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kaijutegu · 3 years

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When people ask why states without tegus are looking to ban them? This. This is why. They are unstoppable. They’re incredibly adaptable. In addition to being able to survive winter conditions almost a thousand miles north of their northernmost invasive range, they can also elevate their body temperatures to deal with cooler non-winter conditions. This defies what we know about pretty much every other lizard, and they can just... do it. Because they’re amazing.

But that amazingness comes with a price. Here in the US, we’ve finally woken up to the reality that this is an invasive species with potential to really spread, and several state governments are scrambling to ensure that it doesn’t happen. Most legislation intends to just ban keeping the animals in states where they could establish or already are established, but the problem is that much of this current/future legislation regarding tegus is really insufficient. It either doesn’t do enough or it does way too much and either way doesn’t actually do anything meaningful to prevent the spread of this invasive species. But people thinking they have some kind of constitutional right to keep as many tegus as they want isn’t helping. If I have to see one more person spouting anti-gun control rhetoric about a lizard, so help me god I will scream. I will.

Honestly though, I think that the state bans are only going to continue. I’m not foolish enough to think that any of the state governments are doing this out of a pure concern for the states’ biodiversity. Aside from what tegus can and will do to endangered species (eat them. they will eat them.), there is a serious bottom line economic consequence to their spread. There’s plenty of evidence that these guys are a serious threat to agriculture, and the exotic pet industry isn’t comparatively big enough for any government to take seriously if the farmers are complaining. Which they will. You know what they call tegus in Venezuela? El lobo pollero, the chicken wolf. They are just that good at sneaking into chicken coops and going for the eggs. They cooperate to do this. And at the end of the day, exotic pet owners’ privileges will be sacrificed for economic protection for US agricultural interests, because that’s how the economy works.

Which is a shame because I do think there is a viable compromise. Perhaps something like this could actually work: 1: Establish FDA licensing for tegu breeders, the same as you have to do if you breed several other exotic species. Licensing would need to include enforceable containment policies and state inspections. 2: Mandate PIT tagging or microchipping for pet tegu owners and enforce legal penalties if there are escapes. This could range from a fine to being disallowed to own a tegu. 3: Figure out a more practical way to do culls of the invasive populations. (This is going to be very hard in the Everglades due to the impassibility of much of the area, but in places with sparser vegetation, tracker dogs trained on the eggs/nests could probably help a great deal with this.) 4: Stop mass imports. The imports are a huge problem. I think they’re actually a much bigger problem than the breeders for two reasons. First, the sheer numbers of imports is a problem. Between 2000 and 2010, more than 79,000 tegus were imported to the US. That’s a lot. We already know that the first and largest invasive tegu population can be traced back to a single importer. We already know that the invasive pythons can be traced back to an importers’ warehouse that was damaged in a hurricane. Limit the market to breeders who are willing to go a step beyond for good containment, and you limit the number of animals being produced. This also limits the number of people who can buy them. If cheap imported reptiles aren’t readily available, you’ll have fewer people impulsively buying them and then releasing them when they get too big or too much trouble. Ban the imports and you solve part of the problem. Now, granted, pet owners releasing their animals isn’t really a huge issue. Most released pets die pretty quickly. But even though it’s not the biggest part of the issue, it is still an issue.

Ideally, tegu owners would be educated enough to buy only from good breeders with good biosecurity practices, take one out of the swamp, or take in a rescue. Ideally, tegu breeders would be more sensible about protecting their businesses by complying with state FWS standards and by taking a more proactive approach to containment. Tegus are burrowers and escape artists, and if tegu breeders who do outside housing would keep that in mind more seriously, there ARE things they could do to actually prevent escapes on their end- things like you do for wild canids. It might be more difficult to sink a fence a few feet or lay a concrete pad, but is it worth it to protect your ability to breed and keep a species you love?

At the end of the day, a lot of exotic animal laws in the US don’t make a lot of sense. They often come too late to actually prevent a tragedy or ecological disaster, and they rarely do enough to prohibit actual irresponsible behavior. We have hard scientific data that demonstrates that tegus really could become invasive throughout much of the southeast US, and with climate change pushing tropical and subtropical climatological zones north, their potential range is only going to get larger.

#tegu #lizard #reptile #reptiblr #long post

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kangakatt · 3 years

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Hello everyone! Welcome to an educational post about synapsids!

I haven’t met many people who even know synapsids exist, which is a shame, because they were and still are really cool animals! So today I’ll be teaching you about them.

So what is a synapsid?

Well, in the most basic terms, whether or not an animal is considered a synapsid depends on how many holes they have in their skull.

Anapsids, an ancient group of primitive reptiles, have no holes in their skull besides their eye sockets and nostrils. Diapsids, which include birds, reptiles, dinosaurs, and pterosaurs, have two. Synapsids have only one. That is the basic definition of a synapsid. But what kind of life are they?

Many people never really think about what happened between the time when fish first invaded land and the time when dinosaurs lived. But there is actually a rich and storied natural history between those two points in time. In that time, amphibians became reptiles, and then reptiles split into two main groups- the synapsids and the diapsids. The diapsids would later evolve to become crocodilians, dinosaurs, and pterosaurs. But tens of millions of years before they did, synapsids evolved into many weird and wonderful forms that ruled the earth for over 150 million years.

Let’s take a look at some, shall we?

Art by Max Bellomio

This is dimetrodon, the most famous ancient synapsid. You might have seen it being called a dinosaur- it’s completely unrelated. Dimetrodon were the largest known member of a group of ancient synapsids that sported long neural spines (those are the spines that come out of some animals backs) that held together a membrane used for temperature regulation and possibly display. Dimetrodon is notable because it was among the biggest carnivores of its time, at a length of 3.5 metres (11 feet).

Art by Jonathon Kuo

This is another semi-famous synapsid, a group called the gorgonopsids. They were large predators, for the time- the biggest species were 3 metres (10 feet) long, and they were among the first animals to ever have sabre teeth. They were the apex predators of their day, and it’s easy to imagine why.

Art by Sergey Krasovskiy

I love how bizzare prehistoric life sometimes was, and cotylorhynchus was a great example of this. The larger species were among the biggest synapsids of the early Permian period, at 6 metres (20 feet) long. They had these hilariously bizzare proportions, with a comically tiny head against such a large body. They may have been aquatic or semi-aquatic, using their little hands to paddle, which I think is even more funny. You do you, cotylorhynchus.

Art by Dmitry Bogdanov

Lystrosaurus was a little cave dweller that used it’s beak and tusks to dig little burrows. Because it spent a lot of time underground, it was able to survive breathing in large amounts of carbon dioxide unharmed. It may have been this ability, combined with the fact it didn’t need to come to the surface very often, that helped it survive the greatest mass extinction in earth’s history- the great dying. This event drove more than 90% of the earth’s species to extinction through a combination of volcanic eruptions, global cooling, and increased amounts of carbon dioxide. Lystrosaurus didn’t just survive- in comparison to many of the other species of the time, it thrived. In some places, it accounts for most of the fossils found from this time period, and as such is very well known by palaeontologists.

Art by WillemSvdMerwe

I’ve saved my favourite for last. Meet Estemmenosuchus! Sadly there isn’t much to say about it as it isn’t super well known, but I love it just for the horns. I mean, out of all the super extra display structures I’ve seen in the animal kingdom, these are up there.

So, what happened to the synapsids? Did they go extinct, like the dinosaurs? Well, no, they’re actually still around today!

