#some of them look weird and bony

[bethanythebogwitch]

When they say "be there or be square", today's Wet Beast Wednesday subject chose "square". I am referring to boxfish. Also known as cowfish, trunkfish, and cofferfish, these real-life Minecraft fish are bony fish in the family Ostraciidae, sometimes called Ostraciontidae. This makes them close relatives of pufferfish and file fish in the order Tetraodontiformes. While all the Tetraodontiformes are weird-looking fish, the cowfish are easily the strangest, they don't even really look that much like fish.

(image: the yellow boxfish Ostracion cubicum. They literally named it "cube")

The squarish shape of the boxfish comes from their unique skeleton. They have a carapace made of overlapping, hexagonal plates called dermal scutes that are the equivalent of scales in other fish. Each plate is composed of a soft and bendable collagen layer and mineralized surface layer. This carapace is very sturdy, with holes in it to allow for the eyes, mouth, fins, and cloaca to pass through. In game terminology, the cowfishes are stone walls. Because of the composition of the carapace, boxfish are fully rigid and cannot bend their bodies in any direction. This, combined with their not-overly hydrodynamic shapes, makes them slow and weak swimmers. When they filled out their character sheets they went all-in on defense and neglected speed and offense. A boxfish won't be winning any races, but the carapace is extremely hard to bite through or puncture, giving an effective defense. Despite their small sizes (the largest species can get up to 50 cm/20 in long, and most species are much smaller), adult boxfish have almost no natural predators. It's worth noting that while boxfish are slow swimmers, they are very maneuverable. They have the ability to create small vortices around their bodies to help maneuver.

(image: a boxfish skeleton)

(image: a boxfish with its hexagonal carapace visible through its skin)

Not satisfied with having an impenetrable shell, many species of boxfish developed another defense mechanism. When stressed, they can release poison into the water. These poisons are surfactants, substances that break up surface tension, that can damage the cell membranes of other animals. While each species has their own specific chemical and not every species is poisonous, these toxins are collectively called pahutoxins. Poison is a pretty common thing in the Tetraodontiformes. Famously, pufferfish, close relatives of boxfish, are highly poisonous. Most poisonous boxfish species are brightly colored. This is called aposematism and is used as a warning to potential predators that the animal is dangerous. A famous example of aposematism is the brightly-colored poison dart frogs. Young boxfish are typically more colorful than older ones.

(image: a longhorn cowfish Lactoria cornuta)

Boxfish are voracious omnivores that will eat just about anything that can fit in their tiny mouths. The majority of boxfish species live in coral reefs and their diet consists largely of algae that they scrape off of coral. Additional foods include sponges, tube worms, mollusks, and small fish and invertebrates. Some species can spit out water to blow aside sand and search for buried food.

(image: Ostracion meleagris, the spotted boxfish)

Boxfish are typically solitary, but occasionally come together in small groups. These groups typically consist of one male and a few females. Scientists speculate these groups are formed for reproduction. They are known to reproduce by swimming to the surface of the water, releasing their gametes, and quickly swimming away.

(Aracana ornata, the ornate boxfish)

Because of their unique appearances, boxfish are popular in aquariums. They are recommended for experts only because of their ability to release poison. Boxfish are easily stressed and can kill themselves and other tank-mates by releasing toxin. Aquarists usually say they should be kept in solo tanks or with smaller, mild-mannered tank-mates. In addition, they need to be in tanks with minimal water flow as even the current of a decently-sized filter can blow them around uncontrollably. People who keep boxfish have called them shy, but highly inquisitive and even playful. They have been reported spitting water and their handlers, apparently in an attempt to get attention.

(image: Lactoria forasini, the thornback boxfish)

#wet beast wednesday #minecraft-looking ass fish #marine biology #biology #zoology #ecology #fish #fishblr #fishposting #boxfish #cowfish #longhorn cowfish #tetraodontiformes

[alenseress]

"Oh. Hah."

Elias makes his way in without much commotion to it. There's certainly enough space around Jon's somewhat limp body sticking out like a sore thumb in the middle of the doorway and he makes use of it, eventually stopping to neatly fold his coat. Jon is not entirely sure he finds it in him to be surprised. Or scared. Or, maybe, he just doesn't have enough will of his own left to feel pretty much anything.

"Take the shoes," he clears his throat out, trying to find his voice. "Take the shoes off. Georgie doesn't—"

"I know."

Of course.

"Of course," he blinks first and shuts the door second.

They go by a kind of move-stare-follow protocol while Elias proceeds to make himself at home. Although it's mostly Jon doing the staring, Elias doesn't look at all. He walks across the flat blindly, like his muscles remember the floor and the corners. Jon supposes they might, in some omniscient and messed up way.

"Charming," Elias proclaims dryly at the thin mattress Jon came to inhabit.

"Indeed," Jon echoes.

Seeing the man plop down gracelessly in his thick flannel suit doesn't have the same effect anymore. Jon used to think it was some weird corporate thing, something they'd teach you at a workshop about great leadership. Make yourself approachable. Sit down with them on a dusty curb in the back alley, share a cigarette, address them by their names. Crush a man's scull into a purée in their office. Make them feel. Make yourself human.

"Don't," Elias said softly as Jon takes a breath in.

