, compact stone is quite perilous... Between him and the robot, you wonder which one's mass is more destructive.

Nevertheless, with the gargoyle now approachable, you calmly stroll over and smile, taking a rough blue hand onto yours. Pebble's fingers twitch a little and he makes a curious chuff, ruby eye ever trained on you. Twin tails lash behind him when you bring the stone to your lips for a chaste kiss, his breath hitches timidly.

" Thank you. " You start, softly leading the comparatively large monster back to where you were when Colmei rejected you. The longer you walk, the more antsy your friend seems to get. " I promise I don't want anything weird. "

Lord knows the dullahan and the wraith massacred poor Pebble for details when he was formed. Just as they did Hellion, though that aptly named scoundrel has always had a lot more swipe and bite in him.

As you halt, you sadly confirm that the beekeeper is nowhere to be seen. Something that won't matter in the long run, yet still manages to peeve you a tad.

" Pebble- " You turn to the gargoyle. " Do you want to fuck me? "

For all the gentleness you had been sparing him thus far, that was quite the bold invitation.

When that red pinprick turns into an even smaller little dot in the pitch black, jagged hole of his bag, it's hard to resist cackling. He was most definitely caught off-guard, hunching, letting out a breath he had been holding. Silence ensues, though he's not stepping away, so you'll assume his libido will overpower that cowardice today. There's something almost suspicious about the way he regards you. As if he can't quite bring himself to believe you've woken him from a dead sleep... Just to fuck him.

And he's right.

You have ulterior motives, but, even if he can't tell, there are virtually no downsides to it. So you might as well have just woken him for a romp, yes.

Pebble eventually makes an unintelligible garble and twiddles his thumbs, sparing you quick glances. A sort of "Are you sure I can?" if there ever was one.

Hah, cute.

Unable to hide the mirth in your smirk, you giggle and loop your arms around the monster's hard waist, observing the fascinating way an unholy union of stone and flesh mold when his chest heaves in surprise. He's gruesome and pretty all at once, the garden did exceptionally well when it created Pebble.

" Is that a 'yes' I see? " You mock, receiving shy, unsynchronized nodding from both heads. " Good, then let's not waste any time. "

You pull the gargoyle along while taking several steps backwards, until your outfit brushes against the building's wall. Although clearly interested, Pebble never usually takes much of an initiative. Not because he doesn't want to, you can see it in the way his extremities twitch and his tails impatiently sway, it's always that unknowable fear keeping him at bay, that insecurity. It's far from a turn off though, and such is seen when you slide your work dress up, hearing him chuff at the sight of your laced panties when the fabric gathers at your hips.

Poor little baby, getting bothered already.

You do like these panties, they've been a favorite pair of yours because of how transparent they are, and many of the staff members have admired them already. You don't think Pebble has though, so you drink in his witless arousal like an impeccable wine. A gloved digit unceremoniously peels your panties to the side, and you're sure he can smell the very first hints of wetness gathering on your pussylips, because he does that distinct sort of shnort that a lot of monsters do when they sense an easy hole.

Grabbing his hand once more, you first take care to bring those clawed fingers to your mouth. Sure, it's not exactly the softest sensation gliding on your tongue, but that doesn't matter. What you want to do is get him as slippery as possible to facilitate things, and rile rouse him further. It works wonderfully in your favor, the mutant huffing and making an odd sort of impatient whimper. Your motions are lazy, making sure you have some eye contact as you intentionally let yourself drool heavily on him, strings of it already coating your chin when you make a quiet moan around his digits.

Pebble showcases a rare display of assertiveness when he ever so subtly slides more of his two fingers into your mouth, and you bob to accompany him, flustering the anomaly to stillness again. You know he'd rather have something else in there. The look of mild awe that crosses his face when you release his now soaked fingers is borderline hilarious. He plays with the drool around his digits sheepishly and you only titter quietly as you lead that very same hand to the main prize.

The gargoyle grunts, more than enjoying the softness of your already mildly interested pussy against himself. Sometimes you wonder what he thinks of others, who are so much softer than him. Does he enjoy that, their comparative warmth? Is it something he wishes he could have? You bet it feels really nice for him to lean onto his partners, sink into plush, giving bodies such as yours.

With a soft pat to the back of his palm, Pebble grasps the signal that he's meant to move, though only tentatively strokes over the length of your entrance, afraid it'll bite or something. Your patience wavers, gripping him and making harsher motions, letting him know you like to get your clit rolled hard. The mutant purrs when you let out pleased sighs, dipping into soft moans. Finally, he starts moving that big hand on his own, offering as much pleasure as he can in a slightly clumsy but very eager to please way. There's another frantic growl-keen when you buck against him. Humorously, when Pebble sinks one of his fingers into you, knuckle deep, he makes a sound as if he had sunk his whole cock into your walls, shuddering and everything.

This time, your laughter is loud and hearty, startling the mutant. " No no- " You stress when it feels as if he's going to pull away. " You're doing so well, please keep going. I can take more. "

Praise, ever the fuel for the hearts of the devoted, gets him to resume, curling his finger slightly and delighting in the unflattering wet noise that follows, before squeezing a saliva-soaked twin inside as well. You fear he's going to melt, at this rate. The small stretch has you groaning and squeezing, encouraging him to plunge into your cunt to his heart's content.

" Fuck yeah, open me up for your fat cock. "

That one apparently sent him wild, because he does just that. The haze of sleep vanishes off his body instantly, and the monster curves to be closer, watching his own blue digits get swallowed by your sweet hole, coating him in slick the harder he gives it to you. It's always a treat when Pebble's brave enough to be remotely dominant, because his natural density adds a weight to his every motion that easily rocks those subjected to them. Your head leans back and you fully give into the stings of pleasure that pierce you every so often, mouth open in a satisfied expression he's likely eating up right now.

When the gargoyle's noises become frequent and louder, you have the wherewithal to glance down, seeing the growth throbbing between his legs, dripping precum along its length and almost twitching in tandem with every clench of your cunt. He's beyond needy, and in a short span of time, which is ideal. Reeling at your own filthy little ideas, you shove his hand out of your opening and pull the monster closer. It takes a little bit for Pebble to get it, but he eventually hunches enough to make up for the height difference, such so that you can grab the head of his red, knub-adorned cock and press it to your soaked pussy.

Pebble groans incomprehensibly, immediately starting to hump, gliding that hot length across you in a way that allows you to feel every slight protrusion. You cry out and grind against each other for a couple of disgraceful, horny little moments, with you mischievously tugging at the roots of his tails just to feel the gargoyle's ass flex briefly. He's adorable.

The moment the winged monster tries to angle himself differently, obviously seeking to penetrate, you lightly push him off. Don't want to ruin the best part of the plan just yet now, do you?

Pebble whines, the spare head growls.

" Oh shush. "

You don't want to do this here, in the pavement. You're sure Pebble won't give two shits about how hard the ground is, but you'd rather not ruin your outfit or scrape yourself right now. Instead, you lead him to the closest flowerbed. As much as you'd like to playfully throw Pebble onto it, he's pretty immovable in his default state, so you can only push and ineffectively try to tickle your winged lover boy until he gets the message.

Twisted, misshapen and teeth-clad flowers unroot, scattering on strange hidden limbs with startled squeaks when the gargoyle lays on his back, wings spread and member pointing upwards. You're quick to jump onto him, and even if you spare the mutant some loving moments full of pecks to his chest and belly, even allowing him to feel your tits when you begin undoing the top part of your dress, you very quickly turn around on his lower abdomen.

He gets a fantastic view of your full ass as you grind generously over his girth, teasing the two of you further. When trembling hands scheme the globes of your behind and settle on plushy hips, you let the gargoyle ground himself, rising slightly to line yourself up with him. A tongue flicks over dry lips, eyeing the not yet fattened knot at the base of his length.

You make sure every soul in this establishment hears it when you slam yourself onto Pebble's cock.

" HNN OHHN- "

It rings out just as loudly as you wanted it to, followed by Pebble's strangled garble before he audibly gulps and seems to pause from the reaction he ripped out of you. The silence around you becomes bashful, like you rattled the building and its residents to stillness. If Santi was here, he'd commend you for the pornstar moan.

You've no doubt you've roused a couple of peepers. There's a faint tingle in the back of your mind, Krulu now tangentially paying attention to what's happening. You suppose hearing his vessel cry out like a bitch in heat out of nowhere is more than a little curious.

After that little break where you watch Pebble disappear almost entirely into you, squeezing around his hardness, feeling him buck his hips softly in desperation, you smile and let yourself go, riding him to your heart's content.

Leaning forward, hands planted firmly on his legs, you use as much force as you need to make each pound downward really count. You're not afraid of being too rough, Pebble's sturdy, he can deal with the slap of your ass on his body, with the mad squeeze of your spasming pussy around those perfect bumps, stopping periodically just to grind and rip more filthy noises out of yourself.

He tries, boy does he try to do anything, but you're too much for him. Too confident, too hot, too wet and welcoming. Pebble can only whimper out nonsensical pleas, heaving and panting hard enough you can hear his paper bags crumple when his teeth accidentally catch them. He groans and drools, not that you can see the small pool of it between his tits as he watches your gorgeous form bounce, fruitlessly attempting to feed into your merciless rhythm but getting completely overpowered in seconds.

You almost wish you could see his fucked out state for yourself, the mental images accompanying each frantic little noise of his having you gasping and crying out.

" Fffuck yes, you're such a good boy for me, aren't you? " You coo in-between pants of slight effort. " You'll let me ride you anywhere, won't you, sweetheart? Anything to get your cock wet, huh? "

Pebble's responding sound is like a slurred, low moan, legs jerking and tails spasming while the dick inside you throbs so hard you thought he was going to cum for a second there. In fact, for a couple of completely lust-drunk moments, you totally forget what you're doing. Sure, you're ridding the lights out of this gargoyle, but what for anymore...?

As if fate heard said thought, a soft buzz jolts your memory.

In the very same corner he had once disappeared to, stands none other than Colmei, watching like a little voyeur. And you don't doubt he's not the only one right now, but he's the peeping Tom you were specifically looking forward to.

The beekeeper stands warily, wings moving rapidly behind his back in what must only equate to excitement, claws tugging anxiously at his own garbs, which happen to be hilariously tented where his engorged cock bulges with need, already staining those ash-colored robes into a depraved wet mess.

Although you can't tell for sure, you'd bet that mask-clad gaze is fixed on the sway of your tits and the sight of your hungry cunt swallowing Pebble without rest. You make it a point to sit up slightly so he can see better.

Good, perfect, watch and drool, little freak. This is what he declined. It could be him beneath you now, if he wasn't such a dumbass earlier. It could be him twisting and arching like Pebble on the ground, warbling for more and more and harder-

You force yourself to think clearly, halting things to a crawl.

The gargoyle's infuriated snarl dies into a miserable sob, one of his arms leaving you to punch down on the grass beside him. He makes another distressed bray, and while you understand his pain perfectly, you need to focus now.

" Quiet. Patience. " It was an order. And, admittedly, he's very obedient about it, murmuring his displeasure when you slap his thigh softly. Ouch.

Your previous hammering becomes a slow, luscious roll of the hips, gloves removed so you can feel yourself up for the peeper's viewing pleasure. He takes a small step forward, clearly wanting to approach, but still held back by something that is honestly starting to infuriate you.

" Colmei... " You moan at the next surge of pleasure.

The beekeeper shivers and seems to wake at the call. You don't miss Pebble's confused grunt at you calling out someone else's name.

In a vaguely childish gesture, you pout and make grabby hands at the darker monster, stopping to play with your breasts, rolling them together just to thrill, casting Colmei the most needful look you can muster.

His resolve visibly falters, the clear invitation having him frozen mid-step.

" Please... Comei. "

Oh, nothing can curb the Cheshire grin that spreads so eagerly on your cheeks, splitting them, when the insectoid monster caves.

He does the walk of shame over to you, as he should, arm over his blatant erection and posture like that of a bashful mutt getting caught in the trash can. Only now does Pebble, still impatiently trying to get some friction started, realize someone else is getting closer. The gargoyle lifts his heads behind you, offering a strange sort of snort-chuff at Colmei.

" Hey now. " You warn.

The two of them have gotten along on several occasions, though the mutant is clearly interpreting the beekeeper's presence as that of a challenger. As if Colmei's going to yank you off him and dash away. You suppose this can be new for them both.

" I'm not going anywhere. " You assure Pebble, tossing him a look. The gargoyle murmurs, slightly placated.

When Colmei halts in front of you, it's not too hard to get him to roll his robes up, his pretty pitch black cock bobbing in anticipation, the male's breath clipped. Before even so much as reaching for him, you offer a skeptical, challenging glance.

Are you going to be difficult now?

Colmei appears to interpret the basic gist of it well-enough, buzzing quietly and bending big legs slightly so his offering is properly reachable. If that's not a pathetic beg, then you don't know what is.

" Mmm, are you sure? "

He makes another droning noise, this one climbing to high sputtering, almost like an apology, regret. Good. In his desperation, Colmei allows his tip to poise on your lips, spreading a bead of something so sweet your eyes widen when you swipe your tongue across it. Huh. You pat the small pocket on the side of your bunched up dress, finding the small vial still secured there.

Beneath you, Pebble seems about ready to burst out crying, hips starting to buck uselessly even if he's been told to behave. Poor thing, you figure you've tortured him enough. Knowing it's going to take a bit of coordination, you reach around to find the blue monster's hands, urging him to bend slightly so he can grab your waist, moving them, letting the gargoyle know he should use you however he pleases. Immediately, he starts bouncing you quickly, little rabbit thrusts that have you rocking slightly and laughing amidst the jolts of sensation now reawakening.

Redirecting your attention to Colmei, you make sure he's watching when you lace both hands on his length, motions a lot more practiced than his, letting him know that ambiguous pawing won't get him anywhere. The beekeeper's whole body rattles in a visceral shiver, you're able to see the muscles of his legs tense and his lower abdomen tighten as he discovers a brand new world of pleasure. Hopefully, he'll learn from this. The monster coos something in a fast staccato, a lot more active than Pebble, thrusting into your grip and huffing every time you stop to circle cruelly over his tip.

With so much curiosity biting at you, it doesn't take long before you're putting soft lips against him again, trailing a stripe from the root of his dick to the head, marveling at the slightly musky taste of his skin. The beekeeper instinctually holds onto your head, making a low, shocked sort of hum the second you take him in properly- Treated to the view of you slowly sinking more of him into your mouth, a playful tongue feeling around as he gets into your throat.

Thank Krulu for his training and body modifications. You'd be a little upset if you couldn't take him all in.

Colmei rattles with pleasure the moment he's fully enveloped by the warmth of your gulping maw, twitching inside you, shuddering when his balls brush your chin. Speaking of, might as well play around while you can. One hand grabs his leg for support, the other thumbs and rolls his nuts, if only just to hear his breath hitch again. Pebble, who unbeknownst to you has been watching the entire exchange, finally starts fucking you onto him properly- Perhaps out of jealousy that his neighbor is getting twofold your attention.