After the great dying, crocodilians, dinosaurs, and pterosaurs started to dominate the land, and the larger synapsids all went extinct. They became small, with rat-like bodies, fur, and warm blood. They stopped laying eggs, and evolved pouches, and later the uterus. After the dinosaurs went extinct, they once again survived by being burrowing creatures. They then diversified, and became everything from elephants to lynxes to humans. These animals I’ve showed you were our ancestors!

I’ll do a post on other synapsids, like prehistoric mammals, another time, but for now here’s some cool info on the ones that lived before the dinosaurs.

I hope you enjoyed being educated, and have a great night!

#dinosaur #evolution #prehistoric life #palaeontology #synapsid

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toomanyf4ndoms7 · 2 years

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Mortal Kombat: Unholy Partnership: The Vampire’s Plan.

Summary: After all these years of searching, Nitara finally has a plan to achieve her goals. All she needs is a few puppets to help.

Chapter List.

Chapter List Part Two.

In a cave not too far from Outworld’s living forest, stood Nitara who was burrowing her fangs into the neck of an unlucky victim. Once the blood was drained, Nitara dropped the corpse on the ground and wiped her mouth.

“Ah, that should keep me going.”

Nitara traced her hand across the faint scar on her stomach. The Saurian was so excited by having a relic of his people that he accidentally sliced her with the blade. He apologised afterwards and Nitara understood his exhilaration.

Still, perhaps I should have taken a few steps back.

The vampire moved on from the memory and remembered her mission: free her realm from Outworld’s clutches.

Nitara was a member of the race called Moroi, commonly referred to as Vampires. Their home, Vaeternus was conquered thousands of years ago and most of its people were left to rot. Their traditions, their way of life, stolen. Still, Nitara refused to let herself succumb to despair.

After much digging, blood, sweat and tears, she had tracked down the realm orb that bound her home realm, Vaeternus, to Outworld. It was hidden inside of a magma river that would certainly kill her if she even attempted to get to it.

Thankfully, during her observations around Outworld, she found a warrior in yellow armour. It looked more machine than man but could probably survive the heat without issue.

She needed a way to convince him, but nothing came to mind. Suddenly, she heard someone walking towards her. From the forest came the familiar form of Reptile.

Reptile crept up to her with his head lowered in shame. He kneeled before Nitara and spoke in a despondent tone.

“Shao Kahn has been killed because of my ignorance. I now offer my services to you, Lady Nitara.”

Nitara stared down at this pitiful being. She had read legends about the Saurian people. Noble warriors who fight till the final breath for their own. But Reptile was nothing like those stories. He was submissive, desperate for a master, for companionship.

All she did was give him a weapon and call him by name, and now he was devoted. It was almost depressing. Then Nitara realised that she could use his devotion to her advantage. She smiled kindly to reassure him.

“I accept your offer, Syzoth. In fact, I already have a task for you.”

Reptile’s head snapped to attention. This would work perfectly.

“What is it?”

“I have seen a warrior in yellow armour walking around the living forest. I need you to wound, but not kill. Focus your attack on disabling his right arm. I will take care of the rest.”

Reptile nodded and bowed his head.

“I will not fail you, Lady Nitara.”

Reptile dashed off into the woods, unaware of the satisfied grin on Nitara’s face. Her plan was coming together beautifully.

Soon, I shall feel the native soil of my home once more.

Vaeternus would be freed. The Moroi will survive.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat deadly alliance #unholy partnership #things i create #my writing stuff #reptile mk #Nitara #Cyrax

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freyjawriter24 · 4 years

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Snek Boi

(working title - suggestions welcome!)

My entry for the Great Good Omens Snake-Off!

You could spot Crowley in a crowd from a mile away. It wasn’t the bright hair that did it – although that had been a major contributor in earlier times, before the humans had figured out how to create a rainbow of hair dyes – nor was it the ever-present pair of dark glasses on his face – although that did stand out occasionally, depending on the light levels. No, it was the way he moved.

Crowley had the body of someone who used to be a snake, and whose corporation had never quite forgotten it. His spine would bend at odd angles, his hips would sway in a way that almost defied physics, and his legs looked like they’d never quite learned how to walk properly. Six thousand years of living in human form, and Crowley still looked more like a snake when he moved than the tattoo on his face did.

Except, it wasn’t quite six thousand years. Not consistently.

Because when Eden was razed and all celestial beings – angels fallen and not – lost the ability to show their wings on Earth, Crowley kept his snake form. He was still able to transform at will, become the thing forced on him by his rapid descent from Heaven, and use it to curl up tight in on himself or slither away through tiny gaps. It was a defence mechanism of sorts, he supposed, and he hated it.

No, that wasn’t fair. He didn’t hate being a snake – he rather enjoyed it, most of the time. He liked the feeling of the warm sun on his scales, and often took to napping like that when he knew no one would see him. He liked the sensation of the ground against his belly, of the smoothness in the way he could move around like that. He liked the shapes he could make in that form, looping himself into a ball or draping himself artfully across branches or furniture. What he didn’t like was what it represented.

The thing about Falling was that it changed you, in ways too numerous and too horrifying to think about all at once. One of the things it changed was vulnerabilities – no longer was immortality certain for eternity, but now it could be ended by no more than a drop of holy water. The demons, of course, had found a counter for that. They could not solve it, and did not have the imagination to make anything new, but when they finally hit the surface of the new place they called Hell, they found the fire there particularly effective at the opposite destruction. All the immortals became mortal when half of them Fell, that was the strange thing.

But another thing Falling did was change your being at a fundamental level. Whereas the celestials Upstairs had their bodies decorated with marks of their angelic nature – gold leaf or silver, soft or bright colours, in freckles or marble cracks or across joints or on keratin – the creatures Downstairs were given a very different aesthetic. Brightly-coloured hair shrivelled and took on a strange new shape. Silvered teeth became sharp and surprisingly difficult to speak through. Dappled gold on cheeks swelled and became sticky, uncomfortable, and alive. Swirls of multi-coloured angelic beauty shrank and condensed and drained to be dark as Hell.

Most demons had an animal they were closely associated with. All demons who had Fallen did, at least – some of the creatures in the celestial basement were never angels in the first place, but that’s a different story altogether. Most of these animals were considered scary or dirty or strange by the first humans – though whether the associations came about because of some knowledge of demons, or whether they were chosen for demons because of the known future associations, God only knows. Flies, toads, moths, scorpions – all manner of insects, arachnids, reptiles, and amphibians. Birds and mammals were rarely on the list, presumably because of their proximity to humanity in terms of empathy, but there were a few exceptions. And, of course, snakes.

Crowley’s snake form was a reminder of everything he’d lost in the Fall. Everything he’d become (through what he still wasn’t convinced was entirely deserved means), and everything he would never be able to stop being.

He hated that this source of comfort, this respite from the angled gangliness of his human corporation, was also such a firm pointer towards his Fallen nature. He hated that even his human aesthetic was bound to it, the snake in him peering through his slashed yellow eyes, showing itself through his scattering of black scales, making itself heard through verbal tics he couldn’t quite eradicate. He hated the shame that came with his looks, the fear humans felt when they saw his eyes, the disgust they showed when they caught a glimpse of the reptilian parts of his skin.

Most of all, he hated what Aziraphale must think of him for all this.

The angel had made his thoughts quite clear on Crowley’s appearance way back in the early days. They’d been stood before three crosses, wincing at the sounds of pain, and the demon had just dared to say that the demonic name the angel had first been told was not the one that fitted right.

