#why are pets easier to handle than humans

[faeriekit]

Snowdrift Sanctuary

a phic phight fill for sapphireshield (who isn't on tumblr)

“Is this alright?” Phantom asked quietly, blunt human face pressed into the ruff of his new coat.

There was nothing wrong, but that wasn’t the issue; the human needed reassurance, and reassurance Frostbite could provide.

“Of course,” Frostbite agreed easily, if gently. “Neuschnee made it for you. It was always intended to be yours.”

Humans tended to be sensory-seeking. With no fur of their own, and sensitive skin and hands, they had the ability to physically feel more through touch than his people could. The paw of Frostbite’s remaining arm was tough, callused from work and combat; but the human could swab his face across the ruff and sleeves of his coat and receive textural information that was entirely alien to the yeti mind.

Frostbite would have to ensure that the boy had gloves. It would be a shame if his hypersensitive hands were made damaged by the cold.

“...But,” the boy tried, and to his credit, his concern was sympathetic. “Wouldn’t someone else need the fur? Like, even if you have your own fur…wouldn’ it make a good blanket? Or…something…?”

Petting, for humans, thankfully, seemed to work exactly as it did for his kin. Sure, Frostbite had to be more gentle with his claws, but combing through and smoothing down the human’s black spot of hair was more than enough for the endorphins to kick in. Oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin would require further study, but the base understanding of hormones were easy to understand: skin on skin contact equalled a well-adjusted human adolescent.

Phantom’s eyes drooped. Frostbite smiled to himself. The sight was identical to Salju’s cubs settling down before a nap.

“We are not low on resources,” Frostbite soothed, half-purring. It was an immature noise, but conducive to soothing distressed young. “We are not hungry. We are prosperous, and require little; as an adept living with our people, we would be remiss not to provide for you.”

…The human’s nose crinkled.

“It is our job to give you things so that you do not fade,” Frostbite clarified.

Phantom’s face flushed a warm red. The adolescent’s half-human biology was fascinating.

And, true, it would probably be easier to care for Phantom if he remained in his ghostly form all the time, but it would be unfair and dangerous for his long-term development to force him to do so. Phantom was a half-human, and deserved to spend time adjusting to all of his forms. Neuschnee had already begun working on the human’s boots; soon he would no longer be confined only to Frostbite’s warmed residence. With a thick hood and gloves to cover his extremities, Frostbite had little doubt that the human would soon be wrestling with (gentle) age-mates, practicing his English with his sister’s pilfered human texts, and learning how to control his snow.

Phantom was very small. He was very delicate, and there was an instinct in Frostbite that continued to worry that handling him wrong might snap the human in half. A yeti at Phantom’s height would still be a very young cub, and yet twice as sturdy and twice as broad.

Still, he was a bright, kind being, and… Frostbite sighed. And he had no understanding of why the human’s parents had rejected him for his current state.

And, certainly, his human sister had tried to explain it to him, bundled in three coats and her red nose weeping in the cold as she begged for his sanctuary. The prospect was merely mind-boggling to him. Young were rare and precious. Their natures were never guaranteed. What was the use of rejecting a cub you had spent a decade raising?

…Frostbite exhaled carefully out his nose. It was not his job to understand their attitude. It was only his role to act in their place until the half-human came of age.

“You don’t have to,” Phantom muttered, face a curious shade of red. Having red internal fluids made for interesting displays of emotion. “I…I can work it off, or…”

Frostbite continued petting the human. The human did not continue speaking.

“Or,” Frostbite continued kindly, “You may join Pritla, Nieve and I, and assist us in devouring a nice, cold, glacier shark. We buried it last season, so it is no longer toxic to digest outright.”

Phantom snorted out a laugh. Yes, there would be human-appropriate food available for him, but Frostbite was not joking about the shark. Now that the toxins had drained into the soil for months, he was happy to take his turn ripping huge chunks of flesh with his teeth for an evening meal. And, who knows; perhaps the enrichment value of consuming a fermented shark with one's bare hand would pique Phantom’s interest in other traditional foods?

“Will there be silverware?” Phantom asked, teasing. He accepted Frostbite’s proffered hug, engaging in sensory-seeking activity in the same way he had with his new coat. Frostbite was ecstatic.

“Of course not,” Frostbite rumbled, more than pleased. “Use of weaponry during mealtimes is explicitly cheating. Now, are you comfortable defending your plate from younger cubs, or should I shield you with my body?”

Frostbite might not have felt prepared to care for Phantom, but raising a half-human would undoubtedly be a fascinating experience.

Besides; unlike mortal parents, the burden of keeping Phantom alive was already largely moot.

#y'all have no idea how much I wanna eat the fermented shark (real thing you can eat) #danny phantom #YES the timeline is weird but I didn't want to have him call Danny a title the whole time #this is a WHOLESOME FOSTER PARENT MOMENT OKAY #every yeti: ah. I am an uncle/auntie/elder now. acceptable #Phic phight 2024 #phic phight #frostbite #Danny Fenton #faer fic #all the yetis are named after different words for snow because I am SO creative

[2af-afterdark]

Turn Off Your Mind and Give Yourself to Me

Rating: Explicit

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: F/M

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Relationships: Simeon, MC

Characters: Simeon, Main Character

Additional Tags: afab!MC (you/your, they/them), smut, dumbification, MC wears a skirt, sex dream(?), nipple play, degrading language (Simeon calls MC dumb, stupid, slut), finger sucking, vaginal fingering, pussy slapping, pussy job, light choking, possessiveness, vaginal penetration, overstimulation, pet name (pet), cockwarming (oral)

Summary: You and Simeon have an agreement: when living in the Devildom gets too restricting, forcing you to be someone you aren't, you can rely on each other to let go. He helps you stop worrying and you let him indulge in his less than pure desires.

A/N: If I missed a tag let me know. There are so many in here that I probably missed something.

Word Count: 5k

Being the only human in the Devildom was hard. You always had to be on your guard around any demon that wasn't one of the brothers, Diavolo, or Barbatos because they were as likely to eat you as they were to give you directions to the library. Sure, there was Solomon but he was closer to a demon than a fellow human in many ways. He couldn't relate to your feelings of always having to be on edge and justifying your place in the exchange program. The marks all over his skin spoke for themselves in a way you couldn't. You couldn't even let up in front of your friends for fear they'd be disappointed in learning how much of a struggle it was for you to fit into their home. Holding yourself together all the time was exhausting.

That's why you came to him. He wasn't human, but you were sure he was the one person who would understand. After all, being an angel in a crowd of demons couldn't have been any easier. He was the only other person who understood what you needed. He was the only one who could help you through another strenuous week.

Your knuckles rapped against the door of Purgatory Hall as you anxiously waited for an answer. You had messaged him beforehand and he'd accepted you coming over, so you didn't know what you had to fret about, but you did. It felt like eons of standing there before the handle finally turned and the door creaked open.

The man you knew all too well was beautiful as he stood in the doorframe to welcome you in; skin soft and smooth with nary a flaw or imperfection in sight, eyes that shimmered like the sun off the surface of the calmest ocean, hair that very well may have been made of dyed silk, lips that were full and inviting even when pulled back into a smile to show off his luminous teeth, and that was just his face. That was nothing to say on his broad yet somehow still slim shoulders, the pectorals you could see straining against the fabric of his thin shirt, the long fingers, the subtle muscles rippling in his biceps, or his long delicate and dexterous fingers still wrapped around the handle.

It was unfair to only look at him, but you didn't come here to look and he knew that as much as you did. Surely that's why he was standing in front of you like this, trying to tempt you as much as possible.

"Hello there," Simeon said through his charming smile as he widened the door to let you slip inside.

You returned his greeting as you walked in.

It was strangely quiet as he shut the door behind you. You were actually surprised not to hear anything but the patting of his feet against the ground as he took your hand in his and started walking toward and up the stairs.

"Where is-"

"Gone," he answered before you could finish the question. "It's just us two. Sorry if you wanted to say hello to anyone else."

No. In fact, it was probably better that it was just you two. You didn't expect anything to get out of hand, but it meant you could fully let go without worry. That thought alone was already a relief.

"I believe we will have the entire night to ourselves. Maybe even all of tomorrow, though that's only a possibility." He stopped speaking as he came to the door of his room. "Would you like to come in?"

This was your last opportunity to turn away. You could go back downstairs and decide to have tea instead. You could stay the night on the living room couch or he could bring you back to the House of Lamentation if you didn't want to walk alone. He was offering you the chance to change your mind if you wanted, but you came here exactly for this reason. You were here to see beyond that door and you wouldn't be leaving until you did.

The room was dark, so dim it felt like it was lit by candles more than electricity. It felt old, almost too old for someone as young as Simeon, but then you recalled he was so much older than he seemed and it put everything into perspective. Maybe to him this decor felt new and modern. It was charming in its own way.

"Feel free to take a seat anywhere you'd like," he offered as he shut the door behind you and waited to see what you'd do next.

You opened and closed your fists a few times, taking a deep breath to let the anxiety flow out of your bones before deciding to move over to the loveseat. You wouldn't dare presume to head to his bed.

He showed no reaction on his face as he watched you sink into the cool, chocolate leather of his seating. "Would you care for a drink or something?"

You shook your head.

Simeon stepped closer to you. "Are you certain? I'd hate to be a bad host."

This time you nodded.

The seat beneath you sank as Simeon settled beside you. "Then what would you like to do?"

You turned your gaze to him. His bright eyes looked back at you with a subtle smile as he waited for you to make the first move, which you did by laying your head against his shoulder. The scent clinging faintly to his skin reminded you of freshly baked cinnamon rolls as they came out of the oven. Maybe it was the remnants of his last baking venture or maybe it was natural for him to smell so sweet and light; he always did have the faint scent of vanilla underneath everything else.

He rested his hand against your shoulder and somehow pulled you closer still, squishing your face against that broadly thin frame of his. “You’re stiff,” he observed with a chuckle. “You’re free to relax.”

Except you couldn’t. You had practiced maintaining yourself and holding your head high in front of others for so long that you couldn’t drop it that easily. Even in front of him who knew about carrying himself so others couldn’t tear him down, you were too trained to let the charade end. It was because of that that all you could do was continue to shake your head.

Then,” he cupped your cheek in his hand and pulled your face toward his, leaning closer to you, “I will help you relax.”

He was slow and meticulous as he pressed his lips against yours, starting almost hesitantly as he tested the waters of your defenses. Your body went rigid against him, but you didn’t push him away. This is what you wanted. This is why you were here. You wanted him to lead you to a place where you could finally let go. You weren’t fighting him on that front, simply waiting for him to drag you under the way he knew you wanted.

As he pressed more kisses against your mouth, his lips perfectly plush as they captured your upper one and began to deepen his affections. He snaked his hands under the hem of your shirt and let them roam higher up your body until they rested against your breasts. You could feel him pull up your bra and replace it with his hands, letting his thumbs tease at your nipples until they were standing and begging for his attention. Heat pooled beneath his hands, swirling around your chest as he stole your breath away.

He was, as far as the public was concerned, supposed to be a holy man. His desires were supposed to be as pure as he was, but you knew better. You knew he was only holy in the same way that you were holding yourself together. Beneath it all, you were both just liars fooling everyone around you except for each other, who wanted something only the other could give.

He broke away from the kiss. "It's not enough, is it?"

It was never enough. Not this time or the time before that or the time before that. Neither of you could be satiated by only this. Not until you could both let go of the masks you wore in front of everyone else.