He reaches out a hand that Jon doesn't take. Instead, he sits at the opposite end of the mattress, feeling a sudden vertigo. Elias drops the hand into his lap, palm up. "You're burning up."

Jon cracks a hysterical laugh, heavily propping himself up. He feels a tug at his chest, a yearning for a solid form beside him, spitting "fuck you" in the viper's face — a sad, childlike desire, to call for Tim like he'd make all the monsters go away in an instant. Jon squints at the hungry void across from him, all alone, he's so alone, and the monster creeps closer. Elias takes his still burning, still bubbling hand in a firm hold and tugs until the void swallows Jon whole. He watches the fall of his own body, wet forehead pressed into the wooly fabric, bones twisted in an unnatural position. Elias jolts involuntary as Jon tumbles into him but sits still for the few excruciating moments Jon needs to collect himself. Mentally, mostly, because to recuperate his body on the ground — mattress, — and push himself up against the wall proves to be easier than walking.

They sit now, shoulders and sides touching, and Jon now can't see the void. He closes his eyes to be sure and pants heavily.

"What are you doing to me?"

"Nothing. You're just dehydrated."

"Sure."

Elias sighs and runs circles over his wrist.

"I might get sick," Jon adds.

"You are."

"No, I mean." He gestures vaguely, shaking off the cold fingers. "I mean puke."

"Mhm."

Jon makes an effort to pull his knees up and double over, curling in on himself. He breathes, fast and panicked, trying to will the nausea away and the cold hand returns to pet steadily at his back. Jon feels a very particular nothing about it being there.

"You..."

Killed. A complete sentence, not even an accusations, because Jon doesn't know how to finish it. Leitner. Gertrude. Sasha. You killed me, he wants to say, even when he's still hurting and breathing.

"Time and place, Jon. There's no use to try right now."

Jon squeezes his head between his knees and wants to wail. He wants to cry more and he wants Elias to be gone. He does get away, truth be told, the mattress shifts and pangs and Jon doesn't know if this twisted delirium of his is ever coming back until Elias carefully unfolds him.

"Don't get the wrong idea," he sounds almost amused as he cradles Jon close, pushing a bottle into his hands and palming greasy hair out of the way.

Jon drinks in gulps that hurt him more than the burning and drops his head onto the bony shoulder in some exhausted kind of surrender. Elias smells like the archives. Cologne and cigarettes, too, but mostly dry rot and dust. Never sweat. Never the must of a human body. Jon feels cold terror bite at his ankles and curls up again, this time pressing himself into Elias' rigid form, nose buried in satin. He doesn't knows gods, not the way his grandmother did, but he imagines this to be the smell of those catholic statues adorn in silks and left to stale for centuries on end.

Feed your god fearlessly and without hesitation, or it will feed on you.

He feels a gentle press to the top of his head. Might be lips or something else, Jon doesn't know, but he laughs coarsely, clinging to the shirt with bloodless fingers. "Don't get the wrong idea."

He doesn't really think there are any wrong ideas left between them.

Elias hums and it echoes all around. Jon speaks again. "Is this real?"

He's not sure if he's doing the thing, but Elias scratches at the base of his skull with repulsive tenderness and answers earnestly. "It is."

"What do you want?"

"At the moment?"

"I... Yes."

"For you to sleep, preferably."

"Why?"

Jon feels his pitying gaze. Like he's a blind rat staggering in a labyrinth under a watchful eye from the above.

"There's a job to be done, Jon."

Jon pushes away with a sigh, not meeting much resistance, and buries himself into the scattered sheets. Maybe this is the kind of acceptance the underground woman felt in the face of death. He never understood it before, not before a kiss touches his temple and slips onto his cheek. He's not sure he wants the touch. He's not sure if he resents it. Papers slide across the floor, a statement he won't read, not now, not in this room. He kind of expects footsteps and shutting of doors now, but instead Elias gives them some distance and seemingly settles for good, prickly eyes creeping up Jon's spine.

"Do you want to hurt Georgie?"

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Not to you, Jon."

Jon turns his back on the monster in his bed and doesn't find it in him to care if he doesn't wake up.

#jonelias #tma #only thing I write is people yapping pointlessly

[chatterbox-73]

.Sugar Daddy.

.Birthday bunny.

Izuku Midoriya x fem!Reader

This story is a smut story, I’ll more characters x reader one shots in the future and if you want to see a character please let me know.

You must be 18 years or older to read this...

🔞⚠️NO MINORS ALLOWED⚠️🔞

A/N: happy birthday Izuku🎉 also this one shot isn’t edited.

Summary/inspiration/prompt: what would Japan’s number one hero spend his birthday on…? Of course, he’d spend it with the top hostess in Japan with all his friends.

Word count: 3k

CW: NSFW and adult content, aged up characters, mention of contraceptive, illegal prostitution, anal play, pet name (bunny), bunny ears and tail, humiliation, voyeurism, oral (m&f!receiving), breast play, sex toy/butt plug, Bi Midoriya and drinking alcohol.

You stood in a line before a table of Japan’s top heroes, the men laughing and drank, cheering for their friend; who you had been informed was celebrating his birthday. The man in question was your nations number 1 hero and had defended the evil villain ‘All for one’ and his protégée ‘Tomura Shigaraki’, his name ‘Deku’.