“Well, you were a snake.” Perhaps Aziraphale hadn’t meant to put so much derision into the word, but it sounded harsh and heavy to Crowley, and it bounced around his skull decades, centuries, millennia later while he was trying to sleep. There were certain words and phrases that often did, and he could do nothing to stop them, even if he dared try to use logic to scare them away.

Of course, everything came to a head with Armageddon. Now there were far worse things than snake flying around his mind – things involving fire, lots of fire, and an empty, horrifying sense of not-here-ness, of intense, deep loss.

The dreams kept him up at night, occasionally, but were soothed by the calming presence of the angel next to him. Aziraphale would stroke his hair, hold him, whisper gentle things in his ear until the stupid, unnecessary blood stopped pumping at rocket speed through his veins and he remembered how to make this body breathe. He was always there when he needed him, usually sat up reading by the moonlight that would have been too weak for human eyes.

He was always there, always comforting, always safe. And yet he hated Crowley’s demonic snake-iness just as much as the demon himself did.

That was why he hid it.

He didn’t mean to, not really. It wasn’t out of anything malicious or duplicitous. It was more shame, really, than anything else. But it was more that it didn’t ever come up. If by some strange coincidence Crowley would have been able to get them out of a tight spot by turning into a snake, he would have done – with much apology and self-deprecation, of course, but he would have done it. But it hadn’t ever come up, and it never seemed like a good time to mention something so disgraceful, so he hadn’t.

Which was why the demon had never changed form in Aziraphale’s presence, or anywhere that he thought the angel might walk in on him. It was only ever at the Mayfair flat, or out in the desert, back in the day, or when he knew for sure Aziraphale was on another continent. Never in the Bentley, though that would have been nice. Never outside in London, which would cause too much attention anyway. And never, never in the bookshop.

Well. Almost never.

Crowley wasn’t quite sure of the sequence of thoughts that led him to such a reckless action. But it was cool outside, the sort of not-quite-cold freshness that made his skin crawl, and it was warm in the bookshop, specifically in a patch of sunlight magnified by the domed skylight.

Aziraphale had gone out, looking for something specific at the British Library, and he’d promised he’d be back in time for dinner, but what with the time of year and the angel’s tendency to get distracted by books and history, not to mention both of those things together, Crowley knew it’d be dark before he got home. By which time any warmth would have gone from the snake’s scales, and he would have woken up, shaken away the grogginess, and had time to remember how to both look and behave like a functional human being again. So it was relatively risk-free. Or so he thought.

(Perhaps somewhere in there had been a deeply-hidden, long-buried desire for Aziraphale to know the truth. Perhaps the recklessness was a subconscious plea to be known. Or perhaps there was some higher divine nudging in there, just for the drama of it.)

The angel had left, and the demon had locked the door and shut the blinds behind him, and then he’d transformed in the bookshop for the very first time, and enjoyed the sensation of the flooring under his belly, and revelled in the joy of not having to deal with limbs anymore, and moved over to the warm patch of ground and curled up and went to sleep.

The tinkle of the shop bell was what first disturbed his deep slumber, but what actually woke him was the shocked gasp the angel let out when he saw him.

Crowley started up out of his nap in shock, hissing involuntarily, and transformed back into his human corporation instantly. He grabbed wildly at the sunglasses that he’d left casually on a nearby shelf, and shoved them on as quickly and firmly as he could.

“Azsss... Angel, I...”

The demon was shaking, actually shaking, and he didn’t know what to do. He wanted to run, wanted to bolt out the door and never come back, wanted to get in the Bentley and drive off to Alpha Centauri on his own after all, wanted to burrow into Aziraphale’s arms and never come out. But, well. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

“Crowley.”

His voice was far too soft, far too full of fondness and affection and... and love.

The angel took a cautious step or two forward, eyes shining. Crowley felt trapped – not by Aziraphale, who had now paused a few metres away, careful not to overcrowd him, but by the situation, by whatever physical or metaphysical reason that enabled him to shift between his two forms. Whatever that was, was trapping him. Trapping him in his demon-ness: unquestionably Fallen, inescapably different from Aziraphale. And now the angel knew.

He tried to tell himself it didn’t matter. Tried to tell himself he could accept Aziraphale’s pity, the I still love you that was sure to come. After all, it was the ‘love’ part that mattered, right? Not the pitying way he would look at him, not the sadness hidden behind those declarations of loyalty, not the ‘despite your flaws’ the whole thing would entail.

Because that was the problem, really. He knew the angel would hate that part of him just as certainly as Crowley himself hated it. Except Crowley didn’t only hate it, because sometimes feelings and emotions just don’t make sense, and he loved being a snake, even if he hated the reasons behind it. Which is why he couldn’t bear to think of Aziraphale’s pitying reaction.

And now the angel knew. And Crowley was about to feel that searing pity first-hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me you can still transform?”

“I, err, um, well,” Crowley blustered, struggling to figure out what to say. “I just, well it never really came up, and I, uh, it never seemed like a good time, I –”

He stopped, and took a breath, focusing hard on a spot on the floor to the right of Aziraphale. He’d never been particularly good with words, but he knew the importance of them. He didn’t know how to get everything he wanted to say across right now, but he knew it was important not to say the wrong thing. He didn’t want the angel crying on him or anything. So he settled on silence, for the time being.

His eyes darted up to look at Aziraphale.

The angel smiled, slightly sadly, and Crowley could feel something tightening around his heart at the pity he knew was coming. He set his mouth in a tight line, bracing himself for impact, and thanked Somebody that he’d had the sense to keep his glasses nearby to hide behind now.

“No, I suppose there is no perfect time to say something like that.”

Crowley nodded slightly, trying to stop his hands from clenching into fists. He watched Aziraphale from behind the dark lenses in much the same way a cornered mouse must watch a pampered housecat, uncertain if the predator will act on its deep-buried instincts.

“I’m glad.”

Crowley’s head jerked up at that, narrowing his eyes at the angel.

“Not that you didn’t say anything, I mean,” the angel clarified. “Just that you have that... outlet. It must be quite freeing, I should think. Like being able to stretch your wings...”

It was a similar sensation, Crowley thought, but not exactly the same. For him, at least, getting his wings out felt like unbinding something that had been pulled taught and held too tightly in place – it was a relief, an ached-after pleasure. Taking on his snake form was, if anything, more of a comfort than a release – he didn’t itch for it in the same way he itched to stretch his cooped-up extra limbs – but the feeling of being in one’s natural state, of feeling calm and content and complete was certainly the same. Often, in fact, the only way he was able to cure any aching for his wings to be free, like they had in Eden, was to become that other form he had been in the Garden; the tight feeling at his back never followed him as a snake. He didn’t like to imagine how uncomfortable it must be for Aziraphale, who had no secondary release like that.

The angel took another half-step forward and smiled again, his eyes searching the black lenses for a hint of the yellow eyes beneath. Then he opened his mouth and continued the thought.

“And I’m glad that you didn’t lose that part of yourself.”

He couldn’t take it. Crowley made some strange, involuntary noise in his throat, then turned and strode away a few paces, crossing his arms defensively and refusing to look back at Aziraphale.

“Crowley?”

He didn’t turn. He’d thought for a moment that he could manage this, but it was too much. He’d never been that great at understanding or dealing with emotions anyway – it had taken him a few thousand years to realise how much he loved Aziraphale, after all – but now it was all too much, too difficult to comprehend, and he could feel himself shutting down. He just wanted it to stop, everything to freeze, for Aziraphale to just forget the conversation and invite him out for a quick bite to eat, not keep talking and get closer and closer to saying something Crowley was going to wish he had never heard.

