#swampy speaks

[swampthingking]

“if tsc isn’t jerejean i don’t want it”

y’all are ungrateful shits — i can’t even imagine being so entitled and fucking weird about a story we never expected to get. nora is literally gifting this to us and y’all are only focused on a ship that was pulled from buttfuck nowhere ?????

i could say more but i do not care enough, weirdos like the people who say that are the reason nora took a break from socials. just pisses me off

— a fellow jerejean shipper but also someone who values the importance of jean’s story as HIS OWN person (something he was NEVER allowed to be)

#tsc #the sunshine court #on fandom #please #please shut the fuck up #(and leave us alone) #jerejean #hot take #aftg #swampy speaks

[strrwbrrryjam]

watching, listening to a rain and wind storm: Good ✅️✅️✅️

being in a rain and wind storm:

Bad❌️❌️❌️

#im soaked through. and cold. my feet are swampy i cant wait to go home and shower #strawberry speaks

[darker-soft-starker]

Yo.

#i have wandered out of the swampy marshes of the last few months #ash speaks #i live

[supercantaloupe]

omg the stylist gave me an undercut today i feel so light and jaunty and free

#sasha speaks #tbh it is going to be SO so nice not having hair on the back of my neck #my hair is thick and it is SWAMPY here in the summer so this is going to be so nice

[arolesbianism]

The sadness and agony that emerges everytime I start a new oni save and am forced to remember what it's like to have a dupe without a hat only to put them in a hat because I think they'd look cute only to remember hats make half of them look bald but I spent this long maxing out a skill for them so Im too stubborn to back down and remove the hat

#rat rambles #oni posting #it wouldnt be nearly as much of a problem if dupes didnt all have the same like 3 faces that I suck ass at differenciating at a glance #the amount of times Ive mixed up my maes and nikolas makes me sad Im sorry mae no one should be mistaken with nikola #if I knew how to acess the animation files Id be tempted to make a mod to change it but I dont so Im not #but imagine how cute itd be if abe and nikola had their side spikes stiking out from the sides of their hats #couldnt save the super short haired ppl tho sorry ren ari travaldo turner ruby and probably others too #speaking of my ari I keep mistaking my hassan for ari even tho I dont have an ari yet sorry bestie #hes my main storage and cleaning guy which is the role ari is in my other save #anyways the new save is continuing to go well even if things have slowed down a lil #I managed to get my salt water guiser up and running even if its a very lazy approach of basically just cooling it in a tundra biome #but itll work for the time being until I can get plastic from either drekos or by tapping into my oil biome #Im going for drekos rn since I have a lot of them around but if I can get some atmo suits set up quick enough I might just dive for oil #mainly because I want natural gas for a gas range tbh especially since I started farming waterweed as well #along with duskcaps so I already have access to the ingredients for several high quality gas range foods if I can get one running #now that might be a bit hasty but also I havent actually set base on the teleporter planetoid yet and both the transporters are right there #and I managed to find the sender on my main planetoid so I could pretty easily send over high quality food as a nice start up #this mostly tempts me because theres also a distinct lack of particularly easy to farm plants in the immediate vicinity of the teleporter #which doesnt mean there Wont be food but it does mean that quite a bit of digging will likely need to be done #with is also made tricky by the lack of early settlement oxygen sources available #and while I could theoretically send oxygen from the main colony Id rly rather not until I can get a spom or two set up #which leaves oxyferns and rust as the main oxygen options there until reliable water is found #now one thing I could do is fully transition my main base to getting all its oxygen from a spom and then send the rest of my algae over #my main thing is just Im not rly sure where I wanna put my first spom #I just simply dont have as many options as Id like due to being surrounded by mostly swampy and jungle biomes #not that I couldnt build there or dig them out its just Id rly rather have atmo suits first #which since I am very early in my dreko farm will likely take a lil bit #which also brings up the problem of getting my metal refinery up and running so I dont have to keep using the rock crusher #Ill probably just slap one in one of my tundra biomes as a short term solution but long term Ill probably have to take a shot at a proper #industrial sauna once I get plastic

[13atoms]

Handsome and a Genius (Spencer Reid x F!Bau!Reader)

Inspired by that one scene in x files where mulder stands like a himbo looking handsome and being the future of beauty. you know the one I mean

Summary: Spencer’s overactive brain draws more attention than it ought to on a case, and you see him in a new light. 3k words.

Contains: hostile witnesses, spencer being clueless (but an absolute babe), friends to lovers. (No offence to Florida im sure it’s very nice, reader is having a bad day, and I am far too British for that kind of heat)

The sticky Florida air had long since plastered your clothes to your skin, leaving you short of breath and with the unpleasant feeling of damp hair against your scalp. The whole team had groaned at the revelation their next case would be in the outskirts of Miami, and as soon as the plane door opened you understood why.

You were hot, and grumpy. The salty, swampy air made you feel disgusting as you approached witness after witness. There was a serial killer operating in and around mobile home parks in the area, with the two most recent murders taking place in Royal Biscayne Trailer Park, both over a week ago. While the rest the team spread out across the other crime scenes, you and your partner had been dispatched to this one.

It was a world away from Quantico: sun-bleached, dense, full of plastic and palms instead of concrete and maples. Nonetheless, the principles remained the same no matter where you were. Take everything in, speak to everyone, suspect everyone. Stepping in and out of trailers gave you very little relief from the heat, although respite from the sun pounding down on you was a welcome break.

Dr Spencer Reid stood a short distance away, shielding his eyes with his hand as he contemplated the sea of trailers around him. He’d stared around as you drove into the park, something faraway in his eyes as he memorised every detail from the safety of the SUV.

Now he stood close to you, heads inches apart as he whispered so that only you could hear. He faced one way, you the other, and you could focus on his words knowing that Spencer was watching your back.

“These things all come equipped with the same locks, at least each model does. If you recognise the trailer home, you know how to pick it. It’s fairly trivial, for someone with some basic industry knowledge.”

You hummed through pursed lips, surveying the small crowd who had gathered to gawk at a pair of FBI officers on their turf.

“And that would be true of all of the trailer parks… we know he’s got a common MO.”

“Exactly.”

“You reckon someone in the industry, then? A salesman? Maintenance guy?”

Spencer rolled his neck, stared up at the sky for a moment. His curls were long at the moment, damp at the name of his neck, a little frizzy in the humidity.

“Not necessarily.”

“It’s quite specific,” you agreed, “anyone operating as a common thief around here would have the knowledge too. We could be talking about a classic escalation – burglar to home invader to murderer?”

His eyes snapped from you to his phone.

“I’ve asked Garcia to check out any patterns in robberies, home invasions… the locks are hardly scratched. We know he wears gloves, cleans his tools. This guy knows what he’s doing.”

You nodded, surveying the street again. The sun was glinting off of white plastic, making you squint. You worried for Spencer, the heat and the light wouldn’t be doing his headaches any good.

“You want me to take that?” Spencer was saying, and you snapped your attention in the direction he was gestured.

There was middle-aged man a little way forward of the crowd, shoulders hunched, hands entwined. Nervous. He had the tan of someone who lived here year-round, not a big believer in suncream, with tanlines when he removed his hat and glasses to speak to you.

“I’ve got it,” you murmured, and Spencer nodded.

It was an unspoken part of your partnership, that Spencer liked when you started conversations with witnesses. You liked that he trusted you, trusted your skills, never questioned whether you’d done the right thing when you spoke to people.

Instead he remained a short distance away, climbing up the front steps of someone’s home for a higher vantage point to survey the place.

“Hello, sir. Can I help you?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you. You said you’re with the FBI?”

The man had a tip, and it was an interesting one. A rumour spread throughout the HOA about someone trying the locks at night, the sound of metal against the doorways, silhouettes against frosted glass. A few people even had security camera footage, though nothing identifiable. It was great. You gave him your card, told him to get the footage to you asap.

It must be terrifying, you realised, to hear that kind of noise in the night. To be so close to danger, after a neighbour had been killed. The local sheriff’s department seemed frustrated by the interest the case was garnering – frankly you were amazed the story wasn’t bigger. There was no small amount of comforting involved in the conversation you had with the witness, and soon enough a few more people stepped forwards from the crowd. All seemed middle-aged, likely transplants to the sunshine state, and equally shaken.

When everyone’s stories had finished, they stood in silence for a moment. You frowned, noticing their gazes slightly misaligned.

Spencer.

He was stood at your shoulder, sharp gaze flickering across each face of the gathered residents.

“This is my colleague, Dr Reid. A few of you have already met, I believe.”

“You know,” he began, “the socio-economic factors influencing the way we think about crime in mobile home communities are fascinating. Often trailer parks are stereotyped negatively in the media, and because they are generally cheaper to live in than traditional housing estates, and that can foster a sense of shame or isolation for residents. Transient populations can also make community policing and security difficult, and anomalies in the patterns of everyday life become more difficult for people to subconsciously spot.”

You held your breath, and tried not to look worried at the reaction of the small crowd. Instead, you focused on Spencer. He was speaking with his hands a lot today.

“But I think the assumptions we tend to make about trailer parks completely overlook the very nature of living so close to your neighbours. There is a sense of community in living so closely, as evidenced by the conversations we’ve been having today. I’m not sure whether the killer understands that, or is exploiting the former theory that places like this allow for more deviations from the way we implement traditional security in communities. An unsub might hold some sort of resentment towards trailer parks, or some specific resident in his past, or perhaps he’s simply exploiting how incredibly easy it is to simply walk up to a mobile home and slip the lock open with a humble mass-produced lock pick.”

He was greeted with a sea of blank faces, littered with the occasional frown. Finally he looked to you. You caught the furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders hunched into himself, the clutching of his elbows to his body.

Oh, Spencer.

“That’s really interesting!” you tried to say, but Spencer was already backing away.

“Anyway, I’ll, um, leave you to it.”

“Thank you, Dr Reid,” you called after him, as he fled, disappearing into the shade of a nearby trailer.

 Your heart ached for him a bit, but you pushed that aside. Instead, you had a sea of potentially offended retirees to keep on side.

“God, what I’d give for a brain like that,” your witness laughed, his linen shirt straining under the movement.

You couldn’t help smiling, a little relieved the tension had broken.

“It’s not often someone has a face like that and a good head on their shoulders,” one of the older ladies piped up.

You found yourself looking over your shoulder at Spencer, his profile sharp as he looked down the road, deep in thought.

“He’s certainly a rare breed,” you agreed fondly.

A number of the crowd were following your gaze, and someone in you wanted to snap them out of it. Stop them from staring.

“He actually has an eidetic memory. Once he’s seen or heard something, he remembers it perfectly, forever. It’s incredible.”

“Oh, my goodness! I can hardly remember my own email password!”

“I wouldn’t mind if he hung around me and talked like that all day, even if I didn’t understand a word of it. Though perhaps he could use a haircut…”

There was a chorus of agreement and various coo-ing which seemed to occupy the entire scale from grandmotherly to entirely inappropriate. You couldn’t help staring at Spencer a moment longer, wondering if he was truly oblivious, or simply pretending to be.

A rare breed.

You were certain you’d never met anyone else like him. Certain you felt like a better version of yourself in his company. That you’d trust him with your life, that you searched every room you entered until you saw him. Watched the elevator doors each time they opened, all morning, until Spencer walked in.

You were certain you’d felt giddy the first time Spencer insisted the two of you would work together, alone.

 “Imagine knowing that he’d remember everything, forever…” one of the women was saying, her eyebrows raised in a way you didn’t particularly enjoy.

You cleared your throat, and hooked one hand over the badge at your waist.

“Unless anyone has any further leads, we’d better be on our way…”

The group silenced, and watched you dutifully. You passed out a few more cards, reiterated how dedicated the team was to stopping this killer, and gave out a few promises that there would be a police presence after dark throughout the trailer park.

When the request for any further questions was met with more glances towards Spencer, you thanked your witness, and made a beeline for the car. After only a few seconds Spencer was beside you, jogging to catch up.

“All done?” he asked, and you smiled at the question.

“I think so.”

You started the engine and both waited with the doors open for the car to cool down. The department’s penchant for black SUVs was not helpful when the sun was so vicious. Feeling the heat themselves, the group of residents had dispersed into a few groups, wandering into one another’s homes to continue gossiping.

“God, I’m disgusting,” you lamented, “sorry for the sweat-smell. I might actually take a cold shower when we get to the hotel.”

Spencer was already waving you off, leaning into the car to mess with the AC. Through the open door you saw him groan at the heat, swiping a curl from his face.

“I’m afraid to raise my arms. It’s so humid, I’m not sure why anyone would retire here. High humidity aggravates a number of chronic conditions, especially respiratory ones, which are common in older people. Not to mention the skin cancer…”

“And it ruins your hair,” you teased.