“I have all the girls you requested, please take your pick…” the owner of the company said with a smile, your eyes shifting to either side of you, all the girls in the line shared no similarities; some were tall while others were short, some were plump and fuller while others were lean and bony, some had large breasts and bottoms while others were less well endowed, however you quickly realised what you and the other women had in common, you were the high ranking hostesses who were also unofficial prostitutes.

You did your best at hiding your amusement, it was ironic all these heroes, noble and just, and oh so willing to use illegal prostitutes. “Mr. Deku, do any of the girls catch your attention?” Asked the own and the green haired hero nodded, before pointing to you, “that one… she’ll do” Deku spoke smoothly, you boss nodded with a smile, “have her take the present we brought with us” spoke a blonde sitting next to Deku, he grinned and nudged his friend.

You stepped into the room just across from the room with all the heroes, now they all sat with the other women you’d been lined up with. You walked over to the table were a package sat, you opened the box and examined the contents, there was a navy green lingerie set lined with black lace, matching stockings, black red bottom heels… you examined the bra and measured it too your chest, a surprising fit. You looked at the underwear, if you could call them that, it was more like a small triangle held together by strings and a few dainty chains. However looking back in the box something mint green and fluffy caught your attention, grabbing it out, it was a pair of bunny ears. You then looked back in the box in search of the tail and to your shock found it.

“It’d probably be too late to back out” you sighed as to grabbed the small package and opened it, pulling out a rather large plug with a mint green bunny tail on the end of it, you had admittedly done many weird things and probably worse then this, however you’d never felt so nervous.

You stiffened your lip and began to get cleaned up and dressed, you’d eventually got to the point where you’d have to put in the plug, you twisted the thing in your hand and noted it was bigger then most of the men you’d entertained but you pervaded, squeezed a large amount of lubricant on it before you lifted your leg into a chair and began to push it in, there was a brief discomfort before your body relaxed and the metal of the plug warmed. You hummed as the fluff of the tail met your skin and the plug filled you.

Standing before the mirror you twisted and turned getting a good look at yourself, you ran your fingers over the tops of your breasts and down your front; you looked good, you most certainly wouldn’t deny that, you turned before wiggling your butt and the tail jingled, you chuckled before being pulled from your thoughts as there was a knock at the door, “almost done, our patrons are growing tired of waiting” called your boss through the door, “oh yes, I’m ready” you called back and the man entered the room, he stared at you for a moment before grinning and passing you a robe.

“You look wonderful” he helped you with your robe before straightening your bunny ears, “wonderful enough for you to take me out?” You smirked and your boss shook his head, “I’m more of a cat person” he replied nonchalantly and untucked your hair from the robe. Your boss guided you back to the room with all the heroes, he had a cake that he passed to you and explained you were going to disrobe, sing ‘happy birthday’ and then take Deku into the connected room were you’d do as he asked. Your boss opened the door and stepped in, the room was filled with laughter and singing, “oi that girl ready yet?” Asked what sounded like the blonde from earlier, “yes she’s ready” he signalled for you to enter.

Stepping into the room you noticed the other hostess had stripped down to their underwear or less, some had simply unzipped their dresses and slipped the top of the dress down to their hips, before taking off their bra, while other completely removed their dresses, and one even sat on your clients lap naked, you walked around the table and placed the cake down in front on Deku and smiled, “you there, get the lights” you faked a smile and the girl got up and moved, as you began to light the candles on the cake, before looking to the hero “Mr number one, may I ask your help with my robe” you grabbed his hand and brought it to the tie, he pulled it and watched as the robe fell down your body and pool at your feet, one of your other coworkers quickly grabbed the robe and took it over too the manager and stood beside him and the other coworker you had told to get the lights.

The room dimmed and you began to sing, you pulled Deku’s hand around you and rested one of your own on his shoulder, once you finished singing you lent down and spoke, “blow out your candles Mr Deku and make a wish… try to get all of them or you’ll get a punishment” before you whispered, “but even if you don’t get all your candles in one go, I’ll still grant all your wishes” you chuckle and licked his ears before standing up, the man got all but one candle, everyone cheered as the lights came back on. You lent over again and blow out the last candle before pulling them out of the cake, you wiggles your butt as you did so, the small jingle suddenly sounded so loud and it drew the attention of several of the man, some looked surprised and shocked not fully believing any of the hostess would have worn it, the blonde who you believed was behind organising this event sat on the other side of you had handed Deku a small metallic thing and gave your butt a good squeeze before focusing back on the topless woman on his lap, bringing his hands back to her very large breasts.

You scooped some icing on your finger and stood up straight, before wiping it on Deku’s lips and cheek, “I told you, I’d have to punish you if you left any candles lit” you giggled and licked your finger clean, the man smiled and looked at you before clicking something in his hand, before you knew it your knees slightly buckled and you grabbed tightly onto his shoulder and as strong vibrations radiated through your rectum, the bell jingled violently signalling to the others at the table the cause for your sudden reaction. “What’s the matter bunny?” Deku spoke his first words since choosing you, you shook your head and straightened up, “uhh… nothing… Mmm just fine” you moaned with a smile and grabbed both of his hands, “would you like to go now?” You asked however the man shook his head, “I’d like to have some cake first” he hummed and you looked over to your boss who nodded before quickly leaving the room.