“Crowley, my dear, I’m sorry if... I’m sorry that this is a sensitive subject for you. I just – I want you to know you don’t have to hide yourself from me, okay? You don’t have to curl up somewhere you don’t think I’ll find you just so you can transform. I really... I really don’t mind.”

And there it was. I don’t mind. He was trying, oh, he was really trying, but it was still there, still seeping through the cracks. Pity, in all its angelic glory. Crowley had to bite his tongue to stop himself from snapping, but he couldn’t help the hiss-like growl that escaped his lips.

He silently cursed that, too. He hated how betraying even this version of his body was – the hissing, the sibilance that surfaced when he was stressed, the scattering of scales that still grazed his skin, his goddamned slitted eyes. Everything about him that wasn’t blatantly human was blatantly snake, and that was the root of the problem – any sign he wasn’t human was a sign he was a demon, and every one of those could be traced back to the form he could still, for some unfathomable reason, take.

Crowley couldn’t see Aziraphale, but he could tell the angel had noticed his reaction. He felt the ethereal being step closer again. “I mean it my dear, I really do.”

“Angel...” Crowley turned around now, unable to stop himself. His arms remained tight against his torso, still fending off Aziraphale’s words, his endless pity. “You don’t have to.”

The angel frowned. “I don’t have to what?”

Crowley sighed, frustrated. He was going to make him say it, wasn’t he? He floundered for a moment, no words coming out of his moving mouth, and then he sighed again. No escaping it. Just bite the bullet.

“Pretend, for my sake,” he said, and turned sideways so he wasn’t presented with the full force of whatever Aziraphale’s reaction would be. “You don’t have to see me if you don’t want to, I’ll make sure you’re away, I’ll hide, I – I mean, I didn’t expect you to see me this time, but I’ll be more careful, I’ll –”

He was stopped by a hand on his arm, stilling him into silence. Aziraphale had stepped right up to him, now, and was using the point of contact to turn Crowley to face him. They were almost chest-to-chest.

“May I?”

Aziraphale had taken his hand off the demon’s arm and now had both of his own raised slightly, gesturing. Crowley hesitated, then nodded. He’d never been able to deny his angel anything.

The glasses were lifted off delicately and placed down neatly on the nearest available surface. Blue eyes met sulphur ones, and the former smiled gently.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” Aziraphale said, slowly, deliberately. “I don’t want you to hide from me.”

A short, consonant-heavy sound rose up, unbidden, in Crowley’s throat.

The angel took a deep breath, then ploughed on, never wavering in his eye contact with the demon before him.

“I love you, Crowley. I love every part of you. And I don’t want you to hide any of it from me, not anymore. Our own side, you said. And together, you said. I want us to be together, wholly together, without shame, without secrets, without fear. And I know a lot of that has been my fault, that we haven’t been able to do it sooner, but now that that’s done with, now that I’m here... I don’t want there to be anything else stopping us. I don’t want you to feel like we can’t... like you... like I’m...”

It was Aziraphale’s turn to flounder, uncertain of how to express what he wanted to say.

Crowley shook his head, unable to make the words come. Please, angel. Stop. It’s okay, I can take it. I’ve been dealing with this for a while, you don’t need to lie to me. Just stop. I’ll go, I’ll hide, it’s okay.

The demon’s eyes flicked to the safety of the dark lenses, put down just out of easy reach. Aziraphale followed his gaze, and his face crumpled slightly when he realised what Crowley was looking at.

“Oh, my dearest. Please, I don’t want you to feel like that. You shouldn’t have to wear those when it’s just us. Please. I love you, Crowley. Please let me see your eyes.”

The demon had shut them tight as the angel spoke, and now he found that he didn’t want to open them again. He shuddered slightly, trying his hardest to hold back tears.

“But you hate them,” he managed, and was thankful that it sounded more like a whisper than a sob.

There was silence for a moment, and Crowley would have thought that the angel had vanished if he couldn’t feel his proximity. Aziraphale didn’t move, didn’t speak, didn’t breathe for several seconds.

Then he said, in a voice somehow both soft and hard at the same time, “What?”

Crowley shook his head, eyes still tight shut, refusing to believe even for an instant that the angel could harbour anything other than revulsion at any reminder that he was a demon.

“I’ve seen the way you react to them. Always have.” His voice was small, pathetic, but right now he didn’t care. “It’s like you forget they’re there. And then I take off my sunglasses and you...” Crowley shuddered, and this time it definitely was a sob. “You hate them.”

“Please, my darling, please look at me. That’s not true, not even for a second. Please, please just open your eyes.”

It took him a moment to summon the willpower, the bravery, to do so. But then he did, and realised the angel was close to crying, too.

Aziraphale opened his mouth, his face the picture of honesty and earnestness. He stared into Crowley’s eyes as he spoke, gaze flicking between the golden irises, now helplessly expanded to block out any humanising whites. His own pale blue eyes were flooded with love, and the words were almost secondary to the depth of meaning that one look offered.

“Your eyes are the most beautiful thing about you. How could you ever think that I would hate them?”

Crowley’s mind stopped working.

He became incapable of speech for a solid five minutes, but Aziraphale let him work it out, let him garble nonsense syllables, let him hover between belief and terror, let him slowly, slowly get his brain back in order. The whole time, the angel stood there, so close, ready to fold Crowley into his arms at a second’s notice. The whole time, he watched his beloved demon’s face, gazing at the eyes, lingering on the tattoo, and never once flinching at the unbidden elongated sibilants that escaped the occult being’s forked tongue.

“You...” Crowley whispered finally. “You like them?”

“Of course I do, my dearest. I love them. They’re gorgeous. How on Earth could I hate them?”

His voice betrayed no hint of a lie or an exaggeration. His soft face was kindly but honest, not pitying. He was... Crowley hardly dared believe it. Could he be... telling the truth?

“Because they’re snake eyes,” he said, hoping that was enough explanation. “’M a demon. ’S a reminder.”

Aziraphale shook his head slowly. “Darling, the first thing I knew about you was that you were a snake. That’s how I first saw you. That’s how we met. How could I ever hate something that makes you who you are?”

Crowley stared at him for another few seconds. Then all his resolve crumbled, and he practically fell into the angel’s strong, reliable arms, and allowed himself to be held, tight and safe, and basking in the glow of angelic love.

At some point, they ended up on the sofa, wrapped around one another, Crowley allowing all the pent-up fear and shame to tumble out of him in shaking gasps and tears. Aziraphale wiped his cheeks and played with his hair, holding him and soothing him until he’d let it all out.

At some point, Crowley sat up, and tried for a smile, and Aziraphale leant forwards and kissed him on both eyelids, and told him he was beautiful.

At some point, perhaps a long time later, an angel and a demon sat on that same sofa together. The angel was reading in the fading daylight, and the demon was coiled around him in the form of a large black snake. They were happy and comfortable together, and the sunglasses lay long-forgotten on a table by the door to the outside world.

And at that point, they were happy.

#Great Good Omens Snake-Off #GGOSO #st patrick's day #crowley #snek!crowley #Aziraphale #snakes #fanfiction #good omens #i've had this in the works for MONTHS and i only finally looked back at it last week when i decided to get it finished and posted for today #and... i'm actually pretty happy with it?#most of it at least #expanding some of my own personal headcanon/fic lore about wings and demons here #as well as cute fluff and scary internal feelings and soft snek cuddles #hope you like it!#working title: snek boi #title suggestions welcome!