It's very easy for him to lift you, most monsters find the majority of humans easy to maneuver, though being made of such hard material definitely helps. The pleasant surprise of getting hammered onto his length has you moaning gleefully around Colmei, who begins moving as well, careful enough not to let you slip off him. While the gargoyle seems to be quickly recovering that previously lost climb, making self-satisfied noises at the vocalizations he elicits from you, Colmei is only starting to get into what might be his first oral servicing, snapping angrily at the blue mutant whenever he gets rowdy enough to nearly displace you.

" Hahh... Getting close? " You call to Pebble, able to slip off Colmei's cock for a moment to catch your breath.

Strings of drool mixed with excessively viscous precum cling to your jaw, the beekeeper's too restless to stay still, rubbing his wet cock on your cheek while you wait for a response. Your stone-hard sybian nods feverishly, a guilty noise echoing.

" That's fine, sweetie, don't hold back. "

You can barely finish the sentence before Colmei's trying to angle himself into your mouth again, throwing a glare at the beekeeper. Nonetheless, Pebble understands, and he rumbles out in delight, now pounding you from below with a vengeance that has you comically bobbing and gagging onto the insectoid without much work. Between the slap of your ass on him, the wetness of your cunt getting bred and the slurp of your lips around the other's cock- You don't even know which is more obscene.

It's easy to slip into a pleasured trance, skin erupting into goosebumps as you're used and loved on by the two, hands dropping to feel your own breasts and glide down your inner thighs, rolling your clit appeasingly. There are many, many benefits to your job, the best of them of course being fulfilling Lord Krulu's will- But sometimes, you think getting to service and show love to those sworn to him is up there in terms of reward. The rush of your approaching orgasm has you mewling sweetly, clenching increasingly hard around Pebble in an attempt to keep him snug inside you, kissing all the deepest parts of your core.

Apparently, that does the trick for the gargoyle.

Because he strangles out a snarl of rapture and sinks you fully onto him, claws tightening on your skin in pure instinct, keeping you screwed onto his fattening cock as that delicious knot begins to swell to its full potential. The stretch is harsh, unforgiving and burning hot but so, so worth it just to have it crush your most sensitive spots, pressuring, throbbing. You come hard the moment a burst of thick steaming gargoyle seed paints your walls, coating you, claiming you, filling you so nicely. The weight settles on your lower abdomen and you drool on Colmei's thick cock in glee, pussy pulsing for more. Pebble purrs loudly, previously clenched claws now stroking lovingly over your sides, tails swatting as he relaxes, with his still weakly spurting shaft lodged firmly within you.

" Good boy! Good job, you did so well! " You praise him, feeling his thighs flex briefly while he murrs and croons his gratitude.

That leaves the bee collector, who you can now focus fully on, lavishing him from top to bottom like the sweetest lollipop out there. And, admittedly, he is quite sugary to the taste. There's a playful perking of your lips as you teasingly mouth around his head again, flirting with his hole, leaning away when Colmei tries to push more into you. The male grunts, then makes a sound like a dying keen, cock jumping and balls tightening.

It seems maybe he does have a thing for edging. Perhaps that's why he takes so long to bring himself to orgasm, he does it deliberately, the little pervert. And now he's loving it when someone else does it to him. Hah.

Now that Pebble's down for the count and you've had your fun, you can afford to play with Colmei like he's no more than an interesting toy. He'll twitch and beg in that ceaseless humming, but all you ever do is lick, kiss and nudge at him, occasionally dipping to take some of his length down- You make the beekeeper belive that you'll swallow him to the base anew only to pop lewdly off him not even halfway there and chuckle.

He pulses so hard you're impressed he didn't climax right then and there.

Enough is enough however, you're starting to get sore from having your knees bent for so long. In a gluttonous fit, you suck Colmei down like he's the last male on Earth, ripping a grunt-hiss of shock out of him before he grabs your head sternly and fucks into your face with enough strength to hurt your nose briefly.

The hive guardian begins cumming down your throat alarmingly quick. The resulting substance is extremely thick and hard to swallow, sticking to your throat in a way that forces you to instinctively cough and sputter globs of his own jizz back around his member. Colmei only appears to thrill further at the sight.

With a couple of sharp jerks and warning sounds, you're finally able to rip your head off the beekeeper's grasp, tasting his seed for the first time. And even though the distinct flavor of what can only be honey is quite surprising -If not ironically hilarious- You're hurriedly fishing the vial out so you can collect a fair amount of Colmei's seed. A somewhat contaminated sample, sure, but it's better than nothing.

In his post-nut bliss, the monster doesn't really care as to why you're gathering his fluids, merely buzzing pleasantly, wings erratically flicking. His last few shots drip down your neck and coat your exposed tits. The cheeky fuck has the gall to try to wipe his cock on your face, met with a cautionary pinch from your part.

It must be some kind of honey. It tastes exactly like it. Even the color is that of a rich, glazed hue. Maybe this can even be profitable!

The vial is lowered to the ground, all three of you relaxing in the relative silence of the garden under a satisfying haze. Colmei pulls his robes down and squats before you, mask set aside safely so three roving tongues can weasel across your skin, licking the side of your neck and chin, cleaning you of his own savory mess. Behind you, the gargoyle rises as well, with a slight wince from the jostling of his sensitive cock in you, a fatter and less slimy muscle laving at your shoulder and dipping between your stained tits.

You sigh happily, slumping onto Pebble and letting the two sweethearts take care of your tired figure.

Mission accomplished.

#Beekeeper boie #Pebble oc #monsterfucker #terato #monster x reader #monster smut #terat0philliac #monster boyfriend #MINORS DNI #not sfw

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Lost a friend today because he refused to listen about how harmful the concept of narcissistic abuse is, despite knowing I have NPD and that I'm a victim of the exact same kind of abuse he was (literally, he described my experience down to the letter).

He was one of my and my partner's closest friends, so today has been really rough.

Please listen to people with NPD about how this harms us. We're neurodivergent people with a largely traumagenic disorder, usually from abuse and/or neglect. We're not monsters, predisposed towards an abusive nature, or capable of a unique kind of abuse. We're just people who struggle with self-esteem because we base our ego primarily on our perception of what others think of us.

We're not saying this can never influence toxic behaviors, we're just pointing out that that's not more true of our disorder any more than any other health condition, from autism and ADHD to OCD to PTSD to addiction to eating disorders to bipolar to depression to anxiety.

We're also not trying to take language from other abuse victims. We're asking you to not be ableist (a form a structured societal abuse) towards other abuse victims. Call it what it is: emotional abuse. Emotional abuse is such a wider category than people realize, and it's important to talk about that. I hear what people are saying when they say they're wanting to describe a specific subtype of emotional abuse, so let's make words for that!

Manipulative abuse, coercive abuse, gaslighting abuse, guilt-tripping abuse, even safety abuse - that last for when people use their own mental health state and threaten self harm or suicide to get their way.

These can all be factors in emotional abuse - what's commonly described as narc abuse is what's standard for emotional abuse, involving a wide variety of tactics to exert control in the absence of physical or sexual abuse - which also can and usually are partly emotional in nature as well.

I'd love to open a conversation about terms that better describe what we went through! I'm just asking that we don't use the ones that further demonize a badly misunderstood disorder, and that people be willing to recognize that their understanding of it is based on a LOT of misinformation.

Just, please, listen to us. Be willing to be open-minded. We aren't your abusers, and we know that you deserved better and deserve a chance to heal to the fullest extent possible. We do too. Please, help make a safe space for us all to do so together.

#NPD #cw narc abuse mention

[magicalbats]

Sanctuary

Rating: R-18+

Word Count: 10,874

Warnings: sacrilegious content, monster fucking, tentacle/tongue fucking, brief throat fucking, reader is a nun so take that as you will

A/N: this is my very first commission ever and I had a blast working on it so I asked if I could share it with everyone! I went through and removed the identifiers for their OC but otherwise its exactly the same. I'm going to make a comms page later on for anyone interested so keep an eye out for that, and please enjoy! ❤️

⭐

Snow flurries around your face and buffets the skin to leave your cheeks feeling raw as you peer out over the assembled crowd. There’s a restlessness that hangs over the multitude of heavily bundled bodies lined up in the town square but order had largely been maintained all morning. It was mostly a variety of women in differing sizes, shapes and ages, which tended to help in that regard, while the occasional man was either old, sick or otherwise unfit for the labor needed to support themselves. These people relied heavily, sometimes exclusively, on the church’s community efforts to keep themselves afloat. You could even make out a few small children among the masses where you were standing; antsy from waiting and fussy with hunger, and who were starting to get on their accompanying parents' last nerves by the looks of it. 

Cloak whipping in the frigid wind, you shift behind the table where two other Sisters were diligently working to ladle out the porridge and pass out thick slices of bread quickly enough to keep the line moving at a reasonable pace. You were technically supposed to be on break after standing in the same spot for hours, your dominant wrist giving a muted throb from overuse when you take up the spare baler spoon and dip it into the massive pot, but you were having a hard time walking away. You usually did, though. Some might accuse you of taking your responsibilities a little too seriously at times but you liked to think of it more as simply being pertinacious. It was better to toe the line of overzealous than to be apathetic or indifferent to the plights of others, after all, and you couldn’t think of anyone more in plight than hungry children. 

Speculatively, Sister Darya eyes the bowl you fill and set aside before starting to spoon out another serving into a second dish. She sends you a sidelong glance even while her hands continue to work through the monotonous motions. Dip, pour, pass across the table. Dip, pour, pass across the table. She doesn’t have to look to ensure every moving piece ends up exactly where it needs to be, and the line keeps moving without interruption even as she sets her prickly sights on you. 

“Back so soon, Sister? Perhaps we should have you chained to the nearest bench to ensure you take your breaks when you’re supposed to.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” You respond with a cool indifference, unperturbed by the pointed stare she gives you when you reach to fill a third bowl. “I’ll go take my rest once I give these to the children. Surely you won’t find any complaint in that?” 

Sister Darya draws a careful breath and lets it out with a sigh. When she speaks next, it’s very soft so that only you might hear her quiet response. “They are supposed to wait in line just like everyone else. Those are the rules. Do not give me that look, Sister. You know as well as I do what lows the starving and the sick will sink to.”

“Then I will take care to ensure nothing of the sort comes of it.” Stamping down the flare of annoyance that sparks in your chest, you stiffly drop the baler back to the table. The older woman narrows her sharp beady eyes at you in warning yet you pay it little mind. 

Quickly shoving a spoon into each of the four bowls you’ve prepared, you juggle the dishes into your hands and step out from behind the table. You can barely catch the sound of her grumbling something to the other nun stationed with her as you walk away but aren’t quite able to make out what’s being said. No matter though. She’d never been particularly fond of you and the feeling was decidedly mutual. Nothing that happened here today was going to change that. 

The first child you manage to track down in the crowd is on the verge of tears, fitfully tugging at his mothers skirts while he asks her how much longer it will be. She has her hands full with a mewling infant, swaddled and bundled in so many layers that it takes the use of both hands to properly hold onto the bulky mass, and she could not offer him much comfort aside from gentle reassurances that it would be soon. One look at the tired, heavy bags under her eyes vindicates your decision. These people needed help, and you wouldn’t sit idly by if there was something that could be done for them. 

Sweeping closer to the pair, you keep your voice gentle even as you project it enough to be heard over the general din. “Do not cry, little man. You must be strong for your mother and your new sibling, isn’t that right? Look at what I have for you.” 

Red faced from the snow and the wind, he turns to glance up at you from under the brim of his wide, fur lined cap. The green of his irises seems to swim with valiantly held back tears but they clear almost immediately when he sees the bowl you carefully offer out to him. They appear to you like crystalline lakes turned dazzling with the azure sheen of algae, and you give him your best smile when he eagerly reaches out to accept the porridge in his tiny gloved hands. 

Her expression morphing from one of surprise to immense gratitude, the mother ducks her head in quick thanks. “May the Cryo Archon bless you, Sister. Your kindness means much to me and my children.” 

“Speak not another word of it. You’re almost to the front of the line now, so you’ll be able to fill your stomach soon. Please take care.” 

With a brief nod of acknowledgment, you move on. There’s another child a few paces down, this one a young girl curled up in the arms of her father as if in search of warmth as much as comfort, and you tell them much the same. That they were almost to the front of the queue and he gives his words of thanks as his daughter shyly accepts the bowl you hand to her. Left with still two more to pass out, you work your way further back in the line while assuring the waiting adults that there was enough for everyone to be fed and to just be patient. 

Empty handed after finding a pair of brothers solemnly standing in line together, you start to retrace your path towards the table again. You’d spotted a few more kids and you wanted to make the burden of waiting a bit more bearable for them as much as for their parents, but a small scuffle up near the front pulls your gaze and demands your attention first. Your strides turn purposeful now as you make a beeline for the commotion. What you come upon gives you pause, though. 

The green eyed boy from before was picking himself up off the ground and trying very hard not to let the hiccuping sobs that shake his shoulders get the better of him. His bowl of porridge was spilled in the barren dirt and frozen mud. A gnarled looking man in a tattered coat was bending to retrieve the fallen dish, mumbling something unkind under his breath while the mother juggles the baby in her arms and frets over her fallen son. At first you think it an accident, the kind of misstep that could happen all too easily when there were so many people crammed together in a single place. But then, to your surprise, the surly man straightens up with the bowl, dips his fingers into what bit of porridge meal was still sticking to the interior and pops them into his mouth. 

You see an instant flash of red behind your eyes. 

“What is the meaning of this?” You demand, closing the distance at a rapid pace now. “Horrid scoundrel, do you truly intend to repay the Holy Mothers kindness and generosity by stealing from a child? Does that seem right to you?” 

The sallow faced man glances up at your approach, takes one look at the black veil covering your hair and scoffs before turning from you. It was clear he thought little of you and your opinions on the matter, and he disinterestedly begins to walk away with his spoils still in hand. Temper flaring just a pinch more, you lengthen the stride of your steps. You brush right past the mother and her children. Reach out with grasping fingers and snag the back of the man’s ratty coat. He aggressively spins around to snap at you, but you were ready with some choice words of your own. 

“How dare you! To think that anyone in our great motherland would behave like an uncivilized animal!” You practically spit up at him. “You should be ashamed of yourself for carrying on in this manner when there is plenty to go around for everyone. What have you got to say, huh?” 

“I don’t have nothing to say to you, crazy bitch. Let go! Before I get mad!” 

A chorus of horrified gasps erupts around you, but you only tighten your hold on him even when his coat is so grimy and unkempt it makes your skin itch. You’re distantly aware of the crowd shuffling behind you, no doubt considering the possible ramifications of stepping in or not, but there was a hesitation when so many of them were women with little to no able bodied men to help. It was only natural, and you didn’t blame them for it. You blamed this no good lout for causing such an unpleasant scene in the first place and you weren’t about to let him get off that easily for being such an inconvenient nuisance to everyone. 

