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devildomwriter · 1 year

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Demon Types

Here’s my extensive guide to demon types and their psychology and physiology

What type is your OC

Avian

Avian demons are categorized based on feather or other bird like attributes.

A common avian demon will have one or more pairs of feathered wings, in rarer cases they will have a feathered tail, feathered ears, a bird’s beak, or bird’s feet.

Avian demons tend to be on the prideful and showy side and normally share one or more personality characteristics with the bird they most resemble, the most common being a raven or crow.

They tend to have a lighter body weight and their wings are more fragile since the bones inside are hollow allowing a lighter body for flight.

Another contributor to a light body weight is they have stomachs smaller than most demons which leads to them becoming full easily and not being weighed down by food

More common magic abilities in avian types include voice mimicking, flexible necks, heightened navigation skills, and a good amount of speed thanks to light bodies and feathered wings

Avians have a difficult time maintaining their wings or feathers on their own and will usually require help.

Every so often they keep their wings out to allow old feathers to fall and if they have no patience for this will do it themselves or ask for assistance

Similarly to angels, avian demons mix a special brew that must be applied to their wings to keep them clean, healthy, and shiny as they don’t produce it naturally like wild birds would.

Avians tend to have a habit of surrounding themselves with jewelry or nicknacks and collecting things they find like shiny pebbles. They usually can’t ignore fallen change on the street or purchasing any jewelry they deem appealing to the eye.

For this reason many avians are either wild thieves or high class citizens for the sole purpose of obtaining what they desire as demons lack sufficient control of their impulses.

Typically avians have jobs in offices, fashion, design, high profile positions, and the STEM field.

Given that many avians were once angels or are renowned in the same way Lucifer is, they are stereotyped as a high class type of demon though the majority live in the wilds acting more like vultures than peacocks

Known Avians: Lucifer

Commonality: 1/10

Reptilian

Reptilians demons are categorized based on scales and other reptilian features.

A common reptilian demon will present a long scaled tail, forked tongue, and slit pupils but not always all three. They will always have hard armor-like scales, and very rarely have wings.

Reptilian demons tend to be more hostile to others until they trust you and come out of their shells, which could take a long time.

Reptilians are easy to distinguish medically, because of their cold-blood combined with scales. For the rare winters and freezes in the Devildom, this is a real issue and they need to prepare their homes to maximum heat, as they don’t do well in the cold and could fall into a coma-like hibernation until they’ve become warm again.

The myth of demons being creatures of the night has a lot to do with reptilian demons. The reptilian demons are usually sent as spies warriors to the human realm due to their thick armor-like scales. However in the human world where the sun shines they become more lethargic and relaxed as they absorb the sun’s energy in the day and are more active and awake at night, using the energy they stored.

Reptilian magic tends to be geared more towards offensive spells since they are common soldiers and the original demon species, aside from the draconian devil. They can use defensive magic but their thick scales are usually protection enough from major wounds.

Every so often reptiles will shed their scales and regrow more durable ones, even if the specific demon does not need them for battle. Demons who are used to combat and battle will shed theirs more often, the bodies natural response to any inflictions.

Reptilians usually gravitate towards more militant jobs or ones that don’t appear in public eye like working from home, or in a quiet office room.

Reptilians don’t tend to have a social class stereotype because of their commonality but many are proud to be reptilian types and see themselves as the originals.

Known Reptilians: Barbatos

Commonality: 10/10

Aquatic

Aquatic demons are categorized based on their adaptability to water and the usual appearance of gills and webbed finger or toes.

A common aquatic demon will have a long tail, usually with fins or slick scales that help them adapt to the water and move more gracefully through it. Very rarely do they have wings but sometimes with will have large fins that appear to be wings.

Like reptilians they are cold blooded and in times of rare cold on the surface, they prefer to retreat to the warmer oceans and lakes or a heated indoor pool.

Similarly to fish the aquatic demons have a air-bladder that allows them to control their buoyancy and maintain the depth they are in the water without expending too much of their energy swimming upwards and downwards.

Not all aquatic demons will have gills but most have lungs adaptable to air and to water. If they don’t have gills they will need to exercise often to maintain their naturally powerful lungs allowing them to hold their breath for extended amounts of time. Most aquatic types can hold their breath for hours on end, untrained lungs should still be able to hold their breath for close to an hour before it becomes painful.

A downside to living on the land includes increased chances of dry skin and dry eyes. They usually compensate by taking more baths and showers, living somewhere more humid, and using eye drops.

All aquatic babies are born with gills and do better a water-crib—a bath-like crib full of water specifically for aquatic type demons—these cribs allow them to breathe more easily after birth and slowly adapt to the air.

More common magic and non-magic abilities in aquatic demons are water adaptability, water manipulation, communication with sea animals, great speed and grace in water, smell great distances underwater, excellent marksmanship, clearer vision, and some even have the ability to change their sex.

Their jobs typically involve water in some way for example working at an aquarium, being a life guard, being part of the navy or cost guard, teaching swimming are aqua aerobics, etc.

Aquatic demons tend to be more easy going, happy-go-lucky, bubbly people but there are exceptions and some can be very stealthy, shy, and introverted. They enjoy surrounding themselves with reminders of the ocean, lost treasures, and things like beautiful petals and shells

Known Aquatics: Leviathan

Commonality: 5/10

Mammalian

Mammalian are warm-blooded demons that bare clear animalistic traits in their demon forms. These can include bovine markings, felines eyes, more natural body hair, cloven feet, barbed tongues and many more common distinguishing features. Mammalian are very rarely winged, and usually have tails related to their animal. Most mammalians have cow, bull, sheep, goat, or lion features. The animal they are related to usually has a lot to do with personality, for examples the lions tend to be more proud and aggressive, the bovine are easily angered and slothful, the goats like to but heads with others and will eat just about anything, the felines tend to be loners and the canines tend to have large friend groups, etc.

Mammalians are usually heavier and physically stronger than they appear but their magic is usually weaker than the average demon as compensation.

Common magical abilities will also vary depending on the animal they relate to but usually include night-vision, increased senses, increased strength, heightened awareness of their surroundings, energy absorption, high adaptability and stealth, and silver tongues.

Mammalian demons have a tendency to shed and must brush their hair and tails often. They grow body hair more quickly and need to shave more often too, while some don’t mind this others are annoyed enough to seek out medication it magical alternatives to laser hair removal. Some however take great pride in their body hair and female/non-binary mammalian demons tend to be more attracted to those with beards or more hair.

They have a harder time resisting temptation than most, this reason isn’t fully known, and they are typically outgoing and well known people, even the quiet ones have a large presence or air of mystery surrounding them.

Mammalians find fluffy pillows, clothes, and blankets to be very comforting. They prefer meaty foods and milk-based drinks although some stick to a more herbivore diet (based on their animal) however this is exceedingly rare as veganism/vegetarianism is almost unheard of for demons.

Mammalians tend to have more athletic, therapeutic, salesmanship or nature-based jobs including professional athletes, physical trainers, job recruiters, hosts, therapists, gardeners, farmers, etc.

Known Mammalians: Belphegor

Commonality: 4/10

Insectoid

Insectoid demons are distinguishable by their insect or arachnid features. Most will have more than one pair of eyes, bug-related wings, a scorpion tail, or piercers in their demon form.

Insectoid females tend to be larger than regular females and are more brazen and domineering. The males tend to be more quiet, aloof, and isolated.

Insectoids have larger appetites than most, can carry things much heavier than themselves, work best in groups, and tend to copy each other (almost like a hive-mind)

They are much sturdier than most demons but have a very fast metabolism as a means to help them fly more easily, so they can often be seen eating and you’d be hard pressed to find a youthful overweight insectoid.

Insectoids can also shed their exoskeletons and scales, which appears rather frightening but doesn’t cause them any harm and helps them in many ways. They become more durable, lose any trace of scars, and become more appealing too.

Insectoid demons usually have poison that can cause pain, immobility, or attraction. They use it as they see fit, but there are rules governing the usage and legality of some things their poison allows them to do.

Insectoids may have other amazing natural abilities like detecting a change in air current, incredibly high jumps, superior strength, hypermobility, superior durability and agility, silk-production, poison production, mobile heads, may have extra stomachs.

Magical abilities that insectoids may possess are mind-control, hormonal manipulation, invisibility, chemical manipulation, telepathy, magic tunneling (creation of tunnels using magic), and other earth-related abilities.

Insectoid males tend to gravitate towards laborious work, athletic careers, and somewhere they can be part of a large team, while females tend to seek jobs of power and strive to make their way up the ranks in the political and working world.

Insectoids tend to be clingier than most, like to observe others closely, are easily manipulated by trends, are very trusting, and a little aloof. For females almost the opposite can be said. These personalities also depend on the insect they represent but generally gender plays the largest roll and changes the way they think, however therapy can work for those who do like being naturally aloof or domineering. It should be noted that this is not always the case.

Insectoids are usually generalized as hard working and/or manipulative people and do very well in Devildom society.

Known Insectoids: Beelzebub

Commonality: 7/10

Draconian

Draconian demons will either have scaled dragon-like wings, or a dragon-tail. Those without these features may be categorized based on natural fire magic combined with cold-blood.

Draconian types have a very high tolerance to heat and fire, more so than the average demon. They have very strong wings and are highly capable fliers.

Unlike reptiles who absorb energy from sunlight to preserve, Draconians are completely photosynthetic and not only absorb energy for immoderate use and preservation, but heal faster, have their fire abilities fueled, and become more powerful in all aspects.

Like reptilian demons they usually just preserve this power for later, but are the most dependable fighters anywhere the sun shines as they don’t become relaxed and lethargic in the sunlight but much more aware.

Every year or after substantial damage is done to the body, Draconians will shed their scales and regrow nicer and sturdier scales to replace them.

Draconians tend to be very prideful since they are the same type as the royal bloodline—the original Draconians.

Like the beasts they’re named after, Draconian expect respect and adoration. They enjoy surrounding themselves with Golden and shiny things, gems, jewelry, expensive things and anything that enhances their charm and sense of authority.

Draconian’s are naturally more proficient in fire magic and typically do poorest with water magic though they’re able to become skilled in it too. Other magic they excel in are dark magic, curses, hexes, and voodoo, detection magic, summoning magic, mental manipulation, and seduction.

While their fire magic is exceedingly powerful, it will dull in colder temperatures.

Their natural abilities include heightened senses, accelerated healing, limb regrowth, powerful jumps, and fire resistance.

Unlike other cold blooded demons, the fire magic inside them keeps them warm enough to endure blizzards and freezes although they still feel the affects.

Draconian demons have a few quirky habits like slowly blinking, tilting their heads, flicking their tongues, hissing and lots of fidgeting.

Draconian types are generalized as upper class demons and haughty. They usually aim for high ranking jobs and political positions although due to their commonality, they can be found in every career although they prefer to avoid work they feel is demeaning or too demanding of them.

Known Draconians: Diavolo, Asmodeus, Mammon

Commonality: 9/10

Elemental

Elemental demons are very rare and possesses elemental features like rocky skin, twig horns, thorny tails, vine hair, etc.

Elemental demons are methodical and very in tune with their surroundings, allowing them to naturally adapt to social situations and blend in to a crowd.

Elemental demons’ personalities are reflected in their demon forms. A demon with a hostile personality may possesses rock like features or thorny tails, those with more wooden or nature related features are usually free spirited and down to earth, someone with fiery features are usually bold and outgoing, someone with ice features may be more introverted, etc.