"Then allow me to give you what you really crave," he whispered with his lips against yours.

The hands on your breasts abandoned their spot to slide down to your hips and lift you up just enough to slip you onto his lap, pressing your back against his chest and resting your knees on top of his. He gently placed his hand against your thigh. 

Slowly, carefully, he began to lift the skirt that went just past your knees. You wore a skirt for this specific reason. Long and heavy so it wouldn't ride up when you didn't want it to, but loose and flowy so he could easily push it aside.

He rolled the fabric up to your stomach, purposefully dragging his fingers along the meat of your thigh the entire way before dropping the skirt edge and sinking his hand between your legs. A single finger ran down your slit lying just below the fabric of your boyshorts which he made an effort to move aside.

You spread your legs trying to make it easier for him to touch you, only for a jolt to pass through your cunt and up your spine as he slapped the flat of his hand against you. You opened your mouth to scream, only to find him slipping the middle and forefinger of his free hand into your mouth to muffle your noises. 

He leaned his head over your shoulder, pressing his lips next to your ear as he quietly shushed you. "I know, Sweetheart. Shh, I know."

The sting was still fresh when he began to rub his hand over the spot he'd just hit. Slowly, the pain began to fade, giving way to a dull pleasure as he stroked you through the fabric of your boyshorts. You were sure he could feel the wet spot forming where the fabric stubbornly clung to your needy, neglected sex, but he said nothing about it. 

"Stop thinking and allow yourself to let go. If you need to move, I'll do it for you." he said as he pulled away from your sex to snap his fingers.

A hazy vision filled your eyes like a vision. It was like walking in on a dream, cloudy at the edges and covered in a layer of mist. It wasn't a dream though, it was a memory; one in which you were on full display from the behind with your ass raised in the air, legs spread wide while your chest was pressed against the bed. In the vision, your pussy was dripping so much that it left your thighs coated in slick that shimmered in the dim light overhead.

"Don't they look happy?" Simeon whispered as his hand returned to slowly stroking the folds hiding just behind your underwear. "Showing off their body, hoping that someone will touch them?" His lips ghosted over the shell of your ear, holding back laughter as you shuddered in his lap. "You were so wet and ready for me, staying exactly the way I wanted you. An obedient little pet waiting for Master's attention. I can make you feel that way again. That is what you came here for, after all. Is it not?"

You tried to speak around his fingers, struggling to make the proper sounds with your mouth full. "Shime-"

"Shh," the sound slipped past his teeth as he pushed his fingers further back into your mouth, pressing them against the back of your throat. "Don't say anything. The only thing you have to do is what I say."

You wanted to melt against him, possibly even into him. Even as drool pooled around his fingers and dribbled out the sides of your mouth, you didn't feel embarrassed. No. All you felt was a blissful peace seeping into your mind. Muscles you hadn't even realized were tensed suddenly relaxed as he held you. You didn't have to hold on anymore. You could leave everything up to him.

He tenderly kissed your cheek as he felt you go limp for him, wishing he could sink you onto his cock just like this; so pliant and calm for him, but he knew you hadn't let go completely yet. He could still see a spark in your eyes just past the vision he was showing you, one that meant there were still too many thoughts in that pretty head of yours. But you had been good for now, so you deserved a reward.

The vision faded away as his hand finally slipped under the fabric of your boyshorts, two fingers dipping between your legs to graze against your sex. Slowly, he began to pet at your slit, following the line of your body as he held you in his lap. He pressed his fingers just past your pussy lips, dragging his finger through the growing slick between your legs.

He chuckled softly. "Aww, this precious place of yours is already so wet. Did you want me to touch you that badly?"

Mhm. You wanted him. You wanted to be good for him. His fingers were like sweet torture as he pushed them just past your pussy lips again to gather more of your essence to rub around your puffy clit in slow, confident circles.

"Good pet." He was so proud of you for remembering not to say a thing to answer him, but also a little disappointed. He wanted to hear you sing for him because you couldn't hold back anymore. You were cute following his orders, but you would be even cuter once your brain turned off and you couldn't even understand them.

He almost felt bad when he slapped your pussy again just so he could hear you whine for him, but that feeling quickly passed when your pretty voice was drowned out around his fingers. Oh, he was enjoying you more than he should be, but that's what you both were here for. 

He pumped the fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue and enjoying the sound of you gagging around them. It was just like how he knew you loved your cunt played with and he knew you recognized it as soon as your clit throbbed under his other hand. Your nipples poked through the fabric of your top and he couldn't help but chuckle at how cute you were. If only he had more hands to focus on every beautiful part of your body.

As soon as your legs started to tremble, he knew just how close you were. You were such a good thing. So willing and pliant.

He slipped his fingers out of your mouth and wrapped them around your neck, tilting back your head while his other fingers violently rubbed your clit. "Tell me: what are you?" 

You knew you were looking at him, but you couldn't focus on anything. Every nerve in your body was focused solely on how tight your stomach felt. Still, you knew he told you to speak. "Huh…"

Another jolt of pain as he slapped your aching clit again before going back to rubbing it. "What are you? You know the answer."

You were so close. The knot in your stomach was being pulled tighter and tighter and soon you knew it would snap. "Cum. Wanna cu- Augh!" You screamed as he slapped you again between his assault on your poor clit.

"Not until you answer the question." His hand gently squeezed your neck. "What are you? What have you always been?"

"Y-yours," the words fell heavy off your lips.

"My what?" He pressed harder at the sensitive bundle of nerves as his speed picked up. "Say it."

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head as your legs began to twitch, desperately trying not cum until he told you to. "Your pet. All yours."

"My dumb little pet." A smile crossed Simeon's face as he laid a kiss on your temple. "Cum for me."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, your body let go. The knot inside of you snapped completely as you slapped your legs closed around his hand and came to the fingers that refused to stop teasing your clit even as you erupted beneath them. The little shocks and shudders that rolled through you painted the loveliest picture for him. It was truly divine to watch you do as told, especially with something as rebellious and difficult to tame as an orgasm. Yet, if you thought that was all he had in store for you, you were naive at best and willfully ignorant at worst. He could work with either.

He didn't give you time to rest before shoving the same fingers that had just been rubbing your swollen clit straight into your cunt. It didn't matter how tight your walls were, they slid in so easily.

Fuck, you were soaked. The squelching sound of his fingers pistoning in and out of your wet heat was so lewd that it made his cock stir against your ass. The hand still around your neck squeezed gently and your cunt clenched down on his fingers.

Every scrape against your insides made you gasp and whine. Your last orgasm was still fresh and you were so sensitive. Die. You were going to die. He was going to drown you in pleasure until it fried your brain and there was nothing left of you.

You grabbed at his wrist, trying to hold onto him and stop him from touching you, only to feel him push another finger inside with a small tsk.

"None of that now." His voice washed over you like cool water. "You were so good for me. You deserve this. Good pets deserve to be spoiled and feel good."

You felt your body relaxing, muscles untensing as you listened to his words. No, it wasn't you relaxing. It was him relaxing you. 

"Isn't that so much easier?" His voice was echoing in your head, distracting you as his hand slipped out of you – something that made you whine without realizing it – and quickly moved to pull your underwear down your legs and drop them onto the floor before returning to their original position.

Simeon placed his lips against the back of your neck, ghosting them over your shoulders and sucking at your skin until he left a mark. All the while his fingers moved in and out of you, starting shallow and slowly going deeper and deeper.

The hand still around your throat finally let go and moved down your sternum, trailing feather light touches across your skin until he found one of your hard nipples and gave it a tentative pinch. He couldn't help but think that the surprised squeak you made was too cute, but he would rather hear something else instead. Something like your screams. How far could he go until you couldn’t hold them back anymore?

"Don't stop now," he said as his fingers assaulted you in the most delicious of ways. The one against your chest rolled your nipple, tugging at it as he slowly added more fingers inside of you and thumbed at your clit. "I want to watch my good pet cum their stupid little brain out "

"I ca- Ahhh!" You tried to speak, but we're cut off by another orgasm chasing the previous so quickly. 

"Shhh. Don't talk. Just cum." That was all he wanted of you; to cum until you couldn't anymore and then keep cumming because he told you to.

He curled his fingers inside of you, pressing them against a tender spot that had you collapsing against him. Your entire body went limp against him, shaking from climax after climax as he forcefully pulled them out of you; pulled them out of your aching, needy cunt.

Simeon was up to three fingers by the time he finally decided he was done, pulling his fingers out of you at last and stopping the endless orgasms and giving you the chance to rest. You never knew cumming could hurt so much. You realized your respite was brief, however, as you felt him awkwardly fidgeting with his pants to fish out his hard cock.

"You're staring," he teased with a whisper in your ear.

You couldn't help it. It looked angry; the veins popping out and the tip already leaking. Just seeing it made you moan for him, like your body knew you were meant to wrap it up and make him feel good. If you were going to die, at least it would be in service to his cock.

While he appreciated the lust painted across your face, it wasn't enough. He wanted you to fall even lower. He wanted you to reduce yourself to nothing.

He grabbed your hips, pushing your lower body forward so he could rub your cunt against his erection. The glistening trail of slick painted across his cock wherever you touched was beautiful. Your legs trembled each time the head of his cock bumped against your sensitive, overly abused clit.

"Do you enjoy this?" His voice was so melodious and sweet as he spoke. It felt like you would get lost in it. "You can do the work yourself, can't you? Press your thighs together and help us both feel good."

You couldn't nod. It was too hard to even understand the words coming out of his mouth.

He chuckled darkly, moving his hands to push your thighs tight around his rock hard length. "Like this. Move your hips like a good pet."

Every muscle in your body felt heavy, but you couldn't help but do what he demanded of you. You curled your heels against the edge of the couch, pushing down on them so you could lift your hips to grind against him. Your legs wrapping around his cock kept him in place while your slick folds rubbed him from tip to base.

"Just like that," he mumbled softly in your ear as he watched you glide over his full length. "Make yourself cum again just like that."

Oh, he wanted to cum too. Wanted to see your thighs painted white with every terrible impulse you inspired in him. Holding back so you could ruin yourself on him before he completely tainted you was his own kind of punishment. Feeling your pussy flutter against his shaft, hearing you cry out in another orgasm, seeing your eyes glazed over as more thoughts poured out of you, all of it snapped the last of his patience. 

You couldn't keep going. Your legs were tired, your voice was hoarse, you were pretty sure your brain was melting out of your ear. That didn’t matter though. All that mattered was that you were still there, ready to accept whatever he had planned for you regardless of how you felt about it. Knowing that, he finally repositioned himself and pushed his cock head inside of you, feeling how your walls loosened to welcome him in but still squeezed him like you didn't want to let go.

"Aww, are you getting tired?" He condescended with a smile in his voice. "I would be happy to help you rest."

He wrapped his hands under your knees, letting you lean back against his chest for balance as he stood up and lifted you into the air. He was careful to keep you impaled on his cock as he walked with you toward the bed where he tossed you onto it facedown, ass sticking straight in the air where he took his place over you.

The sudden gasp you made as you hit the mattress was accentuated by your walls pulsing around him. Even as nothing more than a warm hole seeking the satisfaction of orgasm after orgasm at his hands, you insisted on seducing him.

"Even after all of that," he taunted as he thrust the rest of himself into you, bottoming out in one stroke that made you scream like a porn star, "you have such a tight, wet cunt. It's like you were begging for a cock to finally stretch you open. Did you want me inside of you that badly?”