You served the hero a slice of cake, however before he began eating he instructed you to wipe off his face, however this was no easy task as he had turned the vibrations on and off vigorously, you were then told to stand and wait for him, which again would have been easy enough however Deku had decided to turn the vibrations up so high the tail looked as though it began to wiggle, you moaned loudly as you felt the vibrations in your cunt as well as deep in your tight rectum, your legs shook but you managed to stay standing.

Some of the man laughing while others palmed themselves as you whine and whimpered, however your client remanded stoned face and after glancing at his crotch… flaccid. The blonde next to you however was both laughing at you and had already moved the woman previously on his lap to under the table where she was serving him… and yet your client remained unbothered by it all and simply ate his cake, “would you like cream, Mr Deku?” You asked and picked up the bowl with whipped cream, the man nodded and sat back watching you, however instead of dolloping cream onto the cake, you dolloped it onto your breasts, “oopsie, it seems I don’t have much control over my hands, can you help me?” You asked and the man replied by pushing his chair out and grabbing your waist in a firm grip, his eyes met your and instantly of the response your thought you’d get… something like a small blush and a laugh; you got something completely different. Deku gave to a narrowed eye looked that said ‘really?’, he looked at you like you were some annoying idiot, however he leant down and began to lick from your bellybutton where the cream dripped down to, before licking up slowly, the room filled with cheers and you felt a shiver as you watched his harsh and narrow eyes, he then licked over the tops of your breasts before he then pulled the straps of your bra off the shoulders, exposing your breasts to everyone, Deku’s large hot tongue gliding over one of your breast and you bite your cherry red lips before he licked over your other breast and took the entire boob into his mouth, you moaned and your eyes rolled back as he began suckling on your nipple, the room roar with cheers and you looked back at the man as he sucked and flicked his tongue over your nipple, while his hands held you tightly in place, his eyes closed and you found yourself glanced over to the remote for the butt plug, without a second thought you reached for it, however Deku caught your wrist and pulled it behind your back, all while still he suckled your nipple with his eyes closed, you gasped as he bit your nipple and grabbed the remote, flicking the switch up all the way.

Your body shook and legs buckled completely however you were being held up by Deku, you squealed and cried out loudly as tears formed in your eyes and liquid dripped down your shaking legs, your face and shoulders were bright red from the embarrassment… you were humiliated, having all these men laughing at you and the man who your supposed to be entertaining, is nowhere near interested in you, it was clear he’d rather eat cake and make a fool of you than have sex or even talk with you. Suddenly Deku stood, holding you up with one arm before leaving the table and walking over to the door that led to the private room, once entering and closing the door the room was completely silent, blocking out all the sound from the outside.

With a click the door was locked and the man took you over to the set of chairs and sat you in one before sitting in the other, he turned off the vibrator and placed the remote on the small table that was set between the chairs, Deku then grabbed the two wine glasses and the bottle of wine before popping it and filling the glasses, he passed you a glass and took his own, swirled the wine around the glass before smelling it, you watched as he drunk the wine. “Thank you for the drink Mr Deku” you weakly smiled, “it’s Midoriya…” he spoke and you nodded, “right, of course… thank you Mr Midoriya…” you straightened up as best you can, “I apologise if I’m not what you wanted… but just tell me and I can help in anyway you need me too” you bowed and the man chuckled, “that’s very sweet bunny, but you see I didn’t expect this was how I’d be spending my birthday…” he took another sip and continued on, “I honestly thought I’d be spending the night watching movies with my husband” he sighed and you gasped, “oh I’m so sorry, I can get one of the male hosts or I can just get dressed and we’ll only talk” you covered your chest with your arm however Midoriya only throw his head back in laughter, “oh no it’s fine, my husband and I are both very open, he’s blonde out there currently having his dick sucked…” he place his glass on the table “and we swing both ways… Its common for us to bring a man or woman into bed with us as we both don’t always like bottoming” he said and you sigh, “so what can I do for you?” You asked and he signalled for you to get in front of him, moving to stand between his legs he pulled you to kneel, “suck me” he demanded and you began to undo his pants.

You pulled out his large yet flaccid cock and softly kitten licked it, you wondered if he had been enjoying himself or if he was just lying to save your feelings, you began to lightly suckle on his tip and before long his cock stood tall and proud; it was huge, you weren’t surprised that his husband didn’t want to bottom every often. You pumped him and sucked and licked his balls, Midoriya hummed and patted your head, “sweet little bunny…” he sighed and undid his tie and the buttons on his shirt, you pulled his tip back into your mouth and tried to take him deep, gagging as you got less then half way, “too much for the little bunny, stand for me” he instructed and you did so without hesitation. Midoriya moved to take off your bar and slide down your pantie slipping them in his pocket, “turn and bend over” he sat back and moved, you felt his thumb spread your folds before the lightest amount of vibration came from the plug, you moaned placed your hands on your knees. Midoriya chuckled “tell me how often do men fuck you?” He questioned “I have sex about once or twist a day” you answered honestly, “I see and how much money does that bring in?” Midoriya asked as he reached for the plug and began to slowly pump it in and out, “just enough for me to live comfortably” you continued to answer honestly, the man humming and pulled the plug out completely and placed it on the table, “do you have experience with service to men at the same time?” He stood and pulled you to turn, you looked up at him and nodded, “yes Mr Midoriya, I do” you felt the man pulling you towards the bed, “very good… finally contraception… you use condoms but would you be willing to use the pill or an IUD?” He asked as he guided you to lie down, he slipped on a condom and pumped himself a few times, you watched him confuse but answered anyways, “I’m alright on the pill, condoms are so I don’t get sick” you smiled awkwardly and the man chuckled, “I see, thank you for answering honestly with me” he said as he moved your ankles to his shoulders.