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dcbbw · 4 years

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WIP Wednesday (11/20/19)

Thanks for the tags @ao719 and @sirbeepsalot!

In addition to my WIP list (I may be down to 20 fics/WIPs there), 4 Riams, Driam, and Drake x Hana, I am also working on the fics below. Everything is subject to change...they are WIPs, after all. :)

Cold Heat (It will eventually be foursome smut)

Liam’s eyes glanced over at Drake, frustration and a touch of wonder in them. Drake, so tall and brooding and….sexy. His denim shirt had a couple of the top buttons undone, offering a peek of muscled skin and hints of curly chest hair.

“I’m in”, Riley replied, her eyes still on Liam. Liam’s eyes snapped back to Riley.

“Where are you going?” Liam asked curiously.

“To find some food! We’re going to raid the kitchen, and then the wine cellar.” Drake answered briefly.

Liam wore a look of confusion. “Was dinner insufficient in some way?” He looked around at the trio.

“That bitch didn’t feed us. The three of us had to split a bowl of lukewarm soup!” The words burst angrily from Hana.

“The Duchess would do no such thing. All of the sponsoring houses know that they need to show hospitality to all of the participants!” Liam protested.

“Look, the entire court knows by now Liv is creaming her panties to suck your dick and have your babies. Tonight, she proved she was snobbish and desperate. Fuck her and fuck Lythikos. We’re getting our dinner and our wine. With or without her permission. You can stand here and defend her ass, or you can join us.”

Drake began walking away from the group, headed to the exit. With one last look at Liam and Riley, Hana quickly followed him.

It was just Liam and Riley left. Riley arched an eyebrow as a smirk curved her lip.

“Have a good evening, Your Highness.” She slipped out of her heels and ran after her friends.

Getting Well (Maxwell x Kiara)

Kiara burrowed herself under her bedcovers. She was home, sick. She wasn’t sure if she just had a really bad cold or the flu; all she knew was she felt like death. Kiara had a fever, but was constantly chilly. Her throat was so sore it felt raw. She had congestion from her head to her chest. She had a terrible cough, and horrible coughing spells.

She was home alone, except for staff. Her parents were in Geneva for a Summit Council meeting and her brother, Ezekiel had taken Penelope out for a date night. Kiara had just found the perfect spot in her bed when there was a knock on her bedroom door. She rolled her eyes at the intrusion. It’s probably staff checking on me.

“Come in”, she croaked weakly.

The door opened slowly, almost hesitantly. Kiara kept the covers over her head; she couldn’t muster the energy to move. She waited for her visitor to announce themselves, certain it was the majordomo, Eduardo.

“Ki?” The voice was uncertain.

Kiara’s bleary eyes flew open. Maxwell! What is HE doing here? I feel like shit and look even worse. He can’t see me like this!

Gobble Gobble (A Thanksgiving Collective)

Dralivia

“What do you miss most about America?” Olivia asked as her tongue licked his nipple.

Drake chuckled softly before Olivia’s tongue elicited a moan from him. “You act as if I came from America yesterday. You do know I have been in Cordonia most of my life?”

“Still, there must be something or even some things you miss about it.” Olivia wrapped her arms around Drake’s waist.

Drake’s arm was draped around Olivia’s shoulder; his fingers traced light circles on her upper arm. The firelight basked him in a warm glow. He looked golden in the semi-darkness. He pursed his lips as he thought.

“Hmmmm…I guess I miss American holidays the most. Especially 4th of July and Thanksgiving.”

“Tell me about them”, Olivia requested in a soft voice. The warmth from both the fireplace and Drake’s body was making her drowsy.

Laxwell

“I need food to keep her attention!” Maxwell protested. “Betty loves food. And reptiles and scorpions.”

Liam looked at Maxwell, an expression of disbelief on his face. “Fresh out of scorpions and reptiles”, he said sarcastically.

“We can just sit here until she falls asleep. It’s almost time for her nap.” Max stretched out on the bed, his head falling back against the pillows.

Liam was still watching Betty suspiciously. “Can she climb up here?”

“Naw, the dais makes the bed too high for her.” Maxwell pulled out his phone. He scrolled some, then spoke.

“Did you know today is American Thanksgiving?”

“Why would I know that?” Liam inched up on the bed; Betty followed him, her eyes never leaving his.

Betty screeched. Liam jumped.

“We should celebrate!” Maxwell declared.

“We’re not American, and we should’ve known about the holiday we don’t celebrate but you suddenly want to celebrate long before now. It involves lots of food, which requires preparation.”

“It’s just as well, I guess. You know Bigfoot comes out on Thanksgiving night.”

Riam

She sat down to review her menu; Liam kissing her temple before handing her a glass of water tore her eyes away from the paper. She leaned her body into his, her head resting briefly against his upper arm. He felt strong and warm; she felt blessed to be the one allowed to lean on him.

Liam read over her shoulder, his eyes widening in surprise and darkening in disappointment at the menu: fried shrimp, crab cakes, turkey, ham, dressing, homemade gravy, potato salad, candied sweet potatoes, green beans, corn on the cob, and biscuits. Desserts were a variety of pies, and a devil’s food cake, Riley’s favorite.

“That’s…that’s a lot!” he exclaimed. “And very…American.”

“That’s nothing! And what do you expect from an American holiday except American food?”

“I thought we could incorporate some traditional Cordonian dishes….”

“Those godawful sour potatoes or that fish stew you love that I can’t stand?” Riley fussed. “This is my custom, Liam! My tradition! You do what you want with yours.”

“Riley….” Liam began. He was quickly interrupted.

“You know what? Get out of my kitchen! RIGHT NOW! Go find someone to play with while I take care of dinner.” Riley pointed her finger towards the door.

With a sigh of defeat, the King went in search of Maxwell as his Queen and ladies of staff prepped and cooked away.

DC AU Gang (8 years ago)

Riley watched the exchange with jealousy and resignation. When she first saw Liam two years ago, her heart had leapt into her throat. She had never seen a man as gorgeous as Liam; he put models and actors to shame. Or maybe not. Riley’s taste in men sometimes left some things to be desired. But in Riley’s eyes, Liam was perfect: tall, dark hair, beautiful features, humorous, kind, intelligent….Riley could write a list for days about his Liam qualities.

Which is why she knew she would never stand a chance with him. She was tall, curvy with some chubbiness, her hair didn’t flow down her back. She could be loud and brash and didn’t dumb herself down. Men like Liam…..they wanted the exact opposite of Riley Brooks.

So Riley didn’t even try with Liam. She kept everything neutral and friendly, keeping her interest in him at bay. They were friends, and she wanted to keep that at least. One thing about Riley Brooks, she knew to stay in her lane.

But now, watching him flirt with Teresa…..she wanted to be more than friends. She wanted Liam to flirt with her, she wanted Liam to lift his lips in that smirk while looking at her.

Why are you thinking this way about Liam? You know you aren’t his type! How much wine have you had to drink, girl? Maybe you need to call up Keith for a booty call.

What are you guys working on @hopefulmoonobject�� @boneandfur @janezillow @msjr0119 @texaskitten30 @fromthedeskofpaisleybleakmore

#wip wednesday #my wips #WIPs are coming #too many wips

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slytherfriends · 5 years

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spectroscopic-binary replied to your quote “God I hate seeing carpets in racks.”