His question was accentuated by the sound of your pussy gushing and your adorable panting as he began to pump into you. Each time he hit the back of your cunt you made the cutest squeak in surprise, as if you forgot just how deeply he was carving you out. You were so adorable taking his cock, your tits bouncing each time he thrust forward, your mouth hanging open with your tongue lolling out of your mouth. 

"You're more of a slut than a pet." That's what your expression reminded him of. You had no shame left inside of you to be embarrassed by the state you were in and it made his cock twitch. "Would you like that? Being my dumb little cock addicted slut instead of my spoiled pet?" 

You couldn't answer him, nor did he expect you to. However, he was pleased when your cunt convulsed around him and you gasped so sweetly.

"Did you cum? No one told you that you could," he chastised in a mocking tone, "buuuut I'll forgive you this time because sluts like you don't know better. Just make sure you listen to me now. I'll tell you when you're allowed to do that."

And he did. Over and over again your walls spasmed around him as you came at his command. Somewhere between the endless assault of pleasure and the sensation of his cock pounding you so thoroughly it felt like he was shaping your insides. Your body started to follow his directions and began to cum when he ordered you to because it was only him that could make you feel so good

"Again, slut," he said. "Cum for me." And you had no choice but to. You had no choice but to clench down on his length and curve your spine as another orgasm ripped through your exhausted body.

He was going to kill you. He was going to murder you with his cock and you would happily die cumming for him.

"Once more." Simeon couldn't help but laugh as he watched the light leave your eyes and your mouth twist into a smile as you came for him yet again despite having just done it only seconds earlier. "Aww, did I break that dumb brain of yours?"

The only answer he got was your pussy clenching down around him again. 

"There you go," he cooed as he weaved his fingers between yours. "Such a good slut, cumming all over my cock. You're so adorable." His hips smacked against yours, rhythm growing erratic as he looked down into your hazy, unfocused eyes.

"Come on," he panted, "stay nice and tight for me so I can fill up your slutty cunt." His hands gripped yours tighter. "Such a dumb slut. A good, braindead, cock addicted whore."

There was no warning as he pushed into you one last time, shooting burning hot ropes of cum as deep inside of you as he could. Your body accepted it all willingly. You were born to accept it all, everything he had to give you no matter what it was.

As he started to pull out, you groaned and whimpered at the sensation of his cock dragging against your overly sensitive walls. You were practically screaming as his length finally popped out of your twitching, pulsing, overstimulated pussy. You couldn't take anymore of him. If he fucked you again – made you cum anymore – you wouldn't just die, you would break completely.

"Shhh," he whispered as he kissed the side of your face. "No giving up on me now. You did such a good job milking my cock, but you're not done yet."

Simeon sat up from over you, moving to lean his back flush against the headboard, knees bent up and spread apart as he manhandled your exhausted body and yanked at your hair to pull your head into his lap, pressing your face against his softening, glistening cock. "You made a mess so hurry and clean it up."

You opened your mouth without protest, tongue rolling out to lap at his length. Somewhere deep in the back of your mind you recognized the taste of yourself and how good it was mixed with his, but it felt less important than serving the cock he shoved in front of you.

"You can do better than that," he said as he cupped his hand under your chin, pinching at your jaw to force your mouth open and place the smooth, slightly salty head of his cock inside.

You began to mindlessly suckle at the cock he presented to you. He almost felt bad for using you past exhaustion, but one look at the content expression on your face and the blank look in your eyes pushed that guilt aside. 

You laid motionless against him as his cum seeped out of your lovingly abused pussy and remnants of your own slick that you'd licked off his cock clung to your lips. It was cute how you couldn't hold it all in, making a mess of his carefully laid bedsheets below.

"Good pet."

Simeon took his hand out of your hair, switching to brushing it over your cheek. There was a burning heat spreading across your skin that sent a flutter through his stomach. You were so beautiful. Completely mindless and beautiful and tired, and it was time to finally let you rest. Maybe later he would take advantage of the fact that you two had the entirety of Purgatory Hall to yourselves. Later, after he had his fill of admiring the stupidly happy, blank look on your face and the warmth of your mouth.

#2af writes #obey me smut #simeon smut #afab fic #cw dumbification #cw nipple play #cw degradation #cw vaginal penetration #cw choking #cw possessiveness #cw overstimulation #cw cock warming

[maaarine]

How Loneliness Reshapes the Brain (Marta Zaraska, Quanta Magazine, Feb 28 2023)

"Neuroscience suggests that loneliness doesn’t necessarily result from a lack of opportunity to meet others or a fear of social interactions.

Instead, circuits in our brain and changes in our behavior can trap us in a catch-22 situation: While we desire connection with others, we view them as unreliable, judgmental and unfriendly.

Consequently, we keep our distance, consciously or unconsciously spurning potential opportunities for connections. (…)

However, a study that the team published in 2022 revealed that although threatening social situations trigger more amygdala activity in people suffering from social anxiety, they do not have that effect on lonely people.

Similarly, people with social anxiety have diminished activity in the reward sections of their brain, and that does not appear to be true for lonely people.

“The core features of social anxiety were not evident in loneliness,” Lieberz said.

Those results suggest, she said, that treating loneliness simply by telling lonely people to go out and socialize more (the way you can treat a phobia of snakes with exposure) will often not work because it fails to address the root cause of the loneliness.

In fact, a recent meta-analysis confirmed that simply providing lonely people with easier access to potential friends has no effect on subjective loneliness.

The problem with loneliness seems to be that it biases our thinking.

In behavioral studies, lonely people picked up on negative social signals, such as images of rejection, within 120 milliseconds — twice as quickly as people with satisfying relationships and in less than half the time it takes to blink.

Lonely people also preferred to stand farther away from strangers, trusted others less and disliked physical touch.

This may be why the emotional well-being of lonely individuals often follows “a downward spiral,” said Danilo Bzdok, an interdisciplinary researcher at McGill University with a background in neuroscience and machine learning. (…)

Bzdok and his team showed that some regions of the default network are not only larger in chronically lonely people but also more strongly connected to other parts of the brain.

Moreover, the default network seems to be involved in many of the distinctive abilities that have evolved in humans — such as language, anticipating the future and causal reasoning.

More generally, the default network activates when we think about other people, including when we interpret their intentions.

The findings on default network connectivity provided neuroimaging evidence to support previous discoveries by psychologists that lonely people tend to daydream about social interactions, get easily nostalgic about past social events, and even anthropomorphize their pets, talking to their cats as if they were human, for example.

“It would require the default network to do that too,” Bzdok said.

While loneliness can lead to a rich imaginary social life, it can make real-life social encounters less rewarding.

A reason why may have been identified in a 2021 study by Bzdok and his colleagues that was also based on the voluminous UK Biobank data.

They looked separately at socially isolated people and at people with low social support, as measured by a lack of someone to confide in on a daily or almost daily basis.

The researchers found that in all such individuals, the orbitofrontal cortex — a part of the brain linked to processing rewards — was smaller.

Last year, a large brain-imaging study based on data from more than 1,300 Japanese volunteers revealed that greater loneliness is associated with stronger functional connections in the brain area that handles visual attention.

This finding supports previous reports from eye-tracking studies that lonely people tend to focus excessively on unpleasant social cues, such as being ignored by others. (…)

While interventions such as cognitive behavioral therapy, promoting trust and synchrony, or even ingesting magic mushrooms could help treat chronic loneliness, transient feelings of solitude will most likely always remain part of the human experience.

And there is nothing wrong with that, Tomova said.

She compares loneliness to stress: It’s unpleasant but not necessarily negative.

“It provides energy to the body, and then we can deal with challenges,” she said.

“It becomes problematic when it’s chronic because our bodies are not meant to be in this constant state. That’s when our adaptive mechanisms ultimately break down.”"

#article #health

[lunastyrs]

Yuu was brought to Twisted Wonderland with their childhood pet as their familiar. Turns out bearded dragons are actual dragons in twisted wonderland. 

A Familiar Pet

~Ramshackle Dorm (during prologue) ~

The headmaster fluttered out the door, abandoning the world traveler to the decrepit building. They open their cloke to the reptile clinging to their chest, at least they had their beared dragon with them.

The building began to creak as rain started vail the outside. Droplets falling on Yuu’s head through the holes in the roof.

“How am I going to keep you warm?” a finger ran across the scales. Yuu’s head tilts, eyes squint taking in the pet that has been with them for the last 5 years.

“Smaug… when did you get wings?”

“GWAH! It's pouring out there!”

A flaming ball shatters one of the few complete windows. The blue-eared cat from earlier skids through the dust piled on the floor.

“Fu–” A tsunami of dust roared toward Yuu, filling their lugs. Coughs rumbled and ricocheted through them, body shaking with each gasp of breath.

“Bwahaha! That look on your face is priceless! Like a bat that got blasted by a water gun.” The jab at his human puffed Smuag up. His claws loosening his hold on their shirt.

“As if I wouldn't just sneak back onto campus the second I escaped pryin' eyes. You all got no idea what I'm capable of-”

A blur of tan slammed into the annoying cat. Hissing. Puffing. Sparking.

Then the ghosts appeared.

—----

With the ghosts and Crowley gone, Yuu turns to the other two creatures in the dorm. A smile stretched across their face as they rushed toward them.

“You’re absolutely amazing!”

Grim shakes his fur out. Crossing his arms with a grin.

“Why, yes, I am.”

Yuu rushes past him to the sleepy tan dragon on the floor.

“Holy shit, you can breathe fire! You impressive little ball of sass! You are an amazing lizard aren't you”

“Hey, human! I can breathe fire too!”

Yuu dead eyes the cat.

“Smaug is mine. Which immediately makes him better than you.”

~Caffatriea ( time ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )~

“No Smaug! You already ate 2 raspberries you need to eat the rest of your food.”

The dragon puffs up all two feet of himself. The underside of him darkened.

“Don’t you puff up at me!”

Ace tries to slip another raspberry onto Smuag’s plate. Yuu smacks his hand with a glare. Sparks began to blink in the dragon's mouth.

“No, no, no! No fire!”

~Ramshackel During SDC~

Vil dogges another ember as he enters Ramshackel’s common room.

“Yuu! Your familiar keeps trying to light me on fire.”

Yuu flips to the next page of Professor Crewel’s homework.

“You're the one that placed a curse on anything that is high in sugar”

Amatheth eyes narrow. Painted lips twitch to a frown.

“What does that have to do with Smaug?”

Eyebrows raise as luminescent eyes blink. Yuu tilts their head back to look at Vil.

“That included his berries in the fridge”

An immaculately shaped eyebrow raises as he side-steps more sparks. Yuu sighs and stretches their arms.

“Look, I have been dealing with a pissed-off familiar for the past week. If this makes him easier to handle, I’m going to let it happen. Especially since I can’t give him the berries to behave.”

Yuu stands and turns to Vil. Eyes blazing as a crocked smile full of gritted teeth stretches across their face.

“This could have been avoided, if you uncursed the berries like I asked the first night you all got here.”

#twisted wonderland #here is the 250+ words I promised #I didn’t promise quality #writing is hard #twst fanfic #twst #my own lizard gets angry if I don’t share my raspberries #vil shoenheit #twst yuu #twst yuu familiar #I forgot how much I didn’t like grim the first two books #twst grim #Vil would probably kill Yuu if any of their clothes actually caught fire

[bonefall]

re: the last Warriors Bites, is there any advantage to cooking meat? /gen

ik for humans we can’t process a lot of raw meat w/o infections, but cats are pure carnivores

Several!