Elementals are very rare and no two are exactly alike so not much can be determined about their physiology though it’s been shown they are proficient in the element reflected in their features.

Demons with earthen features will be proficient in earth magic, gravitational magic, strength enhancement, durability, defensive magic etc.

Demons with nature features will be more proficient in nature magic, growth and healing magic, energy magic, etc.

Demons with fire features will be proficient in fire magic, light magic, energy magic, offensive magic, etc.

Demons with water/ice features will be proficient in ice and water magic, blood magic, voodoo, positions, and empath magic.

Demons with shadow features will will be more proficient in dark magic, shadow magic, stealth magic, invisibility, etc.

Depending on their body they may shed leaves, replace and regrow bark and rocks, their fire may dim in cold months, their water may freeze in the cold, etc.

Elemental demons tend to gravitate towards more social and service related jobs. Although often seen as a powerful position, political positions are also a frequent option since they are meant to serve the public. Medical jobs are also a common choice.

Known Elementals: Satan

Commonality: .5/10

Deviant

A deviant demon has a form that does not fit into any specific category. Deviant types are extremely rare and named after such. These demons may have more or less than two horns, unusually physical abnormalities, and an undetermined representative animal. They are usually very powerful magic users and often appear as hybrids of known types.

Due to their rarity not much can be said about them other than they usually cause a stir when spotted and become famous more quickly due to their unique appearances and abilities.

Known Deviants: none

Commonality: (.02/10)

Lucifer

Lucifer is of the avian body type. He has four large black wings that are powerful enough to create gusts of wind and make him a very capable flier though he does not often use them to fly great distances.

Mammon

Mammon is of the draconian body type. Like other draconian demons he is resistant to fire and privy to fire magic. He is very energetic and due to lack of sunlight and crashes after using his energy instead of constantly being able to absorb more.

Leviathan

Leviathan may seem reptilian but he is of the aquatic type. Possessing defining gills and slick scales and a long tail that help him swim swiftly in the water he is the ultimate aquatic demon with extremely powerful water magic and command over sea life. His horns resemble coral that enable more stealth in the oceans.

Satan

Satan is of the elemental type. His tail relates to minerals and thorns as it is spiked and rock-hard. He is more capable of wielding fire rather than his body element of earth. This makes him somewhat of a deviant type.

Asmodeus

Asmodeus may have a scorpion as his representative but he bares stronger resemblance and characteristics of a draconian demon though this can be debated. Asmodeus has plentiful energy and four scaly wings which place him into this category. As someone who absorbs sunlight he does not easily tan or relax in it.

Beelzebub

Beelzebub is a fine example of an insectoid demon. His wings resemble of fly's wings but despite appearances they are not delicate and make him an incredibly fast flier, possibly the fastest of them. His wing scales sometimes shed and are replaced by stronger ones.

Belphegor

Belphegor is of the mammalian body type. He has a prickly cow tail which is very strong and fast, making it a powerful weapon to him. As a mammalian his magic is a little weaker but he is the strongest of the mammalian demons.

Barbatos

Barbatos is of the reptilian species. His bony horns represent the lost species of serpents like the one who tempted Eve. Despite being shaped like wings they by no means allow flight capabilities. His tail is forked and scaly and allows him to hang by it or easily tear things down with it. The scales are much smoother than the average reptilian which is useful for swimming. Barbatos was once considered a deviant type which is fitting for his magic and distinct characteristics but he was later evaluated as reptilian.

Diavolo

Diavolo is of the draconian body type just as all the proceeding kings were. The draconian type is held in high regard due to being a signature trait of the royal family. Diavolo has four large wings connected at the back and sharp talons which he covers with golden sheaths to prevent accidental harm and damage to his surroundings. He is very energetic and Fire is his strongest elemental magic type. Due to his status he can freely visit the human world and make use of his absorption abilities

#obey me headcanons #obey me barbatos #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me demons #obey me shall we date

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circadianaa · 11 months

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clones with wings au!

something i’ve been cooking in my brain for MONTHS but have only just now gotten down on paper. let’s go!

starting off:

the plain wings. in this specific au, the clones are from a species that have wings as opposed to a general everyone-has-wings au! the clones all have identical wings (aside from the rare mutation), which are basically bird wings with some minor changes. for one, they have opposable thumbs (can you really call it a thumb ??) at the end of the radius and ulna (lower arm bones) quite like bats! but i gave them two thumbs on each wing. for some reason. here’s what the wing skeleton looks like:

clones have very plain-looking wings, but they use them as blank canvases. since the undersides are so pale, they’re perfect for custom dye jobs.

there’s a structured system and language when it comes to wing dye jobs. the wing is broken up into four sections, where each section has a different meaning. the first (and often the first dye received as well) is the rank, at the outermost edge of the wing. this is the most structured out of all the sections; unlike the others, zero creativity for presentation is allowed. as clones aren’t technically supposed to dye their wings, it’s not written in any regulations anywhere, but it’s widely understood to be SOP.

ranks are broken into 2 tiers of silver and gold. gold denotes command staff ranks and silver are the remaining vast majority of troopers. the only ranks with 2 different commonly seen variations are lieutenants, to distinguish CMOs from platoon lieutenants, and privates, as though all shinies hold the rank of private they don’t earn wing dye until after their first battle (just like armor paint!)

the second section is rarely used—generally only by medics or other specialists. it is at the bottommost part of the wing. red stripes (or other patterns) denote that a clone is a medic. it’s a practicality thing more than it’s an aesthetic thing, same as the recognizable sigils medics paint on their armor.

the third is the most eye-catching and the most custom—no two clones have them alike! this is the personal design section, at the very center of the wing. the color of the markings here signifies the battalion a clone is in; however, this section is not meant to mark allegiance, it’s meant to mark personal history, and if a clone has ever transferred battalions, they keep the colors of their old battalion as well as including the colors of their new one. this design evolves as a clone does, often getting more intricate as they age. some clones always prefer simpler designs, though (captain rex being one!), and choose to retain the plainer colors of their youth.

the fourth is a subsection of the personal history section, marking the batchmates who have passed on. these stripes, almost always golden, are located at the part of the wing closest to the body, on the long feathers at the base of the wing. some clones have zero markings here, some have four (or more, if a sibling they felt as close to as a batchmate is lost). it’s kept as a way to honor and remember the dead. this is the only marking that’s dyed on the top of the wing as well as the underside.

here are some more examples of designs for some clones!

(that last one there is my oc, cadaver!)

some other general lore:

medics are generally the only ones capable of carrying others in flight because it’s something they specifically train for. carrying another trooper while flying is incredibly strenuous, but medics need to do so in order to evacuate troops from battlefields efficiently or catch them if they’re injured while in flight. following this, medics also train numerous flight maneuvers such as dives and tight turns in order to be able to catch injured siblings mid-flight.

clones have wings built for soaring and sustained flight, meaning that acrobatics don’t come naturally to them. bursts of speed and tight turns are something they have to train for; it’s not built in.

wings are a massive part of social life within the GAR. as hard as they try, there are spots on their wings that are impossible for clones to preen and maintain by themselves. thus, they rely on their siblings to keep each other in tip-top shape. as a result, preening is a very social activity, and often done to express affection as much as it is to keep each other healthy.

following the previous note, dye jobs are also a massive part of the social upkeep. they have to redye their wings frequently because of how often they lose feathers or have the intricate pigment damaged. this means clones rely on their siblings to keep the physical representations of their identities in place (and i’ll let you imagine how this affects clones who survive order 66.)

clones’ wings are NOISY. this does mean that stealth while flying is difficult for them, but it also means that they can use their wings as a form of communication. for example, snapping one’s wings open creates a loud wooshing sound that can grab the attention of everyone in the room. it’s used often by commanding officers trying to give orders to a rowdy platoon.

the wings are incredibly expressive and are the hardest part of one’s body language to control. a clone could have a blank face and a perfect parade rest, but their wings will be a tell-all for their true feelings. thankfully, the subtler of the numerous wing expressions are always lost on natborns.

i’ll add more if i think of it!

breaking my hiatus for this because i was too excited about it! i’m such a nerd about birds & wing aus in particular and i don’t see enough of it so i made it myself! permissions-wise, you’re totally welcome to use this lore in any art or fics if it inspires you, and if you want to create your own designs feel free to use that blank version of the wings right at the top! i would really appreciate a tag if you post any of it. thank you guys, and i hope you enjoy!

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dragonzart03 · 23 days

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Wof tribe headcanons made by me!

Mudwings

They have multiple sets of spines on their backs, similar to crocodiles, alligators, and gharials! I think they'd be distinguished for different mudwings by royalty, with royal dragons having 5 rows of spines and non-royals having 3.

Example of spines:

Seawings

Seawings have distinct tail shapes and patterns, most likely based on different species of fish or sharks. To name a few examples, angel fish, clown fish, thresher sharks, and tiger sharks. This includes them having fish, shark, and dolphin tails.

The edges of their wings are smooth and rounded in order to glide through currents and to have better mobility while swimming, similar to the light fury's wings from how to train your dragon. They are less acquainted with flying due to this.

Example of wing shape:

Nightwings:

A mind-reader's silver scales can vary in shape and number, the most common amount of scales next to their eyes being between 1 and 3, though they can have as many as 5 or 6. This depends on how strong their powers are, and there can be an increase in number as their powers get stronger.

All nightwings have very faint patterns similar to a panther on their main scales.

Example of pattern:

Rainwings

A rainwing's frill can vary in size and number of points, the common number being 3-5. Their frill raises when they're angry or in a defensive pose, similar to the Jurassic Park adaptation of the dilophosaurus.

Example of frill, less exaggerated for rainwings:

Icewings

The spines on an icewing's back are an indication of age. They are born with little to no spines, and as they mature, more grow in over time. An ancient icewings, though rarely living that long, have manes of spines that trail down to their chests, giving them an intimidating look.

Their blood varies in shades of blue, bluish green, and purple.

Skywings

The wingspan of a skywing's wing is twice the length of it's body. This gives them excellent mobility, but also makes them bigger targets in the air.

In rare cases, firescaled skywing's can have the ability to "turn off" their firescales at will. This is never spoken of because the skywing tribe did not want any possibility of hope for the firescaled bloodlines.

Sandwings

A sandwing tail barb can vary in size and shape, some shapes being more efficient with their abilities than others.

Many sandwings have the patterns of common desert animals, such as the cheetah, hyena, jackal, or addax.

Example of patterns:

Leafwings

Leafwings are distinguished by the leaf shapes on their tail, spines, and wings. These shapes vary by the types of leaves they resemble.

Their scales turn different shades with the passing seasons. This helps them camouflage into the trees when they turn different colors. When the leaves of their trees fall during autumn and winter, the scales of the leafwings' turn dark shades of brown to blend in with tree bark and the dirt.

Going off of that theory about the winter season, leafwings tend to create burrows underground during winter and hibernate until spring because the tree leaves they live in are not around during this time.

Hivewings

Many hivewings need glasses because their vision is quite poor for dragon standards. This is because their sight is similar to that of a bee's.

The wings of a hivewings are quite thin. Though they are strong when flying from hive to hive, they do not hold well during severe storms.

Silkwings

Silkwings have a prehensile tail, quite like rainwings. They use it to hang from trees and other structures during their metamorphosis.

When a silkwing emerges from its cocoon, their wings need time to dry, just like butterflies and moths. If this process is not done correctly, the wings will suffer permanent damage.

#wings of fire #wof #wings of fire headcanons #wof headcanon #wof dragons #wings of fire dragons

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tiredmamaissy · 1 year

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Writing smut about Neteyam is just wrong. Even if he is aged up, doing that so you can write it is still weird. Stick to Jake Sully and adults, but this isn’t right. Don’t ignore this.