Midoriya slipped inside you ever so slowly and gave you no time to adjust as he took long strong thrust, he held your waist and groaned his he intensely watched his cock slip in and out of you, he eyes flickered to your breasts which bounced with each thrust, “your so fucking beautiful, bunny” he hummed and sped up his pace. You however were in heaven, it had been so long since you had been filled this good, Midoriya’s cock pressed ever spot and his words had an unimaginable effect on you, after being humiliated by him, to have him call you beautiful had you clenched him so tight he thought his cock would snap right off. Midoriya laughed and placed a hand on your throat, he didn’t place any weight on it or tighten his hand, he simply just left it the and fucked you faster, “I’m gonna fucking cum… get up bunny” he demanded and pulled out of you before pulling the condom off, you whined and knelt on the bed, suddenly his hand grabbed a fist full of hair and pumping his cock, you leaned forward and suckled on his tip again before feeling his hot load seep onto your tongue, he throw his head back and moaned before pushing off him and onto your back.

Shock filled you as he climbed onto the bed and grabbed your legs pulling you towards him, and his without warning his face disappeared in between your legs, he groaned as he sucked and licked your folders. “It’s been awhile since I can ate a cunt so bear with me” Midoriya chuckled and continued to devour your cunt, that’s how you spent the next hour or so, his tongue and fingers take turned being inside you or playing with your clit.

You were shaken awake by your boss, “come on, up you get” he sighed as he helped you sit up and pass you a thick envelope, confused you opened it and noticed it was full of cash and a letter, pulling out the letter and reading it; you were thanked for your excellent service and… offered a job to work fill time for Midoriya and his husband.

You hadn’t the slightest idea in what they saw in you but you were certain the pay would be better than anything you were currently receiving. You’d swallow any pride to simply have to fuck two very attractive men and get a large wad of cash after every service, it was an opportunity of the lifetime, you really didn’t need to think it over at all.

More from ‘Sugar Daddy’ series:

Masterlist (coming soon)

Next - Satoru Gojo: ‘Not’ only you.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fem!reader #midoriya izuku #mha izuku #mha deku #deku midoriya #bnha midoriya #midoriya x reader #midoriya smut #izuku midoriya #Izuku midoriya x reader smut #Izuku midoriya x reader #deku smut #Deku x reader #Deku x reader smut #midoriya x reader smut

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Bouquet of Violets (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: You are happy in your marriage, even if your husband can be quite hellish. It all starts to go wrong when a secret admirer shows up.

Warnings: Angst! Fluff! All the feelings! And yeah, mature language and topics. Canon character death (Not Aemond)

A/N: Hopelessly romantic (delusional) reader! meets Aemond. Based on a song I grew up listening. The girls that get it, get it.

Aemond, unlike you, remembers the first time the two of you met. You wore your hair down, back then. It cascaded down your back in the ways girl's hair often did before they flowered, unstyled and wild.

You must have been nine, or ten years old. He was twelve and having a temper tantrum, hiding in the corners near the throne room. Your father was in an audience with King Viserys, while you and your mother explored the Red Keep. Aemond had never found out what the meeting was about, nor did he care.

Your mother was dressed in brightly colored robes, matching your father’s. You were still dressed in the frocks of childhood. Your small, bony shoulder, had hit him right on the ribs as your mother walked you down the hallway, and Aemond had been ready to give you the tongue lashing of your life. Yet, something had halted him.

When you had bumped into him, you had raised your gaze, to meet his. Back then, he didn’t wear the eye patch, the scar tissue too raised to do so. Instead of flinching back at the gruesome sight of the marred flesh, as most people did, you had offered him a kind smile.

“I apologize. I didn’t mean to.” Your sweet smile lit up your whole face. You were not the prettiest girl he had ever seen, all awkward limbs and missing a tooth. But you were the kindest. As you fell back into step with your mother, clutching your doll, Aemond could not help but be charmed by you.

So many years have passed that Aemond does not recall what your mother and you were talking about. What he does recall are another two things: First, that you were sheltered. You referred to a pet of some sorts as your friend. Second, you were clearly hung up on the notion of marriage.

Later, he would realize that The Stranger had not touched your family yet. While you might have been familiar with the notion of death, as many children were, but had not fully grasped the troubles of mortality. That was why you were concerned over the thought of what would happen to your pet when you married.

Your mother replied something along the lines of them going with you, but the doubt was clear in her tone. She was uncertain about the prolonged longevity of your childhood companion.

Sometimes Aemond thinks of how much you must have wept when they passed. The idea of you being so distraught over something you loved makes his heart ache in a weird way.