Human evolutionary history is actually fascinating in that we HAVE to eat cooked meat, it marked a moment in our evolutionary history where our brains were able to get bigger because we needed less space on the skull for a massive chewing muscle

So for a Warrior Cat, which is clearly a species capable of advanced social dynamics, it could be likely that something is biologically going on in that skull of theirs for which cooking is an advantage.

But even for a normal cat living out in the woods? There's still benefits.

Preservation

Drying food can store it for weeks or months. In the books we've seen prey going bad after only a day; there's definitely a lot of food waste that can be avoided if the excess prey is cooked and stored by the assigned "kitchen patrol" after dinner.

(On that note; @hey-its-quill requested an entry on "Who cooks and prepares food?" so this question, including what a 'kitchen patrol' is, is on the official Warrior Bites to-do list.)

Nutrition

Some forms of cooking would cause nutrition loss, but it's easily countered by collecting the juices and serving them as a gravy. For the most part, cooking is just an easy way to break down connective tissue, which would actually make it easier to digest.

ESPECIALLY for kits and elders, who aren't able to chew their food very well.

One thing I will be mentioning when I get to a bird entry, though, is that large birds are rarely roasted. This is because cats eat bones as part of their diet, but when bird bones are cooked, they can splinter and cause internal damage.

(Which is why you should never let your cat eat cooked chicken bones. Raw are fine though.)

Sanitization

And this is the primary reason. Avoiding food poisoning and infection is more important than you think; being an obligate carnivore does not make all food safe.

(CW: Past here, I talk about foodbourne illness, parasites, and animal death. If these topics upset you, I've summed up everything already!)

It's actually a misconception that cats can't get salmonella, e. coli, or listeria poisoning. They're just better at not getting it because food spends less time digesting in their shorter, carnivorous intestines. A lot of people actually switch to a raw food pet diet thinking it's healthier (and in some ways it is, afaik) but then improperly handle the pet food for this reason. Always freeze raw pet food and wash your hands please.

Salmonella poisoning in cats is sometimes called "Songbird Fever" because a house cat gets it by killing and eating a native songbird. In fact I'm going to use my little soapbox for a moment to please ask, if you don't keep your cat inside (which is the only way to completely prevent the death of songbirds), please, at the very least, only let them outside with a birds-be-safe collar cover.

(Salmonella poisoning is also why I've decided that ShadowClan would logically be the Clan that cooks the most. As Marsh and Pine hunters, well over 75% of their diet is birds and reptiles, which naturally contain salmonella)

So that's JUST farm animals and wild birds. Hantavirus, leptospirosis, toxoplasmosis, even the goddamn bubonic plague can be caught from wild rodents.

That's not even to mention tapeworms, roundworm, and other digestive parasites specifically evolved to live in an animal's stomach!

I remember someone made a joke about how these wild cats are eating random mice and walking away fine while their housecat throws up from getting the wrong brand of cat food. And... well... truth is, the wild cats are not fine. They're getting sick constantly.

Warrior Cats is just, ultimately, a young adult fantasy series about romance and political drama that chooses not to accurately portray feral cats dying horribly of preventable foodbourne illness.

SO TL;DR COOKING WILL HELP A LOT.

#CW Animal death #foodbourne illness #Parasites #Warrior Bites #Clan Culture #Bone Babble

[midnightcreator12]

Someone Call a Doctor.... or a Vet

Mutant Mayhem, post Movie recovery fic that I wanted to read.

AO3 Version

Dr. Connor Maverick wasn’t unaccustomed to unusual cases.

He did specialize in exotic animals in New York, after all. If it wasn’t some rich aristocrat with way too much money to spend on animals that really shouldn’t be house pets, it was everyday New Yorkers bringing him whatever weird and wild animal that had somehow gotten loose. There was a surprising number of snakes and turtles that came through his door.

But…definitely none like the four that had just walked in behind his boyfriend.

Literally. Walked in. Under their own power. On two legs.

Because there were apparently half-human, half-animal mutants living in the city and some of them had fought off a giant amalgamation of the entire Rosebank Zoo. And Connor had not seen that event leading to a frantic call from Nick, begging him to open the clinic for an emergency.

That emergency being the four turtles, each looking like they’d gone head-to-head with a subway train. And a slightly less battered looking teenage girl, along with a really big rat in a bathrobe, limping in at the rear of the presession.

He really shouldn’t be surprised anymore. New York attracted weird like flies.

Nick led the little group, covered in grime and with a scrape over one cheek, but mostly unscathed. He leaned on the desk with a heavy sigh, “You’re a lifesaver today, ya know that? Don’t even know if a normal doctor could fix ‘em.”

“Yeeah,” Connor watched as the turtle in a blue mask held up the purple masked one with one arm, guiding him to the farthest side of the waiting area. “You forgot to mention that they weren’t, ya know, normal animals.”

“I know, I know, it’s a lot to wrap your head around. But they just saved the entire city, babe.”

“Did I say I wasn’t going to treat them? I opened shop, didn’t I? Just gotta…figure out where to start, honestly.”

“...the girl said their shells got cracked…it’s mostly why I called you…”

Connor blinked, frowning in thought as he watched the turtles. They’d all settled as far away from the front desk as they could and were watching Connor warily. He couldn’t see their carapaces and ‘cracked shell’ could mean a lot of things…none good, if he was honest, but smaller fractures would be a lot easier to fix.

Nodding to himself, Connor stepped out from behind the desk, “Go on, I can handle them from here.”

Nick blinked, “You sure? I don’t mind stayin’-”

“Naw, I’ll be fine. Besides, I can actually reason with these clients and they can tell me what’s wrong. Go, make sure Danni isn’t overworking herself again.”

Nick smiled, ducking down to press a quick peck to Connor’s cheek, “You’re the best.”

Connor hummed and started walking towards the mutants.

They all watched him like hawks…or trapped mice. The rat shifted subtly, eyes flicking to the door, to the turtles, to Connor then back to the door. The turtles weren’t quite as cagey or on edge, honestly, they looked more exhausted than anxious, but they still watched him warily as he stopped in front of them.

He did a quick scan, trying to determine who needed help first.

Apparently, that was a bad move, because the only human in the ranks stood, stepping right up to Connor so they were almost nose to nose, “You gonna just stand there and stare buddy? You got a problem?”

Connor blinked, “...who needs to go first?”

The girl smirked, like she’d won an argument, and spun around.

Connor didn’t need to see her face to know all the wind left her metaphorical sails. Her shoulders dropped and her head moved back and forth as she tried to parse out who needed help the most.

The turtle in blue straightened, pointing to the one in orange, “He should go first, he got milked earlier.”

Connor blinked, “That…isn’t physically possible…”

“I mean, technically, I think they were drawing blood?” Purple piped in.

Ah, blood loss. Yeah, that should be first.

Connor slowly approached the orange turtle, crouching in front of him, “I’m gonna need to take you to the exam room in the back to help you. Can you walk there okay?”

Orange nodded slowly, but his eyes flicked to the side nervously.

“...do you…want someone to come with?” 

Orange nodded again, more vigorously. Or, tried to, but the jerky motion clearly made him dizzy and he tipped forward. Connor’s hands automatically jerked up to catch him and…he was not expecting the turtle to be so light, actually. He wasn’t feather light but he didn’t seem much heavier then the average mastiff.

Everyone seemed to collectively hold their breath as Connor carefully helped Orange sit up, “Okay?”

Orange whimpered in the back of his throat.

Connor glanced to the side, where the rest of the group seemed to be having a silent conversation before the teen girl nodded, “I’m going with him.”

“Alright. Help him to the exam room?” Connor gestured to the turtle he was still holding up.

The girl quickly moved closer, taking Orange’s arm and slinging it around her shoulders. Connor nodded, more to himself then to his audience, and led the way into the room he’d already set up.

He decided to forgo the usual initial exam steps. For one, he didn’t have a baseline for ‘mutant turtle’ to compare with. And another, his current client could actually tell him what was hurt. 

And since the turtle could walk and was somewhat responsive, he could probably get away with just fluids and not try to figure out how safe a transfusion would be.

But when he turned from the cooler, IV bag and needle in hand, the turtle visibly recoiled, pressing himself more against the girl.

To her credit, she reacted quickly, bracing her legs more firmly and lifting her free arm to almost hug the turtle, “Hey, it’s okay Mikey, I’ll be right here if he tries anything, okay? It’s all okay.”

Right, having a client that talks means he can’t just wave something under their nose to tell them it’s safe…or use a treat to distract them.

Damn, maybe he should have asked Nick to stay. Nick was better at the people stuff.

Connor paused in his advance, holding the IV out, “It’s fluids to help your body replenish your blood supply. You’re dizzy right now because there isn’t enough blood to carry oxygen to your brain, this will help make that go away.” he patted the exam table. “You can sit here while I set it up and finish looking you over.”

Mikey still looked wary, but he let the girl lead him to the exam table and carefully climbed up.

Connor gave him a moment to settle before approaching, “It’ll probably pinch a little, uhh-” what did Nick tell people when he had to do IVs. “Um…you can look at the wall posters if it helps?”

The girl, thankfully, jumped in again, grabbing Mikey’s hand and pointing to a weight diagram for cats, “Dude, check it out,  it’s like that meme. You’ve seen the one, right?”

Connor took advantage of the destruction, quickly swabbing Mikey’s arm and finding the vein before slipping the needle in.

It was…weird doing this on something on a human scale.

But he was quite liking the small mercy of Mikey not trying to bite him. He only flinched when the needle went in and kept his eyes firmly on the cat poster while Connor taped the line down.

Connors' eyes drifted to the carapace next. The turtle was covered in cuts and scrapes and bruises but Nick had mentioned cracks and the sooner that was taken care of, the better.

He couldn’t help but hiss in sympathy when he saw the injury. 

Technically, it wasn’t anywhere close to the worst he’s seen. Between teenagers using sliders as hockey pucks, escapees from central park onto the streets or little kids who thought dropping their box turtles off balconies was a good idea, he’d seen a lot of messed up carapaces.

But the clear pressure crack starting from the middle of the shell and carving a deep ravine almost to the top lip still looked painful. No wonder the turtle had been almost silent the entire time.

Cleaning it out would be an ordeal, by the simple virtue it was a lot bigger than the average turtle shell. And he’d need a lot of screws for the patch…or were the shells on mutant turtles weaker? Maybe added screws would make it worse.

“You don’t happen to know how strong your shell is?” he asked.

Mikey peeked over his shoulder at him, shrugging one arm, “Donnie says they're even tougher than the average turtle…is it bad?”

And Connor didn’t answer right away. He couldn’t, because it was suddenly hitting him how…young the mutant sounded. Thinking back, the one wearing blue had sounded young too…and the purple one’s voice had been pretty high pitched.

He hadn’t thought too hard about it but now, with just one mutant in front of him, looking up at him wide-eyes in a very round face, that maybe wasn’t just turtle genes mixing weirdly with human genes…

Did New York just get saved by…kids?

Did a bunch of teenagers almost get killed trying to stop a freaky version of godzilla? 

Where the hell had literally anyone one else been?

He shoved those very, very foreboding thoughts down because Mikey was starting to fidget anxiously at the long silence. He took a deep breath and moved to get the saline bottle and cotton balls, “Good news, I am very good at fixing this kind of shell fracture. Slightly…less good news, I’m gonna have to put screws in to actually repair it.

“I’m sorry, you gotta what?” the girl, he should really get her name, looked baffled and a little...protective maybe?