@kelsolikesdogz omg same. I was imagining like a big towel rack with a carpet on it. What does a snake rack look like?

omfg. ahah. that is a lot funnier than an actual snake rack. LOL

this is what a snake rack looks like (i found this doing a quick google search) small tubs for ball pythons that appear pretty bare.

and this is a screen cap from bri@n b@rczyk’s “coming clean about snake racks” (aka defending them and his pathetic tiny minimalist tubs) so its a tiny tub with aspen and a tiny water bowl and nothing else. no enrichment. no hides.

i don’t hate tubs. in fact i keep some of my animals in tubs. but i use HUGE tubs (think the size a christmas tree would fit in.) for my animals that need extremely high humidity (ie: my Brazilian rainbow boa) and i use them for quarantine for all animals i get for three to six months. but even QT tubs have enrichment options and they’re usually on the larger size for them to have room to move if they want to.

BUT! Now that I’ve really shamed rack keeping, I DO know a few people who have made their own custom racks that are really great! Because they fit larger tubs that are full of enrichment for the species they keep, and usually they’re housing smaller or burrowing animals.

if i get sunbeam snakes i may keep them in a custom rack because they stay burrowed almost 24/7 and need extremely high high high humidity and tubs are great for that and not animals are great display animals. putting sunbeams in a big exo terra would be bad for me and the snake.

it really is all how you utilize a thing. you can also get a glass terrarium or a tiny PVC cage and keep it bare bones and improperly too.

but that being said, (and back to the point of carpet pythons in tiny racks) when keeping reptiles you need to know how that animal needs to be kept and their specific needs. so keeping large arboreal snakes in a tiny tub is borderline cruelty in my opinion because they can’t get the enrichment and exercise their species needs.

sorry this got so long!

#spectroscopic-binary #replies #yes i censored his name #i dont wanna be in that tag and no i dont want his stans coming at me #i dont care that you love his weirdo channel on youtube #anyway #snake racks are not really great #i know people who use them but properly!#reptile enrichment #rant #reptile care #snake care #snake enrichment

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rekkingcrew · 5 years

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Rek DMs, Some Thoughts

Buckle up, it’s Edge of the Empire tabletop Roleplaying time.

Yeah, I know I don’t post here much. I’m still doing the devaron’s angels thing, which is scratching a lot of my online itches, and I’ve got a part time job and full time parenting.

I’d really planned on doing regular updates of what happened each session. Aaaaand that didn’t happen. Which is a shame, I’d love to be able to have those summaries to look back on. But here’s the short version:

The gang, who are a crew of space chancers and criminals rolling around in a stolen police ship, were doing odd jobs together for a while, including some for the empire. Their contact, a Pantoran spymaster whose cover was as a children’s entertainer, congratulated them on their most recent heist job (where the campaign started in medias res), and gave them a new job: deliver a mysterious sealed orb to the leader of the peskiest rebel cell in the general area, led by a Rodian pirate by the name of Cheng Maxeda. They said maybe, took the orb, and then checked around and picked up a delivery job for their local Hutts going the same direction for some extra cash.

They were brought in because the Hutt shipments had been interfered with by somebody. Their Hutts weren’t sure who, but were damn sure they were going to pay. The gang defeated a whole crazy mess of people who were being lead and bolstered by a falleen who had been surgically altered to boost their pheromone output. Then they picked up the package and made the poor decision of looking inside. It was the carbonite frozen but still living body of the cop who’d previously owned their ship that they were now knowingly handing over, because they couldn’t bring themselves to cross the Hutts.

Moral issues aside, it was an easy job, they got well paid, the team failed a bunch of social roles and divulged more information than they should have to the Hutt point man, and Brick, the party’s wall of meat, got signed up for a pit fight. He won his round, but imperial troops broke up the match before he could win completely. TK cornered but lost a rebel bomber, and Eshi got contacted by a rebel who recognized him from a bit of backstory. Nyla chased down one of the other gladiators, an old clone with a sword who’d entered the fight because the prize included a bacta dunk and he had a friend who was hurt and dying after being caught by the Hutts trying to bust up a slaving operation. And that’s when the bomb went off, destroying some major imperial instillation bits and projecting a 40 foot holo-image of Cheng the punk rock rodian pirate queen striding across the smoking crater proclaiming she had come to liberate the outer rim. The party was presented with three job options: 1) after Brick’s pit win, the Hutts were down some muscle for a convoy and ready to pay reliable thugs 2) the rebels were looking for a study ship to bust up the hub of a spy satellite network 3) the clone and his weequay buddy (Edge and Horm) still wanted to stop the slave convoy (which was, as the party figured out, job 1). They opted for job 2, leaving town amidst a firefight with the imperials, and brought along Edge and Horm, providing Nyla with a sword fighting trainer who’d studied under a jedi, without being a jedi himself.

The guys busted up the satellite base by hijacking a shipment truck coming in (I’d provided them information for a couple of routes, including asteroid hopping amidst giant vacuum-proof winged frog monster creatures, and they figured this best matched their skillset). Inside they found tech that looked a whole lot like our droid character TK, a completely brainwashed cyborg engineer, and the control rods that were their target. TK, who is a droid with multiple program personalities, suddenly and without warning displayed a program personality they had never seen before and destroyed the computer mainframe, remembering nothing afterward. The cyborg also had hardware a good deal like Nyla’s, and contained a message begging for help from someone held against their will and being moved between facilities. They blew up the station, retrieved valuable tech, and flew off, triumphant, to get their payment from the rebels.

The rebels welcomed the gang, who got to know the faction a little bit better. TK nearly started a gunfight, Nyla got a haircut, and Brick and Eshi developed mouse droid beer pong in order to provide historically unique droid bits to an eccentric collector for the last bit Eshi needed to build his machine from the prototype he’d stolen from the corporate sector in his backstory, which runs on two kyber crystals and provides a similar benefit to the force power “foresee”. He used this to figure out the sphere they were carrying contained an intensely virulent ship killer plague that would likely kill them as well, and they resolved to throw that in the sun. The gang foiled an assassination attempt on Cheng and got a new assignment: break her old pirate buddy out of maximum security prison (again, they were presented with several possible assignments, some of which tied in to other plots.) Nyla and Cheng also worked out mutually that they were both force sensitive.

The prison break went off well. It was a sort of siberian gulag set up on an ice planet, plus some eight foot carnivorous burrowing worms- yeah, those walls are pretty short, prisoners, but where are you gonna run? The gang picked up some extra supplies by agreeing to break out a Hutt operative while they were there anyway. After some exciting sky battles, Nyla and Eshi turns the ship’s forward shields into a battering ram. They made short work of the guards inside, but discovered that there was an unexpected other party there- a wookie bounty hunter who was looking into the disappearance of the guy they handed over to the hutts. That guy was a tough fight even for the team’s big heavies, and they set a load of prisoners free to help them- taking the risk that the maximum security violent shipjackers would not decide to jack their ship to escape. Luckily between the two heavies and the giant devaronian pirate they just released, they were able to intimidate them into just accepting a ride off planet. Nyla, meanwhile, fought the wookie’s cat beast in an enclosed tunnel and nearly died, but won a pretty hard solo battle, enabling her to pick up the Hutt contact and a delirious nautolan who she had a force feeling about. Eshi forgot he was a reptile and went out in the ice with no coat, then defeated his own personal corpsec bounty hunter’s attempts to come at him with robots. With great success, they headed back to rebel space, got paid, and received a message that their former imperial employer was officially fucking pissed at them. Also, the nautolan was force sensitive and having visions of the inquisitor who tried to murder Nyla.