Darkly, he thinks of how you will react once he is dead. He knows his chance of surviving this are low, especially now. Will he merit as many tears as your pet did?

The words your mother last spoke before the two of you disappeared down the hallway were forever etched in his memory.

“The man who loves you will respect everything you love and hold dear. Remember that.”

You came to him with no pet. But he would have taken in an entire farm if you had.

The next time the two of you had crossed paths, Aemond had liked you even more. You were beautiful. Having long left behind the styles of childhood, your hair was worn up as a proper lady. It made it easier to admire your eyes, magnetizing and intelligent.

You were fond of reading and writing. When he saw you again, your nose was buried into a book. It was not philosophy, or history, or any useful subject, really. You read love stories, fairy stories and all sorts of things. Literature and poetry and children’s tales all rolled into one.

It was your mother, who encouraged that passion of yours. Despite being married to a man who was much older than her, and less educated, she had found happiness in him. She looked at the world in a rather unique way. One you had inherited.

You had been taught to read at an early age. According to your mother, education was the greatest equalizer between men and women, even if she didn’t voice it around your father. He didn’t know his letters very well, and so, had little clue about what books you choose to bury your nose in. If he had known, he would have disapproved.

Most men would have, truly. No one wanted young maidens to get unrealistic ideas about how marriage was supposed to go. Yet, when Aemond himself had the chance to put a stop to it, he found himself unable to.

If Aemond was to be honest with himself, he would have said he enjoyed it. The way your face would get all dreamy, your sighs so sweet, as you progressed on your reading and imagined a love like the ones in your books. Perhaps it had been the reason, in some misguided attempt to appeal to that side of you, he started doing this.

Your second meeting, which you thought had been the first, had not been due to chance. When Aemond was told it was time to marry, the choice came to your family or the Baratheons. He had never been one to protest his duties, no matter how opposed he was to it. But on this, he put forth his own selfish conditions. Aemond would marry you and no one else.

His mother had had to insist to your parents, unwilling to give up their precious daughter in times of political unrest. It was no secret to anybody that upon the death of King Viserys, things could turn ugly. It made your family wary of marrying you to Aemond.

Never before had he cursed his parentage so much. By then, Aemond had not seen you in years, but he knew you were the only choice for him. Kind and unafraid at ten, you could have only grown into a wonder.

And you did. The more he gazed at you, during that second encounter, the more he discovered. Unfortunately, Aemond had not been taught how to speak with maidens, much less one he wanted so badly.

Unused as his lips were to speaking kind words or flowery speech, he found himself in absolute terror of doing or saying the wrong thing. When he had wanted something in the past, he simply commanded it. Aemond was not used to wanting to keep a woman, but he guessed it took more effort than that.

His mother berated him all the way home. In his fear of his words upsetting, he had ended up not saying anything at all.

“You picked her yourself, Aemond, and barely showed excitement over it. The poor girl must think you hate her.”

And you probably did. Aemond could tell that you felt your encounters were awkward, but you slowly started getting used to him. What charmed him the most had been that never once you were afraid.

It ended up becoming a routine. Sort of a play date, but for adults. Set up by your hopeful parents, you would meet each other weekly and sit in silence. Each time, you would walk in with a pep in your step, wearing pretty gowns and smiling.

You would try to engage him in conversation, but he felt too self-conscious for it. It didn't phase you. You suffered through exactly two rounds of awkward conversation before starting to bring books. Sometimes, they were two, one for him and one for you. But his favorite times were when you brought only one and read aloud to him.

You had a very pleasing voice. You pronounced your words carefully, and in an even tone. And you would always ask for his opinions on the chapter when you finished. It made conversation much easier.

Any other woman would feel unhappy at having to go through such efforts. Astoundingly, not you. Overall, you seemed happy, and it puzzled Aemond to no end. Asking you had not proven very enlightening either.

“Of course I am happy.” And you had given him a smile so bright, he was convinced you were not actually your parent's daughter, but rather, the daughter of some old god of the light. “We are a good match. We like books. And you are a Prince, good with the sword, and very learned. Why wouldn't I be happy?”

Practical. No matter how romantic the books you read, or how magic the stories you enjoyed, your answer had been purely practical. You deserved more. A loud love story, like the ones in your books, and not a quiet life, spent in the shadows of a man who could barely pay her a compliment.

You gave a little spin, awed at the way your skirt moved and spread. It was the softest cloth you had ever felt, in cream and gold. Queen Alicent had gifted it to you along with many other pieces for your trousseau. You were to marry a Prince, and so, no expense was spared in updating your garments and linens.

What an honor it was, to have such a caring mother-in-law. Having witnessed the poor relationship between your mother and grandmother, you were thrilled over it. You had heard Queen Alicent had asked for you specifically, believing your temper to be a good match for her son. Since the announcement of the betrothal, she had been nothing but doting, if a bit overly worried about his treatment of you.

And Prince Aemond. You truly had no complaints. He was a tad too stoic for your liking, but he was never unkind to you. Despite the rumors about his fearsome character, you had found him to be very handsome.

Your first impression of Aemond was that he was tall. He was all long vertical lines in black and white. A study in contrasts, if you wish. One that, were you an artist, would have your hands itching for some coal. The only pop of color was his eye, a pale blue that shone on his handsome face.