“Only to hold the shell shut while I apply a resin epoxy patch. After I clean the crack out I need a way to stabilize it and drilling small holes for screws and basically ‘sewing’ the edges of your carapace back together is the best way for it to heal properly. I’ll only put the screws in as far as your keratin layer…erm, that’s the top layer of your carapace. After the patch dries I’ll take them out again and it should heal relatively quickly.”

The explanation didn’t seem to soothe either teenagers' worry.

Now he really wished he’d asked Nick to stay but it was far, far too late to call him back.

So he took another deep breath, “There is a mild pain-killer in the IV I gave you already. You’ll barely feel a thing and your friend…”

“...April,” the girl supplied.

“April is going to be here the whole time. I promise, this procedure is completely safe.

Mikey still looked unsure but he nodded and was clearly trying to keep still as Connor started to carefully clean the injury.

He worked as quickly as possible, uncomfortably aware that there were three more turtles with similar injuries waiting. Red tinted saline ran down the kids back and Connor worked diligently to make sure every bit of grime was gone before directing Mikey to lay on his plastron and pulling out his drill.

He’d made a point of getting one that wasn’t very loud so it didn’t stress out his clients, the whirr was barely louder than the average fan motor. But Mikey still tensed when he switched it on. April held his hands in hers, smiling encouragingly and talking softly while Connor worked.

He’d been right about using a lot of screws. He silently thanked Vanessa for accidentally getting a double shipment on the last restock, it was certainly paying off now.

He kept one hand firmly on the edge of Mikey’s shell, so he could feel every time the kid shivered or flinched. But he didn’t try to run or bite him so the process was going much more smoothly than he was used to.

Still, both human and turtle visibly relaxed when the last hole was bored and the final screw was put in place.

Moving quickly, Connor dumped the epoxy resin components into a mixer before going back to the carapace with fishing line and started piecing the broken ends back into one.

Mkey whimpered and shook, and when Connor glanced down he could see the green, three fingered knuckles going pale with how hard he was squeezing April's hand. She didn’t even seem to care as she kept praising how well Mikey was doing.

Tough kid. Definitely born and raised in the city.

Fishing line in place, Connor made short work of transferring his resin batch and applying it. That, at least, didn’t seem to cause Mikey any more distress, his hands loosening bit by bit as the patch was spread over his injury. And the waiting time for it to set gave Connor a chance to examine the rest of Mikey.

There were a plethora of cuts to bandage but nothing that needed stitches. Connor thanked fate for that small mercy, because he wasn’t sure if Mikey would stay put if he pulled out another needle.

He smoothed down the last bandage just in time for the resin patch to dry. The screws were removed and disposed of and Connor finished it all off with a stupid amount of tape and gauze.

He breathed a sigh of relief before helping Mikey sit up again, “I want that IV to stay in until the bag is empty. But you can take it to the waiting room with you.”

Mikey nodded as he carefully slid off the table, leaning on April again for support. He looked up at Connor with a very shaky but genuine smile, “You’re a lifesaver, dude.”

Connor huffed a laugh, patting the kids head, “Tell yourself that when you start getting tired of all that resin on your back. Now, let’s go get the next one.”

Mikey nodded and Connor led the way back to the others.

Exhaustion was clearly trying to pull them all down but they perked up when Mikey shuffled over and was lowered into the chair.

Connor didn’t even have to ask before the same blue turtle, who was definitely the oldest with that ‘take charge’ attitude, was pushing the purple one forward.

Connor knew better this time and quietly explained the process again as April helped Donnie to the exam room. The kid, who he learned was named Donnie, nodded along quietly and immediately laid himself flat on the table.

More screws, more resin, an exam showing the kid probably had a concussion and a deep cut up his leg that needed a few stitches. Donnie babbled quietly the entire time, talking to April about some TV show he’d been watching and a band he really liked. Connor huffed a quiet laugh when he heard BTS mentioned a few times.

Now that he wasn’t as unsure, the entire thing took less time and Connor was feeling pretty confident when he went back for the next kid.

And was very, very quickly humbled again when he got Raph on his exam table.

He doubted Raph was trying to be difficult. But his default when he was uncomfortable seemed to be very much fight or flight. And since flight wasn’t an option, it meant he kept trying to claw at Connor whenever something hurt a little too much. Connor was very happy to have April's help in making sure Raph stayed as still as possible while also keeping him from punching or biting.

Luckily, Connor was used to clients that tended to lash out. And it got much easier after the shell repair was done. Something had cut the kids hands to ribbons so both got a layer of disinfectant and gauze.

Leo, while not nearly as difficult as Raph had been, was definitely not easy. Not because he was moving or trying to bite. No, it was because he refused to hold onto April like the last three had and continued to insist that Connor cleaning and drilling his shell didn’t hurt that bad.

It was kinda cringy to watch the kid fumble over his brave face in a clear attempt to impress April. But then again, Nick wasn’t much better and Connor had found that awkwardness endearing so he couldn’t judge the kid.

He also needed the most stitches. It looked like every cut the kid got and dug in deep and left Connor the job of slowly turning the turtle into a poor copy of Frankenstein's monster. And the bruising over his arms was much worse then the other three had been, already turning an ugly shade of purple. Treating that presented a small challenge, because he didn’t make a habit of stocking anything that could treat bruising. So he settled for raiding the break room freezer for ice and instructions for April to pick up something for bruising at a pharmacy.

Which left the rat, their father, apparently.

Connor frowned as the older mutant slowly limped next to him, under his own power so April could watch his boys.

“You have a name, right?” Connor asked. “I’m not really a fan of calling you ‘dad’.”

The rat gave a wheezy laugh at that, hugging his ribs, “Splinter will do fine.”

Connor nodded and held the exam room door open, “Okay Splinter, let’s take a look at that leg first.”

Splinter nodded, grunting and groaning as he took a seat on the table, only pausing to stick out a hand when Connor tried to help, “I’m not that old!”

“No, but you are injured,” Connor crouched, carefully prodding Splinters leg and foot. “...I want to x-ray to make sure but I don’t think it’s broken. Maybe a hairline fracture at worst.”

Splinter nodded, “Good, good, don’t have time for a broken bone anyway. Gotta stay on top of those boys.”

“I’m sure April will help you with your kids aftercare.”

“Ha, with their injuries, maybe. No, I need to make sure they stay home! Those four are grounded for sneaking around behind my back!”

“I mean…they did help save a lot of people.”

“Yes, and I am very proud of them. That’s why I’ll only ground them for a month instead of the rest of their lives.”

Connor couldn’t help but snort at that, “Alright then. Would you mind taking off your robe? I want to check your ribs.”

Splinter hummed and muttered as he gingerly pulled off his robe, once again refusing help. So Connor waited until he was given permission to touch. He didn’t check for busted ribs often on animals but Nick had shown him how to do it one. ‘Just in case’.

What other odd, little moments in his life were just fate setting up something to pay off later? 

He probably would never know…and frankly, he’d had plenty of world shattering revelations today.

Splinter was, by far, the least hurt. His leg and ribs were the worst offenders and, after a little nervousness around the x-ray machine, Connor confirmed that his leg wasn’t even broken, just a thin fracture that would heal in almost no time. He had the same random cuts all over his limbs to go with his sons, but his fur had saved him from anything too bad.

He led Splinter back to his sons after a slightly longer exam but with fresh bandages on his foot and chest and three pages of at-home care notes.

Connor paused by the desk, watching as the turtles, despite almost being asleep on their feet, stood to hug Splinter. He squeezed each one in return, likely putting too much pressure on his ribs but…Connor didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop.

The relief among the odd family was palpable. Connor knew that particular brand of relief well, when the dust finally settled completely and it fully hit you that you survived something that should have killed you.

No way in hell would Connor intrude on that moment. 

He let the mutants be, going back to the exam room to clean up. If they needed more help they could find him easily.

They were long gone by the time Connor went out again, only leaving a note on the front desk.

The scrawl was messy, but clearly read, ‘Thank you, from Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, Michelangelo, Splinter, April’.

Connor smiled as he tucked the note into his pocket.

He had no clue if he’d ever see those kids again but he hoped he would.

He hadn’t properly thanked them for saving the city after all.

--------------------------------------------------

Two months later, Vanessa cautiously poked her head into the storage closet, “Uh, Dr. Maverick? We have a walk-in requesting you?”

Connor sighed, “If it’s Mrs. Jefferson, please tell her she has to wait like everyone else.”

“Um, no, it’s someone by the name Leonardo?”

Connor paused.

He only knew one Leonardo.

“...I’ll be right there.”

Inventory could wait until he saw why Leo was knocking.

Connor didn’t run, running was a stupid thing to do in the clinic. That was how you accidently got stabbed by a scalpel or spilled chemicals onto people. But he did walk a bit faster than he normally would.

And sure enough, there was Leo, standing in his waiting room, next to a bloody faced Rapheal.

Connor approached the two boys, looking between them, “...the hell happened to him?”

“Someone decided to fight half a gang. By himself!”

“That Hun guy called me a frog!” Raph defended. “And he threw a beer bottle at me!”

Connor sighed, shaking his head, “Come on, both of you. I do not feel like getting bit today so Leo, you get to hold him down.”

Raph gaped at him, crossing his arms, “I’m not that bad!”

“Uh-huh,” Connor nodded as he snagged an empty clipboard. “I’m sure Miss. O’Neil agrees with that.”

Raph grumbled but trailed after him, Leo following at the end of the train.

Connor smiled as he scribbled down Raphael's name at the top of the patent form.

These kids had put themselves through hell to save the city, he was fine being their designated doctor in return.

#tmnt #mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem spoilers #tmnt mm #fanfic

[kaxenart]

While many mech pilots are so physically and mentally wrecked that their "retirement" life is catatonic misery, some of them crab bucket their way into the handler position.

Mercenary pilot: I HAVE MADE ENOUGH MONEY TO ESCAPE DEBT. NOW TO WRECK SOMEONE ELSE TO EARN MONEY FOR ME!!!

Some handlers really hate the idea of considering an ex-pilot an equal, so the viability of this path in any organization depends heavily on the handler clique at the organization.

Rimbaud: Well, if I can't pilot now that the M3 SABAV is being replaced with an incompatible system to my augments, maybe I can be a handler. Hummel: We are not and never will be equals, pet.

Pilots-turned-handlers are never milquetoast.

You're either gonna get 15 new mental illnesses in the name of being the best pilot alive (lesbianism optional... maybe...) or you're going to get a fucked-up person's vision of "nice."

Depends if the pilot-turned-handler is closer to the "I got fucked up and survived and so can you!" end or the "I will protect them from all danger as I wish my handler had done for me" end.

Once in a while, these two concepts are somehow the same thing in the minds of a pilot-turned-handler and woe upon the pilot they manage.

Not sure if Valkyrie Corp mercenaries tend towards being female, but it is funny to consider that Penis King never had a penis as a human either. It just took that call sign because it likes killing people and the Penis King call sign is very attention-grabbing.

Call signs working under "you can kill people to take their call sign" is possibly the worst way to handle call signs without invoking 300 levels of paperwork hell, but mercenaries are always looking for an excuse to destroy rivals like bored Napoleonic Frenchmen craving sword duels.

Some handlers don't like risking their pilots and their expensive mechs for no money in fights over call signs and try to avoid their pilot hearing about duelling challenges.