Aging Up of Characters

All characters in my literature are adults, in terran and human years. Meaning, when I'm writing them I see them as adults. Therefore, I will portray them as such - mentally, physically, culturally, etc. Although my blog is an nsfw blog, I include their character development outside of smut. Moreover, age isn't really counted on pandora. Na'vi age quicker than humans do and experience a plateau until their senior years (which they can live for well over a hundred years). What really matters to the na'vi is passing their iknimaya - that's what makes them an adult (ready for a mate, etc).

Anyways, this isn't necessarily my main point, but it's something to keep in mind going forward.

Now, I know James Cameron did such an amazing job at portraying these aliens in a light that us humans can really relate to them, didn't he? To the point where perhaps we could start applying our own laws to them. I guess that's why it's so hard for people to really differentiate the two species sometimes :) but, you know, the na'vi are humanoid aliens, after all. aliens that have their own way of life and biology? that live on another planet? that doesn't exist? are we forgetting that these are fictional characters or something?

Most importantly, their actors are of age, yes? Yes. So I don't personally see the issue here. I can distinguish that characters and actors are not synonymous, but my point is, if their actors were underage that would be a different story. Yes, I am also aware of their age when avatar was filmed. But, they grew up - much like their fictional characters will in the next movie. Everyone was once a child - everyone grows up.

I do my upmost best to tag my fictions properly and thoroughly. If there are any fictions that you feel I may not have tagged correctly, feel free to let me know. I have no issue with being corrected, I would honestly love to be corrected. My intention is never to cause harm to anyone. If you don't like this type of content - which is totally fine and your right - I strongly recommend you avoid consuming it. Especially if it's triggering. You'll have my respect if I have yours.

Anyways, I do hear you, though. I understand it, even. You're entitled to your opinion, as am I. I mean no harm to anyone, and thankfully because the characters I'm writing about are fictional - fake, it won't harm them either. No pressure to look at my (extremely nsfw) blog or to read my (heavily warned) content - you definitely have a choice here.

But here's my (also unsolicited) advice:

Remind yourself that these are fictional characters. They don't exist :) Meaning no one here is being hurt or harmed in anyway. Take a deep breath and find comfort in that. Please also remember, that there are much bigger, and better things to worry and advocate about. To be clear - yes, pedophilia is a serious issue. But, throwing around such a word when regarding aged up fake characters from a movie really dilutes it and is disrespectful to the real life victims of pedophilia as well as other victims of sexual abuse, child porn, human trafficking, slavery.. unfortunately the list goes on. These are the people that need to be advocated for. So, I would strongly encourage you to channel your passion to advocate for real life matters - not blue, fictional aliens. Because truthfully, me and my blue alien fictions should not have this magnitude of an effect on you for you to seek me out and take time out of your day to message me about it.

To conclude, I will not be engaging in any further discussions relating to this topic. This is my perspective. If you don’t share a similar one, that’s fine. Do not engage with my explicit content, especially if you are under 18. I feel very strongly about this. My content is intended for adult consumption only as it contains explicit adult themes pertaining but not limited to - pregnancy, birth, sex, dub-con/dark themes, heats/ruts, etc. If you are a minor messaging me about these things you should not be here in the first place. All further comments & messages will be disregarded and blocked.

'nuff love,

issy.

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delimeful · 2 years

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let my mind reset (4)

warnings: dissociation episode, references to previous chapter's events, manipulation/gaslighting, antagonists disregarding personal boundaries, psychological manipulation, touch starvation, medical issues, i throw some funny little ocs in there because sanders sides only has like 8 characters

By the time they brought Virgil back, Roman had thoroughly burned himself out, leaving behind only crumbling charcoal husks of his previous fury and despair.

Virgil wasn’t conscious to comment on the emptiness that surely had to be visible in his posture. In fact, the Human didn’t so much as twitch when they dragged him back into the room and set him limply in his cell, the slow rise and fall of his chest the only thing distinguishing him from a corpse.

Wisps of worry and frustration formed at the edge of Roman’s mind, but he didn’t reach for them, instead choosing to remain centered in his distant, dazed headspace. It was fine that his scales had gone flat and defenseless. It was fine that he couldn’t seem to feel his limbs.

He didn’t want to feel, not the cold cell floor beneath him or the concern for his fellow captive or the huge, overwhelming sea of grief that lurked at the edge of his consciousness, waiting to pull him back under.

It was all too much. He couldn’t do it.

Time passed like this for a while, Virgil curled up on the floor quiet and still, Roman staring at him without actually seeing him. Every time his mind began to clear, his physicality began to return, his thoughts only had to return to the true fate of his colony, of his mother, and he’d fade away again.

Unfortunately, it was more difficult to remain unfocused when the person he was staring through began to actually stir.

Roman had seen Virgil wake before. Not often, but there had been a few rare occasions where Patton coaxed him out into the commons of the ship and proceeded to fall asleep sprawled against his side, and pinned in place with nothing else to do, the Human had slipped into a doze as well.

(They all knew Patton was a heavy sleeper. Virgil could have carefully shifted him off and left at any point. How telling it was in hindsight, that he instead sat there, as though the mere presence of a small, fluffy friend leaning on him was more than enough to keep him immobile. How could Roman have been so dull-witted, so unyielding–)

The moment he or Logan stepped into the room, however, no matter how quiet their steps were, the Human would wake. His head would snap up with a sharp inhale, eyes roving until they found him, his gaze just the slightest bit wild before he remembered where he was. Roman had thought it downright creepy to witness.

(He remembered Patton telling them about how Virgil had kept him safe through an array of ship ports and wild terrain, jumping from planet to planet, never settling in one place long for fear of being caught again. Every moment of rest would have been a risk, a chance for someone to approach with malintent.

Had Virgil always been a light sleeper, or had necessity made him into one?)

Now, however, his cellmate woke slowly, with a low groan and seemingly none of that frenetic need to check his surroundings. It was almost as though he was weighed down by something, a strange slowness to his movements.

Roman was coming back from that faraway nothingness now, despite himself, despite everything, because it wasn’t just him. ‘It wouldn’t be the first Human I’ve been forced to put down,’ she’d said. Because she’d called Virgil an ‘it’, saw him as a pet, a tool, a means to an end. Because she had a way to strip the will of one of the most feared species in the universe, and overlay it with her own.

Virgil needed to know what Roman had gotten him into.

He forced himself to focus, trying to drag his attention to all the little details around him the way he’d been taught. There weren’t a surplus of options he could use. Not the cell, not his scales, nothing that would drag him back down into that bottomless desolation.

Virgil. Virgil looked different.

He looked cleaner, the dirt and grime of being shuttled through the black market’s trafficking system all washed away. His clothes had been changed from one of the makeshift & patched together outfits he wore on the Mindscape to a well-fitted set of Human clothes, with near-invisible seams and expensive-looking fabric. Most notably, there was a thick layer of bandages wrapped around the lower part of one arm, presumably from the procedure.

(At least their non-consensual mystery surgeries came with clean bandages. Still, Roman couldn’t help but notice that none of the other injuries that Virgil had gained during his ill-fated rescue attempt had been treated.)

“Virgil,” Roman mouthed silently, sorely wishing he’d told the Human anything about Crav’on sign language. With his ears flicking back flat, he forced his voice into existence, ignoring the fact that pushing himself into being verbal would only mentally tax him more in the long run. “Virgil. Virgil. Can you hear me?”

Virgil lifted his head up after a short delay, but his eyes were hazy and dull, his face slack in a way Roman had never seen before. It took him several long moments to focus on Roman, and once he did, his face flickered into one of those odd human expressions Roman couldn’t quite parse.

He could parse the way the Human’s body stiffened up, the way he shoved himself backwards until his back hit the bars, the way his strange legs drew up to act as a shield between himself and the rest of the world.

It was the same thing he’d done back on the ship, shortly after being in the throes of some terrible dream. A fear response, a show of terror.

One that surfaced at the mere sight of Roman.

“Easy,” he said, voice still dragging on softer consonants, putting stress on the wrong parts of words. “I’m not going to hurt you. Can… can you understand me?”

Virgil continued to hold himself in that terrible stillness, gaze flickering from point to point on Roman’s face. For the first time, it struck him that the Human probably had just as difficult a time reading his body language as Roman did his.

He smoothed his scales out from their prickle of alarm, angled his ears back but not flattened, and tilted his head up slightly, angling his crown of horns back. The motions were all Crav’on, broadcasting not a threat at every level.

After only a moment of hesitation, he lowered himself slowly onto the ground, hunching over and holding his hands in front of him, palms up.

These weren’t Crav’on. These motions were alien, uncomfortable in nature, nothing he would be soothed by. Crouching was a precursor to lunging or sprinting, his palms should be down, claws pointed away and tucked in.

But Virgil was blinking now, eyebrows drawing together slightly, a relief to see in place of that frozen, wide-eyed stare. His shoulders, which had drawn up like a pale facsimile of defensive scale bristling, slowly eased back down.

“I won’t hurt you,” Roman repeated, and then again in Patton’s warbling home tongue.

Virgil jolted at the sound of it, but it didn’t drag him any further into coherency. Rather the opposite, his head abruptly began to turn this way and that, his hands reaching as though searching out something that should have been in the corner of the enclosure.

Roman abruptly remembered the last time Virgil had been drugged in an alien cell, and more importantly, who he’d been with.

He leaned forwards, trying to draw the Human’s attention back from the search, which was growing frantic. “He’s not here,” he said, and whistled Patton’s name-call. “He’s safe, though. You made sure he was safe, okay?”

Virgil asked something, the words slanted and guttural in what was either his own language or an attempt at Common that was too mangled to parse. Roman dipped his head in a Human-style affirmative, hoping that it was the right answer.

It must have been, or at least it wasn’t the wrong one, because the Human only dragged his hands up to his face and pressed his too-wide palms against his eyes for a long moment, saying something else in a low voice that wobbled, the noise pitiful enough to make Roman feel all tangled up inside.

“It’s going to be alright,” he tried, an echo of Patton’s cadence in the words. He huffed nervously before trying the one Human word he sort of remembered, one oft-repeated between Virgil and Patton like a murmured promise. “Safe. Safe.”

One white-edged eye peered through the curtain of fingers clasped over Virgil’s face, careful and assessing, before he slowly breathed out. “Safe,” he said back, not a question, but not really reassured, either.

He nodded a couple of times, head bobbing like a seabird’s, and then shifted to curl back up so tightly that Roman could finally see how he’d shoved all those gangly limbs into such small hiding spaces.

A brief moment later, and he was still again, asleep or unconscious or somewhere in between.

Roman couldn’t be too surprised; whatever had been used to drug the Human, it must have been extremely potent to cause this level of incoherency. Logan believed sleeping was a particularly vital recovery method for Humans, and Virgil would need all the recovery he could get.

“Safe,” Roman mouthed to himself again, and wished that it wasn’t a lie.

—

Virgil didn’t get to wake again— this time, he was woken.

Roman’s voice had gone again, so he couldn’t speak when Roux reappeared, this time with several Humans crowded behind him. A mixture of terror and fury fueling him, he pulled out every physical threat display he could think of, attempting to draw their eyes away from his vulnerable crewmate, but didn’t earn a single glance for his troubles.

Instead, he was forced to stand aside and watch as Roux rapped a metal rod harshly against the cell bars, the clanging noise enough to jerk Virgil awake and probably give him a headache as well.