“I will not let you go. You owe that boy and his mother an apology, sir. Come, I will even stand with you to lessen the embarrassment you have to face.” 

Becoming more aggressive by the second, he violently tries to yank out of your grip. You hold fast though, and only stumble a step before pulling back on his coat with everything you’ve got. He seemed annoyed more than anything else though, and he rounds on you again to loom over your much slighter frame in an obvious display of intimidation as he bellows, “I’m warning you, let me go! Now!” 

“And I am warning you, come apologize to them or you will not like how this is going to end.” 

His face growing red in anger, he tries once again to forcefully shrug you off. But when that doesn’t work he brings his hand up in a quick arc, clenching it into a tight fist. You barely have enough time to process it’s even happening and then it — harmlessly sails right over your head. 

Eyes widening to the approximate size of dinner plates, you watch in mute disbelief as he’s roughly dragged back a handful of steps by an arm wrapped around his neck. The destitute man flails and kicks, grunting when he drops the bowl so he can reach up to claw at the limb cutting off his air supply. It’s useless though. Whoever was holding onto him had a grip as good as iron, evidently, and you catch a burst of coppery-brown hair behind him as he slowly starts to drain of energy and sag. One moment he’s wildly thrashing to get loose and the next he’s … going limp with a wet little gurgle. 

You catch your first glimpse of the young man — your heroic savior, as it were — when he bends to deposit the vagrant onto the cold ground without much concern for where or how he might land. His burden hitting the dirt with a bodily thump, he lifts his attention to you. You’re instantly struck by the intense blue of his eyes, and your breath catches in shock. 

Was he really human? 

“Are you alright, miss? Sorry I didn’t make it here sooner.” Straightening again, he wipes his gloved hands together as if ridding them of dirt after a messy job. Then he steps over the prone man on long, somewhat gangly legs so he can come closer. “When someone said there was a disturbance going on at the church’s food drive I came as fast as I could. I hope you’re not hurt?” 

Rousing from your initial disquiet, you take in the whole of him rather than just the strange eyes staring at you in question. You recognize the military uniform immediately, and bob a quick curtsy as was customary when dealing with someone of his station. “Worry not, good sir. I am unharmed and I have you to thank for that. I’d say you were just in time, in fact.” 

The young soldier gives you an abrupt, dazzling smile that is so filled to the brim with boyish charm it almost gives you pause. He was handsome, yes, but he also looked like a troublemaker of the highest order. Certainly not someone you would need or want to find yourself mixed up with no matter how good looking he was or how pleasantly symmetrical his features were. 

“It was my pleasure, of course, Sister …?” 

You lift your chin and tell him your name.

He slowly repeats your name, as if savoring the feel of it on his tongue and the way the syllables curl inside his mouth. “Well, Sister, although I was all too happy to offer my assistance, you still played an admirable part too. Thanks to you I didn’t have to go chasing this guy down. I owe you my thanks as well.” 

“Save it.” You sigh, giving your head a brief shake. “I was only doing what’s right. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must tend to the boy he stole from and get him another bowl of food.”

Decisively turning on your heel, expecting that to be the end of it, you start to walk away. To your great surprise, though, he quickly falls into step beside you. 

“I’m Ajax, by the way.” 

“A lovely name.” You don’t miss a beat but, rather than discouraging him with your indifferent tone, it just makes his grin grow even wider.

“I can help you.” He says it so point blank and matter of fact that for a split second you’re not quite sure what he even wants to lend you a hand with. And that was to say nothing of the why. 

“Although I certainly appreciate the offer, I think you’ve helped plenty for one day.” Turning your head, you steal a quick glance back at the unconscious man still lying out on the ground. The boy with the green eyes was spitefully kicking dirt at him and, much like his mother, you willfully chose to ignore it. While it wasn’t exactly good or proper behavior, you figured he was entitled to a tiny bit of payback for what he’d endured. “Shouldn’t you be escorting that gentleman to the jailhouse right about now? Surely that is a much more pressing matter for you than feeding the sick and hungry.” 

“Don’t worry, he won’t be waking up anytime soon and I’m sure another officer will happen by any minute now to take care of it.” 

You send him a slow, curious look, but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit put out. “That’s an odd thing to say, isn’t it? As a young man in her majesty the Tsaritsa’s army I would have thought you’d jump at the chance for recognition of such a good deed.” 

He casually waves that off with a chuckle. “Ah, who really cares about recognition anyway? I’m much more interested in doing what I enjoy than making decisions based on what will earn me merit.”

Something told you that was only a very small fraction of the bigger picture. He was still young and clearly impulsive, so you didn’t doubt that he truly was far more inclined to do only what he found worthy of his efforts to pursue. It wasn’t your place to comment on that though, nor did you want to humor how that applied to you in the here and now by giving it any deeper thought than that. 

Ignoring Sister Darya’s incensed glare, you pause at the corner of the church’s food drive table and turn to face your dogged shadow. This man, this soldier named Ajax, obediently halts just within arms reach and looks at you with an expectant, almost puppy-like eagerness as if waiting for the next command to fall from your lips. You may have found it cute otherwise, but you weren’t about to encourage him in any way. It wasn’t in your nature to knowingly lead people on and unlike some of the other Sister’s in the order you didn’t derive any such pleasure from doing so. You’d have to be blunt then. 

“I thank you again for your assistance,” You pointedly intone. “But I cannot allow you to waste your time taking on the church’s work. Her majesty has greater expectations of you than handing out bowls of porridge. You have your responsibilities and I have mine. We would both do well to remember that.” 

He doesn’t look half as dejected by that as you’d hoped he would, his boyish grin only taking on a frustratingly sly edge now. “Aww, don’t tell me this is your way of sending me off into the cold again.” 

“I’m afraid so. I don’t have time to entertain anyone, you understand.” 

Those odd eyes of his dance before you as he gives you a quick, appraising glance up and down to take in your shuddering cloak and the fluttering veil atop your head. But it strikes you once again as being strange, how his irises don’t seem to reflect the light at all. Rather they almost seem to swallow it up like a void. You’d initially thought it a mere trick of the senses brought about by the heavy charcoal clouds hanging overhead but … even now, even standing near the cackling flame over which the pot of porridge was simmering, there still was no reflection to be found in his eyes. It was a little unsettling, if you were being honest. 

Just what was he? 

“You break my heart, Sister. Is it not also the responsibility of a soldier to see that the needs of the people he serves are met? Lending the church a hand would be nothing short of a great honor for me.” 

You set your mouth in a firm, unamused line. “I’m afraid I’m not fool enough to believe that when you just told me you’re not interested in doing things simply for merit. You’ve got an ulterior motive in volunteering your services and I’m not interested in such games.” 

A quick laugh huffs out of him as he lifts a hand to place it emphatically over his heart. “You wound me, Sister! What do you take me for, huh?” 

“Someone who’s time would be much better spent escorting that vagabond away from the food drive before he wakes up and starts causing more trouble for us, that’s what.” 

“Fair enough.” Shoulders shaking with laughter, he pauses to give you another glance over from the top of your head down to the toes of your smart leather boots. You’re acutely aware of the other Sister’s watching on in rapt fascination and morbid curiosity, as well as the townsfolk standing close enough to the front of the line to eavesdrop, but you firmly stand your ground. There would be time to feel embarrassed by this scene later, in the privacy of your own dorm. 

At length, Ajax finally gives his head a shake. “I didn’t know they made Sisters like you.” 

“They don’t. I’m all of my own making.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He finally falls back a step with a brief nod of acknowledgment. Allowing himself one final look at you, Ajax turns away with one last word of parting. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sister. I hope to have the pleasure of seeing you again soon.” 

Standing there in the cold and the chaffing wind, and the flurry of snow, you watch him walk away. You think you could go your whole life without having another run in with him and it would still be too soon. It wasn’t that he was just a bit strange even for a young, headstrong soldier. There was something genuinely peculiar about him. Even putting aside the way he’d kept looking at you, there was still a sense of undesirability about the whole situation. From a nuns perspective he presented a multitude of problems, the least of which being temptation that did not fall in line with your vows. 

Turning your head to look at the others when he bends to retrieve the culprit from the ground and save him from the agitated rumblings of the antsy crowd, you spare Sister Darya a withering scowl. “I don’t want to hear a word about it.”

The way her eyes flash at you in mute disapproval seems to say ‘I told you so’ but you adamantly ignore it in favor of reaching for another bowl to fill. At the rate you were going it was starting to look like you’d never get that break. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Everything seems so normal that at first you almost don’t even realize it’s a dream. 

Some distant part of you knows you’d been so tired from the food drive that you’d fallen asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow after taking a nice, long bath to rid yourself of the permanent Snezhnayan chill. But you were glad for the normalcy of it, content to meander your way through whatever your resting subconscious decided to conjure up. The first scene is a field of wildflowers that does not exist in the ice and snow of your motherland. It’s peaceful there and quiet. A welcome haven of tranquility which you dreamed of with some frequency. 

You’re more than a little disappointed when it suddenly changes to the town square. One moment you’d been picking dandelions to weave into a wreath for your hair, and the next you were standing in the middle of a cold barren wasteland. The streets were empty around you, the houses dark and silent. The flowers wilt in your hands. Dropping them, you turn in a circle to survey your surroundings. Nothing looked out of place aside from the total lack of people, or even any dogs or cats roaming the area. No birds, either. 

Without a particular destination in mind, you start to walk. A part of you hoped the scenery would change again and morph into a more pleasing visage around you, but that’s not what happens. It feels like you spend many minutes just walking up and down the empty streets like a lost ghost, each step its own eternity. Every breath its own death rattle. A niggling thought in the back of your mind whispers of danger, warns of something being not quite right, and yet you don’t retrace your path back to the starting point in the square. Like there was an invisible string tugging you along, you follow its suggestive pull straight through town to the church. 

Despite finding this rather strange, even for a dream, you open the door and go inside without pause. 

The sanctuary is just as desolate and deserted as everywhere else had been. You hadn’t seen so much as a suggestion of another living being, human or otherwise, and still the string tugs. Trance-like and spellbound, you follow the exigent summons through the grounds; past altars and holy relics, and pews and the baptistery, out into the courtyard. You cross over bare frozen ground to the monastery. Up the long flight of stairs and down the empty hall until you reach the door to your own room. 

This is the first thing that gives you any real amount of hesitation but the string just pulls harder. Like a puppet under the guidance of a masterful biloquist, your hand comes up to grab the knob. You watch yourself turn it and then swing the door open. Your skin prickles with static electricity when you cross the threshold but this, too, is empty. Having half expected to walk in and find your own sleeping form huddled on top of the narrow bed, you’re strangely disappointed to find the sheets neatly made and smoothed out. They looked like they would never be disturbed again, as if the room itself had been plucked out of reality and then frozen in time and space. 

You feel the string slip away then, as you’re standing just inside the doorway looking over your bed, and a rattling breath puffs out of you at its loss. It leaves you trembling with newfound life, as if whatever force served to guide you here had sedated your mind and body alike to encourage compliance. Now, though, you were suddenly acutely aware of just how disconcerting the trek here had actually been. How heavy and oppressive the static charged air really is. 

Hands clenching and unclenching at your sides to restore feeling in them, you cautiously step around the room. It was not a large space and you were able to complete a full circuit in only ten steps. The bed took up a vast majority of the capacity. Your writing desk took up most of the rest. Suspiciously, you even bend to peer under the metal frame that holds the mattress, but there’s nothing there. It was just as void of life as everywhere else. 

When you straighten up again something in the single small window in the room catches your attention. You squint at it a moment but your eyes can’t quite make out what it is, so you step closer. There’s a thin layer of condensation coating the glass and, thinking perhaps that was what was obstructing your view, you reach up to wipe it away. The very real sensation of cold, wet moisture under your fingers startles you more than you’d like to admit. Your foggy mind reels and stumbles over the visceral thought. 

And then your eyes adjust. 

A dull, muted burst of copper. Red horns. It wasn’t outside amongst the trees and the buildings, and the dark overcast sky. It was behind you. 

Holding yourself achingly stiff, you slowly turn around. You’re not really sure how you maintain your cool when every inch of your skin was crawling with a violent eruption of goosebumps but you’re exceedingly glad for it as you set your sights on the monster in the doorway. It’s not just large, it’s huge. You think it must be over seven feet tall, perhaps even pushing eight, and it takes up the whole frame with its massive stature. It seems implausible for something of that size to move around as silent as any soft footed cat, but you’re positive you hadn’t heard a single sound. If this was just a figment of your imagination, you sorely hoped it would dissolve away into nothing very soon. 

What you think must be its eye just stares at you though, unblinking and unmoving. This tense stand-off lasts so long, in fact, that your frightened adrenaline eventually starts to wear off bit by bit, leaving you feeling somewhat disoriented in the aftermath. Was it even alive? Had your taxed mind and body really summoned the likeness of a horrible monster just to terrorize you in your dreams? And, perhaps most perplexing of all, why did it spark a distant note of familiarity in the dregs of your memory? Almost like you’d seen it or something like it recently, but that couldn’t be true. Certainly you never would have been able to forget such a creature as this … 

You just start to toy with the notion of slipping around it to get back out into the hall when it sedately lifts its arm. Frozen in place by a fresh surge of uncertainty and fear, you watch it push the door so that it swings shut with an almost casual motion. The click of the latch catching sounds like the heavy swing of an executioner's blade. 

“You came.” 

Its deep, raspy voice seems to reverberate in the very air itself and, finally unable to keep your nerves in check any longer, you take a stumbling step back to press into the wall. Your heart threatens to jackhammer straight out of your chest as you frantically try to process the situation. Not only was it very much alive and capable of interacting with the environment, it could also talk. You’re not sure why that disturbs you as much as it does but there’s no denying how your stomach painfully cramps with sinking dread now. Every fiber of your being thrums with the desire to run and flee, to hide from this monster, and yet you knew you were trapped in here with it. Even if you’d wanted to make an attempt at the now closed door the room was much too small. You’d never get around it. 

All you can do is quake when it takes a deliberately slow step forward before stopping again. Just looking at you. Gauging your reaction, perhaps? You didn’t really care about any of that. 

“What are you?” It’s little more than a frightened whisper. 

“Think of me as a god come to collect on what is rightfully mine.” 

Your spine snaps straight even as a disconcerted shudder races through you. “You are no god, foul beast. You’re a demon.” 

The thing laughs, low and hoarse. “Close, but not quite. You may call me Foul Legacy. Or, if you would prefer, ‘master’ will suffice just as well for your role.” 

“I will call you no such thing!” You hiss in indignant affront. 

“You will.” It assures you, taking another controlled step closer. “If I command it of you, your only choice will be to obey. If I tell you to get on your knees and worship me then that is what you will do. I told you, didn’t I? I’ve come to claim what’s mine.” 