Other handlers consider it a good way to practice real combat when in-between contracts and argue that having a hella good call sign makes it easier to get mentioned specifically when a mercenary corp is called up for a job. A client is going to be a lot more excited when someone with a badass reputation can be sent in compared to a fresh newbie trapped in hell with an idiotic call sign like Doofus.

Penis King is one of the top earners at Valkyrie Corp which is why the company puts up with its eccentricities including being a slightly illegal transhumanist. Lawyers have been in arguments for decades over whether or not a human brain upload counts as human still and it's a legal gray area. Penis King doesn't really care about money and doing taxes as long as Valkyrie Corp keeps its mech in good condition and securing contracts because it loves nothing besides deadly combat.

Kaczka has the call sign Duck because she often goes on sorties with Penis King and they are P.King and Duck on the company leaderboard. Kaczka also means "duck" and you ought to get out of her way when she comes barrelling in.

Kaczka doesn't get into many fights for her call sign since it sounds kind of stupid (she will beat the crap out of you if you make a "Sitting Duck" joke) and Penis King tends to absorb the attention, but she still has a strong reputation due to being a more than competent wingwoman.

Penis King has attachments for walking about when not on a mission, but it prefers being carried by Kaczka.

#tkverse #worldbuilding #Lam-Hu #Kaczka

[electricbluebutterflies]

and if you felt like it, kiss in the rain for poe/rey!

PG-ish and also on ao3.

Rey is losing track of how many new experiences she’s had how quickly.

It’s a big world out there, it turns out now that she gets to experience more of it, and there are a lot of people who want to meet the girl who saved it, and-

She’s not sure who exactly calls a break from the whole victory-tour thing that may consume the next few years of her life, but she knows who figures out the details of said break and that’s enough information for her.

Really, if she’s followed the situation correctly, what’s happened is Poe hasn’t been home in years and there are some more personal oh-you’re-still-alive situations he needs to handle relatively soon, and somehow this gets spun into an indefinite several-week vacation, and-

Rey owes him. So, so much. She may just have to be more careful with their droid for a while. Maybe.

They have been here for nearly a week, on the greenest planet she’s ever seen and she can only imagine what it might be like to live a life here, and their group has spread out a little and the whole trip has been fantastically unorganized and more familiar and fun than the past year of her life combined, and-

She stands in an empty green space, overwhelmed. The air has a weight to it here, a signal that the skies above are about to open, and no one needs anything from her at all today and she has nothing to prove and-

She could stay, she thinks. She may have to stay. BB-8 likes her better, and she’s not sure she wants to figure out a custody arrangement for a high-personality droid, and it would be… easier if she lays her roots where her counterpart is most inclined to, and-

Oh, speak of the-

She hears that familiar chirping in the distance and coming her way, followed by an equally familiar human, and there’s just something delightful about it. Her world is bigger than this, her heart is bigger than this, but if she has to make choices, if she has to-

“Thought you’d be out here.”

“Is that a problem?”

He laughs, and there’s just something inherently comfortable about that man, something like sunlight, like warmth and-

“You, never.”

That may be a slight understatement, she thinks, but as long as she isn’t explaining that she didn’t tell their shared pet to follow her into possible peril…

“I see why you love it here.”

“You could… come back, if you wanted, when everything’s over, if you-“

She suspect he’s given the same offer to quite a few people and it doesn’t necessarily mean anything, but-

She can see outlines of a future in those eyes, a future where she’s safe and it’s quiet and maybe she gets time to decide how she feels about somebody touching her and maybe she gets to decide she likes it, maybe she gets a life where she isn’t so alone, maybe-

It’s a lot to hope for, and Rey is no daydreamer, but-

“You may be stuck with me forever if someone has any say.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

Maybe there’s a life like this, she thinks, maybe-

She feels soft cool rain on her skin, and still she stands rooted in what feels like the middle of nowhere, just her in the middle of everything, and she could stay, and she could want that, and-

Something about her current situation feels electric, like anything could happen and maybe she can be impulsive for once like she never gets to be, maybe-

She’s kissed a lot of people, she reminds herself as she decides she might as well take the moment as it is. Doesn’t usually mean anything more than survival. This could, if she lets it, if she-

She’s never put her mouth on someone who didn’t ask for it or at least see it coming. She tastes the heartbeat of shock, and then something like delight, like-

“So I was wrong about you.”

“Oh?”

“Wasn’t sure you’d… done things like that before.”

“I survived,” she murmurs, rolling her eyes. “I’m good at that.” And if she ever says anything more about that, the people she loves may react a little too much, but-

“Was that-“

“That was because I wanted to.” A little flip of her hair, and there’s just something so light and calm about this, about-

“Okay.”

“Is it… okay if I want you?”

From her current position she can’t quite see the what-am-I-supposed-to-do-with-this look he still defaults to around her, but-

“If you can take your time with it…”

She takes another kiss, sweet, different kind of spark, different kind of-

Whatever happens to her otherwise, she thinks, is going to have to happen around this little crush or whatever it is. She is not coming back from what she’s just done the same person.

“I can try.”

“I’m not saying no, I’m saying… don’t do anything you’re not sure about, Rey. You don’t have to-“

“If I thought this was transactional, I would’ve jumped you a year ago.”

“And that is a mental image I do not-“

“Clearly I haven’t done that, so-“

“Warn me, if you start thinking-“

“I’m not sure if I want that. It would mean something, if I did, and… I want it to mean something, and-“

She’s gotten used to being held, at least, the caution of his hands on a very covered part of her back, and-

She’s laid her body down next to this man, gotten through nightmares no one else could ever understand with him, done some pretty incredible groundwork for something stable even ignoring the currently chirping ball of metal just out of her reach, and-

If this is what life is, Rey thinks, she could be alright.

“If you still want… next time we get this kind of a break, in a year or two if we’re lucky…”

“You’d make me wait that long?”

“Still a lot of galaxy you haven’t seen. Don’t want you settling for-“

“I don’t think I would. But if you need to wait…”

“Something like that?”

“I’ll live.”

#ebf writes fic #damerey

[suratan-zir]

Rat update! I only talked about them, but never showed you guys my new rat boys. They are almost impossible to photograph because it takes like ten years for my camera to focus, and obviously they don't really want to pose, so most of the photos came out like this ↑

I'm putting under the cut the best of the worst pictures of them and boring stories about each rat, the post is gonna be long because there are five of them.

I often warn you about long posts, but this post is really long, I'm not joking

Two older brothers: Tsap and Plyamka (or Pliyamka, idk, either way google doesn't pronounce it correctly). Yes, all of these rats except one have the stupidest names ever, because reasons.

Tsap (Цап)

Tsap is the one with a white stripe on his face. He got his name because for the first couple of days he didn't understood the concept of human hands. Like, at all. He would lightly bite hands because he thought it could be food, and each time he was surprised that it wasn't. I'm afraid that these boys weren't handled at all before we got them. So much for the "professional breeder" and "all our babies are tamed and used to handling", ugh. In the past we already had a boy named Кусь, which means "bite", so this name was taken. But tsap/цап means to snatch or scratch something, so that works too. (in Ukrainian it also means male goat, but this meaning wasn't intended)

Now Tsap is very affectionate little man. He was afraid of being picked up before (more than other boys), but now he climbs on my hands as soon as I open the cage. He is also the slowest of them all (he's phlegmatic for sure), making it easier to photograph.

Plyamka (Плямка)

Плямка means "little spot" in Ukrainian. It was supposed to be just a temporary name until we came up with something better, but, alas, we did not. I often shorten Plyamka to just Plyam, which means "mlem", and also fits him very well.

He was the least shy from the start. He started licking my hands the day after we met. Plyamka considers himself the leader of his little pack. And even though he's still mostly terrified of my older boys, Izium and Bergamot, he still sometimes tries to protect other babies from them. (which is adorable but also breaks my heart because I want them all to be happy, not afraid)

Baton is the only one of the five who doesn't have a sibling.

I never was a big fan of Burmese rats, but my husband liked him so we got him along with others. But when they arrived, it was love at first sight.

He's Baton because Батон is the name of my favorite chocolate bar.

He is the most timid and shy of all the boys. I always feel so sorry for him, literally everything scares him. But I'm his "safe place", when they free roam on the couch he takes food from a bowl and comes to me to eat it, crawling under my clothes or on my lap, poor thing. I love him so much. And he has the funniest little face, his nose is so tiny and ears are so big, his eyes seem to be closer together than in other rats. His fur is oddly soft. At first I thought it was because he didn't yet shed into adult coat, but now I see it's not the case.

Krobus and Cactus - two youngest brothers.

The black one is Krobus, the Siamese (white) - Cactus.

Krobus is the only one who get to have a "normal" name. He's a ball of chaotic energy, which is why I don't have any good photos of him. He is the most playful and mischievous boy, nothing upsets him for longer than 5 seconds. And I think that when he grows up, he will take the leadership away from Plyamka. He's very confident and pushy.

Cactus is a very special boy. First of all, he's VERY vocal. Like, he often squeaks when things doesn't go his way, which, despite the movies, is not a typical rat behavior. He does this with other rats but also with me. He's extremely tame and affectionate, he loves scratches more than anything, always tries to climb on my hands or shoulders, sits very still and bruxes (rat version of purr) in my hands when I pet him. But when he wants me to let him go, he can sometimes squeak to let me know. I was afraid that he was in some kind of pain, but no, it's just his way of communication. I've kept rats my whole life, but he is the first one to behave like this.

You can see that somewhere along the way, someone took a good bite out of his left ear. It happens. It's actually a very sad situation with Cactus. At first he loved my older boys, especially Bergamot, he wanted to sleep and cuddle with him, followed him everywhere. But Bergamot seems to hate him :( It took Bergamot a couple of weeks and a few really violent attacks to push Cactus away. But now Cactus finally learned his lesson, he is terrified of Bergamot.

All boys have been living together for a few weeks now. Things are much more peaceful, but we're not quite there yet. They don't fight at all on a couch or in a small cage, but in larger cage things are not so good. Bergamot no longer bites anyone to the point of bleeding, but he is still an asshole :(

#my rats #personal #my pets #not sims related #nonsims

[winterpinetrees]

Council Minutes (The Gap Years part 9)

June 18th 2019

The Elven Capital / Interstate 82

zooming the third person narration out a bit. I have ground to cover and no need for consistency.

……

Though the dual desertion may seem like it would allow for a higher chance of survival, we belive that both monitors were lost to the void soon after they abandoned their posts. 

While the High Council searches for three missing heirs, the rest of the elven world keeps turning. They have ceremonies to attend, disputes to resolve, children to parent, and as the report explains, huge breakdowns of infrastructure to handle. The report is clinical, concise, and catastrophic. Two of the monitors responsible for maintaining the very existence of the Nile Delta Voidport abandoned their posts and pushed off into the void, where, based on previous incidents, they almost certainly ceased to exist within a few hours and cannot be recovered. A Volunteer Watch has been assembled until new monitors can be brought in, but until they are, a centuries old hub of trade and travel is in a very precarious situation. 

Apex Ishtar Mercuralis, the most important woman in the world, puts her head in her large hands. She has a plan. It’s both extremely good and extremely bad. Ishtar knows why monitors have such a high rate of desertion. Ishtar also knows that this is a supply and demand problem, and that her plan to increase supply is, well…

Councillor Gullin Eburos, Plaguekeeper, Lord of Gens Eburos, clenches one hand into a fist. “I still dissent. For thousands of years, the positions of monitor and arbiter have been at least somewhat voluntary. We are making enemies of the same group that even Lazarus dared not anger”.