Faced with mounting tension and the inability to continue lying to each other, the team pretty much spilled all their secrets to each other in the absolute most fun room mate meeting I have ever witnessed. Nyla is a force sensitive ex-imperial pilot ace, TK has an extra personality, Eshi has an I-assassinated-a-king level bounty and a machine that tells the future, Thirteen (the bothan spy) knew all this and told no one, Brick likes light beer, etc. They decided they really need to murder the children’s TV spy master as their next move. Their bothan spy provided them with a dossier on him and his six lieutenants. Nyla and Thirteen went to go meet the spymaster and try to throw him off, and had to fight the stealth assassin lieutenant, which they survived. Eshi hacked the slicer lieutenant and stole her state of the art surveillance droids. Brick checked up on the Hutt-embedded spy and learned she was a pretty awful person. He also ended up scheduling a rematch with the douwutin he beat in the pit fight, who the Hutts later dropped a word in that they wouldn’t mind if he just happened to kill in that fight. The group’s one cop friend, a red-string and corkboard conspiracy melitto, got attacked by assassins, because the spies and the governor were working against each other. Nyla and TK accidentally killed the master of disguise spy lieutenant without realizing who he was. They turned the surveillance droids on the Hutts and found out the Hutt-embedded spy was working against the spymaster as well.

The spymaster was scheduled to attend the Chancellor’s day gala on Naboo, which is fancy far outside of anything the party is probably capable of pulling off, but I wanted to give them the opportunity to try. One of the spy lieutenants there, a slimy alderaanean lesser noble, has found a packet of forbidden information that had been stolen and hidden there, and the spymaster is going in person for the hand-off. Rebuffing an offer from the planetary governor, the group made a very temporary alliance with the Hutt spy to kidnap the noble spy and use him to force a meeting with the spymaster on their terms. And that’s where we are now.

___

All in all, I’m really pleased with how this is going. I’m having a lot of fun and my players are absolutely great. I’d... assumed that would take less time to type up, and it’s leaving out a whole lot of stuff. I started this in October, so that’s about seven months worth of weekly sessions. That it breaks pretty easily into arcs, I feel, speaks pretty well for what I’d intended of it. I have SO MANY FUCKING named NPCs. It’s over 50 at last count. Factions are helping a lot. Each faction has a main plot that’s going to move along no matter what the PCs do, hitting beats whenever I need something interesting for the background.

I’d like to keep making some posts here about what I’ve learned, what’s worked and what hasn’t, and about each player and their character. I personally think it’s interesting, and it helps me collect my thoughts. But for now I think I’m going to bed.

#i dmed #rek dms #space bastards #Edge of the Empire #tabletop rp

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aspidities · 7 years

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The aversion for snakes in a lot of western folklore really bothers me tbh. The most recent example is the Basilisk in HP. I always felt really bad when reading about it in the book and even worse when I saw the movie. Not to mention that talking to snakes is seen as bad while I think it's a pretty cool ability to have. That's why I think I like Fantastic Creatures better. (not an ask, I ramble you know that)

Okay *cracks knuckles*, welcome to Lea’s Teaching Time.

First off, The Basilisk in HP is kind of more akin to a cockatice, which is a really neat little creature supposed to be a half-chicken, half-snake. Actually, both basilisk and cockatrice legends hint to a commonality between birds and reptiles that even our ancestors were picking up on, which is sooo coool.

Now, main point:

This may sound strange, but I’m actually fine with negative representation, to some degree. Snakes are so much more interesting when they’re portrayed as intelligent villains or somewhat coldly neutral tricksters. I was raised in India for some of my childhood, and I grew up on Rudyard Kipling’s original Jungle Book. In it, there are many different snake stories, more than you would assume from the various adaptions. Kaa, the huge primordial Burmese python, is not a villain; he’s respected and somewhat anxiously regarded, but he helps Baloo and Bagheera take down the monkey city to save Mowgli. He then uses his eyes to hypnotize the monkey tribe to be eaten, and almost accidentally snares Mowgli along with them, until Bagheera interrupts the hypnosis, but they’re not angry with Kaa; it’s just his nature, and his power is seen as awe-inspiring and too terrifying to challenge. I grew up absolutely LOVING the character of Kaa; it’s a shame he gets done so dirty in literally every Disney film.

In the same stroke, you learn that Mowgli knows the language of the snake people as he does every other people’s language in the jungle, and the cobra people don’t harm him when he drops unexpectedly into their well, and if anything, seem kind to him…if also concerned that he will stamp on their eggs. When Mowgli later finds an ancient, mysterious ankh staff, it is guarded by a blind, white cobra with no venom, who warns him of its deadly influence, and gladly accepts it back when Mowgli discovers that for himself.

My favorite representation of any snake, anywhere, is actually also in the Jungle Book, but it’s a side story, called Ricki Ticki-Tavi, about a mongoose who lives in a bungalow with some British colonials (don’t get me started on Kipling’s weird inherent racism that was only mildly tempered by his love of the country) and guards them against the fierce and deadly pair of monocled cobras that live there. When I was growing up, my dad mistakenly identified them as king cobras, but they’re actually monocles; Nag makes a reference to the cobra people shading one of the Hindu dieties as he slept, which put the mark upon all of the hooded people, and that legend is associated with monocled cobras.

“Who is Nag?” Said he. “I am Nag. The great god Brahm put his mark upon all our people, when the first cobra spread his hood to keep the sun off Brahm as he slept. Look, and be afraid!”

That passage is basically woven into my bones, but Nagaina, the wicked wife of Nag, is the real element of the story that drives drama. She tries to protect her nest and her eggs against the mongoose, and even as a kid I felt for her; she was a devoted, if terrifying mother. When Ricki goes into the burrow after her, it is outright stated that a female cobra is a real fight, whereas Nag was the bluff. I always loved that. Naga, snake dieties, are huge in Hindu mythology, and Nagini or Nagina is a name for a female serpent, usually a queen. There are temples in southern India just lined with women turning into snakes, snakes turning into women, and everything in between.

Embrace fear. Embrace power, and embrace femininity. There is danger in all of it, and that’s what makes it ours.

#ask me #lea teaches snake stuff #snake posts

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thiswasnotscripted · 7 years

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I’ll keep you save

Fen'an had known, that it was a bad idea, even before he accepted.

They did come back from Emprise du Lion this afternoon, where they had fought Red Templars, froze off their feet and managed to ditch the many dragons that had made this area their new home. All their caution had been useless in the end; one of these huge reptiles had blocked their path and the fight had been inevitable.

While Fen'an had been glad to come out of the fight alive, the Iron Bull had been pumped. Proudly he had carried the massive skull back to Skyhold and even the fact that he h would have to give his trophy to Helisma, so she could examine it, couldn't bring him down. Spontaneously he did invite the whole party into the tavern under the pretext that the alcohol would surely warm up their frozen bones.

Fen'an had known, that it was a bad idea. But now he was here with the Iron Bull, between them to mugs filled with a beverage that tasted like kerosene, and regretted his decisions.

Lavi and Sera did gave up long ago. While Lavi still tried to sit upright and probably promised herself never to drink again, Sera already lay under the table, snoring peacefully.

„Hey Boss, you're giving up?“, asked Bull grinning and was greatly entertained by the hard-drinking Inquisitor. The elf smiled deviously.

„Never.“

He felt hot, sick and the world had started to spin around him minutes ago, but he would have never admitted that. Not before the qunari would declare his defeat and would admit that he wasn't able to drink the Inquisitor under the table.

Reluctantly he reached for the mug in front of him and chugged down the bitter liquid, which the qunari dared to call alcohol. Bull did the same and reached for the now almost emptied bottle.