Despite everything, Roman felt almost reassured by the resulting groan and swear. Virgil was obviously still suffering the effects of whatever they’d dosed him with, but this was leagues better than the tremulous, barely-there demeanor from before.

“Rise and shine,” Roux announced nonsensically. (Humans couldn’t glow. Roman would have noticed by now. Probably.)

“Bite me,” Virgil snapped back, an invitation that would be lethal for practically any other alien. Roman immediately lowered his previous estimation of how much the drugs had worn off.

Roux laughed, the sound nothing like Virgil’s barely-there chuckles or snorts. “Aw, did someone wake up on the wrong side of the prison cell? Poor thing.”

Their mocking cadence set Roman’s hackles on edge, but one of the other Humans cut in before any snippy responses could be offered.

“Enough, already. You’ve done your part,” the Human said firmly. “It’s time for us to do ours.”

Roux rolled their eyes but pulled the door to Virgil’s cell open with a sarcastic flourish, allowing the four new Humans to crowd inside, pulling a small cart with them. “Back in an hour,” they said, and then locked the cell once more before striding away.

Leaving Virgil locked in a cell with four other Humans.

The anticipatory horror settled on Roman like too-heavy armor, his heart thudding painfully in his chest. Virgil seemed to feel the same way, shoving himself back into the far corner of the cell and struggling to get his feet underneath him, teeth bared in a back-off snarl. (Patton was right. This close, the expression looked nothing like a Human smile.)

Roman shuffled closer to the bars separating them despite his screaming instincts, hoping he could reach out and claw at one of them once they started attacking, draw their attention onto a more suitable target.

“None of that, now,” the first Human told Virgil, utterly unperturbed by his threat display. Their hair was wispy and grey, with firm lines pressed into their face. “This isn’t an attack. Quite the opposite.”

“You’re in no shape to be fighting anyhow,” the second Human piped up, stepping forwards into Virgil’s space and grabbing onto his wrists. “I bet you can barely feel your face, huh?”

“Back off,” Virgil demanded, but his attempts to yank his wrists free were clumsy and futile, and only served to prove their point. Even that small effort left him visibly shaking.

“Tanner,” the first Human snapped, and the second Human’s hold on Virgil snapped away automatically. “The poor thing’s been terrified enough.”

“Sorry, Matron Carmela,” ‘Tanner’ replied, a well-recited tone to the words. “We’re gonna have to touch him eventually, though.”

“Leave me the hell alone,” Virgil spat, his wrists drawn close against his chest. The brief hold hadn’t seemed painful, but it had drawn up something extremely unsettled in Virgil’s demeanor.

“Oh, honey,” the third Human said, a cloying pity to their words. “It’ll be alright. We’re here to help you.”

Virgil didn’t respond, only glaring, but that seemed to be enough expression for the others to read plenty from.

“Everyone takes a little convincing at first,” Matron Carmela said matter-of-factly. “Afina, hold onto him, please.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

Virgil went rigid, but even with this blatant warning, he wasn’t quick enough to prevent the third Human from ducking behind him and sweeping him up into their grip. Whatever they’d drugged him with had eliminated all of his usual strength and speed, his writhing struggles easily contained by an arm around his shoulders and another looped over the bend of his legs.

Afina patiently waited for his resistance to die down before settling into a seated position on the floor, casual as anything even as they continued to restrain him. Tanner grabbed something from the cart before bounding back over to crouch beside them, reaching one hand out to Virgil’s face with… a small white rectangle?

Virgil seemed just as bewildered as Roman felt, his face scrunching up as the other Human carefully pressed the soft pack against the more swollen side of his face.

It was a temp pack. To reduce swelling. Why?

“What a nasty bruise.” Matron Carmela clicked her tongue. “Honestly, Roux should know better. Making more work for us.”

“Those guards really have no tact, treating you so harshly when you’re one of our own,” Afina said with a frown.

Virgil opened his mouth, presumably to object to being one of theirs when they’d literally imprisoned him, but was immediately distracted by Matron Carmela moving forwards and grabbing one of his hands, pinning his fingertip against the nozzle of a device.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a little prick,” Afina reassured, completely misinterpreting the way Virgil had stiffened. “Like a glucose meter, but for checking a bunch of different things! Can you even believe all the crazy space tech they’ve got out here?”

“It took some fiddling to recalibrate it for Humans,” Tanner added, still holding the temp pack steady. “Super useful now, though.”

Matron Carmela pulled the meter back, studying the screen for a long moment, her displeasure growing. Tanner snaked his free hand into Virgil’s, replacing the presence of the meter with interlaced fingers.

Strangely, Virgil didn’t pull away.

“As I thought. We’ll need to get you on a nutrition plan immediately,” Matron Carmela said, and began jotting down notes in a looping scrawl as she spoke. “Severe vitamin deficiencies, pernicious anemia, clear malnutrition— we’ll have to be careful to avoid refeeding syndrome. A bone density test is in order, I wouldn’t be surprised if—”

“What are you talking about?” Virgil cut in, his voice equal parts angry and incredulous.

“We’re in charge of medical treatment for new arrivals,” Afina provided helpfully. “It’s hard to get what we need while being space fugitives, so most new folks need special diets for a while! No need to be ashamed!”

Tanner nodded. “That’s just what happens when you’re an interstellar fugitive surviving in the wilderness of foreign planets.”

“Of course, not all of us end up in that situation,” Matron Carmela said. “However, even amongst civilization, the needs of humans are rarely met. For cases like yours, they’re outright neglected.”

For the first time, her gaze shifted over to Roman, frown deepening and eyes going icy. He recoiled slightly with a reflexive bristling of scales.

“It’s monstrous, the way aliens treat us,” Afina added mournfully, curling in closer to Virgil. “All you did was exist, and they starved you of everything you needed to thrive. It must have been so hard.”

“You’re here now,” Tanner added, scooting forwards a bit so that his arm curled around Virgil’s shoulder. “We protect each other here. We’ll make sure you never feel so weak again.”

Virgil stared at him for a moment, and then his gaze trailed down to their joined hands, and when he looked back up it was Roman’s eyes that he met, a hint of that wide-eyed terror visible at the edge of his expression.

He looked away again before Roman could respond, swallowing thickly before speaking again. “Who’s that?”

Roman followed the tilt of his head to the fourth and final Human, who stood stiltedly near the entrance to the cell, arms crossed tightly in front of their chest. They’d been so quiet, he’d barely registered their presence amid the shrieking wrongness of watching Virgil be manhandled by a bunch of strange Humans.

“That’s Iris!” Afina said, smiling. “She’s—,”

“She’s a trainee,” Matron Carmela cut in. “Don’t mind her, she’s still learning her bedside manner. Now, the first priority for your recovery…,”

The other two Humans obligingly returned their attention to her words, but Roman caught the way Virgil and the newly-introduced Iris held eye contact for a long moment.

Virgil’s gaze flickered between her and the cell door, some silent question in them. There was a brief pause, and then he watched as Iris’s mouth pressed into a flat line, her chin dimpling slightly before she averted her eyes entirely and turned away to rifle through the cart. Virgil’s expression twitched the slightest amount before smoothing back to a flat scowl.

The ‘appointment’ continued on like that, Roman’s nerves rising with every barbed statement the Humans made about aliens and the mistreatment Virgil had clearly gone through at their hands, his worry growing with each gentle touch that Virgil didn’t shy away from.

He had reverted to a numb silence for the most part, only speaking up when Matron Carmela approached with a pair of scissors, flatly refusing to let them cut his hair.

There had been a taut stretch of silence, glances Roman couldn’t understand exchanged between them all, and then she had acquiesced without a fuss, placing the shears back on the cart and moving on.

By the time Roux returned to retrieve the attendants, Roman was huddled in his cell, having worked himself into a near-frenzy of stress. He barely even registered their amused jab at him, too busy watching as the Humans carefully untangled themselves from the knot they’d created around Virgil, leaving him sitting there on the cell floor.

A few discordantly cheery farewells later, they were alone again.

Roman’s voice had been all but intangible with the presence of other Humans in the area, but now the words seemed to fall from him so quickly they almost tripped over each other.

“Virgil, why were they talking like that? Like you have— Like you’re— Are you sick? You would tell us if you were sick, wouldn’t you? You said you’d been eating enough!”

Virgil shot him a strange look, shaking his head slightly. “I’m fine, Roman. That’s not what we need to w-worry about right now.” Even as he spoke, he was folding in on himself, arms coming up to wrap around himself in a mirror of Iris’s earlier posture.

He was trembling, Roman realized with a start, hard enough that his breathing was off, his words coming out slightly stuttered. He felt a sudden surge of panic. “Oh, stars, what did they do to you? Are you dying?”

Virgil’s laugh came out half-choked. “No. I’m alright, I just wasn’t e-expecting that.”

“‘That’?” Roman felt a sense of foreboding slide under his scales. “Virgil, please, you can’t believe what they say. There’s more going on here, this isn’t what you think—,”

“I don’t believe them,” Virgil interjected, and Roman felt a weight ease away. He hadn’t realized just how worried he’d been about the possibility until it was so swiftly struck down. “They tazed me. They d-drugged me. I’m in a cell. We’re obviously not cool.”

“Right, of course,” Roman said, attempting to scrape the remains of his composure from the ground. “Then, what’s wrong?”

“It’s— I’m—,” Virgil grimaced, curling in on himself further. His hands were digging into his sides, fingers curled in sharply. “Look, it’s not about what they’re saying, not yet. It’s about w-what they’re doing.”

“Lying to you?” Roman guessed halfheartedly.

“Holding me,” Virgil bit out, like the words were painful. “It’s just— touch is important to Humans, okay? It’s— It’s manipulation, they’re taking advantage of that. Trying t-to lower my guard.”

‘They crave connection,’ Marta had said. Roman shuddered, his scales giving a sharp rattle.

“… Is it… going to work?” he asked, still entirely uncertain on how Humans worked, what they really needed.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Virgil replied, which wasn’t a real answer. “It doesn’t matter, I just– it's just been a while, that’s all.”

He was still trembling, shudders working their way through him one after another, like aftershocks.

Roman felt a twisting in his gut at the sight. He might not have known about this, but the other Humans must have. They’d made a point to hold him, to crowd in close and press their hands to him in the guise of medical aid, to give him a taste of something he needed and then rip it away. They’d flipped him on his back, bared his weakness for the whole world to see.

“Come over here,” he requested, giving into the impulsive urge to try and fix it.

Virgil’s eyes flicked over to him, and his posture was distinctly wary, like a wild animal coaxed to the edge of a torch’s light. Bit by bit, he pulled himself back upright, edging forwards until he was in reach.

Forcing himself not to overthink it, Roman offered his hand in that strange, palm-up Human way.

Virgil hesitated, clear as day, his gaze once again flicking about, searching Roman’s face for something. Roman held still and waited, his hand never wavering.

Ultimately, he wasn’t sure Virgil found what he was looking for, but the Human reached out and set his hand in Roman’s anyway.

The thought came unbidden: Humans were strong. If Virgil wanted, he could probably crush the plates on Roman’s hand to dust.

Roman slowly folded his fingers around the soft, unarmored hand, trying to replicate the way the other Human had held it, and forced the idea out of his mind. Virgil had never tried to hurt him before; why would he abruptly decide to crush his hand now?

“What are we doing?” Virgil asked in a low voice, his hand twitching nervously.

Roman’s tail thumped against the floor in embarrassment, and he let his nose wrinkle in irritation before sighing and lowering himself to sit against the corner of the cell.