Ryn shoots him a glare. “Do you have a better plan? We are dragging this planet out of a stagnant period that has lasted since the north star was in Hercules. We need better infrastructure”.

“I cannot condone our soldiers going into settlements that have provided sanctuary since the north star was in Hercules and conscripting children! They’ve already been Betrayed!”

“So kidnapping and coercion are only a problem for you when elves are the victims? Without a stable void, humans outperform us at trade and production. Either we start preparing now, or we’ll end up scrambling once we’ve been unveiled”. 

There are five human seneschals on the edges of the room. In their indigo and gray uniforms, they almost look like part of the room itself. They vary in age from twenty-one to over sixty and have little in common other than their purpose and their intelligence. All five look at Ryn, then at Gullin, and then at each other. They will gossip about this later. 

The Plaguekeeper composes himself. “A spark like you cannot understand that the void, and the Betrayed, are not things to treat lightly”.

Ishtar’s eyes flare indigo. “Enough. We agreed on a plan and we will see it through. Besides, we’re already pissing off every other enclave by conquering the human world. We’re not doing this for popularity. We’re doing it to save the worlds,”

The council falls silent. The Apex has spoken, and this is not a democracy. They will stay the course. 

With too much to do, the council does not break for lunch. Their seneschals bring in food, (and coffee for Ryn, an uncouth commoner habit that Amedi has started to adopt). Discussion continues. 

“Shouldn’t this issue have been resolved by the Harbormasters?”

“Have someone from the undercouncils pay her a visit”.

“That’s a serious violation of section four of the Lazarus Reforms”. 

“I always hated Lachlan, but it is still a bit strange to know that he’s dead”.

“If the situation gets any worse, then our job in the human world will get a lot easier”.

And then the ever present topic of the missing heirs. Councillor Devana Marolak, traitor to her bloodline, representative of the Hunters, somewhat recently divorced (she got to keep the pet hawk) brings them back to it.

“The older Adust heir legitimately does not know where his sister is. That line is skilled in telepathy, but even they have limits”.

Ishtar had ordered that there would be no torturing of their noble prisoners. She seems to have been ignored. “Unfortunate. And we lost your niece's trail somewhere in the Great Plains?” The subtle insult is more effective than telling Devana off directly. 

“...Yes. I typically avoid human turns of phrase, but we’re trying to find a needle in the human world’s largest collection of haystacks”.

Ryn smiles in spite of himself. “Noble culture is built on deception and survival. It shouldn’t be surprising that we can’t catch anyone. They’ve been raised for this”. 

The four nobleborn councilors grumble and shift the arms that bear their vambraces. Ryn’s statement would make more sense if they were chasing nobility-by-merit, but the three lost heirs are all children. Children from the high nobility, yes, but none of them had ever really been tested. That makes it even more insulting how Kova and Marin escaped capture. Marin and his band of humans even killed a nobleman. His name was Kiper Chrysos and he fell to one human boy with a makeshift club and another with a concussion rifle set to kill. It’s not just a death, but a disgrace. 

The nobility are tied together by a great web of violence. They all know that the elven world prospers when the fit survive and the strong conquer. The names of those killed by another are announced with great ceremony, and kills are marked on vambraces as trophies and burdens. All five of the high council have new marks from the coup a few weeks ago. However, the rules are very clear. Names are only declared for the elven dead, and only long-lived elves can suitably carry the weight of killing an equal. Legally speaking, Kiper was killed by no one. He might as well have been mauled by a bear. One of the other soldiers, a young Gens Tiercel elf with an undercut and a very promising future, was also shot. The impact crushed his spine, an injury that would paralyze without magical treatment and will still take him months to recover from. Speed and movement are everything to the Tiercel. The injury is a more devastating blow than the human responsible will ever understand. Marin’s survival is impressive. He’s clearly very fit, and worthy of his noble birth and Lazarus’s bloodline. That doesn’t mean anyone is happy about it. 

“We’ve secured the town of Vya, at least. And our troops are being subtle about it. If Marin comes back, he shouldn’t notice anything is off until it’s too late, '' Councillor Amedi Kebero, only here because every good council needs a scrappy upstart, explains. They all know that Marin was in the suspicious car now. The analysts did some great work and confirmed the car as belonging to one Sierra Bracken, a billionaire’s daughter that matches the description of the girl from the fight. Where would the High Council be without humans to handle the data!

 “Amedi, your time at the Conservatory proves you have a skill for killcraft.” Ishtar adds. The young elf turns to her excitedly (their ears literally perk up). Six small marks on their vambrace catch the light. 

“The nobility won’t admit it, but they're frightened of Marin’s band. We need to prove our own bravery before asking them to risk their lives against the human world. Will you join the strike team?”

“I’d be honored to, Apex”.

“Good. You’ve been overseeing the operation, so you should already know the team. Esther will stay here and keep your affairs in order, but you should be back soon”. The human girl nods. Amedi smiles at her, the sort of smile you give a dog that’s been very good, and Esther smiles back.

“Should I use Mercuralis colors?” they ask. “Marin may recognize me. My signature is…well it’s from a regional, lower genus, and I did win my year”.

“That was quite the way to brag, Amedi,” Devana says.

Ryn is more serious. “Use whatever colors are your strongest. We cannot truly begin until the heirs have been captured”.

“And try your best to bring him in alive. We’ve already killed enough elves,” This is Ishtar’s penance. She is many things, but at least she isn’t killing children. In that small way, she is better than the Sondaicas who killed her parents and her brother and left her with nothing but a legacy and a betrothal.

In her name, if not by her direct actions, tens of thousands of Betrayed will be conscripted and three billion humans will die. But of Sondaica and its allies, only a single elven child has been killed. Marin’s death wouldn’t be a catastrophe. There are other heirs to Gens Sondaica safely imprisoned, and Marin is already old enough to be in those strange gap years between the thresholds of legal adulthood, but Ishtar just doesn’t want to. He seems like a good kid.

Never mind that Ishtar killed her first elf during those same gap years, that Amedi killed three, or that the old Apex murdered her own star-crossed love in a coup when she was about the same age as Marin. Never mind that her brothers never got a chance to grow older than her children are now. Never mind that the nobility prosper when the fit survive and the strong conquer, and that there really isn’t any room for good kids.

What’s the point of taking over the world if you can’t even try? Ishtar is trying. She has a plan that is both extremely good and extremely bad. Things are going to be different this time.

…………

In the human world a few hundred miles away, Sierra receives a call from an unknown number. She ignores it, but then the caller leaves a voicemail, and curiosity gets the best of her. The message is not in any language she can understand. Sierra puts it on speakerphone once they are back in the car.

“Is this your girlfriend!” 

Marin takes the phone from her hands so quickly that she barely even registers the movement. 

“Yes! That’s her!”

Clay leans back over his seat. “Are you sure it’s her and not a trick? What if she was captured? What’s she saying?”

“This is real. I left some codes in my message. Little things only she’d know. If Zerada had been captured she’d have found some way to tell me”.

“Well what’s she saying?”

“When we were kids, we sometimes climbed this really big statue on Mid-Year's Night. It’s of my oldest ancestor, Lazarus Sondaica. He took over the world a long time ago. We’d sit on his shoulders and watch the fireworks”.

Sierra interejects. “So it’s like the Statue of Liberty, but for the opposite of liberty?” 

Marin takes a moment to understand the question. “Yes. Anyway, she says to meet her in Las Vegas on that same night, by a different Lazarus”. 

“When is Mid-Year’s Night? Is that the solstice?” Brian asks.

“Actually yes! Well, the night before. This year that is the night of the 20th, or two days from now.”

Sierra tries to take her phone back. “That’s a huge drive from here. How does she know we’ll be able to make it?” 

“It’ll be rough,” Brian explains. He’s gotten a feel for driving distances. "Fifteen hours, at least."

Marin sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what she means by a different Lazarus”.

“Is there a big statue in Las Vegas?” She has cell service for once, and types that exact question into the search bar. (using a VPN of course. They don’t want to be tracked.)

“Not that I remember. There’s a lot of little ones,” Clay says. 

“Google’s telling me about the Statue of Liberty replica? Does that work?”

Brian pulls the car around and starts driving south, “Emma Lazarus!” 

Marin looks at him. He seems to recognize the name. “Who?”

Brian looks over at Clay and Sierra, who both seem confused. “No one? Emma Lazarus wrote the poem on the Statue of Liberty! ‘Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame /With conquering limbs astride from land to land; /Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand’?”

Marin blinks like he’s been awakened from a dream. He looks down at his feet. “‘A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame /Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name’”

Sierra looks at them, “What the hell guys”. 

Brian and Marin meet each other's eyes. “‘Mother of Exiles’”.

He accelerates the car. That 15-hour time assumed that they sped a bit. “We need to get to the Statue of Liberty replica”.

The elf has one more thing to add. “Vya is about half way. We could stay the night there, if it’s safe”. 

Clay looks skeptical. "If that's half the drive, we'll get there in seven hours. It'll be getting dark by then. Are we sure we should risk a potentially hostile ghost town at night?"

"Then we'll visit first thing tomorrow"

"Fine."

………

The poem in question is "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus. I am so close to plot events I’ve been imagining for years! It’s so fun. Unfortunately, I am also doing the writing equivalent of hacking through underbrush to figure out how everything else fits in.

#by me #the gap years #my oc stuff #writing that *is* #the high council #the road trip

[lepurcinus]

More about ideas for society or "culture" in xenofiction.

Cultural differences between domestic, feral and wild.

Ok, it's very common and more so in stories involving the escaped pet who meets the wild ones that the classic comments of "Useless pet dependent on humans knows nothing about life" are made many times related to pet stereotypes (and also demonizing captivity or the relationship of owners and pets, mostly when they are cats) or that when it meets a wild animal then they explains the law of mother nature or the philosophy of the jungle or something like that. But I feel that there is still a lot of unexplored ground in this concept.

Let's say if I do a story about pet dogs, stray/feral dogs and maybe some wolves. You have that pet dogs probably don't for the most part have a very complex society or religion amongst themselves due to the greater habit of interacting with their owners and the occasional neighbor dog.

Maybe dogs from shelters, kennels, police dogs or similar may share among themselves their own philosophies or further expand their pantheon of gods, maybe each breed may have among themselves their idea of why they exist if they have snub noses, long hair, slimmer bodies, etc.

But then for the most part they share the basic concept of the story of the great dog god of the stars who made all the animals and brought man to the dog to protect him from loneliness and united them forever.

Then when we talk about stray and feral dogs, then that "belief" can be maintained but with slight deformations or differences (or have your nihilistic atheist dog who lost hope, I don't know). Let's say then that in this world abandoned dogs living on the streets then think that the promise of the star dog god was broken, maybe by himself or the dog as an individual has done something wrong, then that is why these still seek to approach people and seek to "redeem" their failure. But feral dogs, having lived in generations without that contact then now their belief is that that union was betrayed and broken, hence their greater refusal to seek human affection, but still in force that little joke of an opportunity to regain it.

So if there are then wolves in the formula, they may have their star god but it may not be exactly the same as the dogs. And their view of man be more like seeing their arrival, how take everything to their children and created a warped version of them that is against them. There would also be feral dogs more accustomed to "wild" life whose belief is more wolf-like than dog-like.

Other things, enter in the cultural difference already related to the behavioral change derived from domestication. Dogs do not have the familiar pack concept of the wolf completely and their gestures are not the same or communicate the same. If we then handle a story in which the animals have their own language, then dogs do not know the language of the wolf and these in turn have developed their own language with its variants.