You start to open your mouth to protest but your words fail you, and you slowly close it again. Frantically now, your wide eyed gaze scans the room looking for any sliver of hope for escape. You were cornered against the wall though. You’d never make it past this thing, and the window was much too small for you to crawl through even if it stopped long enough to let you get it open. The window …

Stealing a split second glance at the rectangle of glass just next to your head, you confirm your suspicions. The streaks left behind in the wake of your hand were still there. The cool condensation had felt undeniably real under your skin which meant, at least to some extent, this dream was a tangible one. Or maybe it would’ve been more accurate to call it a hallucination? It didn’t matter. 

If this was real enough to touch then that must have meant the monster was too. It was a slim chance but maybe you could fight your way past it and get away …

“Are you so unimpressed with this form that you allow your mind to wander?” The creature remarks, but it doesn’t sound surprised or even offended at this fact. More than anything, it almost sounds amused and that is what ultimately steels your resolve. It’s mistake would be underestimating you. 

“I was merely thinking how best to convey my lack of interest in you, oh great demon lord.” You volley back rather primly. “You don’t exactly look like a man, but you are shaped like one … I wonder if a good kick between the legs might get the message across.” 

The fiery haired thing throws its head back and laughs. You almost lose your nerve, but you valiantly cling to that tiny spark of courage you still had left. Cautiously, you start to edge your way down the wall. 

“Splendid! I would expect nothing less from my future bride! I knew you wouldn’t disappoint me.” 

Stilling, you widen your eyes at it. “Your what?” 

You realize your mistake a moment too late. When you should have kept moving towards the desk for the most direct path to the door you’d instead allowed it to give you pause. Even though it lasts for but a single heartbeat that’s more than enough time for the monster to act. 

It’s on you in the blink of an eye. Grabbing under your arms, it hauls you straight up off your feet like you weighed nothing at all. The sudden rush of movement, the unexpected press of huge, clawed hands curling around your ribcage shocks a sharp gasp out of you. But before you have a chance to do anything else, it shoves you back into the wall with a bodily thud that makes the old rafters tremble. The impact doesn’t hurt, not really — not as much as it could have, given how strong the creature evidently is �� and you just gape down at its horrid face in stunned disbelief. 

You'd barely even seen it move … 

“Oh, that look of surprise is quite charming on you.” It rasps, snickering low under its breath. “I knew I could rip that frigid mask away with enough time. I wonder how else you’re going to warm up for me …” 

“W - what are you —“ 

The words trail off into nothing when the lower half of its jaw hinges open, and a long, snake-like tongue slips out to waggle tauntingly in the thin space separating you from it. Bile rises in your throat as you bring your hands up to claw desperately at its forearms but it doesn’t even seem to notice. That dreadful appendage just keeps unfurling out of its mouth, dripping threads of saliva here or there that land on the floor with soft little plops that make your stomach roil. Trying very hard not to panic, you futilely turn your head away from it. 

“Do not fear what I offer you, little nun. I have every intention of making sure you enjoy this just as much as I do.” 

It licks you then, that slimy tongue swiping up the side of your face from chin to temple. The wet, quickly cooling stripe it leaves behind makes you choke in disgust. You think it’s reminiscent of a dog, almost, that was much too eager to show its affection to stop long enough and consider how the recipient might feel about it. In the same breath you have the niggling thought that this was not the first time you’ve been reminded of dogs today. Before you have a chance to connect the pieces, the monster speaks again. 

“You really will make the most lovely bride, you know. I’m eager to see you with my mark.”

“I rebuke it!” You snap, struggling anew against its hold. “I rebuke you, foul creature! My faith will protect me and - -“ 

“Hah! I’d like to see that, Sister.” 

You go stock still when it says your name, and your heart skips across your ribs like a rock skimming over the surface of a lake. It felt just as heavy too, in that moment. 

But the monster doesn’t give you a chance to recover and that heinous tongue flicks across your cheek to rudely slip inside your mouth. You shriek around the abrupt intrusion, eyes wide and unseeing, as the length of it just keeps coming. It squirms and wriggles its way towards the back of your throat almost too quickly for you to react. Running on instinct now, you viciously snap your teeth down but all the creature does is let out a shuddering groan of pleasure, as if it liked the pain. Your jaw loosens in surprise as much as confusion, and it takes quick advantage of that to shove its tongue straight down your gullet. 

You gag on it, heaving with a violent wrench as your throat is penetrated. Tears spring up in your eyes but you can’t even scream with it blocking your airway like this. Helpless to do anything else, you just hang there and try not to pass out while it reaches deeper and deeper into you, through your esophagus almost straight down to your guts. It pauses there, giving you a moment to fully process the sensation of your whole body writhing on its tongue, before gradually starting to withdraw back the way it had come. It’s a sick, claustrophobia inducing sensation that only seems to double down when you dry heave and choke around it but, at last, it slips free of your constricting throat, and you suck in a wretched mouthful of air. 

Ignoring the way you cough and spit up bubbling sheets of drool, the horned beast takes a moment to swirl its tongue around the interior of your mouth; feeling along the roof, over your tongue, tracing the outline of each individual tooth straight back to your molars. You shudder and heave, struggling to even comprehend exactly how violated you felt in the aftermath of that disgusting experience. You’d been right to call it a demon … 

“You taste good.” It says when it finally starts to retract its tongue a moment later, setting its sights on lapping up the drool that coats your chin instead. “Good enough to eat, in fact. I wonder how much you’ll squeal when I feast between your legs.” 

“Unhand me this instant,” You wheeze as more of your strength and will to fight slowly comes back to you with the oxygen you pull in. “You are vile and repulsive … I want nothing to do with it!” 

“Oh, now that sounds familiar.” 

Noising a tiny sound of confusion, you clutch its thick forearms in a death grip while it moves to set you down on your feet. You don’t trust it, not by a long shot, and your greatest fears are soon realized when its fingers curl into the fabric of your smock. The sound of straining thread reaches your ears long before it actually rips and you cry out when the first ragged strip is torn from you with a deafening tear. Piece by piece, it shreds your clothes to tatters no matter how wildly you try to twist away or cling to the quickly dwindling panels of black cotton. All too soon you find yourself naked save your stockings and the bloomers pulled over them, and your brassiere which it promptly shreds too. 

Evidently saving your bottoms for last, it reaches for your veil next. 

“No!” You shriek, hating the terror you can hear in your own voice as you make a useless, frantic attempt to shove the monster away. 

It actually pauses even though you didn’t so much as budge it one little bit though, and it tips its head to the side inquisitively almost like … almost like a dog. There was that association again but where was it coming from? You couldn’t quite seem to remember, either due to your suffocating fear making the memory slip away or because your sleeping subconscious couldn’t quite remember enough to supply it on demand. Either way, you were sure it held the answer to your current predicament and you just couldn’t seem to grasp it. 

Why did this thing seem so damn familiar to you? 

“You do not want me to see your hair.” It’s a statement, not a question, and it takes everything you have not to outright scoff. 

“Of course I don’t, you fiend! It is improper for a — a man, even one such as you, to look at the uncovered head of a nun who has sworn herself to the faith. You should be ashamed of yourself!” 

It seems to consider that for a moment, humming softly as if in thought. “It is my understanding that, should one of the Sister’s ever take on a husband, then he alone is permitted to look upon her uncovered hair. Fine. Then I will allow you to keep your modesty until we consummate our union.” 

You prickle defensively at the way it almost spits the word, as if with contempt and spite. “I will not be wed to you! I swore an oath to the church!”

“And now you will swear an oath to me.” 

Hissing, it reaches out to grab at your bloomers even when you desperately try to slap its hand away. It tears them off just like everything else with neither forethought or effort, and you seethe at your own helplessness as you make one last ditch effort to wrench yourself free. But it’s too strong, too big. Just one of its hands seems to dwarf your hip when it possessively curls around your waist to hold you still. Your chest heaves with quick, panicked breaths as you tip your face down to watch it bring a claw close to your cunt, expecting it to rip off your pantyhose the same way it had all the rest. But all it does is caress over you with a thick knuckle and your face grows even hotter with indignation at the nudge. You couldn’t stand the thought of this thing touching you like this and yet you couldn’t seem to look away from it either. 

“I don’t want this,” You whisper, barely even hearing your own voice over the blood that pounds in your ears. 

“You will.” It assures you. Unexpectedly gentle, tentative almost, it curls its thick forefinger further back to prod at your crease and you fitfully shudder at the implication.

Was it really going to take you to wife? You’d never heard of anything more ridiculous; a nun and a one eyed demon, horns and all. It was completely useless to try and keep your cool any longer, and you outright whimper when it carefully pokes its claw up to pierce the thin layer of nylon. Hyper aware of how much it would hurt to get nicked by that sharp talon in such a sensitive spot, you force your body to stay as still as you can manage while it rips your stockings open at the crotch. Cool air wafts against your exposed cunt, making you tremble, and it breathes out a sigh of great pleasure as it teases the patch of curls there with those monstrous fingertips. 

“Am I the first one to ever see you like this?” 

“O - of course you are, foolish beast … I take my vows seriously. This isn’t — it’s not right, do you hear me? I was saving myself …” 

Issuing a low, rasping laugh, it reaches up to palm your other hip with a muted squeeze, holding your waist in both hands now. “You were saving yourself for me. This whole time you were always fated to become my bride and you did so well maintaining the sanctity of your body but that’s all over now. You’re free to embrace your most depraved thoughts and urges. Free to languish in the licentious and erotic desires you’ve been suppressing for so long. I offer you no judgment for your human needs. Only pleasure.” 

Squirming against its hold when your pussy flutters in unmistakable interest, you bring your hands up to weakly clutch its huge wrists again. You couldn’t believe this was happening. How could your body betray you over a creature like this? “No. I won’t fall for it. I refuse!” 

“We shall see.” 

Its tongue slips out again, curling through the air like a pink, wet serpent. Down to your chest where it takes a moment to flick over your nipple until it's coated in a fine sheen of spit and achingly stiff. You didn’t want it touching you like that but you also didn’t want to touch it, so you stop yourself from smacking at it. Just keep reminding yourself that this is only a dream — a very realistic, disturbingly tangible one, but a dream nonetheless. Whatever happened here held no weight in the real world. 

And maybe … just maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to indulge in the carnal just once? 

The prodding tip of its tongue gives your teat one last wet nudge before tracing a path down your front. Past your ribs and its huge thumbs bracketing your waist, over your bellybutton and straight down to brush against your curls. You shudder at the sensation, at the very suggestion of what was to come, but you don’t fight it now. Rather, you hesitantly shift your weight from one foot to the other and then cant your hips forward with a shy little push. The monster hums a rumbling sound of approval before dipping its tongue between your thighs. 

Eyes widening at the feel of it on your cunt, you just stand there like a frozen statue while it traces along the seam of your body. You’d never experienced anything like it before, and you were horrified at how eagerly your loins curl in anticipation. You almost let your courage waver, almost second guess your impulsive decision to humor this at all, but until you woke up you were effectively trapped and fighting it clearly wasn’t going to do any good. 

Oh, why couldn’t you just wake up from this nightmare already? 

“Relax.” It breathes out, unconcerned by the glistening threads of drool that drip from its mouth. “I will not hurt you, little nun.” 

You wanted to believe that very badly. Almost as much as you wanted to believe that indulging like this wouldn’t have any impact on your waking conscience. 

That slimy tongue starts to push up then, pressing into your lips, and you suck in a harsh breath. It teases around your entrance for a brief moment before it starts to wriggle its way in deeper. The penetration is not unlike that of your throat — all fleshy and smooth, and damp with spit — but it still stretches you enough to toe the line of discomfort. Swaying in its hold, you let out a dizzy groan. 

“Oh … that’s - -“ 

“Only the tip.” The thing laughs. 

You try to calm your breathing as it moves around inside you to work your body open, but it’s a losing battle. The stretch of until now untested muscle makes you wince while the slimy sensation of its tongue eagerly moving along your inner sleeve just leaves you wanting to throw up. You don’t think it’s supposed to feel like this, surely. Even without any experience of your own to go off of you’d expected sexual encounters to be more intimate and less … invasive. Less like you were being probed far beyond what any human hands should have been able to reach. 

But if it sees any of the uncertainty flashing across your face it doesn’t show it. The demon only worms its tongue deeper and deeper as your passage reluctantly opens until the distant sensation of it bumping the end of you knocks a harried whimper loose. It’s an uncomfortable pressure but it doesn’t hurt. You’re exceedingly glad for that as you awkwardly shuffle your feet further apart to brace against the overload to your senses. It was like burning from the inside out, and the epicenter of it was concentrated squarely in your cunt. You felt certain you were going to combust any moment now. 

“Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined. And so tight, too. I can’t wait to feel you squeezing my cock the same way.”

Your stomach clenches at the thought of how big a creature of this size must be. Fresh fear turns your veins to ice, and you weakly push against its hands. It doesn’t even seem to notice though, let alone take heed, and instead it just leisurely swirls that unnaturally long tongue around your guts. Back and forth, up and down. You’re dizzy with it and a little nauseous, but it also starts to feel good. Slowly but surely that initial discomfort fades to leave behind a thrumming vibration that makes you wheeze where you’re standing. And with it comes slick. So much slick that what you’d once thought only to be saliva quickly makes itself obvious as your cunt practically floods around the intrusion. It was impossible to comprehend the sheer extent of your arousal and yet it clearly didn’t matter. You’d toed the line a bit too close. Now there was no stopping it. 

“P - please … it’s too much!”

Giving your waist a careful squeeze, the demon alters the motion of its tongue from swirling to thrusting. Sedate at first, it withdraws to drag against your interior walls when they squeeze and cling to the appendage and then it pushes back in. Right up to the end of your passage where it can’t go any further and the intense pressure makes you go cross eyed. You can’t even fully process how stuffed your cunt actually is, your legs turning weak and jelly-filled as it slowly increases the pace. The force. You’re beyond ashamed at the sticky wet clicks it pulls from between your thighs, but all you can do is helplessly writhe in its hold. 

“Oh — oooh, wait … I - I can’t do this! I can’t!”

“It’s too late for that, Sister. You’re already doing it.” 

You mewl at its response and throw your head back to wheeze up at the ceiling. It wasn’t wrong. You’d already crossed the line, yes, but this … this strange, unfamiliar feeling low in your gut was far beyond anything you would have ever expected from this. It was like you had to relieve yourself but also different somehow. A complete unknown you had no idea how to make sense of, and you let out a choked off squeal when the thrumming tension rapidly starts to double and then triple. No amount of thrashing was getting you out of its hold so you squeeze your thighs together in a vain attempt to dissuade it from moving inside you like that but it’s no use. Even trying to curl your legs up doesn’t work. 

It just keeps fucking it’s tongue into your shuddering body without pause, and you start to feel truly dizzy as you dangle there between it’s massive hands. How could this be happening to you? And, more pressing, what was happening to you? 