„You know, it's no shame to give up now.“, he tried again. „You are an elf after all, and elves are known to be quiet the lightweights.“

Fen'an shook his head and tried to cover up a cough.

„This may be true, but this is about honor!“, he said and frowned. The alcohol burnt in his throat ad gave him a voice of a chain smoker. Heroically he lifted his fist. „I am the Inquisitor and I have a reputation to lose.“

„As you say, Boss.“, Bull laughed and refilled the mugs. They had emptied the bottle now and Bull was almost relieved. He didn't know how much longer the stubborn elf would be able to sit upright.

Fen'an emptied the mug one last time and Bull did the same.

„Ha!“, Fen'an shouted triumphantly and leaped up. For a moment it looked like he would fall backwards over the bench behind him, but he caught himself and pressed his hands into his hips. „The bottle is empty, I am still standing... you owe me 20 Sovereigns.“

Bull looked up to him and smiled amused. He had to give him that, the elf could hold his liquor. When he had tried that stuff the first time, it had needed less to knock him out. Fen'an seemed satisfied with his victory and didn't noticed the person, that had just entered the room. Dorian had been searching for the Inquisitor for quiet awhile now and seemed to be relieved to have finally found him.

„There you are!“, he said and came closer. „And I feared, I had to search whole Skyhold for you... Are you okay? You look pale...“

„Dorian, we talked about this.“, Fen'an reminded him and smiled fondly. „If I go out in the sun, I reflect its light. That's just my natural skin tone.“

The mage wasn't convinced and reached for Fen'ans chin.

„Your eyes are all glassy.“, he murmured and felt his forehead. „Either you are feverish or you just drank too much.”

Fen'an grinned and took Dorians hands off his face. He held one of them to calm the mage and gestured into the direction of the table.

“Bull just lost 20 Sovereigns, after he betted that he could drink me under the table.”, he explained proudly and beamed at the mage. Dorian grimaced though when he saw the empty bottle.

“Did you drink a whole bottle of that?”, he asked shocked and shot Bull a judging look. He knew this brew too well and was honestly surprised that nobody died of it yet. “Are you insane?”

“Well, actually that was the second...”, Fen'an wanted to say, but quickly continued, before Dorian could scold him further. “ I am fine. You see? Still standing!”

As if to emphasize his statement, Fen'an started to stumble the exact second and Dorian had to catch him before he would end up on the floor. Fen'an threw his arms around the man and steadied himself.

“Have I ever told you, that you smell really nice?”, he murmured into his chest and the mage looked down in confusion. “Is that lavender?”

“Ah... yes. It's a new soap I ordered in Orlais that arrived this morning.”, he said quietly. “I thought you might like it.”

“I knew it...”, the elf murmured and nearly started to purr. Dorian seemed a bit overwhelmed and suddenly realized that they both were still in the tavern for everyone to see. Bull watched the couple amused and lifted an eyebrow.

“Well, time to get you into bed!”, Dorian said eventually and shoved to elf to the door. “Josephine kills us both if you show up at the wart able hung over.”

Bull couldn't help himself and threw a comment at them, that made Dorian, already redfaced because of the unexpected burst of affection from his amatus, blushing even harder. Cursing he urged the elf out of the tavern.

The cold night air seemed to sober Fen'an up. He jumped from one stone to the next, babbled happily about everything and nothing and fulfilled almost every cliche one could have about the Dalish. Dorian would have thought of this view as endearing, if he didn't fear for the elf to stumble the next moment and break his neck.

Eventually he managed to bring the Inquisitor safe into his quarters. At least he managed it until they came to the stairs in front of his rooms, where Fen'an suddenly let himself fall down and decided not to move any farther. The effect of the alcohol seemed to show his full effects just now.

“Don't tell me you want to sleep here.”, Dorian sighed. “Just this morning you told us how happy you are to not have to sleep in a tent covered in snow anymore.”

“But everything is moving.”, Fen'an whined and started to pout. “If I get up now I will fall and die... what do you think Josephine will do then?”

Dorian laughed. The Inquisitor used to complain a lot when sober, but now he had turned into the child the most saw in him. It was quiet adorable, really.

The mage crouched down in front of him and sighed.

“Well, then I'll have to carry you to your bed.”, he said eventually and opened his arms for Fen'an to crawl into.”Cant' have you freeze to death out here, can I?”

The elf clinged to him like a monkey and burrowed his face in Dorians neck. The mage couldn't bite back a smile. If Mother Giselle could only see them now... she would probably imply the evil Tevinter mage tried to kidnap the Inquisitor.

Under minor inconveniences he managed to get the key out of the elf's pockets and opened the massive wooden door with a well-aimed kick. Fen'an giggled about something Dorian couldn't understand.

With a final strike of effort he threw him onto the bed and promptly followed him unexpectedly. He shot the elf, who still clinged to him, a questioning look.

“I see you are entertained?”, he said but couldn't fight a smile at the sight of the clingy elf. Usually the Inquisitor rather bit the hand of anyone getting to close than to be touched and even with Dorian it was hard for him to ask for physical affection. His current state was just adorable.

“Very.”, Fen'an said happily and toyed with the mages hair. Dorian followed the touch. “Please stay.”

“Don't you think that'll get a bit uncomfortable, in that position?”, Dorian noted and tried to bring distance between them. Until now he had only entered the Inquisitors bet to... well, to attend certain activities one tends to do with a lover. Not once he had stayed, had left before Fen'an could get the chance to throw him out. The elf had never tried to. He had accepted his decision, upset but understanding.

Fen'an took a deep breath, furrowed his brows and eventually let go of Dorian. He scooted to the headpiece of the bed, as far away as possible and pulled his knees to his chest.

“I am sorry...”, he said quietly and avoided to look into Dorians eyes. “I... I don't want to rush you.”

“But?”, Dorian pressed and watched as Fen'an, still avoiding his gaze, picked at his pillows.

“... I am afraid to be alone.”, he said eventually and Dorian realized.

The sudden urge for contact wasn't a result of the alcohol and the risky drinking behavior had not just been a bet. Fen'an was scared.

He was scared to seem weak, scared to be vulnerable and alone with his thoughts. Scared that others would see just how afraid he was.

What had happened after they left the Winter palace had affected him more than he had shown. The scars on his neck, that glimmed faintly in the dark, did heal. The scars on his soul didn't.

Dorian sat down next to the elf and pulled him to his chest.

“Amatus...”, he said quietly and pressed a kiss on top of his head. “I won't leave you alone, not if you need me. You're safe now. I'll keep you safe.”

Both of them stayed like this till late in the night, when Dorian noticed that Fen'an was fallen asleep in his arms. He didn't leave but brought them both into a more comfortable position, fearing that one of them would suffer from a stiff neck in the morning otherwise.

To his surprise he had to noticed that the elf, despite having been dead ass drunk the night before, didn't show any signs of being hung over. He was just really happy to find Dorian next to him. Also, he had to admit, it was nice to wake up and feel the warmth of the elf on his body. He could get used to that, he thought.

The only true sufferer was Lavi, who was woken up by Sera the next morning and found herself on the same bench she had been fallen asleep on. The elf offered her a glass of water, which she gladly took and she promised herself never to touch any alcoholic liquid again. This time for real!

Her mood did brighten though, when she heard how the night had gone for her brother. At least one of the twins had profited from her suffering.

#fen'an lavellan #dorian pavus #dragon age inquisition #fanfiction #lavi lavellan #sera #the iron bull #pavellan #mod fen

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