With other animals it would work similarly, cats that have learned to tolerate each other more, domestic rabbits that have forgotten the concept of the communal warren or to live with fear and cunning. Etc.

Other things would also result in domestic animals having things borrowed from humans, such as a greater understanding of their gestures, sounds and constructions, some words of their own that are remnants of the sounds of human words.

Perhaps adding that there are "bilingual" domestic animals that, being in contact with other animals, it would be easier for them to understand their gestures and communicate with them.

God gave me the ability to generate spontaneous ideas but the curse of feeling I can't use them well, blame him for that btw.

#I had been thinking about this because in WD the Cowslip rabbits that were wild buns cared for by a man had developed cultural ideas #of their own and had abandoned the basic concepts of the wild ones. But for some reason the farm pet rabbits seemed to know these concepts #perfectly well and their only problem was not knowing how to live wild. #Wouldn't it have been funny to see that they didn't know the language of the rabbits or that the stories were completely foreign to them. #xenofiction #dumb dumb ideas #take something of this or no idk #lepur says

[fandom-go-round]

spooky moth is here woo-hoo! Can you do some headcanons for werewolf Mori Nagayoshi from f/go please

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Madness/Insanity, Showing Affection Through Violence

Mori is semi feral. Everyone knows it and he’s proud of it. Only a truly strong Master is able to control him and that’s you. He’s not against having a pack or anything like that, he’s just picky and wants to be able to choose. Mori knows he likes to fight too much to be in a traditional pack which is why being with you is so much nicer. One person? A lot easier to handle than an entire pack.

He’s very protective of you, especially from other supernatural creatures. It’s not a surprise that Heroes are usually not human, but he doesn’t love it. You’re just so cute and fragile, he doesn’t want you hurt. Mori is very in tune with your emotions and scenes; any time you start to feel uncomfortable he’s on his way to help. It can be a lot to have him sitting in on meetings and looming over other Servants but it does make you feel safer.

When it’s just the two of you, Mori is really chill. He loves to drink tea with you and relax, watching you do paperwork or just chatting. If you really want to treat him, let him lay his head in your lap and pet his hair. It makes him go boneless and it’s his favorite thing. He will fall asleep in your lap so be ready for that if you choose this path. Mori might be embarrassed about it later but you’re his favorite Master so it’s ok. Just don’t tell anyone else.

 Mori loves to bring you back gifts, mostly to show off how good of a Servant and boy he is. Anything from the heads of enemies to baked goods you were craving last week, nothing is off limits or too hard to get. His urge to please mixed with his Berserker Madness does make it hard to talk him off the edge when he feels someone has insulted you or owes you something. The only time you can’t get him back is if they threaten you and then all bets are off. He’s going to bring you their head on a spear; no one talks to his Master like that!

#fate imagine #fgo imagine #mori nagayoshi #mori x reader #berserker imagine #fate imagines #fate grand order #fgo mori

[burningthegallows]

Fic Rec

Title: Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn’t Really Want, Thanks.

Author: orphaned on ao3

drarry

70,000

Author summary: It was addictive, the feeling of Draco Malfoy telling him things in a soft voice early in the morning. Harry felt like he was taming a wild animal, or petting a cat that hated everybody else. This train existed outside of time, that was the only explanation Harry could come up with as to why Malfoy was actually having a civil conversation with him right now.

The summary I wrote before I remembered that authors summaries exist: Harry sees the future. Draco’s in it. Harry gets caught in the paradox of wondering if his future will be the direct result of him seeing the future. That’s a lot easier for him to handle than dreaming of Draco Malfoy wearing boxers with little tropical fish on them.

This fic is so cute. It really celebrates the bond between friends— old and new. Harry and Luna and Neville have such a lovely relationship (Harry describes Luna as “the sound of your favorite song given human form” and I just 💛🤎). Draco and Pansy are sharper, and maybe have more healing to do because of it, but that’s not all their relationship is about. And everywhere the author pushes honesty and kindness and approaching each moment with grace for yourself and others.

The plot is secondary to the characters, as the ending is given to us from the beginning, but the characters themselves are lovely and nuanced. Its the characters that really move the fic forward (and backward and sideways) — at a pace not unlike the speed of summer in London. Beginning in the middle, hesitant at first, and over far too quickly.

Anyway, if you’re looking for sweet, summer reading, I recommend this.

And to the author out there, whoever you are, thank you for not deleting this lovely story!!

#drarry #drarry fic #drarry fic rec #hp and the future he doesn’t really want thanks #I love smoking weed and reading fic #sorry if this is rambly #I get overly purple when I’m buzzed #oh shit actual tags ok #when I see orphaned fics I love #I always feel a bit sad #I hope the author has a good day #btw what’s up with tumblrs weird spacing issue in my posts

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

maybe the two gods choose Their prophets as more of an assistant to make their duties easier. Like Celestica or whatever/whoever made some time and space bending items that they needed to keep on wrap to keep from causing messes. They are a tad bit too big for the delicate stuff. And it kinda went from there. Are they vaegly endeared to these little humans? Idk. They are big and it's probably more in the way we loom at mice but very unimportant. But still having a mouse to talk to the mice to communicate what it needs from them is probably more convenient than sending vaege messages or accidentally breaking a couple of minds or 10. I do think Dialga would choose Adaman simply bc I dont think you could get a couple villages to all cover for one guy that yep that's totally Dialgas choosen when there are power stuggles and influence to grab. Politics are confusing.

HMMM yeah. ok. yeah. adaman being god's designated pet mouse, but just not being very good at that job. i like that. i mean i do think there is still some amount of covering for him happening among the wardens (or even just like, mai and melli, who i think he's closest with, and even the others might not know), but it's possible that they've kept it secret from the towns and villages he directly interacts with?

anyway this has me thinking abt gods more generally. and the idea that all of these primal forces have some kind of avatar. or like, most of them. anyway are time and space magic considered equally as dangerous as light, all being primal? or is there some unique characteristic that makes light difficult to handle because its god has been like, torn into pieces. the channel or filter that a human would normally have to go through to use the magic, the divinity, has been smashed apart and it's now completely unfiltered. hence why even irida, an acolyte of space, regards a powerful light mage as so dangerous.

idk, this isn't really related to your ask i guess, i'm just thinking out loud here

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #anonymous #ley lines au

[vullcanica]

Assorted Daniel HCs: Sound/Music Edition

Has auditory-tactile synesthesia enhanced to preternatural levels by his superior senses. He can feel sound like a physical sensation. To him it can have texture, density and sometimes temperature. Certain noises can evoke the feel of various materials: velvet, sandpaper, glass, wood, metal, needles, etcetera. This also makes him easier to overwhelm in loud environments. Too much chaotic noise can bear down on him uncomfortably and lead to sensory overload.

Leading from that, voices sound far more unique to him than they would to a simple human. He's sensitive to their minute details, intonations, imperfections and moods. Some of them are distinct enough to remind him of specific sensations - a voice could be particularly grating, sensuous or comforting to him. But no matter what he'd unfailingly be able to identify it in a crowd. You could ask him what yours sounds like and he'd likely tell you... if it's flattering.

Danny's ability for perfect note-for-note recreation is only rivalled by his talent for producing only the eeriest fucking musical arrangements known to man, all of which convey visceral feelings of dread, danger and loneliness. Mournful choir starts page 1 line 7. Completely useless at conveying joy or calm - those emotions he keeps to himself and finds no need to express through music.

Feels actual genuine distress when he can't pinpoint an imperfection in a piece of music or sound. There is something wrong and he feels it like an itch on his skin he's unable to scratch. He can and has driven himself mad over it. Like listening to the disembodied, maddening unrhythmic tap-tap-taptap of water or the scrape of a fork against porcelain, it's the type of noise that annoys him to the point of long-term unrest. It's why he makes a phenomenal performer, a painfully meticulous conductor and a horribly picky, self-dictatorial composer.

He's also a terribly prissy bitch about the most inconsequential pet peeves. Can handle hell and high water in the grand scheme of things, but when it comes to little comforts you cannot expect him to grit his teeth unnecessarily. If you have an annoying voice he would simply never talk to you again. His true colors really shine the moment he is forced to tolerate something completely harmless and mildly annoying. Sounds especially. Open-mouth chewers are a scourge sent by the devil. And the scrape of cutlery against plates? a personal curse to test his mortal soul and willpower.

You can always comfortably assume his mood based on what music he's playing. It's his most frequent manner of self-expression and an outlet for his emotions so he can look perfectly fine, but if he's playing Rachmaninoff it's bad.

#𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐓 ‒ danny ║ HEADCANONS #transferring these over from his blog and didn't feel like rbing or posting them one by one so have this 🤷 #starting with everything sound related because WELL man's an actual sonomancer #so let's cover the basics #this shit literally copy pasted yes dont @ me

[fqirycollective]

Animal Parts and Fronting

What are animal parts?

Animal parts are a subtype of nonhuman parts that are animals. They form for the same reason nonhuman alters do and they are often, but not always, introjects of pets/animals children find soothing. Other cases of why an animal alter may form is due to being treated as an animal, or due to the brain seeing a certain animal as the best way to protect (ex: a wolf).

Can animal alters front?

Yes! Any alter can front, I believe. In cases of the alter being a protector or trauma holder of being treated as an animal, I would be surprised if they didn't front (although I don't know enough to be 100% sure it's impossible). I personally shapeshift into a cat whenever my emotions or others' get too dificult to handle and it helps them calm down to hold me. I could be considered a soother because of this. I believe this is a common reason for pet introjects to form, as they often bring comfort to children (and adults) during times of stress and trauma.

In my experience, controlling the body while in front is the same. This may be because I am usually in human form, so I have a lot of practice in front. In other cases, animal alters may act as the animal. This could be because of being treated as one, or due to not being aware of humanized feelings and customs. When animal parts are in passive influence, depending on the animal, we either get more aggressive or more cuddly. The aggressiveness often comes from animal parts that are protectors who act as the animal they present as. For example, we have an Absol introject from Pokémon. When he is in passive influence, we get more standoffish and aggressive when approached. Other times we get more cuddly and soft as some of our cats, dogs, and bunnies are. They're often soothers, and the cuddles help us calm down.

Tips for passive influence

While I don't suggest avoiding the emotions each part holds, the aggression some alters have can lead to more harm than good, even if there are good intentions. We tend to snap at people more easily, argue more, sometimes act more animalistic, etc. so we came up with a list that we keep in our binder of things to help avoid such aggression, especially when in contact with abusers. We also tend to act more animalistic when those alters aren't aggressive, such as licking milk from a cup like a cat would from a bowl and the list helps with that as well.

The tips are as follows:

- Try to stay calm. Aggression that isn't normally you can be scary, and was one of the reasons we discovered our system. Staying calm can be difficult, but it's easier to control the aggression animal parts may have if you're calm.

- Sometimes act like you do when they are in passive. This way, when they are, it's not so weird for people to see us this way.

- Keep things that they may find comforting. For example, we keep a tennis ball and some string. When animal alters front, they can play with such things and feel more comfortable in a human body. These are also ordinary things that aren't toys made specifically for animals that can be inconspicuous to people who you aren't out as a system to.

- Self soothing activities help us a lot with the aggression. They help calm us down and give us ways to deal with those emotions in ways that don't harm the system.

#did system #osdd system #osdd #did alter #did osdd #dissociative system #osdd support #osdd community #osdd things #nonhuman alter #animal alter