Spencer faked a gasp, and reached for a damp, limp section of his hair.

“I mean, look at it!”

You laughed, and rolled your eyes at him, nothing but fondness settling warm and tight in your chest.

Surveying the road in front of you for one final time you saw a few curtain-twitchers, but no new faces. You climbed into the car, wincing at the heat. The seatbelt buckle was burning hot, and you swore as it burned your fingers.

“I always forget about that,” you grumbled, slamming the car door closed.

“You know, if you fasten your seatbelt after you get out, it stops the metal getting hot and burning you,” Reid offered, and you rolled your eyes at him again.

“Gosh, doesn’t it get exhausting being right about everything?”

Spencer went quiet, and all you heard was the click of his own belt. After a few moments the car was cool and bearable, and your lungs felt like they could finally move again. The sat-nav happily talked away, and you started stealing worried looks at your partner once you’d returned to properly-maintained roads.

“What you said out there was really good, do you mind if we go over it again once we get to the station? I think it’s worth exploring.”

“I shouldn’t have said it in front of them.”

He was right, but you didn’t have to heart to say anything. That was the thing which made your heart twinge about Spencer – he was so insecure, and yet so self-aware, it was the worst of both worlds. Being an expert in body language was a double-edged sword.

“I don’t think they minded. Did you hear those old ladies talking about your big brain?”

Spencer didn’t laugh. He turned himself towards the window, curled up with his hand beneath his jaw.

“They were very impressed. So was I, for what it’s worth. I think we’ll make some really good progress on this profile tonight.”

He hummed agreement. Watched a vista of blurred blue and green and white going past the window. The radio was turned down to a low hum, you could hardly hear it. Silence pierced its way through and sound of mumbled songs and road noise.

“Are you okay?” you asked finally.

“I’m okay.”

You sighed. Tapped the steering wheel. Sped a little to get through an intersection on amber.

 “Spencer…”

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to ruin that for you I just… sometimes I think of things and it’s like I have to tell you.

“Spencer I’m not mad at you! Not at all! I think we’re both just tired, and too warm…”

He didn’t say anything.

“Honestly, I was worried you’d heard what those ladies were saying about you and gotten upset. It was inappropriate of them…”

“I didn’t hear anything. What did they say?”

Your gaze was focused on the road, but you met Spencer’s eye in the rear-view mirror as he watched your face.

“Just that you were a handsome young man. And that they wanted you to get a haircut, which I firmly disagree with…” you teased.

Spencer touched his hair self-consciously. He was still quite curled up, leaning away from you despite his interest in the conversation.

“That’s nice of them, I suppose.”

“‘Nice’ is an interesting way of putting it, but I’m glad you’re not upset about it.”

“When I was a kid, I read a book at the library about how to tell if you’re attractive. It was for women, all about makeup and stuff, but there was a section about what made guys hot. I could never figure it out, I just always thought I looked like an alien.”

The sudden change made you sit up straight, heart in your mouth as you rolled to a stop behind a queue of traffic.

“I think everyone feels like that sometimes. Being a teenager is really hard.”

 “I… yeah. I suppose so.”

“I always felt so jealous of the people who walked around looking perfect every day, confident that they were not. It just never came naturally to me.”

“Really? I assumed you were one of those girls in school who I’d be too afraid to talk to.”

You scoffed, and for a moment were struck by how little you really knew about one another. The way Spencer looked at you, looked it everyone, it felt as though he had an x-ray into every tiny detail of your life. How could he know, though?

“Of course not,” you laughed nervously.

You weren’t sure if you’d prefer Spencer knew the truth, or kept believing whatever he’d made up ini his head. You weren’t sure what any of this conversation meant. Traffic was moving. The precinct was two turns away.

“I’m not sure I believe you.”

He was teasing you. Finally he leant back in his seat, shoulders square to it, legs stretched out in the passenger footwell.

“Either way, I’m glad you can talk to me now. I’d miss it if you didn’t.”

“You might be the only person on this planet with that opinion.”

You took a moment to glance across the car at him, and caught a flash of a smile. He was joking. You released tension from your shoulders you hadn’t realised you were holding.

“I’m sure that’s not true. You’re a handsome genius, just like Barbara said.”

“Her name was Barbara?” Reid laughed.

You shrugged, and took the final turn into the precinct parking lot.

“I’ve got no idea.”

Even with the SUV in park, the aircon no longer blasting away, neither of you moved. Not for a moment, at least. A moment of peace before the chaos all began again. Just the two of you. Wherever you were, with Spencer was your favourite place to be.

“You’re the same, you know. A genius. And handsome…”

You frowned.

“Pretty! Beautiful. You know what I mean.”

“Handsome?”

In truth, you didn’t care about the words. Not at all. Not when your heart was pounding at the realisation Spencer had his gaze fixed on your lips, his eyes soft and pupils blown wide.

“Beautiful,” Spencer repeated, “You know, in a lot of languages, handsome can be translated for men and women. The word itself doesn’t have a gender. Guapa, for example, in Spanish…”

You let him talk, on and on. You decided you wouldn’t kiss him yet, while your hair was matted in sweat and Spencer’s face was brushed with sunburn and embarrassment.

“Bella is more popular in South America, though, or bonita. My favourite is Japanese, though. Kirei. To be beautiful both inside and out…”

Only a few more moments passed before Morgan arrived and banged on the glass with a wide grin and a sweat-beaded brow, announcing a break in the case. You were sorry for the interruption.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #fluff #fic #13atoms #im so sorry if this is ooc

[senseichaos]

IMAGINE...

FULL LENGTH IMAGINE!!

Alastor is low-key a psychopathic sadist in this so you've been warned

un-edited

Alastor predator / prey play.

In episode 3 you can see his room which half of is a forest-swamp-like interior. But what if it was a forest?

"Alright dear.. I'm going to ask you to run into this forest," he begins, teeth so largely grinning you can see his gums poking in it. His eyes glow darkly and he leans in slightly closer "And I'll chase after you, and when I catch you.."

His scleras turn a black and his horns begin to grow. You shiver, shirnking away from him as he speaks. His words come out distorted, a thin crackling accompanying them:

"I'll delight in your body, no matter if you scream and cry.. I'll tear every piece of innocence from your pliant figure many times until you admit that I own every piece of you.." he trails a single claw down my chin, causing you to gulp. His eyes send you into a sort of trance, their deep red shine making your knees weak.

"Sound good, my fawn?" He asks, eyes softening as he brushes his hands through your locks.

You nod. You shouldn't have. But you did.

And then he lets go of you, smiling manically as you shiver under his gaze. Alastor licks his lips, black tongue poking from his lips. You cry beneath your breath, already feeling a sort of terror go though your body even though he hasn't commanded you yet.

And then he does

"Run" he growls, and you're off.

You run despite your shaky legs and aching feet. You jump over logs and rake yourself through bushes. You don't once look behind you, and Alastor doesn't seem close by, anyway. So you take a sharp turn, almost tripping in the process as you run in that direction; I hope that this decision means that he'll be far behind. Perhaps you could even find a place to hide.

A sudden rustling comes from a bush to your left, and this stupidity causes you to look towards it as you run; with this uncaring look comes a consequence: you trip over a root on the swampy forest floor, making your body shoot forward and fall into the grass. You cough rather loudly, shaking your face as you attempt to get up.

Ouch.

Fuck. Your ankle is twisted to shit. How are you supposed to run? You look around wearily, dragging yourself across the ground by your arms to try to find any sort of hiding place in this barren wasteland of trees and small bushes.

Then your ears catch a noise.

It's stomping. You hear stomping.

"Little fawn? Come out for daddy.." Alastor says, walking nearby.

You feel a terror shoot from my body, and you shuffle away as fast as you can. To get behind anything. You see his silhouette to your left, so with a determination you crawl (or rather shimmy) behind the nearby bush.

Fuck, the bush rustles as your body passes by it, and Alastor is now looking in your direction completely. From his silhouette you can see that he isn't in his regular form. No. He has those large deer horns poking from his head, and his upper body is larger as is the rest of his body.

And there's that glow. That glow of his red irises and Yellow smile as he looks. As he looks in your direction. As he looks in your eyes.

You are suddenly appreciative that Alastor isn't in his full demon form. Or he may rip you shreds by his claws. He doesn't stalk towards you yet. He just smiles wider, not breaking his eye contact whatsoever as he just stands.

But before you could even pry yourself from his gaze, he's running.

You scream, trying to stand but your ankle buckles beneath you; this makes you fall on your chest as you glance wearily backwards. Just as you glance backwards, he's on top of you.

You scream rips through the air again, feeling searing pain go through you as he rips your clothes up to shreds. He doesn't care for the fact his claws leave scratches and marks against your back, all he cares for is ruining that innocence you harbour. When you whimper he aggressively pushes you down so your face hits the ground and your arms lay splayed next to you, laughing to himself as he tears your panties off of your mound harshly. He flips you over again, wanting to see your dirty face after it's been shoved into the ground.

"Little fawn.. how drenched you are~" Alastor purrs, dragging a clawed finger through your wetness. The sharpness of it just barely stimulates your clit, causing you to moan as you attempt to close your legs. Alastor doesn't like that. As soon as he sees you attempt this he forces his hands around your thighs, pushing them open until you cry out in pain from the force.

"Don't test me, little fawn.." He growls, his gums showing from his manic smile. It makes you aroused in a way you can't describe. For a moment he looks at your ankle, which is bruised from the fall you took. What you didn't expect is for him to grin at this, before shifting his eyes back to your own teary ones.

"you seemed to have twisted your ankle my dear!" He leans down his nose barely brushing against your own as his claws dig into your plush thighs. "That means you can't run away.. how convenient for me," Alastor growls, finally moving one of his hands from your thigh so he can wrap his hands around your neck, forcing you to tilt your head backwards. This gives him the opportunity to bite into the area where your neck meets your shoulder.

First he just licked the area with his black tongue, causing you to shiver at the way his gaunt body leans over you. Then he barely nibbles the area, making you squirm in a way that Alastor doesn't like. He digs his claws further into your thigh as a punishment.

And then without warning, he bites down, his teeth sinking completely into your shoulder. You scream out, tears falling down your cheeks as you shake from the sheer pain of it all. When he starts to withdraw his teeth you scream again, sobbing loudly as the pain shoots through your entire body.

When he fully withdraws, he just smiles, admiring his work. Blood pours from the wound quickly, and you could feel yourself losing a lot of blood.

Thankfully, Alastor loves you enough to not kill you. So he withdraws his hands from your neck and clicks his fingers, the blood moving back into your body before a bandage appears on it.

"Can't have my fawn bleed out, can i? What would Charlie say!?" He laughs, his black sclera darkening as he wipes away your tears. You whimper like a dog, lower lip wobbling as you open your eyes. You and Alastor just stare into each other's eyes for a moment, taking in each other and each other's flaws. He is smiling, you are crying.

What you fail to notice in this moment is Alastor unbuckling his pants, pulling his cock from the confines of his boxers and pants so his tip barely kisses against your entrance. When you notice this you whimper, trying to draw yourself away from him. Though Alastor just pulls you back by your twisted ankle, causing you to gasp in pain from the way he does it.

"Little fawn, there is no use in running away from me," he tilts his head, licking his lips as he presses the tip of his cock flush at your entrance. "You've been caught already, my dear!" He laughs, and without warning plunging his cock into your entrance.

You scream his name, moving your hands to cover your mouth. Alastor laughs, his black tentacles appearing from the ground to pry your hands from your mouth, holding them down. "It's much more fun when I can hear you scream for me, isn't it dear?" He laughs, drawing his hips back before thrusting harshly into your core again. You moan, teary eyes rolling backwards with a sort of agonizing pleasure.

"How tight you are, Little fawn," He says, pushing your thighs into your chest so he has better access to your holes. Each thrust he gives you makes you moan loudly, though Alastor doesn't even so much as grunt. He just grins as he watches your innocence leave you with a prideful gaze.

"S'too much! Fuck!" You yell, feeling his tip brush against your cervix painfully. Though Alastor only laughs, closing his eyes and laughing as he speeds up his thrusts. The tentacles around your arms tighten as you attempt to move them, Alastor's brows furrowing with his laughter.

You couldn't even understand his motive anymore. Is he enjoying having you beneath him? To the point where he humors it?

"Oh, how funny you are my little fawn," He says, moving one of his left hand from your thigh to wipe away a tear of laughter. As he puts his hand back on your thigh he tilts his head, speaking: "But I already said I don't care if you want to stop,"

"You already agreed to this, didn't you?" He says, and you scream with a painful pleasure.

"You wanted this."

His thrusts become manic in pace and you can't help but give up on moving. He's in complete control of you now. He's in control of your feelings, he's in control of your thoughts, he's in control of your body, he's in control of your pleasure. He owns you now. And there's nothing you can do but take it.