“You’re getting close, I suspect.” It sounds quite proud of that, but you’re a little too preoccupied with the jittery, firecracker nerves making you tremble and shake to question it. The pressure was getting almost unbearable now. You weren’t sure how much more you could take. 

“Ahh — ahhghnn, ooohh please Holy Mother, please help me!” 

“Aww, don’t start making me jealous. I’m the only god you should be praying to right now.” 

Screwing your eyes shut, you turn your face from its horrible unblinking eye but it just laughs in response. Even if you’d wanted to snap at it for being so presumptuous as to think you would worship it in any capacity, you were finding your lungs constricting far too much to draw a proper breath. Your chest heaves with the blinding tension that races through your body and then — so suddenly you don’t get a chance to realize it’s even happening, it abruptly tips over. Spills out to wrack the whole of your body and devolve you into a shuddering mess of spasms. 

You shriek and yelp as your pussy almost violently squeezes down on its tongue which just keeps moving insistently inside you. In and out, in and out like a continuous piston that even your tightly clenching guts couldn’t seem to keep at bay. That slippery appendage keeps spearing through you unimpeded, forcing your roiling muscles to keep contracting with each plunge, and you very nearly pass out from how intensely the sensation hits you. It was simultaneously like drowning deep in the bottomless ocean and soaring high overhead at the same time. You couldn’t even begin to make heads or tails of it. 

But it starts to fade much too fast. The sharp jolts of undeniable pleasure only last what seems to you like a few seconds and then those cresting waves are rapidly receding, like the tide pulling back from the shoreline. You still can’t quite draw a full breath and yet you soon go slack as the tension drains completely to leave you twitching in the aftermath. An odd sense of elation quickly rushes in to replace it though, and you’re ashamed at how you innately warm to the monster’s presence. You couldn’t believe how good that had felt … and bless the Cryo Archon, did that make you a terrible person? 

All of a sudden you weren’t so sure you cared about that anymore, and that terrified you perhaps more than anything else that had happened here in this room. 

“You look so good creaming all over my tongue.” It murmurs, drawing your muddled attention away from those fuzzy headed thoughts. “And the way you taste? Burn everything, I could help myself to this pretty cunt all day. I'm eagerly looking forward to consummating our marriage on the next new moon.” 

Stirring out of your post-climax stupor, you frown at it in genuine confusion. “You aren’t going to do it now?” You weren't disappointed. Surely not. Just surprised, and very confused. 

The demon sighs forlornly — rather dramatically, if you were being honest — and shakes its head. “I’m afraid not. I’d like to, of course, but the mating ritual has its own rules that I can’t supersede. Oh, don’t give me that grumpy look, Sister. I’m not leaving you empty handed tonight, rest assured.” 

You draw a quick breath to berate the damned thing but then it starts to pull its long tongue out of your body and you tense up, seething through your teeth instead. The sharp sensitivity still racing through your nerves made you feel raw and tender. Overwrought in the most literal sense, and it finally slips out with a wet little slurp that makes you whimper at the loss as much as at the sound. You hadn’t thought yourself capable of, well … any of that. Any of this. 

How were you possibly supposed to rationalize any of it in the light of day? 

You’re still trying to work that out when it carries you to the bed where it sets you down, pulls back the sheets and then tucks you in with a truly shocking amount of care. You definitely hadn’t expected that. Not that you’d expected much of anything that had happened over the course of this implausible dream, but you decide not to fight it as the monster takes a moment to brush your veil over the pillow the same as it may have done with your hair. It was all much too strange to think about right now. You could pick it apart and analyze it tomorrow, when you’d had some time to actually process these bizarre happenings. 

Or maybe never, if your subconscious was kind enough to let you forget any of this had ever happened in the first place. 

“Rest now.” It tells you softly in that low, raspy voice. “I will be back to claim what’s rightfully mine soon enough.” 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

You remember everything, of course. 

And somehow that doesn’t surprise you in the least as you lay there in your bed, staring up at the ceiling while warm rays of morning sunlight bounce off the stark, unadorned walls. In retrospect you’re a bit disappointed to think that you could ever be so naive. To believe you’d forget something like that … it had certainly left an impression, at least. 

What does strike you as odd though is the warm, continuous cramp in your lower belly. You readily want to write it off as menses related but … that doesn’t seem right. It should have been too soon for that just yet in your menstrual cycle. 

Unable to stay your gnawing curiosity any longer, you finally rip the sheets off and look down at yourself. Your plain white nightgown is a bit rumpled but given the dream you’d had that didn’t seem so strange. That’s what you try to tell the niggling voice in the back of your mind anyway as you gather it up around your waist but what you find underneath stops you cold. 

Etched into the skin just over the center of your pelvis as though with ink was a four pronged, hexagonal sigil. It was faintly purple in the light, and as clear as day. But that didn’t make any sense. Or rather, you couldn’t make any sense of it at all. You’d been asleep the whole night, here in your room, and this most assuredly had not been there when you’d taken a bath the previous evening … 

You bolt upright with a strangled gasp. Turning your head to look at the window sends a debilitating chill racing through your body. Through the morning condensation beading on the glass you could see the evidence of a hand smudge, right where you’d touched it in your dream. 

“No.” You whisper at the glass pane and then, with more conviction, “No. That’s not possible!” 

It feels like your skin is trying to crawl right off your bones as you shoot out of bed and make a beeline for the tiny closet next to the desk. You rip the door open so forcefully it rattles and groans in protest but you can’t be bothered to worry about that right now. Not when you were staring at your habits, the one you’d worn yesterday, hanging in shreds from the hanger. You couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to believe it, but the proof of it was staring you right in the face. Even your brassiere and bloomers were torn to pieces in the little basket you kept them in on the floor of the closet. The only thing untouched was your veil. Just like in your dream … except, it wasn’t actually a dream, was it? 

Too numb to even wail over this revelation, you slowly sink down to the floor and just stare at your ruined clothes for what feels like a lifetime. There had to be some way out of this mess. There had to be. 

Right? 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* 

The archbishop gives you an exceedingly strange look when you inquire about exorcisms, and it only continues to grow more and more pronounced the more you push the matter while also skirting around the subject at the same time. Not that you could really blame him, of course. You’d had to wait until after the morning service to corner him next to the dais before he could slip out through the side door so you’d had plenty of time to stew over everything, which meant you were coming in perhaps a little hot on the topic. That didn’t matter though. You were determined to get this resolved regardless of the cost, and if that meant having to shake some sense into him before he’d take you seriously then that was exactly what you were going to do. 

Luckily it doesn’t come to that, and he eventually relents after you doggedly refused to give up your line of questioning. Giving his head a hopeless shake, he takes on the tone of someone leveling with a crazy person. “I understand your concerns, Sister, but exorcisms aren’t something that we implement unless absolutely necessary. It is very much a last resort, you see, and there is a rigorous process to even get approval for one. I’m afraid there’s not much else I can tell you.”

You remind yourself to take a deep breath and count to five before speaking next. It wouldn’t do to snap at the one person who might actually be able to help you get out of this mess. “With all due respect, Father, I don’t think that answer will suffice. Even if it’s not a full on exorcism, surely there must be smaller measures in place to help … discourage a demonic presence from returning?” Something a bit more effective than prayer and baptism evidently were. 

His eyes narrowing in clear suspicion, the archbishop speculatively regards you for a moment. “Is there something you aren’t telling me, Sister?” 

Of course it would finally get to this point. You’d expected as much, yes, but that doesn’t make the dread wrenching at your gut any less unbearable. How were you supposed to explain any of what had happened last night when you didn’t even understand it yourself? All you knew was that your clothes were in tatters up in your dorm, the window still showed evidence of your hand wiping across it and your lower stomach … 

“Ah, Sister! There you are! Just the lady I was hoping to see.” 

You spin around so fast your eyes feel like they’re going to pop right out of your skull. That feeling only increases when you find Ajax standing there at the end of the pew in his neatly pressed uniform and his smile blinding under the light that comes in through the stained glass murals. Your knees buckle and almost completely give out under you when your belly twists as if someone had shoved a red hot iron into it. Subconsciously you lift a hand to cradle the spot where the tattoo was but you couldn’t quite seem to tear your shocked gaze away from him. 

That was it, wasn’t it? The association. 

You think that has to be right. Had never been more sure of anything else in your life, and yet that doesn’t seem half as pressing as the thrumming arousal that grips you so suddenly and so tightly it actually pulls a quiet whimper out of you. Your cunt floods with it, so much slick producing at the drop of a coin that it makes you feel nauseous and disoriented in the same breath. But how could that be? And why was he just standing there inside the church as if it was the most normal thing in the world for him to be doing? 

This was hallowed ground … wasn’t it? 

“W - what are you doing here?” 

Grinning, Ajax tips his head to one side. Inquisitive. Eager. Puppy-like. Bless the Holy Mother, you really were going to be sick. 

“Aww, come on. Didn’t I tell you already?” He laughs softly, but those blue, blue eyes reflect none of that same humor. They reflect nothing at all, in fact. “I'd hoped we’d get to meet again after our little run in yesterday, so I just figured I’d take matters into my own hands and speed it up. I brought you flowers.” 

You just catch the sound of the archbishop scoffing beside you in obvious disapproval and you would have wholeheartedly agreed with him under better circumstances. But better circumstances would not have found you panting with the effort of keeping your wits about you. It was like you were suffocating under the weighty pressure of the mark branded into your skin, and it almost seems to throb as you numbly look down at the humble bouquet he holds out. You could tell it was handpicked at just a glance. Some frost growing ferns and puffy cats tails, and … purple ivy. 

Affection. 

Fidelity. 

Wedded love. 

He couldn’t be serious, could he? 

The sly edge that creeps into his otherwise boyish smile seems to suggest that he was, in fact, quite serious. You stumble back a step in your reeling disbelief and the archbishop hurries to grab you by the elbow so he can steady you, but you hardly even notice the presence of his hands. Your eyes, your mind, your entire being was for Ajax and Ajax alone. 

“I did not ask for flowers.”

“That’s true but I still wanted you to have them. You caught my eye yesterday, Sister. I hope you won’t turn me down.” 

Confusion and uncertainty grip you in equal measure, but it is the low pulse of the mark on your stomach that truly robs you of the ability to speak. It’s hot and uncomfortable, and the way it makes your pussy sympathetically flutter in time with your heartbeat very nearly overrides all of your higher functioning thoughts. Was he really the monster that had accosted you in your sleep or … could it have been a separate entity? One he wasn’t even aware of, if he thought you could really reject him when just the sight of him standing there made you desperate to be filled again. To be feasted upon by that beast. 

Slowly, you reach your hand out to accept the bouquet and the invisible string tightens its noose around you almost imperceptibly. Your fate was already sealed. You knew this to be true on an intrinsic, fundamental level. 

Foul Legacy had been right to say you’d been saving yourself for it. 

For him. 

For this. 

You would give him your sanctuary, may the Holy Mother save your soul.

⭐

Crossposted: here

#genshin impact #childe x reader #foul legacy x reader #self insert bullshit

[headspace-hotel]

On Creature Design

Artists and writers often don't realize the full range of variety that animals include. This leads to "aliens" that are a lot less alien than a lot of creatures on Earth.

Imagine that you are designing an imaginary animal to go on an alien planet in a fictional universe. We'll suppose for this example that your creature fits the Earth definition of "animal." What might this creature be like?

Here's just some of the traits that "animals" in fiction are usually assumed to have...that real animals often don't have:

The ability to move around: To be fair, most animals have a motile phase of their life cycle, but many animals, such as corals, (most) sponges, and (most) bryozoans, don't move as "adults."

Bilateral symmetry: that is, there's a left and a right side that mostly mirror each other. Humans are bilaterally symmetrical. But not all animals are. Take starfish for example. They have radial symmetry instead.

Either an herbivorous or a carnivorous lifestyle: The natural world...actually isn't divided into predators and prey. Don't forget the detritivores!

The ability to make that one specific roaring sound that every single alien and dinosaur makes in a movie: Animals make some WEIRD fucking sounds okay. Y'all ever heard a blue jay making its "swinging gate" impression?

Size comparable to horses, cattle, and humans: It's weird to think about, but humans are megafauna. We're enormous compared to most insects, worms, birds, and even rodents and bats, the largest groups of mammals. The "average" animal is closer to a bee than a human. A lot of sci-fi beasts and monsters are the size of a rhino, but try going outside on Earth—you'll encounter a thousand much smaller organisms before you find one that large. A planet that is otherwise "Earth-like" would probably be similar.

Individuality or "Individual" lifestyle and consciousness: Yes, yes, I know the "hive mind" is a trope, but it's often still assumed that "animals" are individual units independent from one another, where each "individual" has a complete set of all the organs and features it needs to survive. However, some real animals, like siphonophores and, yes, bryozoans, are colonial—their "individuals" are modules that can't live independently, rather like organs in an animal like a human. Because I can't stop myself from talking about bryozoans...in Selenaria bryozoans, the "individuals" around the outside edge of their colony use their setae as legs to walk around, and the other individuals provide the "legs" with food, since they can't eat by themselves. Bryozoan colonies are also interconnected by a linked nervous system, and sometimes colonies that grow into each other will just...merge, and start sharing their nervous system even though they're genetically different. Science.

Adaptations to full time life on land: Water worlds and sea creatures are not exactly missing in scifi, but it's still under-acknowledged that land life is a weird adaptation to a weird extreme environment. Land animals are just water animals that have learned to carry around their own water inside them. It's true! Living in water is so much simpler, because you can always just filter particles out of the water around you to eat, and when you need to reproduce you can just throw some gametes out there so somebody will find them.

"Male" and "female" individuals: Stories that mess with this generally have a MORE rigid biological "caste system" with more categories, but there are a lot of animals that can reproduce sexually or asexually at their whim, that change sex as part of their maturation process or when conditions require it, or that switch freely between producing sperm and egg cells. "The females are larger and more dominant!" isn't even that weird or unusual. Try "every member of this species is "male" when they are younger and becomes "female" later in life" or "this alien decides whether to be "male" or "female" depending on what the situation requires" or "these aliens are engaging in ritual combat with their dicks to see who gets pregnant." You know. Normal stuff like that.

#creatures #creature design #weird biology #fantasy creatures #sci-fi #science fiction #worldbuilding

[haveyouseenthismovie-poll]

When I first saw the blog, I had a very disdainfull reaction of "we get it Tumblr only watch kid movies" but the more result I see the more I find it interesting that yes, the movie with the most overwhelming "yes" are movies that were really popular when we were children, but most adults movies either have an overwhelming "haven't even heard of it" or have actually very close "yes" and "no" answers. There's very little cultural monolith actually

Most of the kids' movies that have received majority "yes" votes haven't been all that surprising. Most of them are Disney (or other big animation studios') movies that came out in the 2000s-2010s, so a lot of this site's primary age demographic probably watched them as children. I think if you asked any site with a primary age demographic of 20-30 year olds about movies like Monsters Inc. or The Incredibles, the results wouldn't be that different- those are just extremely popular movies. That's where the adult-oriented movies prove more interesting IMO, as those are the movies that you generally have to have made an active effort to see rather than just had it played for you as a little kid. For instance, Blade Runner isn't a movie my parents would've shown me or that any of my peers would've been talking about when I was younger- I saw it myself once I got older because it was regularly talked about in film fan circles I'm in and thus I thought it was important to watch it. I have to imagine that at least a few other "yes" voters on that poll had a similar experience.