“You need touch, right?” he grumbled, pointedly pressing as much of his side as he could against the bars, scales slicked down. “Or… does it only work if it's other Humans?”

Virgil stared at him long enough that he began to prickle, and then his fingers curled slightly around Roman’s. “No, this– it should work. I think.”

He slowly lowered himself into a seated position as well, scooting closer when Roman tugged meaningfully on his hand. This close, he could feel the warmth that the Human radiated, chasing away the chill of the cell bars.

They were both tense at first, but as time went on and Roman remained quiet and still, Virgil almost seemed to melt, the stiffness slowly leaking out of him as his shoulders slumped and his head tilted to the side. He’d witnessed it before, when Patton was curled against him and chattering away and neither of them knew Roman was watching the security vidfeed, but he’d never thought it would happen in close proximity to him.

Still, there Virgil sat, slowly letting his body relax from the battle-ready tension that he wore like a second skin. Making himself vulnerable, showing his soft side, even though Roman was right there in striking distance. Even though all Roman had ever done was despise him.

It was a show of trust. Even after all he had done, Virgil wanted to trust him.

Roman held on long after the trembling eased, long after Virgil’s laxness turned to the limpness of sleep, as though if he clung on long enough, he could make up for the time that Virgil had spent without this.

As though he could convey through the careful holding of a hand in his that he wanted to trust Virgil, too.

#sanders sides #ts virgil #ts roman #space au #humans are deathworlders #wibar #lmmr #let my mind reset #writing #my writing #sorry for the delay in posting a personal issue happened #wish those would stop happening to me. please #anyways enjoy the implications of this chapter <3

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alphynix · 2 years

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It Came From The Wastebasket #17: Getting Ornithomimus In Order

The ostrich-like "bird-mimic" dinosaur Ornithomimus was named in 1890, based on some hand and foot bones from Late Cretaceous-aged fossil beds in Colorado, USA.

The first ornithomimid known to science, it was initially thought to be a ornithopod, but then a few years later more fossil material revealed it was actually a theropod – and then it spent some time classified as a "megalosaur" before ornithomimids were finally recognized as being coelurosaurs in the early 20th century.

And for nearly a century after its discovery it was treated as a wastebasket taxon for any similar-looking fossil material from North America and Asia, with around 17 different species named within the genus. One of these was split off into Struthiomimus in 1917, but it wasn't until much later that the rest began to get sorted out.

A review of known Ornithomimus fossils in the early 1970s renamed a couple more species into the new genera Archaeornithomimus and Dromiceiomimus, and dismissed most of the remaining species as dubious or invalid. Just two valid species now remained: the original Ornithomimus velox from Colorado, and Ornithomimus edmontonicus from Alberta, Canada.

Ornithomimus edmontonicus

Since then opinions have gone back and forth about some of the other Ornithomimus species. For a while Dromiceiomimus was merged back into Ornithomimus, but more recently it's been found to have distinct limb proportions and was probably actually a separate genus after all. Another species that's usually considered to be part of Struthiomimus is also sometimes instead classified as an Ornithomimus instead.

Really all of the North American ornithomimids are in need of a modern taxonomic revision – especially since Ornithomimus edmontonicus shows enough anatomical variation that it might actually represent a species complex of multiple very similar forms, which might get split apart in the future if anyone can figure out how to reliably distinguish them.

———

Nix Illustration | Tumblr | Twitter | Patreon

#it came from the wastebasket #wastebasket taxon #taxonomy #ornithomimus #ornithomimidae #ornithomimosauria #maniraptoriformes #coelurosauria #theropod #dinosaur #paleontology #art #science illustration #paleoart #palaeoblr

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newsalvations · 2 months

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leo woodall, bisexual + biromantic, cis man + he/him → isn’t that oswald “oz” michaels? i’ve seen them hanging out with the sirens. i hear they’re twenty-eight, but they’ve only been in alexandria for their entire life. they seem to be whimsical & alluring, but also unstable & cruel.

BASIC INFORMATION

full name: oswald gage michaels

nickname(s): oz, ozzie

age: twenty-eight

date of birth: august 10

hometown: alexandria, louisiana

current location: alexandria, louisiana

species: siren

ethnicity: white

nationality: american

gender: cis man

pronouns: he/him

orientation: bisexual + biromantic

occupation: lead singer of tbd band

living arrangements: at the chateau

language(s): english

accent: lousiaian

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

face claim: leo woodall

hair color: auburn

eye color: blue

height: 6'2"

weight: 154 lb

build: athletic

tattoos: a siren on both of his arms; various others

usual expression: devilish grin

distinguishing characteristics: his smile, his bright eyes

PERSONALITY

positive traits: whimsical, alluring, confident

negative traits: unstable, cruel, spiteful

myers brigg: esfp

zodiac sign: leo

element: fire

enneagram: the individualist

temperament: choleric

hogwarts house: slytherin

moral alignment: chaotic neutral

primary vice: wrath

primary virtue: generosity

fears: losing his voice, dying again

hobbies: singing

FAMILY

father: toby michaels

mother: charlotte michaels

sibling(s): aren michaels, one other brother

pet(s): none

FAVORITES

weather: rainy

season: winter

color: black

music: emo / punk rock / alternative

movies: comedy / horror

beverage: beer

food: burgers

animal: dolphins

NSFW

preference: vers top, dominant

kinks: breeding, rough sex, dom/sub, control in/out of bedroom, lingerie, open to others

anti kinks: scat, vomit, blood play, etc

BIOGRAPHY

oz grew up in a fairly normal and happy human household. they knew about the supernatural and seemed to get along with everyone. oz was the sweetheart country boy who played for his high schools football team and went to church every day. nobody could truly hate him, or so he thought.

at the age of sixteen, he was invited to a kickback in the woods with a few of the other kids from his school. what he didn't know was that a group of witches planned on sacrificing him for some blood pact that they needed. although they tried to muffle his screams, it burned him back to life with a rage he'd never experienced before.

the witches realized what they did and quickly began to scatter, he'd eventually track them all down and brutally killed them one by one until he burned the leader alive in the same place he'd been sacrificed.

after that, he knew he wasn't the same. giving up football and church, oz discovered that his voice was even more beautiful than it'd been before. he had always been talented at singing but it was different now and he decided to abandon his life to persue music. without a word to his parents, oz left in the middle of the night to california where he'd form a band of sirens, banshees, and harpies; quickly got the attention of record labels who ended up fighting over them.

the bands freshman album was an overnight success, people were almost hypnotized by his voice and he grew a loyal but rabid fanbase. he'd find his way into the beds of married men, from hollywood execs to fans of his. he didn't care.

the band released more albums as time went on, becoming a mainstream success despite the numerous controversies they found themselves in. oz was known as a heartbreaker and various accidents began to follow the bands name, including the deaths of those who knew them personally and fans. the biggest scandal was when one of oz's biggest fans was found with his husbands dead body in their bed and people believed the man did it to try and win oz's affection. little did any of them know that oz specifically told this fan that killing his husband was the only way to prove his love for him.

after this, their record label was furious and wanted the band to clean up their image. something oz wasn't interested in. he still had a desire to burn the world down, no matter what the costs were. they agreed to leave the spotlight for the time being, work on a new album, and maybe rebuild their image.

he's been back in alexandria for a few months now and the itch to destroy more marriages and couples is still getting to him, now that he can't do it to his pool of fans.

#unveilintro #( bio: oz michaels )

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aspd-culture · 10 months

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When you say pro social instincts, what do you mean? /genuine. Because I’m autistic (and I know you have it as well so maybe this would help me) and I’m not quite sure how to.. I suppose.. distinguish between pro social but autistic, just socially inept, and antisocial and autistic.

Prosocial instincts are all those things that come naturally to prosocial allistics that keep society both together and functioning. This is in no way an exhaustive list, but some examples are -

The desire to be around other people/be in packs, picking up on and internalizing the emotions of the people around you to survive (if they’re afraid, there is probably something that is a danger to all of you around somewhere), contagious yawns and vomiting, the desire to heal other’s wounds, the desire to feed/clothe/house/protect the youngest, oldest, and sickest of your pack, the desire to “pack bond”, sharing for no reason other than to share, passing down knowledge/stories/etc, mating long term/for life without interest in cheating, feeling responsible for not just your own children but all children, the natural pull to aid someone in emotional distress, “mating rituals” like dancing, social games like being polite, the desire to fit in, the fear of wronging and/or upsetting another member of your pack (which once upon a time could have ended in death as humans are pack animals who are not made to be self reliant in the wild), internalizing the morals/politics and culture of your pack, strong attachment to your pack over anyone else (the innate pull to protect people from your community - even if you have never personally spoken to them - over people who live elsewhere) - this is why if a prosocial finds out they went to the same college as someone else or that someone else is from near their hometown, they immediately feel camaraderie with that person even if they have literally never spoken before, the desire to sing and laugh and dance and make stories with people you know, the desire to breed specifically for the purpose of procreating vs just for the fun of it, the need for touch from other humans all throughout life (being “touch starved” in a non-sexual way), the need to feel and be understood/heard/validated, etc. etc. etc.

These are the things that make life… life to prosocials. It’s in every fiber of their being to find a community to belong to and then live and die by that community and it’s rules/customs/etc. It’s what makes living worth doing for many of them. pwASPD work to find our purpose elsewhere, and many of us honestly end up feeling like we are just surviving until life takes us out rather than “living” in that sense, but prosocials find their purpose in each other. Prosocial instincts built communities - by creating this weird setup of behaviors and rituals and such, they can see who is like them and they can surround themselves with people like them so that they can feel content at having a pack which would have been vital to live in the wild. This is why ableist prosocials think pwASPD don’t have a soul or aren’t really human - they think that we must be defective if we don’t want to be around people. To some degree this is difficult for prosocials to control because their biological instincts are telling them that if they were to foster relationships with us, any kids we have would be more likely to end up dead because they wouldn’t have a pack to protect them in the wild. It’s hard for some of them to think past their instincts to realize those packs are no longer required the way they were before we took over the entire damn planet and became the dominant species. It’s not justification, but it’s the reason it happens. Some prosocials - the ones who are ableist and spout eugenics towards pwASPD - are just weak and cannot think beyond the literally thousands of years outdated instincts.

For prosocial autistic people, many of these things may not come naturally, but they *want* to learn them. They *want* to fit in and be liked and have these close bonds where everybody “gets” them and they “get” everyone through the set of subconscious behaviors, chemical releases, social games, etc that are built into allistic prosocial society. The largest difference between a prosocial allistic person and a pwASPD as far as I’ve seen/heard is that a prosocial autistic person may not understand the language the rest of the world is speaking, but they are *trying their damndest* to figure it out - which is where masking comes from. pwASPD who are allistic often completely understand these rituals and customs but actively choose not to participate either because of disinterest or outright disdain for this very illogical set of expected behaviors, and autistic pwASPD often both don’t understand them and don’t care to try to learn. I am an autistic pwASPD and my view on it as a child was that if they enjoyed their weird rituals and games and such, then that was great for them - and all the more reason for me to stay to myself because I didn’t get it and I didn’t have any interest. It’s like seeing people get excited about football when you aren’t interested in it - it’s not hurting anyone and you mind it, but you also don’t get it and aren’t going to try to learn because it’s just not your thing. They can just do that and you can just not and everyone can be happy with that. Basically, autism causes you to not understand these instincts, while ASPD makes you not care about them or actively dislike them.