You'd take anything he'd give you.

With a whimper and a sob you cum on his cock, walls clamping around his length as he bites his lip. He watches your face the entire time, a snarky and prideful look on his features as you come loose around him.

Once you finish, here comes that horrible overstimulation that makes you gasp for air. How has he not came yet? You had no answer.

"My little fawn, too bad I cannot breed you. I guess this will just have to do.." he says, serving you one last harsh thrust as he empties his load inside of you. And he cums a lot, like- a lot a lot. You can feel your stomach bulging every so slightly with his cum as he leans down, kissing your cheek.

"Oh thank God," you sigh, happy that the sex is finally over.

"God!? Ha!" He laughs pulling out of you.

You begin to sit up, but Alastor's tentacles hold you down. He tuts, grinning as he presses his cock head against your anus.

"Who said we were done, Little Fawn?

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#proship #senseichaos #antishippers dni #senseichaosdrabbles #proship fanfiction #alastor x reader smut #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor #alastor smut #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel smut

[probablyasocialecologist]

John Barnett had one of those bosses who seemed to spend most of his waking hours scheming to inflict humiliation upon him. He mocked him in weekly meetings whenever he dared contribute a thought, assigned a fellow manager to spy on him and spread rumors that he did not play nicely with others, and disciplined him for things like “using email to communicate” and pushing for flaws he found on planes to be fixed. “John is very knowledgeable almost to a fault, as it gets in the way at times when issues arise,” the boss wrote in one of his withering performance reviews, downgrading Barnett’s rating from a 40 all the way to a 15 in an assessment that cast the 26-year quality manager, who was known as “Swampy” for his easy Louisiana drawl, as an anal-retentive prick whose pedantry was antagonizing his colleagues. The truth, by contrast, was self-evident to anyone who spent five minutes in his presence: John Barnett, who raced cars in his spare time and seemed “high on life” according to one former colleague, was a “great, fun boss that loved Boeing and was willing to share his knowledge with everyone,” as one of his former quality technicians would later recall. But Swampy was mired in an institution that was in a perpetual state of unlearning all the lessons it had absorbed over a 90-year ascent to the pinnacle of global manufacturing. Like most neoliberal institutions, Boeing had come under the spell of a seductive new theory of “knowledge” that essentially reduced the whole concept to a combination of intellectual property, trade secrets, and data, discarding “thought” and “understanding” and “complex reasoning” possessed by a skilled and experienced workforce as essentially not worth the increased health care costs.

[...]

By now you know what became of Swampy: He was found dead a few weeks ago with a gunshot wound to his right temple, “apparently” self-inflicted, on what was meant to be the third day of a three-day deposition in his whistleblower case against his former employer; his amended complaint, which his lawyer released last week, is the basis for much of this story. It is worth noting here that Swampy’s former co-workers universally refuse to believe that their old colleague killed himself. One former co-worker who was terrified of speaking publicly went out of their way to tell me that they weren’t suicidal. “If I show up dead anytime soon, even if it’s a car accident or something, I’m a safe driver, please be on the lookout for foul play.” 

#Boeing #John Barnett #neoliberalism

[dragonheartstring360]

Some notes for anyone writing a character with glasses, from someone who wears glasses everyday:

- glasses need to come off before changing a shirt, unless it has a really big collar. Otherwise, glasses will get ripped off by said shirt collar.

- weather will affect how well you can see out of them, especially rain. Raindrops will dot glasses and it’s like trying to drive a car in the rain without working windshield wipers. Snow sometimes does this too, but not as bad, and lots of dust kicking up will make glasses dirty and foggy. If it’s humid enough (talking like swampy, Deep South levels, weather app says “90-100% humidity”), glasses will fog up when you step outside. If it’s crazy windy, glasses can fly off and the character should hold onto them or take them off and put them somewhere safe. They’ll usually get dirty or break in a pants pocket, so maybe have character carry around a sturdy glasses case if needed.

- not all materials are good for wiping glasses off. Some shirt materials just make it worse.

- if your character’s glasses are super dirty or smudged, they will be able to see it 24/7 as they look around and it’s annoying af.

- although glasses can keep things from getting in a character’s eyes (like something that’s been sprayed), it doesn’t protect our eyes all the time, especially if it’s coming at an angle or there’s a large amount. For that, you’d need actual safety glasses or goggles (and yes, they do make prescription goggles, but they’re not cheap).

- speaking of waves, for the love of god, DO NOT have your character swim with their glasses on. At best, they’ll get wet and they won’t be able to see. At worst, if they’re forced underwater or an ocean wave smacks them in the face, they’ll fly off and/or break.

- a crack in glasses is actually annoying af and makes it very hard to see.

- if a character’s face is wet, like from sweat or a ton of rain, their glasses will continuously slide down their nose and they’ll need to keep pushing them back up.

- lots of liquids other than water will make glasses opaque.

- glasses should be fitted pretty well to a person’s head. So if the character’s face is dry or there’s a moderate amount of wind, the “legs” that go behind their ears should be tight enough that they don’t just constantly fly off or slip down their nose. If they do, they’re too big (but obviously something a tornado will make them fly off).

- although I hate the whole “they took off their glasses and now they’re a ✨ model ✨” trope, people do tend to look very different with glasses on vs off - especially a character like Harry Potter who constantly wears their glasses. It’s not unrealistic that people who don’t know the character well (or even those who do, but just aren’t as quick) won’t recognize them at first without their glasses.

- as far as I know (correct me if I’m wrong, but I’ve never been able to do this), if a lens pops out of the frames, it can’t be popped back in by non-professionals without the right tools. The glasses are just done for.

- if your character has contacts in (or this is a psa for anyone who wears contacts), DO NOT have them rub their eyes. The contact will pop out and they’re very translucent and tiny, so trust me, it will just fall and be lost forever.

- being able to see clearly out of one eye and not the other (like with a broken/missing lens or a contact falling out) causes headaches.

- glasses are expensive af in the US (idk about other places). One time when I didn’t have vision insurance, an eye exam and two frames with lenses (I have blue eyes and very extreme light sensitivity, so have to have prescription sun glasses as well as regular glasses) cost over $900USD. If you want the special frames that become tinted and basically turn into sunglasses when you walk outside, it will cost extra.

- speaking of those lenses that become tinted when you walk outside, they take awhile to fade back to normal after you go back inside. Your character needs to be prepared to still be “wearing” sunglasses for the first 5-10 minutes after they walk inside.

- if a character is wearing contacts, they can wear normal sunglasses. If not, they’ll need special prescription sunglasses to be able to see. You cannot wear prescription sunglasses with contacts in or you won’t be able to see anything. Ever tried to look through your friend’s glasses and everything’s weird and warped and giving you a headache? That’s what it will look like.

- not exactly glasses related, but people with lighter colored eyes will always have worse light sensitivity than people with darker eyes. I have very blue eyes and looking up at the sky on a sunny day will literally make me see stars, and especially if I’m driving towards the sun while it’s setting, I have to have my sunglasses on or I literally will not be able to see and tears will be leaking out my eyes the whole way home.

- speaking of prescription sunglasses, unless your character can see pretty far without their glasses or they’re far sighted, you cannot just take prescription sunglasses off and still be able to see, especially while driving. You just have to deal with it and keep the sunglasses on and look like a Matrix wannabe if it gets cloudy or starts raining, or you have to do the super speedy Dance of Death where you’re still watching the road in front of you, taking off one pair of glasses and putting the other on super fast (which usually requires you to use your mouth to open and close things).

- GLASSES ARE FRAGILE. Seriously, a very petite person could sit in them and snap them in half. They’re not something you want your character just throwing around.

- there are varying levels of how well someone can see. There’s farsightedness and nearsightedness. Some people don’t have that much trouble and can see pretty far, so only wear their glasses as needed. But some people (aka moi) can genuinely only see a few inches in front of their face. Like if I ever lost my glasses or they broke, I’d be done for. I wouldn’t be able to work or drive or do anything around the house.

- glasses need to be replaced about once a year because of possible prescription changes or sometimes lenses losing their strength and becoming harder to see through. Trying to tough it out after long enough will give your character headaches/migraines and sore eyes from eye strain.

- some mascaras (especially thick ones) will smudge glasses when the character blinks. Same with false lashes (although they’ll brush instead of smudge). Usually less intense mascaras and shorter fake lash lengths are better.

- eye makeup is harder to see with glasses on.

- please, please, PLEASE stop using the whole “omg look how much prettier/more attractive they are without their glasses” trope. Not everyone’s eyes can handle contacts and some people prefer wearing their glasses. And it makes those of us who prefer glasses or have to wear them feel like shit, especially because there aren’t a lot of characters with glasses in media who don’t become the butt of a joke (ie the one wearing glasses is the “ugly duckling” for it like in princess diaries, or like Velma from scooby doo always losing them and patting around, or people who wear glasses will always be some sort of dorky/insufferable know it all).

- glasses come in all shapes, sizes, and colors and can be used to actually enhance a character’s style! Some of them even have magnetic frames that click in place over the simple pair, so have fun using glasses to build your character’s style.

- edit to add: no one ever purposely falls asleep with their glasses on. You will crush and break them when you roll around. However, if a character does accidentally fall asleep with them on, a love interest gently taking them off so they don’t wake them up and setting them on the table next to them can be a super cute moment.

- whoops thought of some more. Hair products, especially hairspray, can be a bitch to get off glasses and doesn’t always just rinse off with water. If they’re spraying anything, including dry shampoo, the glasses have gotta come off and get out of the line of fire first.

- hair can and will get caught in the little hinge by the legs and we do occasionally not notice till we take our glasses off and rip a hair out of our heads.

- be careful when you comb or brush, cuz if the glasses legs get caught in the brush or comb, it will be ripped off our face.

Hope this helps! May the writing gods bless your work 🤓

#friendly neighborhood writer #writer things #writers on tumblr #fanfiction writer #writers and poets #ao3 writer #writerscommunity #writing advice #fanfiction writing #creative writing #writing #fanfic writing #psa #glasses #characters with glasses

[ooffmlsorry]

Baby, It's Cold Outside

A/N: I swear I'm gonna work on my prompt posts after this but it was unexpectedly cold today and I was not ready 😭

Your feet crunched loudly underneath you. The snow comes up to your shines, forcing you to take high trudging steps. The wind is throwing snowflakes into your face, and your tears live short liquid lives before turning to ice on your cheeks.

So far, your first experience with snow is...hell on earth.

If hell froze over, that is.

The rest of the crew were completely comfortable in the weather, but what could you expect? The navigator was a polar bear after all. Someone had said something about part of the crew being from the frigid North Blue, which was suddenly beginning to make sense.

"There's gotta be something wrong with him," you muttered into the scarf wrap around the lower half of your face. It was swampy and damp against your skin, collecting snot and condensation from your breath. Disgusting. But at least it kept your lips and nose from going numb.

The plan was to rendezvous with the rest of the crew on the other side of the island. Bepo was leading the others across, and as the next best thing to a navigator, you were to guide and stay with Law to wait for them at this shabby excuse for a cabin.

You surveyed the white wasteland outside the window. A sheet of startling blue sky loomed overhead. Speaking of Law, you turned to look at your captain just slightly behind you. You couldn't read anything on his expression, but the fact that he didn't look nearly as miserable as you told you enough.

The shack you waited in had nothing except four walls and a fireplace--trees for firewood not included.

"How do you stand this?!" You say. "I'm so cooold!" The end of your whining turns into fake sob.

"Keep your eyes ahead, y/n-ya," Law says. The slight upward pull of his lips turns the neutral resting bitch face he normally has into an amused smirk.

You exaggerate your pout, "that's all I get?! This is my first time in the snow and it's awful! I'm freezing!"

Law chuckles. "It's not my fault you were raised on a tropical island."

Law only wears his hat, a coat--the same one you remember him wearing on Punk Hazard--and a pair of gloves. He's practically naked compared to your hat, gloves, scarf, dense coat, and wool snow pants.

You sigh loudly, your shoulders slump miserably in front of you. Law watches you with a twinkle in his eyes that causes warmth to bloom across your face.

The look in his eyes belays a fondness he normally hides.

He's enjoying this.

"How long do you think it will take the others to get here?" He asks you.

Business as usual, then. You walk back over to the shack's window to observe the sky.

"There's still no sign of clouds. In fact, snow blindness might be an issue for the rest of the crew. They're walking on a plateau, far away from any slopes so they won't have to work against any winds. I'd say three hours? Maybe a little less since some of you are cold weather natives." A draft blows cold winds through the cabin, making you shudder all the way down to your toes. "I can't wait until we literally blow this popsicle stand."

Law wraps his arms around you from behind. His front flush to your back and his chin resting on the top of your head.

"Oh?"