The fact that the adult-oriented movie results are, as you said, usually either primarily "haven't heard of this" votes or are a fairly even yes/no split is interesting because it establishes two types of adult-oriented movies: the ones that are critically acclaimed in film fanatic circles, but lesser known outside of that demographic, and the ones that are so absurdly popular that it's wild to think that anyone hasn't heard of it. Maybe you don't care about killer robots or evil shark movies, but chances are that you at least know about The Terminator and Jaws, whereas movies like The 400 Blows and Persona are apparently primarily heard about and watched only by those with an active interest in film history (at least as far as this blog's voting pool is concerned.)

A take-away from this blog that I've read and found interesting is the idea that a lot of folks basically just stop watching movies when they get older. I think this can be hard to wrap your head around if you are someone who really loves movies and still makes an active effort to watch a variety of them, but it does seem to be what this blog's results suggest. Most people simply aren't that into movies, especially when the movies in question came out decades before they were born. Maybe that's a bummer for some, but that just makes me interested in seeing what movies general audiences (or in this case, the Tumblr demographic) have deemed important to check out.

What do the followers think about this? Are there any results that y'all found particularly surprising?

#answers #(also obvi some movies are just generally obscure but im not talking about those ones here lol)

[harmonysanreads]

could we get more of being alhaithams wife… he has me in a chokehold omg waxing remorse, waning candlelight and flickering candlelight were so good‼️

btw do u take emoji anons? id like to be 🎀 if u do!

Hell yes, I thought you'd never ask :) I took my time with this, hope you don't mind and welcome abroad dearest 🎀<3

Desire, Denial, Demise

yandere!al haitham x f!reader

cw(s): yandere, drugging (not to reader), lots of tension, allusions to stockholm syndrome

wc : 2.5k+

[ previously in this au ]

The curry is boiling.

The strange symphony of the bubbling broth, the heated haze veiling around the kitchen and the appetising aroma of spices open the gateway for you to temporarily lose yourself somewhere far, far away. You're thinking of everything and nothing at the same time. Your fingers, victimized to small cuts from occasional slip ups during chopping vegetables, are fiddling with a tiny vial, its exact contents are unknown even to you but its apparent enough that its less palatable than the steaming curry.

It would seem as if you'd been at this practice for some time now, sometimes taking off the clog of the vial to slightly dip it at the dish only to pull away before any of the substance actually fell only to clog it up again and resume stirring the curry instead. The curry itself is almost ready but you're still unable to reach a decision. You seem to be far more interested in the rhythm of the bubbles appearing and disappearing, a peculiar peace enveloping your heart, so much so that even the rising temperature around the stove fails to have your attention swayed.

What does break your trance is the pair of firm arms snaking around your waist and an embrace, so deceptively loving and domesticated, because, you're neither allowed inner peace nor to pass your attention to something that wasn't your husband.

Alhaitham has a talent for making almost anything appear normal to outsiders, by which you'd imply the oh-so loving gestures he initiates with the excuse of your marital bond. In truth, they're as one sided as his love for you and if this was even just a few months ago you would've resisted but not now, for you've learned. Learned how to tempt the monster with scraps of its desires, promising something greater and slowly gaining its trust, so that when eventually you shatter it to irreparable bits, the monster would feel ten times the hurt it'd inflicted upon you.

Or, that's what you've been scheming to do to your beloved husband and you're hoping the poison containing vial you not-so-subtly hide away from his gaze would just do the trick.

“What do you have there?”

You vaguely lean towards his abdomen (not like there's much space to considering how close he already holds you), eyes still fixated on the stove.

“Curry,”

“And?” he probes further, whether its intentional or not you can't deduce from his even tone.

Your eyes move towards the right, you sense him doing the same, “More curry,”

“And.. soup. I had intended to make biryani but you arrived so early, sorry.”

It's not like you're completely lying, you were hoping to have some more time alone. After all, having more varieties of dishes would've made it less suspicious when you refused to eat a single one. You don't even have to turn around to see some of Alhaitham's facial muscles churn in distaste against your cheek, you've seen it more times than you cared to count. Alhaitham doesn't like soup, or anything that hinders his peaceful reading time but there's a counter theory in your head, suspecting whether he'd noticed something amiss yet. Because if he did, he's doing a splendid job at pretending that he hasn't.

You're not so easily thrown off-the-edge anymore either, you learned how to act from the master himself. Though, you would be lying if you said this sudden low guarded approach wasn't irking you the slightest. You hadn't wrapped your arms around his shoulders nor pressed a chaste kiss on his cheek upon his return like you usually do to act like the loving housewife you aren't, you didn't greet him with the usual ‘welcome home’ that you know makes his heart melt and on top of that, you're fidgeting with your surroundings. You don't dare to think this routine you'd painstakingly followed the past months to lower his guard actually had this much affect, this is Alhaitham you're dealing with.

So you're only left with the hypothesis that he has taken notice and will jumpscare you with it any moment, as much as you hoped against it. Finally, after what felt like forever, you turn off the stove and face the Acting Grand Sage, he doesn't loosen his hold in the slightest.

“How about you freshen up while I serve the dinner? You look like you've got a headache— annoying scholars again?”

You push aside the urge to pinch his cheeks, opting to instead hold his face in your hands with as much delicacy as you can gather and you almost falter when he answers by leaning into your touch. No matter how many times you've done this, you can never take his reciprocations seriously. Or rather, you can't believe just how easy it gets him to do so with each passing day.

For a moment, you feel like a wicked villain. Alhaitham looks so at peace in your palms (literally), his innocence right now could convince anyone that he hadn't committed any of the atrocities he did to get you where you were at now. You hear the echo of a nagging thought, this really might've been the ideal married life so many dreamed of ; a husband that views you above everything else, a secure place to stay and stability, overall.

Alhaitham would often tell you how people would kill to be loved in the way he loves you, you'd never actually let his theories in your head but now, you found yourself hesitating. All this strenuously built trust would crumble like the sand palace Kaveh had planned to make in a drunken stupor should you get caught and in the off chance that you don't, this.. almost, almost perfect marriage life would too if you really poured out the poison from the vial.

“Alright,” Alhaitham presses one kiss to your palm and leaves. Leaves.

You wonder if Alhaitham was hiding more surprises for the night, for, he never lets you off easy. You watch his silhouette vanish within the inner-quarters of his house, you peak around the corner to see if he was hiding there or not and— nothing. As much as you despised acknowledging it, your husband was always an uncertain amount of steps ahead. You might be his weak-spot but even you haven't been an exception to his overwhelming scrutiny, because, a wise man knows to guard his weakness well.

So, for that man to just leave without gauging the cause of your peculiar behavior like he's always (or, now that you think about it ; when was the last time he'd tweaked with your mind? three months ago? four? five?) done sends your nerves ablaze. You take out the vial from where you'd tucked it in, almost dropping it because of your restless fingers. You're still facing the entrance of the kitchen, the vial is brought up to your eye-level. The translucent liquid lacks any indication of it actually being a poison, it came as the byproduct of your last escape attempt months ago ; exchanged with all your remaining mora from an equally shady merchant — you didn't care then, you knew you'd be caught so might as well take a weapon with you back, right? At present though, you found yourself slowly regretting that decision, unless you're to experiment with it personally, there's really no way for you to be certain.

You shake your head, nonsense. You aren't the one dying when you still have hope, you weren't the one who'd forced someone to be their spouse with methods that make you shudder upon recollection, you deserved freedom and he, deserved proper punishment for his crimes.

You take off the cog of the vial, glancing one last time towards the direction Alhaitham went. You still your hand from shaking and celestia, you can still feel Alhaitham's lingering kiss there.

Without even looking you pour the entire vial of the substance into one of the pots and then toss the vial out of the window. You grasp at the kitchen counter, heaving.

You did it.

-

The next time you face Alhaitham, he looks eerily pleasant. You do your duty of serving him the food, hesitating on putting the curry on his plate and you almost consider throwing it out with some half-assed excuse but gather your resolve again. You will see an end to this. Keeping your expression placid, you take a seat on the opposite end of the table and serve yourself something to avoid suspicion. It's as quiet as it normally is since neither you nor Alhaitham are that talkative while eating, you sometimes sneak a glance towards him to see if there's any change ; he seems to notice this.

“You're awfully interested in my face today, is something the matter?”

“Ah, I was just wondering if you're finding the food palatable.”

Your husband tilts his head, you never ask for his opinions regarding anything ; was today a special occasion by any chance? Alhaitham searches his memories, no, your anniversary passed last month and even then, your effort for that day wasn't anything remarkable.

“Anything made by you is good,”

Alhaitham may mistake your aversion of gaze as fluster because of his unexpectedly suave comment but in reality, his way-too-honest answer struck your conscience. You shook your head, counting the seconds rather impatiently, no appetite aiding you to finish your plate.

Why isn't the poison taking affect?

Momentarily, the merchant's twinkling eyes upon handing you the vial flashes in your mind and it inclines you to think that you may have been scammed. All the while, Alhaitham seems to have finished his plate, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief.

“[Y/N], be honest, is something bothering you?”

You nearly jump out of your seat at his voice and your husband looks at you with more concern but asks for no further clarification.

Yes, you almost utter out, “No,”

Your eyes dart around the dinner table where most dishes still lay untouched, Alhaitham seemed to have eaten very little. When your eyes settle on the bowl of soup, a dreading realization strikes.

Don't tell me.. I didn't poison the soup instead, did I..?

“Actually,” you cringe at the sudden high pitch of your voice but it does its job in halting Alhaitham from getting up and possibly making his way to you, his eyes press you to continue. It only occurs to you then, what are you supposed to tell him now? ‘I poisoned this soup that I know you clearly dislike because I hate you so please, gobble it up and end my misery?’

This isn't the time for jokes, wake up!

“Haitham, to be honest, I prepared that soup for you with your stress induced state in mind. But.. ” you wet your lips and choke out the rest, voice fading in a sad adagio, “Since you don't like soup, I guess I'll just have to throw it out.”

It takes everything in your will-power to not break the pathetic act and slap yourself. You don't dare look up and see your husband's expression, already mentally preparing him to drop the bomb and interrogate you on all your weird mannerisms tonight.

In no way will Alhaitham of all people buy that, I wouldn't believe that, not even a rat will believe that, whoa—

You expected exactly two outcomes after your sad excuse of convincing (brought fresh to you by past experiences) ; 1. He tells you to eat half of the soup first, probably with the surface level reason that he won't be able to finish all of it and when you inevitably refuse, the truth will be revealed and 2. No need for roundabout approaches, you wouldn't be surprised if Alhaitham knew your scheme since the start. But no amount of past experience could prepare you for when your conniving husband took the bowl of the soup that he repeatedly said he despised and gulped it down in one go, without an ounce of hesitation — all because you muttered you made it especially for him?

(Admittedly, you feel a little touched.)

You stop gaping like a fish and with a fake cough chastise him, “Dear me, no one was stealing that from you, you could've just taken your time — what if you burned your throat?”

Alhaitham chugs down a glass of water, he doesn't look the most content with that decision either but seeing you worry over him like this... he has no regrets.

“The faster, the better, no? I really would just like to go sleep now.”

Hmm, he wasn't entirely wrong about that. The faster the poison takes effect the better it is for you but, he doesn't need to know that part. It's dead silent again, none of you seem compelled to move, your focus is on Alhaitham solely ; in the first few seconds, he seemed fine but then he started to loosen the collar of his shirt, an obvious expression of discomfort painting his normal poker face. You lean forward in your chair, unable to tear your eyes away.

“On a second thought, you were right. Maybe I shouldn't have eaten so hastily. It feels...so...hot...?”

Alhaitham's voice fades to incoherent words, he brings a hand to the locks of his gray hair, laboured breaths filling the vacancy of the dining room.

And then, his head meets the wood of the table.

You push back your chair, unable to believe the sight before you. That was fast, way too fast, perhaps. You take ginger steps towards Alhaitham's chair, when you're beside the Scribe's unmoving body, the weight of the situation drops on you unmercifully.

Wait wait wait, t-then this means that... I.....I killed my husband...

You can feel your vision blurring, no no, you're supposed to be happy! Happy that his tyranny is finally over! Happy that he'll no longer be able to hurt you or any other being for that — happy that he's gone.

These are tears of happiness, right? Right?

You hands move to wipe them furiously, you don't believe it, there is no way he'll die that easily. You'd fantasized about this moment so many times ; when the colour from his disgustingly beautiful eyes fades, you'll be on your merry way from this hellish life, you'll be allowed to wander anywhere, befriend anyone — but now, such desired dreams have lost their colour, as well. With no regard to your escape plans, your hand reaches for his unmoving figure, hunched over the table ; your senses are closing in, you can see nothing but him, you can hear nothing but the ringing in your ears and you're not sure what happens afterwards.

One moment, you feel your skin barely graze his shirt and the next, something warm springs up, grabs your wrist and your back slams against the table, legs dangling over...

Huh?

There is Alhaitham, up and about, albeit he looks.. perturbed and delirious. Extremely delirious.

“Sly woman, what were you thinking?”

Heated skin, reddened face, hearts in the eyes—

These symptoms, oh no...

You try to shove him off and create as much distance as possible, the effect your puny struggling has is non-existent ; he only holds you more suffocatingly in his lap, closing in slowly slowly slowly—

That is the moment you accept ; you have been scammed, just not in the way you were speculating you've been.

#i will not elaborate 😇 #yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact x female reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere al haitham #yandere alhaitham #yandere al haitham x reader #yandere al haitham x female reader #yandere alhaitham x female reader #alhaitham x reader #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x you #al haitham x female reader #──⚝ 🎀 anon #answered #yandere concepts #yandere x reader #yandere aesthetic #yandere x darling #male yandere #tw : drugging #yandere writing #genshin yandere #genshin al haitham #alhaitham genshin

[llamagoddessofficial]

I hope I'm not unwelcome here, I was wondering. How do you think the boys would react to a siren MC that was another variety of deep sea siren~? I've been writing a fic with the reader as a deep sea eel siren and it's on my mind since I adore your siren au thoughts!

Ohoooooo

I fuckin love the concept of a gorgeous, dangerous eel Mc. Sleek and dark and powerful. I feel like a deep sea Mc would be bigger than her pelagic counterpart... much closer to the skeletons in size. Not to mention, she’d have some other unique traits, like heightened senses and bioluminescence. 