#aspd-culture-is #aspd culture is #aspd culture #actually aspd #aspd #aspd awareness #actually antisocial #antisocial personality disorder #aspd traits #anons welcome

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mr-clow · 4 months

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Ensemble 2: Greed and Politics. Part 2:

Six months had passed since the initial attack. Quatl was now on the podium, informing the other delegates that had joined the war the current situation.

Quatl - My speech has been sent previously to your translation units, any doubts please wait until the report is finished.

Quatl scanned the ample room that was barely occupied by fifteen different creatures. Al waiting to hear has been fished out of the war on humanity only for them to start arguing who would keep what.

Quatl - The war has progressed a lot faster than expected and with minimal losses. The first five standard rotations (Ten human days for the reader) were the cruellest, where we had the 90% of the total deaths and all the ships lost were during that period. After that, during the following 30 rotations, humanity retreated to the inner section of their system, fleeting with nothing more than what they could carry with their hands. As stated before, the humans cannot be trusted, so we established a barrier around the system, only stopping the ships that were trying to leave the system. No human ship tried to leave and we assume that at the moment more than 89.000.000.000.000 humans are enclosed in that area. Sanarin and KalHal governments had been sending food to support their allies and we cannot stop them by the same council rules that we established to protect ourselves. As for now, nothing more than food has been taken inside the system, so there is nothing to worry about.

Quatl watched as several symbols of approval crossed through the different species. They all chipped in prepared for war with one of the most vicious species on the galaxy and suddenly this overgrown monkeys had shown their cowardly side, nothing could have been better.

Quatl – Now, we know that humanity faced a civil war, the actual ruler is a female without any experience in combat and deemed mentally unstable. Their industry resources are lacking, they are short on fuel, and as a civilization right now they cannot distinguish top from bottom. We will have an additional meeting to speak about the profits of this war, but I assure you, the bounty is plentiful. I would prefer if we coordinate said meeting before the replacement delegate of the Spin’d arrives, as the latter abandoned her post.

Quatl went down of the podium as voices of approval follow him. After reviewing a couple of documents with the rest of the present members, he went to Kiltnik office, as he had some doubts that the smart Rajne might solve. He went in and clashed on the resting surface that was set up against the wall. Kiltnik looked at him and sat on the other side of the desk.

Kiltnik – I am really impressed, we made out with 37 worlds, five of them already terraformed, a few others habitable and all the rest are full of resources.

Quatl – Yes, humanity have a superb sense for valuables. Now that we have taken all of their colonies, the commerce inside the council will reach levels never seen before.

Kiltnik – The most important question still remains unanswered, though.

Quatl – Don’t worry, I have a plan to convince those brutes that the planets we are going to give them are worth more than all our share together.

Kiltnik – I don’t have any doubts about that. I am wondering what will we do with humanity.

Quatl – That will be easy, but we need time. Eventually the other species will stop sending aid and humanity will have to perish or drag to our feet. They already ran like scared prey to they own system and we blockaded them. Maybe the civil war will make the job for us and humanity will kill itself.

Kiltnik – That is a good prediction. Sadly we can not stop the Sanarin and KalHal from sending them aid, but maybe shall we convince them in other way?

Quatl – When they see the share they missed, they will start doubting. Meanwhile, they are not bothering us with other things, so let’s wait a bit more.

Kiltnik – That means that you are not here to talk about humans, nor the share, what do you need to know?

Quatl – You should learn to do some small talk, ease those around you to be more receptive.

Kiltnik – You know that is not the way of my people.

Quatl – Well, well, alright. Do you know what happened with Gnacht? The Spin’d wouldn’t change their delegate just because.

Kiltnik – As you might expect, their central government got an anonymous word of the opportunity they lost because of her decision. It was an obvious response. They should have been on our side, now she will pay for it.

Quatl – I enjoy easing people to submission as much as you enjoy destroying their careers. We make an excellent team. I hope we stay on the same side for the rotations to come.

Kiltnik – That word is empty, make sure I’ll be on your side and I’ll do the same.

Quatl – And you should work on your ability to read between lines, but yes, the same as I said. I have to leave, remember to hand me your selection for the loot.

Kiltnik made a gesture to leave Quatl at ease as he reached for the door. Quatl happily walk to his room, he would leave an absence note to dismiss every appointment that required his presence, and he would bury himself to enjoy a long-lasting and well-earned meal.

#humans are deathworlders #humans are weird #earth is a deathworld #humans are space orcs #humans are space aussies #The bloody imperatrix

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stormxpadme · 7 months

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Whumptober 2023 No. 10 - Broken Phone

Scogan Bingo challenge Breaking the rules

The news weren’t too shocking, in hindsight. With a psychopath villain, equipped with a healing factor almost matching Logan's, in the equation? The only thing shocking about this damn letter placed at the X-Men's garden gate at sundown was how long this had taken to happen. Fall from the Statue of Liberty or not, Creed showing his ugly mug again had only been a question of time. Not to mention that the trail of ripped-off, abused, disfigured, and half-eaten bodies respectively their parts, both from mutants and normal people, that the bastard had left in New York's sewers in the last few weeks, should have been a pretty obvious hint.

There hadn’t been exactly a warning though, not that. From whom? Creed's allegiance with the Brotherhood, always quite loose as it was, seemed to be the only thing that had definitely been killed at Liberty Island.

At least that was what Charles was told when he reached out to his ex-lover in another part of those sewers. While he and Magneto weren’t exactly back on regular speaking terms, Charles trusted Magneto's offended assurance that he'd long cut ties with this feral lunatic who'd used to do the dirty work for him, for a while. Charles hadn’t exactly been at his best game since Alkali Lake either, bouts of depression and guilt alternatingly keeping him from focusing on his work, but in this case, Scott was willing to trust his judgment.

Whatever Creed wanted this time, it had nothing to do with Magneto's usual delusions, and the guy was being far too demonstrative to hope he wanted to keep his head down for a bit, after apparently finally recovering from that full-force optic blast he'd taken at Liberty Island. To keep a low profile, like any somewhat sane and reasonable member of their species did, until the dust of Stryker's despicable attacks would have settled. Sane was famously not among Creed's distinguishing characteristics. Guy was out for death and blood and destruction, he always was. And right now, if that unambiguously worded notice to Mutant High was anything to go by, revenge had another high-ranking spot on that terrifying priority list.

Well, not for long. On his way to the cellar already, Scott hectically listed all the things in his head necessary for gearing up tonight, not even bothering with a briefing, the contents of which wouldn’t have changed his decision.

Only Charles' gruff order in the back of his mind had him stop in his tracks. 'Where do you think you're going, boy?'

'You want him to make good on his threat?' Scott deliberately recalled the image for Charles to see on his mind, of those few spidery scribbled words on some moldy newspaper he'd picked up just in time from inside the garden wall before one of the kids could possibly find it. Before the children seeking protection in this place would have had to read in detail how some psychotic motherfucker threatened to kidnap, torture, and kill them one by one unless Scott went to find him for a duel. 'I'm taking care of this. No need to involve anyone else.'

'Scott, we're a team.' The unwelcome mental touch inside grew stronger as Scott could feel Charles' physical presence approach as well, probably already in the elevator.

Which was all the more a reason to hurry on without looking back, for once even without the usual tortured side-glance at the sick bay door, the dark activity lights of some rooms hardly used since Alkali Lake. That was a pain Scott had had to deal with basically alone every day in those last months. Only the occasional unexpectedly friendly bender together with Logan in the latter's favorite bar had probably saved him from drowning in depression entirely in this worst period of his life. Given that Charles, in his own mourning and regrets, once more only seemed to remember that Scott actually existed when it was about something Scott was fucking up, he was very welcome to talk to the locked hangar door this time. 'We used to be, yes. It's about time we actually go back to that. Starting with that rabid feral threatening our kids. This is my job, Professor. He's been waiting to get his hands on Ororo forever, and Logan needs to watch the mansion, in case this is a trap. I won't be long.'

"You're not going, Scott, and that's my last word." Almost. Scott would almost have made it through the door to the armory, to his uniform and weapons, before the elevator opened to reveal a visibly annoyed Charles. The lines of age rapidly catching up with Scott's mentor lately were furrowing that high forehead even deeper that day. A piercing, steady glance from those intense grey eyes drilling into Scott's let him know, his mentor wasn't above enforcing his wishes using his gift if he needed to. "You spent more time drinking the night away since Jean's death than in the gym. You're no match for someone like Creed. And I need you to update the mansion's security measures since Sabretooth is around Westchester somewhere. We'll talk about this together with the others tomorrow and decide our next steps. Try to get some sleep until then for once instead of nursing another bottle."

"But …" Furious at this point, Scott clenched his fists but stepped away from the hangar at last when Charles fixed his gaze unblinking.

"You have your orders. Good night, Scott." Charles nodded at the elevator demonstratively, not moving his wheelchair an inch before Scott had stomped past him, outraged, and pressed the button of the teacher's floor with a too-harsh movement. Only then did he leave himself, towards the place where Cerebro had once used to be. A hall which was still, in spite of all the best attempts of a variety of team members, pupils, and allies, was nothing yet what it had used to be. Certainly not a device working well enough to find a jumbled-up but still strong mind like Creed's. The place did serve well enough though to stare at the wall for hours, wallowing in your own misery, Scott supposed.

Recapitulating the last few months, admittedly, he wasn’t in a good position to judge that. Well, no more of that.

****

Scott was nice enough to wait until he could be sure, Charles was asleep. Chances were, this whole thing might go wrong in spite of all preparations, ending probably with Scott having to show up at the doorstep of Hank's apartment downtown to have a few tendons sewn back in place or a broken bone or two to splint. Or worse. Whatever. You didn’t get into this business if you couldn’t live with that possibility.

At least Charles wouldn’t have to blame himself if he was oblivious to his team leader leaving the mansion in the silence of the night.

It was for such cases exactly that Scott kept one of his bikes in a dark alleyway nearby. Not that he'd ever needed it for insubordination before, admittedly. While he did have a bad conscience about breaking his mentor's rules, what was Charles to do, cut his allowance? Scott finally needed to start doing his goddamn job again and protect his team and his house instead of either feeling sorry for himself nonstop or spending more nights than he would have been comfortable admitting wondering how it came, Logan and he had been spending a remarkable amount of time together lately for two people hating each other's guts.

Logan wouldn’t be thrilled about Scott going rogue for a night either, he supposed. But Scott simply felt a lot safer, leaving the mansion with someone capable there who had proven more than once how much he cared about the people living in it. And if they would get their hands bloody again over this in another sparring match … Well, not to mention that there were worse things than being pinned to the ground by a well-built, sweat-covered feral, at least Charles wouldn’t be able to complain about Scott's lacking workout schedule again then.

Really, he could only win, Scott thought with a wry grin behind the shield of the usually neglectable helmet he'd opted for today for stealth reasons alone. Just one challenging solo quest, not least to clear his mind off the last few months' lethargy, and afterward, things would be back in order. No big deal. Not even an hour later, both that confidence and any impulse to smile whatsoever were entirely gone. Tracking down a target that wanted to be found was always easy; getting cocky about that was such a ridiculous beginner's mistake, Scott soon had to wonder if Charles had maybe been right, not thinking him capable of this mission on his own. He should have taken a closer look at that small, windowless concrete block of a factory hall to which he'd followed Creed's trail before getting inside. Then he'd never have ended up trapped in the middle of a room filled to the brim with barrels full of chemicals and explosives in the first place. Scott knew he was in trouble the moment the door was locked behind him and a single, flickering light on the ceiling went on, revealing this remarkably well-thought-out trap that forbade him from even thinking about using his blasts in this place if he didn’t want to blow himself up. Startled, he spun around, one of the diamond-sharp blades he'd equipped himself with as an alternative to his VISOR already at hand, expecting his enemy either by that door or about to pounce him fangs-first.