You lean in to him and stuff his hands into your front pockets so you can hold them. Gloved fingers intertwine. You have just enough room to lovingly stroke your thumb across the back of Law's hand. A wordless thank you.

"I won't listen to you complain about how cold it is for that long." Law's voice rumbles from. "I'll warm you up."

You watch the snow drift and dance in the wind through icy windows. You never knew the ice crystals people spoke of were truly crystals, until you saw them on the window. The last time you saw the sky this blue was back on your home island. Cloudless and comfortingly blue.

"It's actually kind of pretty," you say quietly.

"It can be," Law responds. He surprises you further by pressing a kiss to your temple. "You were too busy freezing your ass off to notice."

#one piece x you #one piece #trafalgar law #law x reader #one piece x reader

[mechaknight-98]

Beastmaster’s Bond I (NSFW) Ft Chaehyun

Author’s note: well I guess it's a series now. I suppose that's what I get.

Part II, III, IV V

After the doctor's appointment, Marshmallow and I made our way back to the Zoo, greeted by surprised expressions from our fellow employees upon our arrival.

"Dino, why are you here? You're supposed to be off," Zahir exclaimed with raised eyebrows as I strolled alongside Marshmallow.

"Well, Chaehyun needed my assistance with the logistics of relocating 'her Magnamallo' from its former spot to here. But fret not, I've already sorted it out with her. I'll be taking my two days off as planned," I reassured Zahir, who nodded and wandered off. Chaehyun looked at me with surprise as we continued doing rounds with the others.

Chaehyun regarded me with a mixture of surprise and amusement. "That was smooth," she remarked, her smile betraying her astonishment.

"Years of practice. I've learned how to navigate tricky situations," I replied nonchalantly, earning a grin from Marshmallow.

"I can't believe I underestimated you," Chaehyun admitted.

"Trust me, you're not alone in that," I replied calmly.

"I'm just shocked you didn't call me Marshmallow. I was expecting you to stumble because I don't think you ever learned my name," Chaehyun quipped.

"I knew it the whole time," I responded

" So why Marshmallow then," Chaehyun asked with surprise.

I face her squish both of her cheeks and she responds, "Okay fair, but don't you want a skinnier girl? I mean..." she starts but before she can any further with that line of thinking I interject

"Don't finish that thought. I like you the way you are. You're sexy as fuck and if I didn't like you the way you are I wouldn't have fucked the shit out of you twice," I respond

"That was crass..., but thank you," Chaehyun responded with a smile.

I shrugged as we strolled through the zoo. Fortunately, the chaos from yesterday had subsided. Deciding to be prudent, I decided to check in on all my "sons" while we were there: Dino (our Glavernus), Sparky (our Astalos), Raptor (our Valstrax), Alucard, Swampy (our Almudron), and Frozone (our Goss Harag). Frozone, known for his perpetual chill demeanor (pun intended), was always the last stop.

Entering Frozone's enclosure, I found him looking considerably calmer than the molten rage he had exhibited the day before. Chaehyun trailed behind me, her eyes widening at the sight.

"I think this is the biggest Goss Harag I've ever seen," she exclaimed with excitement.

Frozone, with his ever-languid gaze, tracked our movements as we approached.

"Hey, Dad," his expression seemed to convey.

"Hey, son. Feeling better?" I inquired.

"Yeah, just tired. I see you've brought someone new," Frozone observed.

"Oh yeah, this is Chaehyun," I introduced.

Chaehyun waved enthusiastically. "Hi, buddy," she greeted, eliciting a mirrored wave from Frozone before he resumed his lounging.

"He seems so lethargic. Is he okay?" Chaehyun asked, concern evident in her voice.

"He's perfectly fine. Goss Harags aren't naturally active creatures, especially in warmer climates. Their low activity levels help conserve energy, particularly in intense intense climates they often find themselves in. If we had another male or female, he might be more lively, but for now, he's just chilling," I explained, reassuring Chaehyun.

"Don't make me do laps again, Dad. Please, I've been watching my weight," Frozone interjected with a glare.

"No need for laps, son. People just aren't accustomed to seeing such a big Goss Harag," I reassured, chuckling as Frozone gave me a thumbs-up.

"Wait, can you communicate with them?" Chaehyun asked, astonished by Frozone's behavior.

"No, they can't speak. But after spending so much time with them, I've come to understand their behaviors and gestures, so it's more like a silent conversation," I clarified.

"That's incredible. I've never seen megafauna that was so... chatty," Chaehyun remarked, her fascination evident.

"Well, they all are. You just have to be willing to listen," I reply.

"You are a marvel you know that right," Chaehyun asks as we leave the enclosure,

"Really How so," I ask confused as we head to Tony's enclosure.

"You're attachment to them as like family almost is remarkable and the reciprocation between you and them is amazing," Chaehyun responded as I opened the door.

"Well, I don't treat them like objects which I see a lot of people do.", I reply, "I raised all of them since their birth, They are my sons, whether adopted or not," I add firmly. Chaehyun steps back and her eyes narrow.

"be careful using that tone," She chides.

I turn back to her and my eyes narrow, "and why is that?" I ask with an even more fiercer tone. Chaehyun looks at me with eyes full of lust and desire.

"Because I'll make you a father again she says." she tries to steady her breath. She closes in on me and puts my hand in her pants near her clothed pussy. "Feel how wet I am! You keep talking recklessly and I will make you put a baby in me," she states erotically. I fight tooth and claw not to pounce on her.

"You're insatiable," I reply teasingly.

"And you're such a tease," Chaewon growls, as she moves to corner me putting a hand under her shirt and forcing me to cup her left breast as we stare at each other. I smell her arousal and it spikes mine. Our eyes unfocus as we fall deeper into our mutual brewing lust, but I fight my more primal urges and turn back to the task at hand.

We walk into the enclosure and Tony is growling at Chaehyun.

"Why is she here? she reeks of wildfire," I see Tony "says"

"We are working on bringing you in a playmate," I respond.

"What kind of Playmate?" Tony "asks"

"it's a surprise," I say as Tony "glares"

"What's he saying?" Chaehyun asks,

"Oh he smells female Magnamalo on you," I explain, "So he's a little apprehensive," I respond. Chaehyun nodded and then said to me

"I can leave." to further iterate her point walked out of the enclosure. That left me with a text from her saying to measure Tony and measure the enclosure. Annoyed I called her

"What is it dear," she asked cheerily.

"dear, at least by me dinner first," I teased

"ha ha very funny caveman," Chaehyun responds.

" I do try, but um Chaehyun I know Tony's measurements by heart, along with the enclosures. I did have to build it after all so that's not all you wanted me to do right," I respond to Chaehyun

"You built the enclosure,"

"Yep and oversaw most of the other ones except for megafauna that was directly given to specific crew members, but even then I was consulted for help," I answer

"Why didn't Old McDonald..." Chahyun started

"E, I, E, I, O" I interject

Why didn't he give you the keys to the place as it seems you did everything," Chaehyun asked confused

"Well if I am being honest from my perspective. he wanted to turn this into a major research facility along with a zoo. I hate labs so he hired someone who could do the lab parts and push his dream further," I reply

"That's funny my father was the opposite. He wanted to be closer to the megafauna and was always trying to connect with them on a primal level." Chaehyun responded

"So we are a match made in heaven then for our mentor dreams I guess," I joke

"I guess so," Chaehyun responds laughing.

"So we good?" I ask.

"Yeah. Let's go," Chaehyun says with a smile. We left to go to the main office where Chaehyun had already set up shop. As soon as we sit down Chaehyun gets a call. her eyes go wide as she takes it then the call ends.

"I need to go back to Korea. They need me to help hatch and Elder Dragon," Chaehyun said she looked at me with conflicted feelings, "How fast can you get a passport?" she added.

"Probably not fast enough," I responded

"Shit," Chaehyun growled.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #kep1er smut #kep1er chaehyun #chaehyun smut #chaehyun

[swampthingking]

tired of people shitting on fanfics and fanfic writers. i saw myself and what a relationship could look like for the first time from a fanfic. the main character was a trans man who hadn’t had top or bottom surgery and hadn’t started T, and to see him treated as a man and “idc if u have these parts, if you say you’re a man then you’re a man.” for his identity not be second guessed made me feel like wow i finally have hope that someone could accept me romantically, which was something i had been denying myself.

and that opened my mind to imagining what a relationship could look like with another person, because i used to be so spooked that nobody would be able to love me because i don’t “fit” into a binary (which is a larger topic that i have spoken about w my therapist and don’t feel like going into rn), and i had never seen ANYWHERE anyone who could write a character that i connected with on such a profound emotional level, even down to what the dysphoria felt like— that was emotional, and eye opening, and fucking relieving. like, i thought i was alone in this feeling, but obviously someone had to have felt the things i feel in order to write it so explicitly and so beautifully. and oh my god?? my experience as a trans person is valid and is here, on the internet, for people to read and to relate to, and to see in fiction as a character who is allowed to live and love and yeah.

and i could go on for ages, but for now i just have to settle for a thank you. so thank you to fanfic writers, if i could kiss all of you on the forehead i would

#fanfic #fanfic writing #fanfic writers #swampy speaks #on fandom #trans people are hot and sexy

[asamiontop]

Supercorptober - Wild or…

Captain Underpants (also on Ao3)

Lena: Text me when you get this.

Kara squints at the message. If she narrows her eyes to slits, the photonic assault hurts her eyeballs less. The text is from Lena, so she answers right away. Doesn’t matter that it’s far past late at night and still hours away from early morning.

Kara: hey got your message. what’s up?

She thinks, mistakenly, that Lena will be asleep. She hopes, misguidedly, that that will afford her a few precious hours of rest herself. Her phone chimes and shatters that fantasy in its infancy.

Lena: Are you home?

That’s concerning. Even through the swampiness of fading inebriation and a blossoming hangover, Kara’s synapses spark to life at the idea that Lena may be in trouble.

Kara: I’m home. everything okay?

The response comes back so fast that Kara suspects Lena started typing before she’d even answered.

Lena: I’m coming over.

Kara glances blearily at her alarm clock. 2:47am. Something is definitely wrong.

It’s a testament to her body’s exhaustion that, despite the urgency, Kara manages to fall asleep. She jolts awake to the sound of cannonballs exploding in her ears, the echoes rattling around in her skull. Her superhearing is out of whack from the sleep or the alcohol or both and nearby noise is amplified a thousandfold. The resounding knock at her door sounds more like a battering ram than a fist.

“Kara?” Lena’s voice drifts through the apartment and all other noise seems to melt away. The soothing effect is immediate. Kara’s heart slides back down her throat and thumps in relief. She sags into her pillow with a sigh before she remembers the fact that Lena is visiting her at three in the morning.

Kara superspeeds to the entryway. She just barely reminds herself to touch down on the floor before unlocking the deadbolt.

“Lena!” Kara whips her door open. She’s prepared for the whole range of human emotion, perhaps some tears or sobs or panic or any external sign of distress.

Instead Lena greets her with pursed lips (puckered in that distracting way that accentuates the crisp line of her jaw), a tilted head, and brassy raise of her eyebrow. Lena looks as beautiful as ever in the middle of the night, but she certainly does not appear distressed.

She gives Kara an undisguised once-over.

“Hello, Supergirl,” Lena deadpans.

All the oxygen leaves the room. Kara’s anatomy doesn’t require much of it, but she still feels like she’s choking on the lack of air. Her eyes bug out and she momentarily loses all cognitive function as her half-drunk system begins a hard reboot into this new reality where apparently Lena now knows her secret identity. The corner of Lena’s mouth twitches victoriously and somehow that is what kicks Kara back to the land of the living.

Without so much as a warning, she snags Lena by the wrist and yanks her bodily into the apartment. It’s a whole miracle Kara doesn’t slam the door off its hinges as Lena stumbles past the threshold.

“Heh—Supergi—that’s funny—what, uh.” Kara squeaks, sounding totally normal. She whirls around to face her friend with a manic laugh and round, wild eyes, “W-what are you talking about?”

Alex teases Kara relentlessly for her inability to play it cool. As she scratches the back of her own neck only to realize that her hair is down and her glasses are sitting uselessly on her nightstand, then completely misses the wall she intended to lean against and surreptitiously floats to keep her balance, Kara admits that her sister may be onto something.

“Kara, please.” Lena’s eyebrow lifts so high that her forehead wrinkles to accommodate it. “Don’t insult me.”

She opens her mouth to speak but something about the way Lena’s regarding her—resolute and impatient, like she’s just waiting for Kara to catch up so they can move on— makes her snap her jaw shut. Kara abandons her remaining denial with a long exhale.

She can’t help but cling to a thread or plausible deniability though.

“What, um.” Kara clears her throat. “What makes you think that I’m—” her voice cracks on the words, so foreign to her in this context— “that I’m Supergirl?”