He lacked the boyishly handsome features most men your age had. Instead, much like art, he was divisive. The eye patch that should lessen his appearance, only contributed to his uniqueness. There was something in the way he smiled, too. Something that hinted to something darker, dormant under the surface.

It was both attractive and intimidating. His stoic, aloof nature reminded you a lot of the leading men of the books you read. Your knowledge of that sort of man, through literature and observation, hinted to you that your betrothed must be more than met the eye.

What sort of passions and secrets must be hiding under his cool facade? You could not wait to find out. You imagined growing old with him, slowly learning his secrets and tells, just like your mother had done with your father.

The story of your parents' betrothal and marriage was one you knew well. As a child, you asked to hear it every night before bed. Your mother had been engaged to him being quite young, while he was already a man. He had been patient with her, but not very affectionate. Slowly, she had worn down his defenses, and gained his trust. It had taken years, with your father being a very gruff man. But they were the most loving couple you had ever met.

You yearned for something like that. A love that was built on mutual respect and trust, something that grew with you and filled your house with children and laughter. And with Aemond, you could not help but think that it would be possible. Wasn't he, too, a cold man who treated his bride kindly but never with affection?

You smiled at your reflection. You made a lovely bride if you said so yourself. Eyes full of hopes and expectations for your future marriage and the family that you would soon start, face glowing in happiness. One day, you said to yourself, as your Lord Father came to escort you towards the Sept, I will tell this story to my daughter.

Prince Aemond waited for you at the altar. It was a small gathering, your wedding. There were his siblings, mother, and grandfather and your parents. Your stomach tightened up in nervousness and excitement. You hoped he found you as beautiful as you found him.

When his eyes met yours, he gave you a small little smile. Secret, and barely there. You felt tears starting to well up in your eyes. You were so nervous, but so happy. This was the beginning of your new life, you could feel it.

You finally reached him. Aemond seemed startled at your tears, his hands coming to clasp yours almost in instinct. You gave him a bright smile. How kind, your betrothed was. He might have trouble expressing it, but for this, no words were needed.

You could see your nerves reflected on his face. Your hands squeezed harder. Aemond mimicked the gesture. There was a sense of understatement there that had previously been absent from your encounters. During the whole ceremony, neither of you let go or stopped looking at the other. As he leaned in to kiss you, you met him halfway.

This kiss had featured in your dreams for quite a while. As a young girl, when your lessons with your Septa got particularly boring, you daydreamed about the day you would marry. In your head, it was always perfect, and the kiss felt magical. You were a bit embarrassed to admit it, but once you met Aemond, your daydreams turned a bit less innocent.

The kiss fulfilled one of your fantasies, and left the other lacking. Aemond gently cradled your face in his hands and kissed you, very tenderly. His lips felt slightly dry, but he kept his motions gentle and sweet. It was a perfect as your childhood self had imagined, with the guests even clapping at the end. Unfortunately, it was just as innocent.

Considering that, and the fact that Aemond had demanded there not to be a bedding ceremony, you had correctly guessed your wedding night would be spent on your own.

The consummation of your marriage would be a challenge in itself. Aemond didn’t seem too keen on touching you with a ten-foot pole, and you weren’t sure of how one should bring up the topic.

Despite it, you were happy. Your only task was hanging on his arm at important feasts, which were few and far in between. His father’s declining health meant there was little to celebrate.

Your days often went without even seeing your husband, but you were never lonely. There were gardens to be walked, and books to be read. There were even tiny, blonde children, that you could chase around in the gardens and tickle. They were not yours, but Princess Helaena's and Prince Aegon's, yet they shared the striking silver hair your husband had. Looking at them, tiny sticky hands and still smelling like babies, you could imagine the future with your husband.

You could spend hours playing with them, or having tea with the Queen. You enjoyed trailing after her, she was always very kind. Frequently, you wondered how she and Aemond could be so alike yet so different.

The only thing that broke your routine were the times Aemond requested your presence.

“Milady.” Your handmaid said, stepping lightly inside your chambers. “The Prince has requested that you go to him.”

Instantly, dread and excitement pooled in your stomach. As a young lady, you were both fearful of the act and excited by it. Too often, you had heard it was something hurtful, but that it marked the change into womanhood. When Aemond called, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the night he made you a woman.

You rushed to take out a nightshirt from your trousseau. You had separated them into three categories. There were ones that you wore nightly, others that were slightly bigger that were saved for an eventual pregnancy, and the ones that were for Aemond. Those were the prettier ones that your Lady Mother had purchased to help you entice your husband.

It was always one of the latter that was chosen. You hated not being prepared, so you always made sure to look pretty and be clean. Just in case. It had not happened yet, but it didn't mean it never would.

Your handmaid aided you to put your robe on, followed by your slippers and a thick cloak. The Red Keep, despite being inhabited by dragons, was always cold. Your handmaid always walked you to his chambers, and this night was not the exception.

She left you at his door, after you were announced. Aemond himself opened his door, welcoming you inside.

You had gotten better at not staring at him. Despite his state of undress, in only sleep pants and his hair down for once, he was a delight for the eyes.