But Creed had already retreated back into the shadows between the barrel rackets. That it really was him, the breathtaking stench of rotting meat and matted fur alone left no doubt about. And the bastard was obviously in a mood to play. "So easy …" There was something … off about that voice since Scott had heard it threatening one of his team last. The same sadistic chuckle, sure, but the primitive lust for hunting had been replaced by something sounding more ambitious, something sharper. Maybe spending a lot of time underwater had at least cleared a certain mind, clouded by illegal mutant experiments before, since it obviously already hadn’t been able to solve a missing sense of personal hygiene.

This time, Scott didn’t even have time for a weak grin, busy retreating into the next best tactically useful corner himself. One far from the vessels containing the most toxic shit he didn’t even want to come close to, between the bulky, rusty shape of forklift and a counter that would at least give some cover once Creed would decide to ditch his own. Far worse preconditions than he'd hoped for, admittedly, but this wasn’t over yet. All pride and stubbornness aside, Scott wasn’t entirely suicidal – though the time since Alkali Lake had taken a toll on him as this night proved –, so he also used the quick moment of hopefully being unwatched to grab his phone. A soundless curse came from his lips when he had had to realize that his enemy had either indeed grown somewhat smarter since his alleged death or he'd had help – the reception was entirely jammed. And only now Scott started to regret coming here with a private ride that didn’t even have a damn communicator on it. Well, he had come here to deal with this issue alone. Thrusting his jaw forward, he forced himself to breathe shallowly but slowly, calmly, to force his heart rate into reasonable parameters, trying to listen to every smallest noise in the building, to know when his enemy would be approaching. Something that the loud humming of some air conditioning made harder though. Good thing, neither of them was here to hide. "You asked for me, Creed. Wanna spill it before I blow you into molecules for a second time?"

"We both know you're not gonna do that, One-Eye," Creed answered lightly, from somewhere fortunately still far away. "How would your precious little team go on if you spilled your guts all over this building? Perhaps you also missed the trailers on the other side of the street? You blow this baby up, there'll be a couple of whores and bums less in New York's streets. Be my guest though. Nothing I've not come back from. I like free haircuts." Yeah, definitely an update in the brains department.

Swallowing another curse, Scott rubbed his forehead in agitation and took another look at his phone display, with no different result, sadly, before putting the damn thing away. Now he'd have to prove how much he'd really forgotten about his hand-to-hand skills in that extended period of grief. "Bring it, then." He must have knelt in that damn dusty corner for longer than he'd realized, he thought with a frown, pushing himself back to his feet as he staggered for a second, his knees feeling wobbly … Only then it dawned on him that this slightly sweet smell in the air might not only come from those fucking chemicals stacked all around him. God fucking damnit.

"No need to hurry. You're not going anywhere anytime soon." Creed had come a lot closer – which had just become Scott's smallest problem – but true to his words, still didn’t make any move to attack, instead lurking in some opposite corner that Scott couldn’t quite make out from where he he'd crouched down on his knees again with a suddenly very dry throat. Bastard knew exactly he had all the cards in his hands and enjoyed his triumph, getting comfortable there in the dirt and dusk with a purr. The rustling of some bags and the cluttering of metal before some disgusting slurping revealed, motherfucker had the nerve to start a damn picnic over there instead of engaging in a fight he would be undoubtedly superior in.

Scott's stomach turned when Creed carelessly threw the remains of his snack his way which consisted of a shredded human hand almost gnawed down to the bones. Somehow, he managed to fight back the tightness in his throat, somehow. Wasting air by throwing up was a very bad idea right now. The Shi’ar breather capsule he'd plucked from his belt upon realizing there was some damn narcotic spreading in this hall wouldn’t last forever. That stuff, whatever it was, wouldn’t affect Creed a lot thanks to his healing factor but take Scott out in a matter of minutes. He better came up with a plan real fucking quick if he didn’t want to be on this asshole's menu next.

"No answer?" Creed chuckled darkly, apparently with a pretty good idea where that quiet whistling of artificially conserved air and an alarmingly weak buzz of the device's battery came from. "That's alright, prettyboy. I'm not interested in hearing anything from you but screams and pleas for your life when I get started on you. And for death, soon enough. Gonna have to disappoint ya on that one though. You, I'm gonna take apart piece by piece." Another demonstrative loud nibble on dry flesh, more bones cracking before being spit to the ground just close enough for Scott to realize that whoever that had once been had not even been an adult yet. "You're going to regret every single inch you made me fall down that Statue, and every hour I spent with my lungs full of water on that bottom, before I bite your throat. Think Imma cut off a few souvenirs off of you for your kids and your loverboy at home, too. I bet he'll want to know what happened to his latest bedwarmer. You two looked awfully close in that bar the other week … Guy's leaking pheromones all over the place as soon as you're nearby. It's almost cute." Creed let out a bellowing laugh when Scott stiffened both in ice-cold shock and growing agitation regarding a situation that was even more serious than he'd realized at first, entirely underestimating someone with a formerly impaired mind, unaware that a certain healing factor might be able to repair even such damage, with time …

The consequences of this carelessness were not only about to catch up with him at full speed. Logan … It was a scream of anger, confusion, and worry rearing up in the shape of that one certain name in his mind as he slowly felt dizziness and darkness spreading in his head and heaviness in his limbs. Whatever was poisoning the air of this damn hall was already far too deep in his cells to even think about an even fight, or about an escape. In five minutes or so, Scott would end up helplessly in the hands of this psycho, and if people at home, including a certain man he'd grown far fonder of than he'd even realized, wouldn’t be smarter about this comeback of one of their worst enemies ... Logan. Trying to suppress the thought especially of this one person that Creed was obviously after in particular, Scott clenched his teeth harder around the capsule between his lips, sending a small surge of adrenaline through his too-slow blood flow. Flexing his muscles, he shook himself again and again, trying to clear his mind, without much success. He had to keep trying though, he had to stay awake, to fight back … He couldn’t let get Creed anywhere near his home, anywhere near Logan who didn’t even have an idea the guy was back …

How far out of it he'd really already been, he only realized, when a huge, fur-covered hand suddenly closed around his throat, easily lifting him up into the air from his hiding place, black eyes glistening with lust staring right into his as Creed ripped the breather capsule from his mouth with his free hand. A first harsh blow to Scott's stomach stifled any weak attempts at freeing himself before they could really arise. "You smell delicious, pretty-boy…" Pulling him close, ignoring his struggling, Creed licked a long, greedy stripe up and down the side of Scott's neck, a threat no longer needed to know what was to come next. "I can see why that feral on your team wants you so badly … Too bad. Guy should have been faster ..."

Fighting consciousness already, Scott didn’t even really understand at first what was happening; for that, it went far too quickly. One moment, Creed was cutting off his air, a greedy paw fumbling with the zipper of Scott's uniform top, the next, he was suddenly dropped to the ground as a very familiar sound of extending claws came out of nowhere, an inhumane, deafening scream echoing through the hall. Blood squirted on Scott's face, burning in his mouth as he gasped for air, making him retch all over again, and then there was another, taller, and heavier body crashing next to his, torrents of red gushing from between two opened jugulars.

"Guess I'm late to the party. Invitation must have ended up in spam." Logan looked down at Scott half in amusement, half worried, and fully pissed as Scott scrambled to sit up, but made no move to help him for the moment, keeping his claws right where they were, buried deep in Creed's gut and throat. To render the guy as incapable as possible and thereby secure an escape, Scott supposed. This wouldn’t be more than a draw for the moment, that much was clear after this meeting. He should be damn glad, Logan had apparently had the right hunch and followed him. This could have gone real south real fast.

Creed only proved that with another hateful hiss even while half bleeding out, struggling under Logan's adamantium-steeled body to get free. That same intense, almost longing look was on his face as earlier when he'd talked about Scott's teammate as he looked up to Logan from pain-addled eyes. "And here I was thinking you'd never show up. Come on, Jimmy, let me go. You don't really want to keep working for these losers, do you? I tracked down a few of our old sources after they pulled me from the water. What do you say, we have some fun with prettyboy here, and then we revive the good old days together. What?" Creed only laughed even louder, as crazy as ever in spite of his newfound heightened intelligence, when Logan stared back at him in bewilderment, just as much at a loss as Scott what the guy was talking about. "Still don't remember, huh? Too bad. Don't worry, I'll refresh your memory. Cute kid like this? We used to fuck and eat that for dinner every week back then. It can be like that again. Come on, don't be a spoilsport. I'll even let you have the first go with our One-Eye before taking you to my place. You and I together? Humanity and the rest of the world won't stand a chance."

"Tempting," Logan gritted out with a strained voice, his enemy's blood drying in his beard as he visibly fought for composure, in a way Scott had had to fear he'd lose at some point so often in the past … Only now he realized how wrong he had really been about believing in Logan's faith and self-control so little. "Too bad for you, I prefer to sleep with mentally stable people." Another quick flickering of his wrists, a twist of claws, then Sabretooth's head rolled across the floor, leaving a remarkable trail of blood still. "Come on, before someone puts the bastard back together." Logan didn’t give Scott even a second to process what had just happened before pulling him to his feet, supporting his stumbling, half-conscious shape on the way toward the hole he'd entirely silently cut into that door. Only when they had somehow, in spite of their lousy appearance, made it to the jeep that Logan must have come here with, without attracting the wrong attention, Logan finally turned to Scott with a shaky breath. Reaching out for him, he rested two knuckles on Scott's forehead and felt his pulse. "You alright, Slim?"

Scott had never felt less capable of answering that question, and he'd never felt it was less insignificant to do so. "Logan …" Before Logan could get the stupid idea of letting go, his face tightening at the utter dumbfounded tone in Scott's voice, Scott reached up with a still heavily trembling hand to hold Logan's right there, on his neck, where it was quickly chasing away the memory of that sickening sensation of a predator's saliva and teeth far too close earlier.

"Yeah, no, you are definitely going to Hank's. You're intoxicated to the brim." Logan tried to pull away from Scott's grasp, half-heartedly enough to hope he didn’t mean it.

He was probably right, little as Scott liked to admit it, but before they would leave and Scott would undoubtedly have to face two days' worth of sermons from more than one side, he had to be sure. He had to know. "Is it true? What he said?" he asked quietly, shyly linking his fingers with Logan's.

Or at least he tried. To his dismay, Logan was even faster now to let go of him, his lips a thin line. "Which part do you mean? That I used to be his partner in crime, apparently, or that the only person who can tell me about my past is a murdering psychopath? Then again, seems like I'm better off not knowing anyway," he added with a bitter laugh, burying both hands in his hair, staring ahead into the dark street.

Seeing Logan look as lost as it had never happened before, in spite of the guy's amnesia, helped overcome Scott the last of his own bewilderment. This man had been there for him for the better part of the last half year, protecting him from the worst of a fall that Scott hadn’t even realized how close to it he had really been, and though they'd really not exactly been friends in the beginning no less. Now that it was Logan, possibly facing the shambles of what he'd thought was his life so far, it was him who needed support, not alienation. "It doesn’t matter, you know." Somehow shaking off the heaviness in his bones, Scott pushed himself away from his seat to lean over to Logan and rest his hand on his cheek, ignoring the grime soiling his beard. A shower was very much in order for both of them right now anyway. With any luck, they might even be able to take it together. "Guy's head is a monkey circus, but even if any of what he said is right … And I doubt it, Logan, because I know you … This is not who you are now."