Instead of answering, Lena raises an unimpressed eyebrow. Wordlessly, she turns on her heel and heads for Kara’s coffee table. Puzzled, the superhero follows. She just about combusts when Lena flicks on the television.

There, in what must have been filmed by a cell-phone, is Supergirl, twirling through the air suitless and cape-less—wearing nothing save for a matching sports bra and boxers. Kara’s jaw unhinges. She thinks her eyes hurt from how wide they’ve gotten. Supergirl’s hair is blowing freely in the breeze and she looks absolutely delighted as she corkscrews aimlessly above the city, half-naked and carefree.

Kara watches in horror as the video zooms in shamelessly on her butt. (Rao damn The Fruit for stuffing their mobile devices with such capable cameras.) This, mortifyingly, is precisely where Lena chooses to pause the coverage. She clicks the remote, freezing the frame on a screenful of Kara’s backside, and points an elegant but accusatory finger at the blown-up image of Kara’s favorite underwear.

It’s not just any old set of underwear. These ones are indescribably soft and comfortable. They fit just right, snug in all the right places, and they are adorned with a bizarrely adorable pattern of cartoon potstickers, puppies, and chopsticks. Most precious of all, they were a gift from one Lena Luthor last Christmas.

Kara ventures a shifty glance at the CEO, whose eyebrow is still quirked expectantly.

Stupidly, Kara blurts the first thing occurs to her. “That could be anyone.”

A second eyebrow climbs to match the first, shifting Lena’s expression from confident to incredulous in a single movement.

“I—I mean,” the superhero stammers, “it’s a really cute pattern a-and maybe Supergirl got herself the same set you bought me.”

Lena’s eyes close slowly, patiently and she shakes her head. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she mutters, “I don’t see how that’s possible.”

“Why not?” Kara demands, incomprehensibly committed to her flimsy excuse. “Lots of people like potstickers and puppies!”

“Because they are custom, Kara.” Lena’s head tilts sharply and she skewers the blonde with a pointed look. “I had them custom-made for your gift.”

“Oh.” Kara blinks. “You did?” Her voice ticks up at the end, betraying how oddly touched she feels at the gesture.

Lena appears exhausted but at least somewhat amused now. “Yes. Did you think I happened to fortuitously stumble upon the exact combination of all your favorite things printed on the exact type of undergarment you happen to favor?”

“Um… yes?” Kara shrugs even as the feeble defense crumbles around her. “You can find anything on the internet nowadays.”

Lena sighs. “Kara.” The super’s eyes lock on hers and Lena deliberately drags her green gaze down Kara’s front and slowly back up.

The hint of heat in Lena’s eyes isn’t lost on the Kryptonian, so her face is already two shades pinker than normal when she follows Lena’s stare down her own body.

Her cheeks flame up fully at the visual reminder that she is in fact still wearing the offending undergarments and precious little else.

“Oh.” Kara swallows. She is fully on display for Lena—not only mostly undressed, which induces its own type of stirrings in her belly, but also in clothes unmistakably identical to the superhero frozen on the screen. It’s four coincidences too many.

“Oh,” Lena parrots, nodding once.

Kara’s arms cross instinctively over her bare stomach. She’s ashamed. Not of her body, but of attempting to keep up such a charade without a lick of self-awareness. Mostly, she’s ashamed of hiding the truth from the person with whom she’d most wanted to share it.

Frankly, it’s a monumental relief to be unshackled from her secret. Without the burden of her identity, Kara can truly give Lena her full self, share all the bits and pieces of her that have sat leaden and unspoken on the tip of her tongue for months. Now that Kara has the liberty to be well and truly honest, maybe she can finally entertain the budding intimacy and extra warmth that’s been building around her best friend. She’s never felt quite so enthralled to be the focus of someone’s gaze before and maybe if—

Kara shakes her head, clearing away the cobwebs of hope. There’s a very different reality to be faced right now.

Casting an anxious glance at her feet, Kara flexes her toes and reaches for the grounding sensation of the grain in the hardwood.

Kara swallows thickly, mind alight with all the wrong turns this revelation can take, all the covert ways her secret could have already poisoned their relationship beyond recovery.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles, forcing her voice to remain steady even as she collapses into a defeated heap on the couch.

After a few seconds of silence, she gathers all the courage in her rapidly accelerating heart and glances up for Lena’s reaction.

Once again her best friend surprises her. Lena doesn’t seem mad or hurt or resentful. She looks… perplexed, if not a little exasperated.

“What exactly are you apologizing for?” Lena asks slowly once their eyes lock.

Kara senses her own crinkle bunching between her eyebrows to match Lena’s. “For keeping this from you,” she answers dejectly.

Lena’s eyes widen and Kara rushes to justify herself. The explanation clambers out of her of its own accord, gathering momentum and volume like a snowball rolling downhill.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you so badly, Lena. For months! You’re one of the most important people in my life! I trust you. I–I can’t really explain it, but something about you has always made me feel safe. I just, I felt like I knew you from the moment we met. And that feeling hasn’t faded at all. In fact, it’s grown stronger. I think maybe it’s even become—”

Kara stops short of broaching that subject and launches up off the couch, beginning a proper maniacal pacing across her living room floor.

“You didn’t even need to but you went ahead and proved to me and Supergirl and everyone in the world that you are even more noble and good than I imagined. You are so incredible, Lena. Of everyone I love, you deserve to know this part of me. But—but this superhero thing is so complicated. There are all these rules with the DEO and it’s not always safe for the people that know my identity and—”

“Kara—”

“—and as much as I wanted to be completely open with you, I couldn’t risk you getting hurt. I can’t. I won’t. So then—”

“Kara, darling.” The endearment smashes sideways into Kara and brings her ramble to a skidding, screeching halt. “Stop talking.”

Dumbstruck, Kara does. She turns back to Lena and nearly suffocates at the fondness she finds shining back at her. It’s accompanied by a dash of amusement and that same exasperation from before, but the affection is there and it’s so warm that Kara’s cheeks heat up to match. How Lena can still look at her like that after what Kara’s kept from her is… it feels unfair.

“I’m really sorry Lena,” Kara insists quietly, this time staring directly into those striking windows of sea-glass green and willing her to see how acutely she means it.

“Don’t be.” Lena’s expression softens even further and Kara wonders if this is how it would feel to live life as a lava cake. Airy on the outside and melty on the inside. Warm and delicious all over. It’s nice. Maybe she can get Lena to eat her if—Kara blinks out of her daze. Okay so perhaps she is still a teensy, weensy bit tipsy.

Lena doesn’t seem to notice her brief departure because she adds very earnestly, “I understand why your identity needs safeguarding. I can’t imagine very many people know this about you.”

“No,” Kara agrees, eyes seeking the floor again.

“Frankly, I wouldn’t have expected you to reveal something so sensitive to someone like me.”

The self-deprecation in Lena’s tone is unacceptable. Kara is about to protest that she wanted to—would have if not for the magical influence of Alex’s good sense—when Lena shrugs.

“And we’ve only known one another for a year. There are bound to be some secrets.” The next part is whispered, as if Lena doesn’t mean for Kara to hear. “God knows I have some.”

“Wait—” Kara teeters closer, itching with that Lena-fueled curiosity that swims constantly through her veins.

Lena’s eyebrow twitches haughtily and she smiles, reaching out to pat Kara’s hand. “Matters for another time, darling.”

She wraps her fingers loosely around Kara’s and guides them both onto the couch. Kara, ostensibly still in her underwear, pulls a throw pillow into her lap.

Without warning, Lena resumes the video. The frozen widescreen snapshot of Kara’s behind shrinks away mercifully to the top corner of her TV, revealing a smirking newscaster barely keeping her laughter at bay. Her brown eyes dance as she describes Supergirl’s latest antics in excruciating detail to whichever unfortunate souls are watching at this time of the night.

“Why are we still watching this?” Kara mumbles, hugging the pillow to her chest. Lena remains placidly silent.

Just as Kara thinks her public shaming is complete, a new video overtakes the screen. This one is shot from a much better—or incriminating—angle. Namely, a news helicopter hovering at altitude, level with Supergirl as she floats in lazy spirals then flutters hundreds of feet down, playful and giggling, before shooting back up and starting again.

Kara really takes the cake when she stops mid-somersault and flashes the camera an unfocused wave and a dazzling smile. ‘Up, up and away,’ the half-naked superhero slurs. Then she proceeds to plunge straight out of the sky, giggling gleefully as she falls.

“Oh god,” Kara groans as the camera swings wildly to chase her back into the frame. It finally catches up to her as Kara’s trajectory is intercepted by a green-black blur. She and the blur disappear in a flash of red and the video gives way to the newscaster once more, speculating about the inexplicable nature of her behavior.

So that’s why J’onn had showed up to fly Supergirl home.

“I…” Is there kryptonite in the room or is she just burning up from sheer embarrassment? “I don’t remember doing that,” Kara whispers, quiet as a mouse.

Beside her, Lena snorts. Kara swivels to glare at her but the image of Lena stifling a laugh into the tips of her fingers is entirely too cute to hold a grudge against. She pouts instead.

Eventually the CEO regains her composure and asks, exceedingly gentle, “What do you remember?”

Kara’s features scrunch into a frown as she replays the last several hours in her head. It’s somewhat blurry, but there’s a chronological consistency to the snippets of clarity.

“It… it was my night off,” Kara begins. A picture of Alex’s rowdy laugh shimmers to life in her mind’s eye and she smiles. “Sister’s night.”

Lena nods, smiles just because Kara did and that—that’s really something. Her heart does a happy little flump. Then she remembers.

“That’s why I didn’t have my supersuit!” Kara snaps her fingers. “J’onn told us he had everything covered tonight. He said we should take the night to really unwind.”

Lena’s unimpressed little ah sets Kara into a guilty grimace. “I… don’t think this is what he meant he meant by unwind,” Kara admits.

“Probably not.” Lena agrees. It’s a gentle admonishment and a flat tease all in one and Kara is too busy thinking that Lena is miraculous to be at all bothered by the joke at her expense. “What did you two plan for sister’s night?”

“Well… Alex came over and we had a few drinks. I remember she brought some sort of alien punch or something. I don’t know what was in it but it was really yummy. I… got a little drunker than I meant to.”

Kara omits the part where she ignored Alex’s warning about the potency of said beverages because ‘I have a Kryptonian metabolism Alex. I’ll be fine.’

“Oh. So this…” Lena gestures vaguely in the direction of the television. It’s paused on another unflattering view from below and Kara wrinkles her nose. “Was alcohol-induced?”

“Yeah…” she admits, dragging out the word.

Lena raises an eyebrow. “And… voluntary?”

“Um. Yes.”

Lena regards her for a long moment, then releases a gargantuan breath. Her shoulders fall with it, settling almost one full inch below where they’d been twisted in tension since she arrived. “Well that’s a relief,” she exhales.

“It—it is?” Kara tilts her head.

“I thought you’d been poisoned.” Lena looks at her sharply and Kara swallows. “I was… concerned.”

The flash of vulnerability in her eyes is as close as Lena gets to chastising her, but Kara still feels it like a punch to the gut. It doesn’t take much work to put herself in Lena’s shoes, to imagine the sensation of the ground dropping out from underneath her when a slew of worst case scenarios take up residence in her brain. Combined with the realization that Supergirl’s erratic behavior is also her best friend’s, it might just warrant the frazzled and urgent messages in the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry,” Kara winces. “I promise I’m okay. Just a bit hungover, probably.” She pauses thoughtfully. “If it makes you feel any better, you weren’t entirely wrong.” Lena’s brow furrows and Kara grins dumbly, if only to inject a little levity into the moment. “Alcohol is pretty much poison. I just, you know, did the poisoning myself. I had a great time.”

There’s a stifled snort sound again and then Lena’s chuckling, loose at last and shaking her head fondly. Kara melts into the angelic sound, into the familiarity and affection twinkling within.

“So long as you’re okay,” Lena adds.

“I’m alright,” Kara reassures. She reaches for Lena’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “I promise.”

Keeping their hands joined, Lena tips her head curiously. “There’s just one thing I don’t understand.”

“Yeah?”

“If you and Alex were home—here, then why did you leave without your suit on?”

“Oh, uh...” Kara thinks for a moment. “We went out at some point. Alex convinced me to go to Al’s—the alien bar—to meet up with Maggie—which,” Kara bristles and sniffs loudly, “was extremely generous of me, considering it was sister’s night.”

She glances at Lena for validation but her best friend just blinks placidly and waits. Kara pauses to wonder if she’s causing any sort of distress with all of the alien information she’s tossing her way. After a few seconds of Kara studying her, Lena finally raises her eyebrows in question.