Sans: She is, for once, something he isn’t used to seeing on his usual menu. Orca are surface dwellers. She’s a curiosity; he adores curiosities. Especially pretty ones. He’s cautious, because she’s clearly a predator, he works slowly... stalking her from a distance, then approaching fast and ducking away at the last second, baiting her into lashing out so he can see how her attacks work. It doesn’t take him long to figure out what her deal is. He’s enamoured with this beautiful, fierce novelty from the deep.

Sans frightens her. He didn’t, at first; he looked like a puny version of the much bigger, much toothier whales who occasionally make the long journey to her depths. But then he started moving- and she realised his danger wasn’t his body, it was his adaptability. He could kill her if he wanted to.

And yet... there’s something about his intelligence. Something about his powerful form as he swims. Something about his unreadable calm, soft smile around her, razor sharp eyelights taking in every detail... she can’t help it, she’s drawn to him. 

Red: ... C’mon. We know this dance by now. She’s big, she’s beautiful, she’s strong- not only that, but she’s mysterious and elegant, a dangerous predator from the depths all decorated in glittering lights. It’s like he’s at a cocktail party and a 6ft buff woman just walked in, wearing a black velvet dress and diamonds- he’s shootin his shot, and nothing will stop him. He likes his ladies capable of killing him. He makes a couple stupid eel-related pickup lines (“girl, are you a coral-dwelling eel? cus you’re my a-moray.” “I’m a conger, not a m- wait,”) and her baffled flustered reactions just cement his growing interest.

Red is... a lot. Not necessarily in a bad way. He keeps shocking her by making her laugh (“gulper? jeez, i hardly know her.”) and she likes the company and conversation. Deep sea sirens don’t tend to do the whole ‘group’ thing, but that doesn’t mean it can’t get lonely, down there in the endless night. 

She also likes the patterns on his body- you don’t see many pretty markings when you live in near pitch-black. He likes when she can’t help but touch them.

Skull: Finally. Finally. Another creature from the deep, another siren like him, who understands his mannerisms and his way of life. A siren who’ll see him as kin, who won’t view him as some kind of strange, unknowable alien. Being around her makes him soft and giddy, he lights up his bioluminescence any chance he gets, he enjoys having that point of bonding with her (he’s smug the others don’t understand their secret language of lights). He gets the overwhelming sensation they were meant to be together... the abyss is so huge, so endless, and yet somehow they found one another? It can’t be chance. The stars aligned. He knows her smell now- he’ll follow her wherever she goes.

A deep sea Mc would definitely feel more comfortable around Skull than she does around the other two sirens. They’re so similar, and she’s much more used to monsters like him; big, dark, strong, slow. She’s still careful around him considering he’s the more frightening apex predator where they’re from- being familiar with something doesn’t make it any less dangerous. But when his tentacles flash and she flashes back, it feels like stumbling across someone who speaks your mother tongue in a land full of strangers.

#llamagines #siren sanses au #siren mc au #headcanon that her teeth look like moray eel teeth #cool and sharp and like glass #mc: Red... are you sure you want to date me...? I've got broken glass for teeth and I'm venomous #red: why would you ask if i'm sure i wanna date you. then list more reasons for me to want to date you

[trashiewrites]

More girlboss ghost's wife plz 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

HAHAHAHAH!!!! MORE BAD BITCHING AND I LOVEE IT!! btw for those who have sent in requests, I am doing them in the order I get them! I don't have that many but work has been killing me recently!

Don't Fuck with That~

Ghost x F!Reader (Never really mentioned gender-wise)

Rating: B for Boss Bitch

Warnings: Harsh language to women, and alcohol? yeah

Words: 1150

One thing you may expect about the life of a mother of two is chaos, especially with your husband gone for long periods of time. It's a lot, you will admit. Yet, you bring the Bad Bitch you were and made it looks like child's play. To be honest, you didn't know how the fuck you did it yourself, but you managed! After a month or so you do start to lose your mind, saying that you barely have any free time after handling things. Luckily you have the best husband ever!

On days when Simon would return home after a mission, the first thing he does is take the kids to go see your family! Or if that isn't available, he'll ask the boys to babysit for the night. Usually, Soap loves to babysit the little monsters. In any case, the kids are out of your hair! Simon takes this to have you go buck wild wherever you want. This time you chose to relax and have drinks at a dive bar! Nothing is more distressing than the one day you can pump yourself with your favorite alcohol!

Simon, during this time, stays relatively sober just to watch the chaos unravel. You being drunk is what he calls a spectacle. "You know Simon," you looked over at him taking another swig of your glass, "how did you of all people end up with such rowdy sperm monsters??" You growled as you leaned upon the table. Simon chuckled, sipping some more whiskey.

"I don't know," he placed his glass down, "why don't you ask their mother?"

"Yeah, you're right!" your face lit up for a mere moment before fully taking in his words, "wait a fucking minute you bastard! I'm their mother!!" 

"Exactly," He took another sip, "Look at yourself, I love you but those rascals get it all from you." Simon chuckled before looking back to see you gulping another glass. 

"Bartender, another glass for me please!" You spoke in a mopey tone, "Imma need more to drink away the sorrow of my husband's harsh but true words!" Having said that, you burst into laughter. Leaning against your husband's shoulder as you tried to grasp your breath. Simon shook his head, leaning his head upon yours. 

"Honestly, what do I do with you." He chuckled as the bartender motioned that this was your last drink. Wasting no time, you took a large gulp; letting out a refreshing sigh you flashed Simon a content smile. "Enjoy that drink, It's your last." You placed your hand over your mouth, so close to spitting out your precious booze. You leaned your head back downing what you had in your mouth. 

"Says who!" You clutched to Simon in desperation, "How could you deprive me of my only day off!" Simon finished his glass, motioning for another. He pointed to himself; the bartender nodded.  "How come you get another!"

"One, the bartender. Two, I'm going to be here for a bit." Simon nodded as he swapped his old glass for a newly filled one, "Lastly, cause I'm not nearly as drunk as you." You huffed in defeat, despite being hammered, you could tell you were HAMMERED. You downed the rest of your glass, standing up from your seat. 

"Imma head to the restroom," you kissed his cheek and left. Simon took a moment to look around. Most things you'd see in a bar were there; The noisy folk, the drunk asleep in the back corner, and groupies of all varieties. One thing caught his eye, more like he had caught their eye if anything. A group of ladies whispered among themselves as they looked over to one of them and then back to him. Not necessarily an uncommon sight for him, saying he is fairly attractive without his mask on. Yet he looked away, paying no heed to the group and returning to his drink. Surely no one is stupid to hit on him seeing he had been hanging with you this whole time... keyword he thought...

"Hey, there Handsome," a voice called out next to him. He ignored it despite no one being on the other side. Until sadly, someone poked his shoulder. "I'm speaking to you sir; can I buy you a drink? " Simon sighed, a frown staining his face. 

"No thanks, for your sake you should leave; I'm happily married." 

"To that wreck? Oh, honey, I can show you a real woman." the woman cackled as she leaned closer, "I can rock your world baby; just give me a chance. ~" she spoke in a seductive whisper into Simon's ear. He placed his hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her away. 

"One last time, it's best if you leave." 

"Oh, come one, leave with me, baby!" She beckoned, "you'll send those papers after one night with me, trust me. ~" 

"I wouldn't fuck with that if I were you," Simon turned to face you, "you must be blind 'cause I'm sure you and your group of whores knew he was mine." Your eyes flared with anger. You cracked your knuckles, leaning your head to the side with a cynical smirk. The women slowly turned around, seeing the demon incarnate festering with glaring eyes that could kill. She went pale as a ghost, "Now, I suggest you turn tail to your groupie before I shove something in those open legs of yours that you won't find pleasurable."  The woman gulped loudly, comedically loud. Rushing off to return to her little gang, you laughed loudly as you watched her run, "Go on run faster bitch; pick a better target next time!" You sent a kiss in her direction and returned your gaze to your husband whose eyes were on you the entire time, admiring you with a soft grin. "Liked the show?" 

"I believe that's your best performance yet." You walked to him, and instead of sitting in your seat next to him, you sat promptly on his lap. He wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on your shoulder, "Extremely attractive, if I may add; Despite all these years, you continue to amaze me, dove."

"Can I have one more drink then?" you turned to face him, hitting him with big puppy eyes. Simon sighed, never one to give in to puppy eyes, yet perhaps today will be his exception. 

"Fine," He motioned for two more, "last one, so enjoy it." You cheered happily, grabbing Simon's cheeks and giving him a big smooch. 

"Thank you, thank you! You're the best husband ever, Simon!!" You hugged him tightly; in response, he rubbed your back, "I love you so much, Simon..." You spoke softly. 

"I love you too, (y/n)," he whispered in return. Taking his glass in hand and handing you yours, "Cheers?" You stared down at your glass and then back to him with a warm smile, both sharing that longing for each other. 

"Cheers." 

#simon x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod mw22 #codwarzone #cod mw #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare 2 remastered #modern warfare #ghost x reader

[urfavoritesecretadmirer]

Stuff that would get us fake claimed bc this trend is so amazing in my eyes

(And no I'm not asking to get fake claimed bc apparently I'm not allowed to make jokes)

High alter count

We don’t have an exact number, but our overall estimation is pretty high (not in the thousands but yk 100-150).

Not being able to control switches

We can’t control when we switch but it’s usually in stressful/negative situations. We also can’t control who takes front.

Alter variety

Istg, people are weird when it comes to alter variety. It’s always “oh your alters are all similar? Fake!!” Or “oh your alters are all very different? Fake!!” Our system has a lot of variety.

Has a TikTok account

“Omg, a system with social media?! Fake!!” Believe it or not, we only started our TikTok in late June of last year. We’ve known we are a system since way before that. So yes, systems can have TikTok accounts. Because I guarantee there are thousands of systems on TikTok who are not open to being a system that you will never know about.

Posts about system stuff

Damn, I didn’t know it was illegal for systems to be open about being a system. I didn’t know my literal existence, labels I choose to use, etc were taking away from the “real systems”. My apologies, Mr/ms high and mighty ceo of Reddit moderation as your 9-5.

Has simply plural

“Omg an app for systems?! And you’re using it?! As a system?! Fake!!” I’m not allowed to use one of the few useful apps that can log switches, keep track of members, send messages, help you meet other systems, make polls, make your layout look pretty if you want, etc without getting fakeclaimed. It’s almost like it’s an app for systems, and systems use it. Shocker.

Uses pluralkit

“A system using a meaningful way of communication and another good way to keep track of members?! Fake!!” Apparently redditors think that pluralkit worsens amnesia barriers and derealization. Is this true?? If so tell me, but it doesn’t happen for us. Because obviously, I’m not fronting all the time. How am I supposed to feel derealization if I’m not there?? Also it’s not like our main account profile is by default the host. Our user has <3 and our systag in the name for christs sake.

Goes to school

I know, shocker, I have a life. I’m not physically incapable of having an education as a system. And believe it or not, I have decent grades too. Systems are traumatized, not stupid (directed at that one boy at my old school).

Doesn’t want final fusion

Excuse you, but this system has been here for me and has been around since I was five (I think). I’ve only now fully accepted the fact I’m a system. I think it’d be a bit rude to just say “alr you can go now” like I don’t wanna be alone tf.

Introjects

We ain’t Introject heavy, but ig even having two introjects makes you fake. This may be a shocker, but it’s more common to have other disorders alongside DID/OSDD than to not. This, and again, this may be a shocker, but it includes ADHD and autism.

In sys relationships

Me, the host, has personally never been in an in-sys relationship. But I think in our system there’s like, two? And then there’s a lot of ‘it’s complicated’ or ‘situationship’.

Decent communication

Obviously, it could be better, but we overall have decent and healthy ways of communicating with each other. Usually it’s talking out loud or leaving little notes.

Alter intros

Because apparently it’s a crime against being neurodivergent to share about your alters. We obviously can’t share everything for obvious reasons but we want yall to get to know us.

DNI alters

This may be a hard pill to swallow, but DNI doesn’t always mean the alter is some dangerous monster. It can mean that alter is too little to be online, it could mean that alter is a social anxiety symptom holder, it could mean that alter just doesn’t like talking to people outside the system/at all. These are just a few examples. Or maybe, that alter just doesn’t wanna be fuckin interacted with. But these alters should still be acknowledged. Why? Because healing is a thing. Locking them away isn’t healthy. Maybe they want people to know not to interact with them. But noooo, all DNI alters are awful people apparently.

Other mental health disorders

We have anxiety and depression (diagnosed and genetic), medically recognized ADHD, and tics. And yes, all of our alters have tics because it's caused by your brain and we share the same brain.

#did system #did osdd #actually osdd #osdd #osddid #actually did #osdd system #osdd 1b #actually traumagenic #traumagenic did #did memes #did stuff #did #did positivity #osdd did #did alter #osdd things #osdd1b #osdd 1 #osdd community #osdd alter #osdd 1a #anti endo

[purplepixel]

Hi I saw in your pinned post that you've read over 1,000 TMNT fics. Do you have a few really good ones you would recommend?

(don't feel any pressure to respond if you don't want to)

Oh boy this is...quite an ask. Especially bc fanfic recs are so personal? What I think is a good fic will be vastly different from other people. I have a really high angst tolerance, so please double check tags with these. Also keep in mind that I mainly read donnie-centric fics.

Here are my personal favorites! My hand slipped and I have more than just a few to recommend...what can I say there are so many good fics.

CRACK BUT READS LIKE CANON

Back To School by Em_H | 10,965 [FINISHED]

Donnie enrolls in April’s school and tries to juggle his packed schedule. A shrek play is included. Do I need to say more?

☆ In Volvunt: a RotTMNT Fanfiction ☆ by kittylittersmoothie | 27,082 [FINISHED]

In which the rest of the bros continuously try and fail to rick roll donnie. A war is started, alliances are made, betrayals occur, this is a hilarious feel good fic. It’s very in line with the show tonal wise and the dialogue is very rise

Mikey's Jam-Packed, Guaranteed to Get Donnie's Memory Back, Friendship Tour! By Eyse | 92,972 [ON-GOING]

Donnie wakes up with no memory of anyone including himself. Que his brothers trying to find ways to get his memory back. Has some of the most wacky adventures and scenarios I’ve ever encountered in a rise fic. Feels like you’re reading the actual show

YOU WILL BE EMOTIONALLY DESTROYED

Quiet Your Mind by daedelweiss | 18,081 [FINISHED]

Fusion Au with the disaster twins set in the bad future timeline. I don’t cry. This one made me cry. Bittersweet ending.

Telepathy (of a Twin Variety) by vosian_nightmare | 24,423 [FINISHED] 

My personal favorite twin telepathy fic. Character study on the disaster twins.