"And what is that, Slim? Who am I to you?" This time, when Logan took Scott's hand in his, it felt planned, and right.

"You're the one who keeps saving my ass for some reason. And it's about damn time I show you how grateful I am for that." With that, Scott leaned in closer, hesitatively still, his heart sinking for a moment when the light touch of his lips against Logan's wasn’t answered …

Then Logan's other hand was back on his neck, pulling him closer so abruptly that their teeth clanked together before a hot tongue invaded his mouth with the hunger and greed of a starving man. And with Logan, Scott didn’t ever need to be afraid that these desires would take some inhuman grotesque shape like with that bastard back there in that factory hall. "You know you're still getting your ass whupped for pulling that stunt tonight, right?" Logan grumbled when they finally detached, both breathing faster, the air in the car suspiciously heavy all without chemicals this time.

Scott shrugged, unfazed. "I like paddles best, in case you want to take notes." Somehow, he managed to dodge a well-deserved slap to the back of his head in spite of his slightly battered condition. On the way to Hank's, he was fast asleep within two minutes.

*******************************************************************************

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#no.10 #broken phone #x men #fic #cannibalism #everything after x2 didn't happen sue me #x men original timeline movies #x men movies #fanfiction #stormys fanfics #dead dove do not eat #scott summers #cyclops #wolverine #scogan #scott x logan #scoganbingo #warning not applying to what's happening to the main characters #whumptober2023

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humming-pokemon-helpers · 8 months

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Okay, building off of yesterday's post. Using moves as a hybrid!

I've learned quite a few in my 25 years! Some I've almost known from birth, some I've learned naturally with age, and some I've put a lot of time and effort into! It's definitely a lot easier to use a move if you're naturally born to use it (i.e. it's in your "learn set", as we call it), but learning moves with TMs and tutoring is still possible! It just takes longer to stick. Let's take a look at a few of them! Plus my personal reviews.

Scratch! Baby's first move, essentially. It's simple, it's easy, and it takes a really low amount of "type energy". There still is a difference between scratching something and Scratch-ing something, but it's easy enough to distinguish that even newborn Zorua figure it out rather quickly. Maybe it's instinctual, like Tackle or Pound? In any case, as a move, it's good for simplicity, but almost too easy to use without thought.

Torment. A status move. Status moves are interesting, in that they use similar strategies to tormenting a live person, but have nearly uniform effects. In this case, preventing repetition of... not just moves, but a lot of behaviors too. As someone on the receiving end of some moves, it's interesting how... universally effective they are. Regardless of species, mental capacity, etc., Torment seems to prevent repeated actions in all Pokémon. Maybe it's also related to types and the energy that all Pokémon are governed by. It's still definitely creepy to be affected by it, though! Easy to learn, easy to use, useful impacts.

Snarl. This one took a lot of effort to learn, mostly because I accidentally picked it up while learning to speak. Most Zorua... don't need to learn Snarl to snarl. My circumstances are arguably different. Luckily, Snarl is a useful move. Even if effortful learning meant it was less powerful for a while until I fully mastered it, and also meant I hated the process of learning it the whole way through. My main takeaway from this move was... please have patience when using TMs with your Pokémon pals. We might suck for a while. It's ok.

I'll keep this short-ish for now, to spare you the whole litany of moves I know, but one more for now: Bitter Malice! As it's recently been dubbed, anyways. To be completely honest, as a kid, I thought Wolfgang and I made this one up. That we were so frustrated and bitter at the world that we had single-handedly created some move built off of pure... upset. Turns out that's actually natural for Hisuian Zorua. Relative to the usual procession of move-learning, though, I got this one a bit early. This is a move that's... incredibly difficult to use if you're not in the right mindset, if that makes sense. Most moves are like that to some degree--if a Fire-type's feeling down, their flame sacs aren't going to produce fire as well. But this move especially... if you're not really fucking resentful of something or someone, it's not working. The effects when it does work are chilling, though. Strong enough to cause frostbite and exacerbate it on a second use. I'm just glad not many Pokémon learn it, really. Not the sort of thing anybody should be feeling on a regular basis.

#pokeblogging #pkmn irl #long post #//a little mix of move headcanons! went long with it ^^"

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riftsong · 1 year

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Pettralius is an alien from my Crew X setting, and a member of the main crew. They specialize in weapons and weapon repair.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○

NAME: Pettralius Kix Vaxhavastion ALIASES: Pett, Petty, the scary one SPECIES: Usually called "XB Runners", "Frillhorses", or "Frillnecks" by those who don't speak the native tongue. PRONOUNS: Any

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ HISTORY Pettralius is an alien hailing from a small planet dubbed "XB-8570" in the general database, with the true name unable to be typed in human letters. They were raised to a rather fancy family in the Eastern part of the Xgyro continent, and was close childhood friends with Sol, another sapient species from the same planet. Sol's species are closely related- often still called "Frillnecks" by other species since they don't bother to distinguish the two species, or if there's an effort made, "Long Frillnecks" or "Frillsnakes". Despite the fact that those who aren't familiar with their species might not make the distinction, on-planet, there is heavy bias against Frillsnakes by their cousins. Both Sol and Pett were interested in advanced technological subjects, but Sol ended up being denied into the same program as Pett on account of this bias. Fed up with it, they both decided to pool funds and try to seek education off-planet. That is where they accidentally ran into a human, osimian, fishbird, and faenae who ended up roping them into accidetnally escaping with a harbored fugitive; and until they can figure it out, they remain on the run with the rest of the crew.

○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ ○ PERSONALITY Pett, despite their often cute and googly-eyed appearance, is a serious, take-no-bullshit kind of person. She often comes off as rough or abrasive, not afraid to speak her mind and make her opinion known. She's quick with her wit and quick with her tongue and guns alike, and isn't afraid to use them. Unlike some other members of the crew, she's perfectly fine with defending herself with weapons as opposed to words- though maybe it's just because it's her specialty. Though technically lacking the full degree due to the current drama, Pett is a masterful weapons and mechanical technician, who had hoped to work on a ship like this one day- though perhaps not quite in this situation. You can usually find her tinkering away at the weapons system onboard the ship, her own personal collection of guns and other such devices, and other various machines onboard the ship. However, despite his often mean-appearing demeanor, he's not truly mean on the inside- he truly does care about others, even if he has difficulty showing it. Just because he's only visibly soft with Sol doesn't mean he doesn't have little ways of showing affection to the rest of his crew. If you find yourself getting a custom-built taser thrust into your hands on account of "you need SOMETHING to to keep yourself from dying, as tough as it might be for you."... that's not an insult, that's a declaration of friendship.

#sftb #sftb art #my art #crew x #crew x art #alien #alien biology #specbio #speculative biology

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 1 year

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https://quranx.com/Hadith/Muslim/USC-MSA/Book-4/Hadith-1032

Abu Dharr reported:

The Messenger of 'Allah (ﷺ) said: When any one of you stands for prayer and there is a thing before him equal to the back of the saddle that covers him and in case there is not before him (a thing) equal to the back of the saddle, his prayer would be cut off by (passing of an) ass, woman, and black Dog. I said: O Abu Dharr, what feature is there in a black dog which distinguish it from the red dog and the yellow dog? He said: O, son of my brother, I asked the Messenger of Allah (ﷺ) as you are asking me, and he said: The black dog is a devil.

https://quranx.com/Hadith/AbuDawud/USC-MSA/Book-16/Hadith-2839/

Narrated Abdullah ibn Mughaffal:

The Prophet (ﷺ) said: Were dogs not a species of creature I should command that they all be killed; but kill every pure black one.

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Bukhari/USC-MSA/Volume-1/Book-9/Hadith-490/

Narrated `Aisha:

The things which annul the prayers were mentioned before me. They said, "Prayer is annulled by a dog, a donkey and a woman (if they pass in front of the praying people)." I said, "You have made us (i.e. women) dogs. I saw the Prophet (ﷺ) praying while I used to lie in my bed between him and the Qibla. Whenever I was in need of something, I would slip away. for I disliked to face him."

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Bukhari/USC-MSA/Volume-4/Book-54/Hadith-450

Narrated Salim's father:

Once Gabriel promised the Prophet (that he would visit him, but Gabriel did not come) and later on he said, "We, angels, do not enter a house which contains a picture or a dog."

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Bukhari/USC-MSA/Volume-4/Book-54/Hadith-448/

Narrated Abu Talha:

I heard Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) saying; "Angels (of Mercy) do not enter a house wherein there is a dog or a picture of a living creature (a human being or an animal).

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Muslim/USC-MSA/Book-24/Hadith-5277/

Abu Huraira reported Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) as saying:

Angels do not accompany the travellers who have with them a dog and a bell.

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Muslim/USC-MSA/Book-24/Hadith-5246/

A'isha reported that Gabriel (peace be upon him) made a promise with Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) to come at a definite hour; that hour came but he did not visit him. And there was in his hand (in the hand of Allah's Apostle) a staff. He threw it from his hand and said:

Never has Allah or His messengers (angels) ever broken their promise. Then he cast a glance (and by chance) found a puppy under his cot and said: 'A'isha, when did this dog enter here? She said: By Allah, I don't know He then commanded and it was turned out. Then Gabriel came and Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said to him: You promised me and I waited for you, but you did not come, whereupon he said: It was the dog in your house which prevented me (to come), for we (angels) do not enter a house in which there is a dog or a picture.

https://quranx.com/Hadith/Muslim/USC-MSA/Book-24/Hadith-5248/

Maimuna reported that one morning Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) was silent with grief. Maimuna said:

Allah's Messenger, I find a change in your mood today. Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) said: Gabriel had promised me that he would meet me tonight, but he did not meet me. By Allah, he never broke his promises, and Allah's Messenger (ﷺ) spent the day in this sad (mood). Then it occurred to him that there had been a puppy under their cot. He commanded and it was turned out. He then took some water in his hand and sprinkled it at that place. When it was evening Gabriel met him and he said to him: you promised me that you would meet me the previous night. He said: Yes, but we do not enter a house in which there is a dog or a picture. Then on that very morning he commanded the killing of the dogs until he announced that the dog kept for the orchards should also be killed, but he spared the dog meant for the protection of extensive fields (or big gardens).

Oops.

Here’s a little secret: non-Muslims, especially from western countries, assume that because Islam is so structured and so difficult to approach compared to Xianity in particular, that Muslims know more about their religion and their scripture in comparison.

They don’t. Many may know even less, aside from the “nice” ayahs and hadiths posted as pretty memes. Xians have bible study groups and discuss the meaning and interpretation of various verses. The quran is recited in Arabic, yet there are only ~280m Arabic speakers worldwide, which is only around 14% of the 1.9b Muslims. The quran isn’t learned for understanding, it’s memorized for recitation. Children are beaten for not regurgitating it accurately, rather than because they didn’t learn the substance and lessons of the scripture; many of them never know the meaning of the words they’re moaning out.

"We are the Borg. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile."

If a Muslim tells you something about Islam that doesn’t sound right, chances are decent that it’s not; you’re no more likely to be wrong than they are. You don’t need to assume they’re lying, although that’s not out of the question. It’s sufficient to assume they don’t know what they’re talking about.

Regardless, Islam’s distaste for the purity of puppies is reason enough to reject Islam.

#Yasmine Mohammed #black dogs #black dog #islam #dogs not gods #Ex Muslim Awareness Month #Ex Muslim Month #quran #hadith #islamic ignorance #religion #religion is a mental illness

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