“Sorry,” Kara shakes her head. “Anyway. We went to the bar and had a couple more drinks. And then—this is where things get kind of fuzzy.” Kara blushes. “Alex left with Maggie, I think.”

“Alex left you at the bar alone? While you were clearly not sober?” Lena’s face screws into a glare of disapproval. “That doesn’t sound like Agent Danvers.”

Kara barks a laugh at the formal form of address. “No, it definitely doesn’t,” she concedes. “I don’t think she actually left me though… I remember being in a cab. And then… um. Not in a cab.”

“Did the taxi drop you off at home?”

“No?” Kara wracks her brain. “I don’t think so. I remember wandering around a park somewhere and realizing I was lost. I know the city so well from above but down here I… get a little turned around sometimes.”

Kara’s cheeks flush at the admission but Lena’s fingers flex around her hand encouragingly and she relaxes.

“Anyway, when I realized I was lost I figured it would be best if I just flew myself home.”

The logic of the moment comes rushing back all at once and Kara feels the tips of her ears go from pink to red to redder. Lena, genius that she is, puts it together rather quickly.

“But you didn’t have your suit.”

“Yeah…” Kara affirms through a dry mouth.

“So you…” Lena begins, encouraging Kara to finish. She’s too embarrassed to even try. After several moments of nothing, Lena rips off the bandaid. “So you undressed to avoid being recognized?”

There’s an inferno blazing somewhere in this room, Kara swears it. She nods, not daring to meet Lena’s eyes.

A minuscule giggle reaches her ears and she breaks.

“I—I didn’t have a choice!” Kara whines. “It was late, I was lost, and my phone was dead and I, I… didn’t know what else to do!”

“Oh dear. Good thing you’re invulnerable.” Lena chuckles. “It's okay, darling.”

“It’s not!” Kara glares over at the TV. “I thought I was being clever. I even folded my shirt and my jeans and hid them in a bush, out of sight and everything! I figured no one would recognize me if I was quick about getting home so I took off but then…”

Lena looks at her expectantly, every bit the generous friend trying to keep her laughter trapped behind her pursed lips.

“Flying felt so good.” Kara admits, contrite. “I’m always wearing that gosh-darned suit with the long sleeves and the tights and just—the warm air felt so nice on my skin. Like the night sky was hugging me hello.”

She’s pouting up a storm now. “I really didn’t expect it. And, well, I guess I was just having a really nice time and my flight home accidentally turned into….” She gestures half-heartedly to the TV. “That.”

“Oh honey.” Lena extends one arm and Kara doesn’t hesitate to dive under it, hiding her face in the comfort of Lena’s shoulder. “It’ll be alright. It’s just a minor PR snafu. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“Alex is gonna be so mad,” Kara grouses, burrowing towards the enticingly familiar scent emanating from Lena’s skin, just a few inches away.

“Perhaps,” Lena allows, rubbing up and down Kara’s arm. It helps soothe the panic that comes with the knowledge of her elder sister’s impending fury. “But you didn’t hurt anyone. And the risk to your identity seems exceedingly low. Who else knows what I gave you for Secret Santa last year?”

Kara thinks back to the holiday, to the warm glow in her apartment and the people she loves gathered to share smiles and stories and gifts. “Just the people that were there that day,” she answers. “Alex, my mom, James, and Winn. And you.”

The memory of Lena glowing alongside her family makes Kara hum happily and nuzzle a little closer. Lena’s arm tightens around Kara’s shoulders.

“And is there any risk of them putting the pieces together from this video?”

“Well, that’s not really a problem,” Kara sighs. “My family has always known. James knew before I even met him because he’s friends with Superman. And Winn is the only other person I’ve ever told.”

She freezes, nervous that the reminder of being kept in the dark might cause Lena to put some distance between them. It’s the last thing Kara wants, to hurt her best friend. Besides, she’d quite like to stay right where she is, a scant inch away from the soft skin of Lena’s collarbone.

“There you have it,” Lena soothes, mercifully unfazed by the news of others that knew before her. “This hiccup should wash away with the next news cycle.” Lena pauses, tenses a bit. “Unless…”

Kara wriggles, prompting her to continue. “Unless what?”

“Have you…” the CEO clears her throat and from this distance Kara can hear her swallow uncomfortably. “Have you shown anyone else?”

“Shown anyone what?”

“This, uh, particular outfit of yours?”

“Pshh, no.” Kara scoffs and shakes her head. The movement brings the cold tip of her nose into contact with the heavenly warmth of Lena’s skin. Kara attributes the slight shiver that runs through her friend’s body to the shock of temperature difference. “Why would I show anyone my underwear?”

When Lena grimaces, the muscles in her neck tighten and Kara instinctively tucks her head closer to smooth the tension away.

“Well,” Lena begins, sounding a bit strangled. Her voice is lower, somewhat shy, and Kara is distracted by the way it vibrates against her forehead when Lena speaks. “If you… perhaps… brought someone home with you.”

“When I invite guests over I don’t include my underwear drawer in the tour of the apartment, Lena. That’s silly.”

“No—that’s not what I—hmph.” Exasperated, Lena finally makes herself clear. “I’m asking if you’ve slept with anyone, Kara.”

The superhero jolts upright, squeaking in surprise. “What?”

Lena clenches her jaw and releases it, taking a fortifying breath. “Have you been intimate with anyone recently that might’ve seen this set of underwear?” Kara gapes like a fish out of water and Lena rolls her eyes as she spells it out, seeming oddly pained. “Could they possibly make the connection between Supergirl’s appearance tonight and your identity as Kara Danvers?”

“Oh,” Kara breathes, struggling to sit still under Lena’s scrutiny. She peels at the fraying edges of her throw pillow. “Um. No.”

“Okay.” It may be Kara’s imagination, but it almost looks like Lena heaves a sigh of relief. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I…” the corner of her mouth twitches. “There hasn’t been anyone. Not since Mon-El.”

Kara considers the nights she’s spent with people she loves instead, the extra time that not having a love interest has afforded her with Lena and feels quite at peace with this reality. She smiles. “So I guess we’re safe on that front.”

Lena smiles back, closed-mouthed but still dimpled, and Kara feels like a lava cake again.

“See? You have nothing to worry about,” the CEO assures.

“Except—can anyone trace the purchase back to you?” Kara asks suddenly. “You said it was a custom order, won’t… won’t people think that you’re Supergirl?!”

Lena bursts into laughter at the suggestion. She howls for seconds while Kara dissolves into a panic at the idea of people going after Lena, mistaking her for the drunk Kryptonian.

“Lena, this is serious,” Kara admonishes. Lena just keeps on laughing. “You could be seriously targeted! I need—I need to protect you. Someone could try to hurt you if they thought…” her wild ideas get the best of her, spiraling out of control at the mere suggestion of increased attempts on Lena’s life.

Kara spaces out, flicking rapidly from scenario to scenario about how best to protect her best friend from this type of exposure. Maybe Lena should move in with her, so Kara can keep her safe all the time. If they share a bed, Kara will know she’s protected even while unconscious. Lena maintains an office at Catco, so the workday is covered. What about bathroom breaks, would those be—

A warm palm smooths over Kara’s forearm and squeezes until her tailspin slows to a halt. “Kara, darling. Come back.”

Kara blinks forcefully once, twice, three times, and then she’s planted firmly in her living room, staring once more at the overwhelming wealth of fondness in light green eyes. Those eyes crinkle around a smile as soon as Kara fully returns to her surroundings.

“You needn’t worry about me,” Lena assures slowly. Kara wrinkles her brow and Lena explains. “I went to a store in person to place the order and made my purchases with cash. The payment isn’t traceable to my name and no one recognized me, I’m certain of it.”

Face pinched into a frown, Kara shakes her head. “Are you sure? I won’t take that risk with you, Lena.”

“I’m sure,” the CEO smiles again and it’s nearly dazzling enough to distract Kara from her panic-fueled worry storm. “I appreciate the concern, but I doubt anyone would believe that a Luthor even knows what a baseball cap is, let alone wears one.” Lena tilts her head thoughtfully. “For that matter, I doubt anyone would believe that a Luthor could secretly be Kryptonian, all things considered.”

Kara scowls at the indirect mention of Lex, but considers Lena’s logic. She’s right in the end—short of a credit card receipt with Lena’s name on it or video footage showing her obtaining the exact same garments Supergirl is wearing, it’d be nigh impossible to make the connection.

“Okay,” she finally relents. “Okay. So now all I have to worry about is Alex’s wrath.”

The thought brings another grimace to her face and she buries it into her throw pillow. Alex is going to be so mad.

“I think Alex will be fine once we talk it through with her,” Lena offers. The ‘we’ wraps around Kara like a blanket before Lena’s arms encircle her with a comfort that Kara’s powerless to resist. She drops the pillow in favor of scooting back into her previous position, nestled into the juncture of Lena’s neck and shoulder.

They sit in silence for a few minutes as Kara recovers from her shame. The lateness of the hour and the steady drum of Lena’s heart lull Kara into a dreamy, half-conscious state and before she’s fully aware of herself she asks, “Lena?”

“Hm?”

The low hum of Lena’s voice in the apartment shrouds Kara in calm and she instinctively adjusts so she can press her nose and mouth the source of that heavenly vibration. Lena gulps and Kara is too sleepy to think anything of it.

“You aren’t mad?”

“Mad?” Lena repeats. “Why?”

“You’re not mad that I didn’t tell you my secret?”

“No, darling, I’m not mad,” Lena mutters softly and places a gentle hand on the side of Kara’s head. “It’s your secret to tell. What matters to me is that you’re safe. That’s all.”

The Kryptonian smiles and snuggles close. “Well, I’m really glad that you know now. And that you still like me. There’s so much I wanna tell you.” She pouts. “No more secrets for us.”

“Of course I still like you.” Then, most miraculous of all, Lena drops a soft kiss to Kara’s forehead. “You’re lovely, Kara. Being Supergirl doesn’t change that.”

Kara hums contentedly and drowsily returns the kiss wherever she can reach. Which happens to be the exposed jut of Lena’s collarbone. She notices a shift immediately—Lena’s muscles sing with tautness and her heart rate skyrockets.

“Lena?”

“Mm?” Her response is slightly high-pitched this time, even if the rumble of it still rolls through Kara like thunder.

“Why is your heartbeat so fast?”

“What—how can you even—oh. Superhearing. Of course.”

“Mhm,” Kara smiles, wondering languidly if Lena can feel her grin even if she can’t see it, ‘cause of the way Kara��s mouth is smooshed against her neck. Lena smells really, really good.

“You smell really, really good.” Again, Lena’s heartbeat ratchets up a notch. Kara frowns.

“Lena, you need to calm down.” Kara speaks right up against the source of the hammering in her ears, feeling the corresponding pulse pound on her lips. “‘S very loud. That can’t be good for you.”

“I’m fine, Kara,” Lena squeaks. Kara has her doubts but forgets them immediately when Lena says, “Besides, I’m with Supergirl. I’m as safe as can be.”

“That’s right.” Kara grins then places another sleepy kiss directly over that drumbeat, aiming to soothe it. “Shhh, i zhao,” Kara murmurs at Lena’s pulse point. “Settle down. You’re safe. It’s sleep time now.”

The next thing she hears after a hitch in Lena’s breath is the rich sound of Lena’s chuckle. “Did you just speak Kryptonian to my heartbeat, Kara?”

“Mm, yeah.” She’s beyond sleepy, half her cognizance has already yielded to unconsciousness. “I can never sleep when it’s loud like that.”

“What do you mean never?”

“I always check on you, Lena,” Kara nuzzles. “If your heartbeat’s too loud, I get worried.”

“You… you listen for me?”

Kara frowns again. Somehow this is only making things louder. Won’t stop her from telling the truth though.

“‘Course I listen. You’re my person,” she declares with a huff and drapes an arm over Lena’s midriff. “I dunno what’s bothering you right now though. You said it yourself, you’re safe with me.”

Lena sucks in a breath and holds it. Kara knows because she can feel the rise of Lena’s chest under her cheek and the way Lena’s throat works beneath her mouth. Kara noses against her neck, willing Lena to keep breathing and relax. Eventually she does.

Lena’s sigh comes out slow and measured and finally, her heartbeat begins to slow. She leans her head overtop of Kara’s. “I suppose that’s true.”

“Mhm,” Kara agrees. “Quiet now though, ‘s time for bed.” Lena nods above her and Kara doesn’t even deign to consider that they’re both still half upright on the couch. She does, however, remember a passing comment from earlier in the night.

“Lena?”

“Yeah?”

“Will you tell me your secret, too?”

In the ensuing pause, Kara hears the slowing beat do a stutter step in Lena’s chest. She nuzzles into it and Lena sighs once more.

Then Kara feels the warmth of lips pressed to her temple and suddenly her own heart is mirroring the pattern of Lena’s, clamoring for more of that soft sweetness against her skin.