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by Cass_Phoenix | 31,963 [FINISHED]

A Donnie from an alternate reality kidnaps Leo. Or is he bringing him home? This one will fuck with your mind. One of my bookmark notes is “Reality existentialism” 

Firefight by remrose | 94,480 [ON-GOING]

What if donnie gets trapped in the prison dimension with leo? I’m usually not a fan of changing plot points in the rise movie or suicidal leo, but this fic is the exception. It is VERY well written and has some of the best exchanges between the disaster twins. You WILL be scared for the characters and your heart WILL be crushed. Proud to say I was here for this fic since chapter 1 bc that NEVER happens with me

THE CROSSOVERS

Familiar Places, Foreign Faces by Petra4President | 36,434 [ON-GOING]

Rise/2012 Crossover Fic. The Rise Donnie & 2012 Raph fic I didn’t ask for (I read this before watching 2012) but didn’t realize I NEEDED. Donnie gets sent to the 2012 universe and must find a way home. 

A Tale of Spirits by unorthodoxx | 168,344 [ON-GOING]

Rise/Avatar the Last Airbender AU. This one is pretty popular so I won't say anything else except its really good.

I WOULD BOOK BIND THESE

All I have to say about these fics is that they’re REALLY good and BOOK WORTHY

Monsters Among Us by DanzinoraSwitch | 86,136 [FINISHED]

Violet Hues and Holy Blue by SibillaScribbles08 | 115,752 [FINISHED]

I May Be Invisible, but I Still Look Good by Dandy | 124,862 [FINISHED]

MY PERSONAL COMFORT FICS

Things will never be the same (but that's okay) by Petra4President | 14,493 [FINISHED]

Post movie aftermath fic that focuses on the changes created by the events of the movie. Idk what specifically has me rereading this occasionally, but its really well written and a little different than most aftermath fics I've read.

Corrupted Upgrade by Dandy | 25,898 [FINISHED]

Donnie Villain AU with a twist. He really gives off megamind vibes. DO NOT BE FOOLED. THERE’S A REASON EVERYONE IS OUT OF CHARACTER IN THE BEGINNING. I almost slept on this fic and it became one of my favorites. It’s the type of fic that I can read over and over and over.

Turning Purple by Lizardstuff | 48,123 [ON-GOING]

Donnie slowly gets more and more sick post rise movie and the rest of the characters must find out what’s wrong and find a cure. THIS ONE’S FOR YOU, MEDICAL NERDS. Author has done research and any inaccuracies have gone over this EMT’s head. I reread this one every chapter update and every time I’m haunted by “the blueberry french toast paragraph” No I will not explain further, go read it.

MY TOP FIC RECOMMENDATION

Spider's Web with Strings Attached by CurlySwirly | 125,661 [ON-GOING]

Donnie and Leo get kidnapped and are forced to fight in the battle nexus. This is my pick for the most well written fanfic and most in canon characterization with ALL the characters. You will HEAR the characters not just through the dialogue but also through the writing itself. As the reader, you will be beaten down and have your heart crushed mercilessly which makes the pay off the most rewarding, satisfying experience that I've personally ever felt with a fanfic. This fic lives in my head rent free and I think about it at least once a day. It is my all time favorite rise fic and I highly recommend it.

#there's a fic im missing and its driving me crazy #i can't find the post movie fic where donnie and raph are still infected by the krang #and there's a scene where they nearly merge together and raph has to mind meld with donnie to save him from krang's control #idk why i didn't bookmark it its one of my favs #there are so many other amazing fics #if anyone needs any fic recs with specific tropes i got you #i started a google spread sheet categorizing good fics i read #this was like last year #but i couldn't keep up with how much i read #and stopped at around 145 fics #im laughing bc i have two modes #soul crushing angst #and crack #pixel replies #rise fanfic recs #fanfic recommendation #fanfic rec #rottmnt #rottmnt fanfic recs

[autumnaaltonen]

(listen, listen my two brain cells are working hard!).

Alucard with a sort of muscular s/o who has scars and stretch marks due to hunting/missions. She's seems intimidating/doesn't talk much and always takes things too seriously even with sarcasm. But secretly she just socially awkward and shy. Who's insecure about her body and how her muscles/scars making her look scary.

Maybe one day Alucard complements her for her work during a mission ((or one day she wears a dress for an event)) and catches her blushing cuz she nvr gotten a complement before.

Hehehehe, yesssss

Alucard With a Muscular, Scarred and Socially Awkward S/O

As an individual, you were one of the more experienced monster hunters out of all the other human Hellsing soldiers, you’ve got your fair share of kills from every variety of freak, be it vampires, ghouls or werewolves. However, while this fact should make you the most popular member on the team, it was unfortunately quite the opposite.

Spending so much time on your own on solo missions, even prior to Hellsing, has put you a little on the stiff side. You can tell when a vamp was about to slash a filed hand at you from a single twitch of the finger, or when a ghoul was capable of running rather than just stumbling based on the pattern of their steps.

But social ques like friendly greetings, sarcasm and self-deprecating humour have become lost to you over time, and it’s painfully noticeable to both yourself and to everyone around you. You were stoic silent, not in ignorance, but fearful of the mystery that has become your fellow human. Jokes fly above your head, and playful jabs make you question the people you surround yourself with, but you keep rationalising at the end of the day that it’s all in your head, and that your glaring is not going to make you any new friends. You felt like a wolf in a pack of sheep.

To add wood to the fire, you’ve also garnered a number of physical mementos from your work, like nasty scars from close calls with a mouth or a claw, moles and freckles from waiting in the sun before nightfall called upon your kill, and stretch marks from the various changes your body has gone through during your physically intensive work

So, you were a tad intimidating to most. But Alucard has always been different. He’s the King of weird and intimidating, so when he took notice of your insecurities despite your gifts, he just couldn’t have it.

“Do not waste your mortal life fretting over polished gold. We may not shine in the sun, but just as the moon dazzles at night, our aptitude is best performed in darkness.”

The both of you hit it off fairly quickly, to say the least. With Alucard by your side, your social anxiety is somewhat pattered down, as there is no way in hell that you could seem like a weirdo with him walking next to you.

Alucard makes you feel seen at the most unlikely of moments, laughing proudly while watching you kill on missions, competing with you on who could take down the most ghouls in one night, or checking on you every once in a while to make sure you were stocked on ammunition.

He even begins to give you words of affirmation and compliments that frazzled and dazed you every time.

“Even I could learn to fear the fury of your gaze, dear.”

“What an alluring sight you are, out of breath and blood-sated.”

“Careful now, if you keep fighting like that, I may just have to keep you.”

Alucard made you feel special and one of a kind, and for once in the best ways. And when he slowly starts pushing on your walls, and words become actions, you wonder why you ever second-guessed yourself.

But then there came the dreaded occasion of the UK Special Forces Division Ball, an annual celebration for the Queen’s most gifted soldiers, and of course Hellsing was hosting as usual, being the most indispensable military group of the time. To make matters worse, Sir Integra had chosen you to deliver this year’s welcoming speech, saying you were “the most exemplary standard for whom a solider of the Crown should strive to be.” And as his human friend, Integra also expected you to accompany Alucard throughout the night to balance out his attitude. Alucard agreed to your accompaniment without issue, even looking forward to not having to be forced into speaking with arrogant and imperious higher-ups.

Fuck that. Fuck this. YOU HAVE TO WHERE A DRESS!?  

You aren’t a ‘pick me’ by any means, but you cannot recall the last time you were anywhere near a pair of heels and lip-gloss, and that terrifies you. What the dress showed off your shoulders and arms? If you put on make-up, would you end up like the Matchmaker after Mulan threw tea on her? With your muscles and scars, what if you looked like a frou-frou G.I. Jane?

You don’t think you’ve ever had a near panic attack over such a trivial matter before, but it wasn’t trivial to you! For once, you were not even worrying about what others would think of you. Instead, all you could imagine is the fact that Alucard would see. Handsome, beautiful Alucard…he came from a background of Medieval opulence and royal refinery, a King who wore robes of ruby-dyed wool and a crown of glittering jewels, who had dazzling women at his beck and call to serve him in any way he asked.

You knew there was only one thing you could do: call upon your commanding officers. It took a lot of self-reassurance and determination, but it all pays off when you see the smiles on Sir Integra and Seras’ faces, both absolutely game to doll you up for your big moment. Sir Integra is a master-class in fashion, having three separate closets for her suits, gowns and decorative weapons. Seras is a social woman fresh out of police college, and was no stranger to what cosmetics looked best when clubbing or going to a fancy-shmancy gala.

You imagined that they would cover you up with a shawl, or cover your scars with concealer, but to your horror they instead slipped you into a sleeveless and tight woven gown and black heels that accentuated all your muscles and curves, as well as applied very basic cosmetics to just your face to make you pop.

Maybe this was a terrible idea.

But they don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, and shove you out of your room and down the hallways into the ballroom, practically throwing you through the doors…and directly into Alucard’s back. Turns out he had been waiting by the entrance for quite some time, making a bit of a scary scene for all the other guests who needed to walk past him towards the dance floor. He was looking for someone, and everyone hoped to God it was for a good reason.

You were able to brace your hands in front of you after being thrown into your good friend’s back, knowing that even someone with your strength could not stumble him. When he turns around, prepared to scold whoever dared try to shove him, you brace for the impact of a bullying laugh or a disappointed frown, wrapping your arms around yourself like a protective shield and looking down at his boots.

But you feel his gloved fingers wrap themselves around your hands firmly, removing them from around your sides and resting them atop his chest. He then puts a finger under your chin, tipping your head up to look at him.

“I was starting to wonder when my second-half would appear. Though I see you kept me waiting for good reason, now you have become even more dazzling than the moon.”

You gape for a moment, taking his words. “Your second-half?” you question.

“Of course, why do you think I asked my master to keep you by my side tonight? A King requires his fair beauty on his arm.”

The sincerity of his words and the admiration on his face nearly brings tears to your eyes, settling yourself against him in relief as he pulls you closer. Gone are all the nerves that have been biting at you all day, and you feel prepared to take on the world (or at least deliver a greeting address) with Alucard in your ring.

#hellsing #hellsing ultimate #hellsing alucard #alucard #alucard x reader #hellsing alucard x reader

[eldritch-spouse]

Shags get obsessed with a girl that works at an art store where he gets his supplies. She's laid back and chit-chats with him about any projects he's working on.

[Okay but what if you had a really strange thing going on?]

You like this little freak.

Yeah, okay, that's a bit of a mean thing to say. But can you be blamed? There's no word that fits him more aptly than freak. Not even in the physical sense, there's a lot of variety in mushroom monsters, you know some of them can be tall and gangly like Shags. He's just bizarre.

The way he speaks, moves, conducts himself. You swear, not a single mannerism this monster makes feels natural or reflexive. Even the way he seems to intensely wait and make himself an obstacle until you initiate conversation with him... God, even the fucking topics of conversation, it's like he makes an effort to speak in riddles.

In this rather boring dead-end of a job, seeing this weirdo bend and squeeze through the doors like Samara about to crawl out of the TV is the highlight of your shift.

That's why he's your favorite client.

He's been standing still in the same supplies isle for too long, you already know what he wants.

" Having trouble finding something, Mr Shags? "

As if, he probably knows this store better than yourself.

In fact, he outright told you he used to be a client before you started working here.

He murmurs a response too quietly to interpret, forcing you to come closer. And, predictably, as soon as you are within grabbing distance (not hard to achieve when you're a lamppost of a monster featuring branch-like arms), a spider hand slithers onto your shoulder. It's cold, he's always a little cold.

You're urged in front of a shelf, his head looming over yours.

" Ahh, I need your honest opinion on something... If you don't mind? "

This is the paints section, a mural of hues that hurt the eyes.

" Sure. "

" What shade of orange do you think I should get? "

You love these questions. Because never once does he elaborate on what he's creating or why he wants you to choose. It's happened many times before. What size of canvas should I get? What pen should I get? What sketch books should I get?

You like the strange autonomy of getting to pick, offering him the same level of context he does to you.

Absolutely none.

" Alloy. " You point.

Shags reaches towards it with little effort, snagging several little containers with his root-like digits. The hand on your shoulders tightens.

" What a choice. Thank you very much, my dear. "

" No problem. "

It takes a bit of shifting before the hand on your skin is lifted.

You stroll back to the cash register with a small smile and occasionally observe the monster in the same way you'd study an animal at the zoo.

It's strange how little he moves sometimes. Initially, you thought it was just so he wouldn't drip ink everywhere, but it seems to be a part of him now. Blending in with all his other vaguely creepy mannerisms. Mr Shags gets all his items at a snail's torturous pace and finally, finally approaches you.

" How are the latest projects going, Mr Shags? " You start while scanning the paints first.

The shroom actually seems to frown for a second. Fingers busy on the balcony. " Not as smoothly as I wished... "

Tap tap tap.

" My latest muse and I, our chemistry, I'm afraid it has no substance. "

" Oh? " Your eyes deviate to his face for a moment.

" Yes... Something tells me it's time to move on. But I do want to honor our time together with one last, preserving piece. "

Tap tap tap.

" Mhm. Sounds good, I hope the next one works out. " Frankly, you're not sure what he's talking about, but you usually never are to begin with.

" Me too. " Then he smiles again, and you get the distinct feeling his stare has turned into a more scrutinizing one.

Far from the first time, it doesn't scare you like it did initially.

It's pretty funny, actually. You started out thinking this guy was some kind of loser looking to harass you, to intentionally make you uncomfortable. Nowadays he's more of an entertaining almost-friend.

Tap tap tap.

" Will that be all, Mr Shags? "

" Shags. "

He's told you to call him just by his name a couple of times. You always ignore it, but he keeps trying anyway.

There's a silent beat.

During your first years of work, the lack of action would have made you antsy enough to break the silence, which is what you know he wants you to do. But now, you have no trouble staring back placidly until he continues the conversation.

Apparently, the shroom enjoys that continuous challenge, because his grin widens slowly.

" You have a peculiar facial definition. " He eventually rasps.

A nothing statement, not quite a compliment, not quite an insult, definitely said to confuse and prompt a question. One you don't give him the satisfaction of hearing.

" Thanks. " The customer service smile has an edge of playful smarm this time.

Tap tap tap.

" ... I would enjoy sketching you sometime. Your facial expressions are intriguing. "

This is essentially his way of asking you out, you presume.

" You've drawn me before. "

He's even given you the pages, pencil depictions of you caught in a selection of moments. Mostly bored to tears and staring at the little universe between the cracks in aged walls.

Shags tuts. " It's quite different when the muse in question is part of the experience. I much prefer it that way. "

You can't help the hint of a snicker that tugs at the corners of your lips as you bag his items to hurry things along. Not that there's anyone else inside right now.

" Mm. And what if we don't have good chemistry? "

The shroom monster hands you his card, not even caring about hearing the total.

" I think we both know that wouldn't be the case. "

Tap tap tap.

It's only a few moments of intentionally creating suspense until you hand him all his new belongings and card.

" See you soon, Mr Shags. "

His grin only twitches for a delightful glimpse of a second before he carefully takes his possessions and leaves.

Playing with fire is fun.

One day, you'll get burned.

#Shags oc #tce rp ask