“I think you might already know,” Lena whispers into her hair.

With the scent of Lena in her lungs and the softness of her friend in her arms and around her, Kara thinks she does, too.

(Morning finds them in the same position hours later, curled against one another on the couch. Necks stiff and backs crooked, they startle awake to a pounding on the door and an unmistakably familiar grumbling on the other side.

“Kara, you’d better be in there! What the fuck happened last night?!”)

--

#silly little ficlet #crack fic #i am not planning on doing the full month #i just found this in my drafts and it had the prompt so here we are #take all the potential angst and pretend it doesn’t exist #supercorp #supercorptober2023 #ficlet

[jaxon-exe]

Dp x dc prompt

When Damian was still with the league, Ra’s was not happy with his skills so put him to the test. A test which he failed. Ra’s saw no use in a failure as his heir so threw him into the Lazarus pits to kill him.

Only a minute later some unknown glowing entity shot out of the pit holding onto a barely living Damian.

On Danny’s side of things he had just been checking out a swampy area in the ghost zone, when he felt something was wrong and noticed the still living child in the sludge. Danny being Danny, dived in without thing of the consequences of diving into a boiling sludge pit of primal rage and murderous intent.

As a surprise to no one the pit did have an effect on Danny. It clouded his mind so much that he basically lost himself. He couldn’t remember who he was, what he was, he couldn’t even remember how to speak. All he could remember was that he needed to protect this kid and he would kill anyone that gets in his way.

Cut to when Damian goes to live with Bruce he brings along his first and most loyal pet. A murderous put demon that only listen to Damian and will ruthlessly slaughter anyone that tries to hurt him. 

#dp x dc #batfam #danny fenton #damian wayne #lazarus pit #ra’s al ghul #Danny acts like a cat #a murder cat #he’s super affectionate with dami #bruce wayne

[biblical-sense-and-sensibility]

Whispers on the Water

A lesbian faefucker adventure

It had been nearly a year since she had moved in with her grandmother to care for her in her old age, taking over what once was the spare bedroom in the woman’s almost cottage-like dwelling on the edge of the swamp. She had always found her grandmother’s home to be a very cosy space, all tucked away from the main road with vines of jasmine overtaking the outer walls and the gentle sounds of nature always playing in the background. It was peaceful out here by the swamp, and all the fond memories of childhood visits came back to the forefront of her mind as she settled in. Her grandmother’s warning was the same thing it had always been: don’t go into the swamp. Why not, she refused to say, but her granddaughter had always heeded the warning.

Except, the older she got, the harder it became to resist the call.

She hadn’t told anyone about the call, although her grandmother definitely knew something she wasn’t sharing with the rest of the class, so to speak. From the first visit she ever remembered all throughout her childhood, every time she had been to her grandmother’s house she felt the swamp calling to her, beckoning her closer, trying its best to lure her in. It wanted her to get her feet wet, let the water wash over her like an embrace and caress her, to touch her hands to the bark of the great cypress trees. When she was a teenager she started having dreams of the swamp, and even sometimes back home in the city the swamp would call to her in her sleep across all that distance, and whenever she awoke from one of these dreams it left her for the rest of the day with a strange sort of melancholic nostalgia, an almost physical longing for the lazy blink of the lightning bugs reflected in the murky water, unable to stop thinking about the feeling the swampy air left on her skin, the phantom smell of azaleas in her hair every time she turned her head, haunting her with a bone-deep ache, a bone-deep need for the gentle curtains of Spanish moss framing the fringes of her vision and the gentle lap of liquid against her bare skin. The dreams, and the pull to the swamp that accompanied them in her waking hours, left such vivid impressions in her psyche - she could practically feel the sensations of that peacefully eerie scene as if she actually stood at the edge of the water, even all the way back in her air-conditioned bedroom in the city.

She had had the dream every single night since she moved in with her grandmother, and finally the pull toward the swamp grew too strong to ignore. The serene, lethargic pool invited her closer, closer, let me touch you, let me caress you, let me envelop you. Finally one day she lost the battle, unable to resist any longer, and went and rented a canoe to take out on the water while her grandmother laid down for a nap. Tremblingly she put one foot in then the other, the boat rocking slightly as she shifted her weight, and then she took off, not entirely certain of any purpose or goal but to explore, to weave in and out of the cypress trees and listen to the insistent buzz of the cicadas. Some of the Spanish moss hung so low that it tickled the top of her head as she made her way through the trees, her oar making gentle swishing sounds as she dipped it in the water, and the further in she got, the greater grew the sense of peace that descended upon her. Being in the swamp felt so right.

She felt like maybe she should have been concerned when the sounds of cicadas buzzing and wind ruffling the leaves and other little noises stopped altogether, leaving her ears ringing in the silence, but she couldn’t find it in her to be all that worried about the lack of activity; she was content, almost sleepy, and the quiet did not bother her.

Her boat bumped upon land - a little island in the middle of the swamp. Intrigued, she pulled herself all the way onto the shore and disembarked, exploring the place. An alligator sat on a rock, pure black, and when it saw her approaching it stood up and began to walk away; she could have sworn it beckoned with its head for her to follow.

So she did.

It disappeared behind a fallen tree, and when she walked around the whole length of the thing and to the other side a woman-like being of some sort sat atop the trunk, a soft smile on its face.

“You’re late,” it said in a croaking voice, and when it opened its mouth it revealed crooked white alligator teeth. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to keep people waiting?”

It took a while for the spirit’s words to register; she was too busy taking the sight of it in - pitch-black eyes, hair of Spanish moss, skin a rich brown like the soil beneath their feet with arms and legs that became rough and dark with alligator scales, its hands clawed and its feet more reptilian than human, with a thick tail sprouting from its lower back. It was naked, one hand playing idly with the Spanish moss between its legs, muscular arm crushed against a full breast with a dark, erect nipple. She roused herself. “Umm. What?”

“Oh, my darling,” the creature stood and walked with outstretched arms over to her, caressing her cheek with the back of a scaly hand. “Why did it take you so long to answer my call?”

“Y-your call?”

It smiled again, “I know you heard it. I know you received the dreams I sent you. And yet you did not come.”

“That was you?” Her brows furrowed, and she put her own hand atop the one the creature had rested on her cheek.

“It was, my darling,” the spirit confirmed, stroking her cheek with its thumb and bringing its other hand up to her shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you for quite some time.”

The spirit’s grip was strong, but not necessarily painful, and she swallowed, “Why were you calling me?”

“You never guessed?” It sighed. “Oh, my love . . . ” and it kissed her. Short, sweet, a pause, then again, with its tongue this time, and she groaned into its mouth, entwining her arms around its neck. Its hair was soft and fluffy, claws sending pleasant shivers up her spine as they raked lightly up and down her back, eventually dipping underneath her blouse to avoid snagging the fabric. The soft black scales of its palms were cool and smooth against her skin, dry and silky and gliding so easily down her stomach, down her ribs, pushing down the waistband of her skirt. She gasped for air as the creature took its lips from hers and trailed them, feather-light and teasing, down her jaw and throat, nuzzling its face into the dip of her shoulder, squeezing a nipple between sharpened teeth ever so delicately, the careful pressure sending shivers down her spine and a trembling sigh from her parted lips. Adrenaline burst through her system deliciously, and she tightened her fingers in a fistful of hair in response, almost involuntarily arching up into its mouth. It trailed its claws down her back, ass, thighs, threading through her pubic hair; the pad of one satiny thumb pressed directly on her clit, and she gasped, tears springing to her eyes from the intensity and suddenness of the sensation - she felt the spirit smile on her chest.

“Darling,” it crooned against her sternum, stroking her ass gently as it continued to rub circles into her clit, grinning into her skin as she writhed underneath its ministrations, hands raking through soft strands of Spanish moss. Its other thumb found its way to her suddenly very wet opening, and it laid her down against the fallen tree as it slid in, biting her other tit to her almost whimper-like moan as her eyes fluttered shut. It massaged her entrance for a bit, then jammed two fingers in up to the knuckle, pressing right against her G-spot, and she choked out an even louder moan, chest heaving. She had never blushed this hard - she had never felt this good. Her cheeks throbbed with the rush of blood from her pounding heart as the creature kissed her nipple again softly and relaxed its hand, sliding its fingers in and out of her more slowly, more gently, pressing lazy strokes with the other hand across her lips, over the clitoral hood, through her pubic hair, then back down, back and forth. She swallowed and closed her eyes, writhing against the trunk of the tree, pinned in place by the spirit’s hands, not literally, necessarily, but with the sheer pleasure of it, the overwhelmingly sweet sensation. Its hair was so soft as she ran her fingers through the curly strands of Spanish moss, guiding its head across her throat and breasts trembling and pliant as the rest of her was, wracked by sluggishly moving waves of euphoria, washing in and out, in and out, like the lazy shore of the swamp, like the languid thrusts into her throbbing cunt. It built slowly this time, the creature being more careful and deliberate in its movements, until finally it spilled over like one drop too many dripping into a glass, and she gave a loud cry, arching up off of the tree as she clenched around scaly fingers before her whole body relaxed, come dripping down her leg and the back of the spirit’s hand. It let her catch her breath as the aftershocks washed over her, kissing her breasts and stomach gently as it stroked her thighs, and she slid onto the cool earth with a sigh, running trembling hands down its back as she looked into the sky, fading with the first hint of orange sunset.

“My love,” it sighed again, and she pulled it in for another kiss, stroking the base of its tail as she did so. It groaned into the touch, vibrating against her swollen lips, and before she knew what she was doing she had pushed it onto the ground and spread its legs, diving between them with a little half-growl.

The noises it made were delicious.

She stuck her tongue as deep up its slit as she could get it, scooping up its slick without a care in the world; it tasted like citrus and grass with a kick that made her whole mouth tingle and sent a spark shooting down her throat straight to her clit, making her clench her fingers tighter into smooth dark flesh, and the claws in her hair tightened in response. The little bush of Spanish moss tickled her forehead ever so slightly as she ran her mouth up and down every fold and crease she could get her tongue into, to delightful little croaks and bellows that rumbled down the creature’s torso almost like a purr. Its powerful alligator tail flicked like a twitching nerve, whipping the backs of her legs in a strangely pleasant way as it thrashed back and forth, thumping against the earth with every little whimper that came out of its mouth in between the more beastly sounds it made. When it finished, they sat back in the earth together, her face resting between its breasts, and closed their eyes.

When she awoke, it was morning.

She sat up with a gasp, calling out, “Grandma!”

The spirit sat up to see what was the matter, watching her search frantically for her clothes. “What is it, darling?”

“I only meant to be gone an hour or two, I left my grandmother alone all night!”

It simply watched her as she dressed herself.

The spirit escorted her, hand-in-hand, to where she had left the rented canoe, and as she got in it said, “You must come back soon, my darling.”

“How will I find this place again?” she asked.

“Trust in the water,” the spirit smiled. “My magic will guide you. I will see you soon, my love.”

“Goodbye,” she smiled back, and it kissed her one last time before pushing her boat into the water.

She thought, occasionally, that she saw a black alligator surface alongside the boat.

When she got home, her grandmother was at the table drinking coffee, a shawl pulled around her shoulders. “There you are!” she said as she caught sight of her granddaughter. “Where in the world have you been, young lady? You were gone when I woke up from my nap, and you didn’t come home for dinner.”

“I’m sorry, Grandma,” she sighed. “I didn’t mean to be out that long.”

“You didn’t go into the swamp, did you?”

Silence.

“Did you?”

A very quiet, “Yes.”

Her grandmother sighed through her nose, a long sigh, and took a sip of coffee.

“What do you know about the swamp, Grandma? Why don’t you want me to go near it?”

“Sit down,” the old woman gestured, and her granddaughter obeyed. She gathered her thoughts, then began, “I suppose it’s about time I tell you this. You see, when I was a girl, my older sister had a friend who was fascinated by the swamp. She told us she felt as if the swamp was calling to her. We all told her not to go in the swamp, our parents told her not to go in the swamp, it was dangerous, she could get lost, she could drown, she could get eaten by an alligator, she could get her boat caught on something and get stuck and be unable to call for help. But she didn’t listen. She went often into the swamp; at first it was only for an hour or two at a time, but then she started disappearing for longer stretches of time, even a few days, and eventually one day she went into the swamp and just . . . never came back. People went out searching for her, but they never found her, no living girl, no body, not even her boat. Eventually they pronounced her dead, although we never came to a satisfactory conclusion on what had happened to her; it was like she had ceased to exist altogether. My sister was convinced that the call she heard came from the spirit of the swamp, and that her friend had been killed by this swamp fairy. But we’ll never know. But what I do know is that the swamp is dangerous, and I don’t want to lose you like we lost that girl.”

It was silent for a bit.

“What did you see in the swamp?”

“Nothing,” she shrugged, her heart beating faster at the lie. “Water and trees and Spanish moss.”

“No swamp fairies?”

She laughed. “I’m going to go take a shower.”

“All right, dearie.”

So she did.

The very next day, she left to go take a walk while her grandmother was visiting with a friend and wandered back to where she had left the canoe, bringing it again to the water’s edge. Trust in the water, the spirit had said. So she let the boat go with the languid current, and she found her way again to the island, and there the creature was, waiting for her.

“My darling,” it smiled with open arms, greeting her with a gratuitous kiss. She began to speak, but it shushed her, taking her by the hands and leading her to a bed of soft moss, laying her down to a peal of sweet kisses, unbuttoning her shirt as it went. Its sharp-toothed grin at the discovery that she wore nothing underneath sent her heart aflutter, and she sighed at is ran its fangs teasingly along her tit, swirling its tongue around her nipple and hiking her skirt up to her stomach to reveal her bare pussy ready and waiting; it flicked her clit eagerly, and she sighed again, bringing a hand up to tug softly at the creature’s nipple as her eyes fluttered closed.

It bit her breast, clenching its jaws just barely not tight enough to break the skin, but tight enough to sting deliciously and push a little whimpering moan past her lips as it swung one leg over her hip, smooth reptile armour sliding sensually across her bare flesh. It did the same to her other tit, then licked into her mouth with a fury that made her groan in earnest as it rocked softly against her, causing a delightful friction between their legs, and they bounced softly in the springy moss. She threaded her fingers through the spirit’s hair and hooked one leg around its back, on top of its tail, teasing its scaly ass with her foot as it crushed her breasts against its palms. They were both dripping with pleasure at this point, their slick making everything slide together so deliciously as the creature’s tail went thump, thump against the ground, those same croaking bellows rumbling pleasantly in its throat and chest, almost soothing, especially paired with the way they rocked back and forth. It refused to take its mouth from hers, not that she would have let it go, her hands tangled tightly in the Spanish moss of its hair, and everything turned slow and warm.

They came at the same time, then the creature relaxed on top of her, its head on her heaving breasts, and she reached a trembling hand up to stroke its hair as they caught their breaths together, the creature’s tail still softly twitching against her legs.

Eventually she piped up, “Do you have a name?”

“I have many names and no name,” the spirit shrugged, sitting up and getting off of her to allow her to do the same. “I am simply the swamp,”

“Well, that’s fancy,” she laughed, hugging her knees to her chest. “What does that mean?”

The spirit shrugged again. “You could call me after the swamp, I suppose, but the essence that is this being you see was never given a name.”

“Could I give you a name?”

“If you like,” it smiled, pulling her in for a kiss, smooth scales sliding around her waist. “But do we need names?”

“Hmm,” it had successfully distracted her with those claws trailing lightly across her ribs - but not entirely. “My grandmother knew a girl who disappeared into the swamp,” she said. “Do you know what happened to her?” and she told the story.

The creature sighed through its nose, stroking its own thigh as it thought.

“Do you know where she is?”

“I do,” it smiled. “She is me.”

“What?”

“A part of me, at least.”

“What do you mean she’s a part of you?”

The creature pulled her into its lap, threading its reptilian fingers through her hair as she relaxed into it. “Every hundred years or so, I must renew my powers, or the swamp may falter.”

“How do you renew your powers?”

“I must absorb a willing life into my own.”

“Like . . . you kill them?”

“No,” it shook its head. “We merge our essences into one, and she becomes one with the swamp, another piece of the composite being that I am. The girl your grandmother knew, she lives on, in a way. Her legacy of preserving this magic is her survival, even if she no longer exists in a form recognisable as her. When you look at me, my darling, you look into the eyes of the swamp itself, shining with the light of thousands of women who loved it enough to dedicate their lives to it.”

She pondered for a beat, indeed studying the spirit’s pitch-black eyes. “Will you do that to me?”

“If you like,” it winked. “But it won’t be necessary for me to do so for another few years; your grandmother’s friend will sustain the swamp for a little while longer.”

“Okay,” she reached up to push its hair out of its face. “So, why did you call me, then?”

It chuckled softly “Why do you think, my love?” and it pulled her in for a kiss.

It felt so nice, the slide of its scales against her bare skin, the keen drag of alligator teeth along her throat, the tail thumping against her legs as it pushed her down on her back again and dove between her thighs like a prayer, that guttural growl vibrating directly against her clit and making her moan, unabashed, unashamed, uninhibited, just pure pleasure in the moment and not another care in the world. They made such pretty music together, the two of them, little wet sounds of its tongue slipping in and out of her cunt and her soft moans set against the backing track of its rumbling bellows. It pinned her in place with scaly hands, claws digging lightly into the flesh of her stomach, and she hiked one leg up over the creature’s shoulder, rocking up into its impossibly soft lips, her own dull fingers grasping for purchase on the spongy moss, eyes closed in bliss. Her cheeks felt so warm, next to the cool of its scales, her rapid heartbeat throbbing in her face, her bits, her tits, and before she knew what was happening she was clenching around its tongue with a loud cry, then she deflated, going limp like a wet rag, breasts trembling weakly as she caught her breath, reaching a shaky hand up to rest on the head of the spirit which migrated up her torso with a trail of sticky kisses, pinching one nipple delicately between its teeth.

Then suddenly its breasts were in her face, and she opened her mouth like an obedient toddler, sucking softly at woody flesh which tasted of salt and grass and something almost smoky, those claws running encouragingly down her cheeks and shoulders.

“Oh, my darling,” the spirit breathed, rocking gently as it straddled her hips.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else existed. The whole world was just the two of them on this island in the middle of the swamp, embracing each other as the lightning bugs slowly began to blink to life against the setting sun.

#monsterfucker #faefucker #fae fucker #monster fucker #nsft #monster lover #lesbian

[escapismmaxing]

mudwing headcanons

(PLEASE click on her she is so beautiful to me and tumblr kills her with hammers)

physical traits

another huge tribe; longer than ice wings, shorter, but very bulky and muscle-y (think alligator)

alligator is pretty much the keystone of my design for them, and also their design is probably the most canon compliant one i have (said moments before i go against this)

i do like the idea of giving them thicker tails, more adjacent to seawings than any other land dwelling tribe, and also just leaning into the swampy aspect of them more

depending on how aquatic of an environment they’re incubated in (and also depending on parent’s genetics) a mudwing can hatch with fins! it’s not entirely uncommon (fins smaller than seawing fins)

mudwings can have tail fins, fins running down their stomach, and their neck. this is distinct from seawings as mudwings never have fins running down their spine or fins on their limbs

mudwings have HUGE horns and ears to siphon heat away from their face

they also have a throat sac like icewings! they produce a variety of throat song, mostly akin to various frog sounds

also,,, tusks protruding from their lower jaw! (that i just realized i forgor to draw,,,,) this is used for foraging, and also agriculture (tilling soil, etc) which mudwings are particularly proficient in

mudwings also tend to have ecosystems growing from them,, algae and duckweed etc on their backs, necks, and tops of heads which helps camouflage them

speaking of camouflage,, colors,,,, well you know

mudwings only being brown is actually the most boring concept i've ever heard 😭so they’re not! brown is still the most common, green is also very common, muted reds, oranges, and yellows as accents float around as well

culture <3 (social structure)

okay i actually love the SCRAPS of culture content we have of the mudwings

so i guess i want to start out with family structure and community,,,

the whole “breeding night” is so fucking funny to me,,, and it’s staying. i will keep it. i think this can also coexist with courting and mating and committing to another dragon singularly, and maybe all mudwing communities just consist of really complicated polycules 

although parents aren’t always directly and singularly involved in the raising of their clutches, the adults still communally raise/look after the hatchlings, even if it’s somewhat from a distance

also, i think clutches know their parents and vice versa, even if there’s no special connection, you have to avoid incest somehow,,,,

so sib groups grow up together and rely on one another, like how it is in canon

if a bigwings egg is a “dud” and doesn’t hatch or is,,, abducted from the nest for the purpose of a false prophecy,,,, it’s actually really detrimental to the other eggs and can put them at risk to not hatch

clay’s sibs successfully hatching and growing up is,, a miracle im saying. the bigwings is the CRUX of everything. first to hatch, fastest to develop, grows the biggest, etc etc

i also think bigwings can produce fire at a slightly wider range of temperatures in order to keep their sibs warm if they’re ever under duress

on the topic of clutches and bigwings and,, everything

one egg clutches are considered crazy bad luck, and they need a lot of maintenance from an older dragon in order to actually hatch

if it’s feasible (like a clutch of a bigger size was laid on the same day) the single egg will be transplanted into that bigger clutch asap

also a similar feeling about 2 egg clutches, but it's not as bad

single and 2 egg clutches happen VERY frequently with hybrids, so often a hybrid will be in another sib group and all of their sibs go “yes they are us. oh they’re purple? they’re literally us what do you mean”

on the topic of hybrids, seawing and mudwing hybrids are insanely common, to the point where the majority of mudwings on that border are at least a liiiiitle bit seawing

there’s a lot of communal learning and passing down traditions in agriculture, farming, and animal rearing, and oftentimes a family farm is passed down from one sib group to another

(i don’t only make humble farmer mudwings though, there’s also a lot of artisans, scholars, the equivalent of dragon environmentalists, etc)

so moving away from family groups and stuff,,,,, onto wider society, let’s start with the royal family

mudwings pass the crown down from eldest daughter to eldest daughter, through a “royal” line

basically, one group of sibs has the crown, then the oldest/first clutch will be promised the crown, but it can very easily be abdicated and passed to a different clutch if the oldest clutch doesn’t want it or seems not fit to rule

there’s not a lot of competition for the crown because sib groups rule together, and the queen position really doesn’t mean anything, at most acting as a tiebreaker

obviously, sibs never fight sibs for the crown. that’s like speed running a revolution from the mudwing commoner population. but also, cousins don’t tend to fight either because of this strong wider communal feeling

fashion, jewelry,,

i think mudwings don’t have a lot of fashion/accessories because of how swampy and wet their environment is. royals will have jewels embedded into their scales (like moorhen) but even this requires somewhat regular cleaning to actually look,, pretty and shiny? so it’s not common

other jewelry consists of tight bands of wood and clay around horns, clay earrings, rings and armbands

clay jewelry is especially common! including clay beads that represents their sibs

clay fired earrings, strings of clay beads draped across the body, etc is commonly found

jobs! (and also a rant on cuisine apparently)

briefly touched on earlier, idk how much expanding i’ll do here tbh

farming is pretty common, crops including rice, cranberries, watercress, taro, water spinach, water chestnuts,,,, you get the point. there’s a lot of crops to be grown and mudwings grow them!

not in monocultures though, there’s a lot of mixing of crops on the same farmland

also with farmers, animals are raised! but closer to the less swampy edges of the kingdom

they’re still partially wild honestly, but mudwings rear cows and boars very commonly

so much of mudwing economy revolves around food, so they have a very robust cuisine, and they grow/trade for a lot of spices and herbs (with the skywings) and they have a lot of practices surrounding food/sharing of food being sacred

oh god.,,,, the tangent is taking over,, im so sorry

marriage!! i think when mudwings want to get married there’s a long string of cooking for one another!! back and forth making beautiful dishes for one another until they make a beautiful dish TOGETHER. god i love them

aside from farmers, a lot of mudwings are artists! they carve wood and make clay sculptures and jewelry as well as weave baskets and jewelry and thatched roofs from fronds and other wide-leafed plants

pottery is also common

tanners make leather from cow and boar hide, and bookbinders make books (after contact with pantala) and trade with sandwings for dried parchment

also butchers, cheesemakers (cows milk)

as well, the typical circle of scholars and nobles that keep rigorous records on the queendom’s history

and of course, royal diplomats

religions/superstitions

less superstitious than icewings perhaps,, but i do think they have some shared beliefs

perhaps just in a “mother earth” “all mother” type of concept? a dragon that gave them swamps, and then all other life came from swamps, etc

of course, the egg superstitions from earlier

there’s a lot of superstitions/outright magic about sharing food and the etiquette around sharing food

oh, one of you dropped your utensil while eating? in the future you’re going to save each other from mortal danger

someone gifting dishware is considered a proposal,, but it can be platonic or romantic

the monarch spilled their drink? the rainy season will be rainier this year

just a lot of really niche things

yoppee, i love mudwings so much. i think there is so much untapped potential and what we have now is beautiful. love drawing them, love their color palettes, love their sib groups. yeah not much else to say here. as always, send a dm or an ask if you want to know about something further!

#wof #wof mudwing #wof art #wof worldbuilding #wof redesign #wof rewrite #wings of fire #wingsoffire #wings of fire fanart #wof fanart