“My lady.” He kissed your cheek. The door closed after you. He aided you out of your cloak. “I was hoping you would read for me tonight.”

You tried not to let your disappointment show on your face. Aemond, as if sensing your mood, merely shoved a book in your hands. He didn’t even offer you a seat, but you took one on the bed anyway. By the weight of the book, you would be here a while.

“On a far away land, whose name I am unable to recall…” Aemond settled down on the bed next to you, eye closed. You didn’t understand why he did this sort of thing, but you weren’t bothered by it either. It was a small price to pay for all the luxuries you got to enjoy.

Despite ending up with a sore throat, it was fun too. He picked the books now, in a stark contrast to the days when you had been a couple courting. And as a man, Aemond had access to many more books than you had. You had recently started making your way through some chivalry tales, with a lot more blood than you were used to.

It was enough for you. Perhaps he was not very affectionate, but he clearly enjoyed your company. Why else would he keep summoning for something as menial as reading books?

You settled into a comfortable routine, grounded by the rhythms of court life. For a while, everything was extraordinarily normal. It was not until you were three months into marriage with the Prince that things started to get weird.

It was the ninth day of the tenth moon of the year, and the date felt slightly ominous. There was a restless energy in the air, something unusual. Perhaps, it was you. As of late, you had been feeling a bit blue. The lack of letters from your family and the twins starting their lessons had left you with more spare time than you thought you would have.

Deciding to go have a bath to try to shake that restless energy from you, you headed toward your rooms. When you entered, the first thing you noticed was the smell. It was strong and floral like, permeating the surrounding air. Your maids used sweeter smells for your rooms, on the Queen’s advice. They were the sort of smells that Aemond favored, and so, she had hoped surrounding you with them would endear you to him.

Then, you saw them. It was a big bouquet of violets, laying on top of your bed. Delighted, you ran towards them. You were unable to resist the urge to smell them, breathing in their scent. This close, you noticed they were slightly bluer, closer to dark blue than purple.

You toyed with their petals, wondering where they could have come from. Perhaps your husband? Aemond was not very inclined towards romantic gestures, but there was no other explanation for it.

You were nearly bursting in excitement to see him. The flowers had been such a kind gesture, you could not help but feel a wave of affection. But no matter how much you wished for it, you had seen nor hide nor hair of Aemond.

Denying it was stupid on his part. Aemond will not protest against it. But what else could have he done? He had panicked. It's not like he meant to do so.

His mother held a weekly meal with all her children, and had taken to including you. Having often berated him about his treatment of you, it was not surprising that she had decided to take you under her wing.

Aemond did feel a bit guilty over his own coldness, but he wasn't really sure how he ought to behave. Apart from his sister and uncle, he had not seen many loving pairs during his life, and anyone would agree that Rhaenyra and Daemon should never be held up as examples of anything.

You were lonely, as of late. The twins had gotten old enough for lessons, and so, they had limited time to play with you in the gardens. You were far enough from home that the letters took a few days to reach you, too. As a young woman, almost too young to be forced to leave everything you knew behind, isolation must have been taking its toll.

Let's not forget you were not only two years his junior, but also a woman. You were of a fragile disposition, with your constant daydreaming and romantic thoughts. Aemond ought to have been paying more attention, but his mind had been busy elsewhere.

His father looked more and more close to death with each day that passed. His grandisre was constantly plotting. Without needing to be a seer, Aemond knew that things were not looking good. There would not be a peaceful reign for Rhaenyra.

He had been so caught up on his worries and duties, that Aemond had forgotten to take care of his woman. Aemond had not summoned you to his rooms that week, too wired to project the calm you would need in the days that would come. You would not do well if a war broke out.

Aemond had been quite lacking on his duty of taking care of you. Pretty little flower that you were, he could almost see you starting to wilt. You spent more time indoors, and stopped your daily walks in the gardens.

Despite fairness being regarded as a desirable trait for a lady, Aemond did not like the way your skin had lost its sun kissed glow. It just didn't fit you. Blue was more of his thing than yours, gorgeous golden woman that you were.

Hence, the flowers. Choosing the violets was an impulse. Aemond liked the colors and the smell was tolerable yet distinctive. He would know immediately when you received them, being able to smell them on your hair and clothes.

Sweet natured as you were, you had thanked him for them. The fact that you had liked them and associated them with him had been enough to warm his heart. The fact that you had decided to do so during the dinner with his siblings, enough to stomp on it.

It had not been quiet enough.

“Aemond?” Aegon frowned. “Aemond gave you flowers?”

Knowing his brother as he did, Aemond knew he was struggling hard to contain his laughter. He had been the butt of the joke too many times to confirm or deny anything. He would rather not be embarrassed in front of you.

But in truth, the idea of being weak, of being mocked, was not one that scared him. He had been humiliated many times during his childhood. What bothered him more was the thought of his feelings for you being exposed in such a manner. He was not prone to sudden bursts of affection, or doing thoughtful things for those he loved.

Aemond preferred to love in silence. There was no need for grandiloquence, or big gestures. Marriage was a sacred thing, between husband and wife. It was not something that had to be shared loudly. His love was spoken quietly, in the same way he had been taught to.

His mother loved quietly. His grandsire did, too. Their eyes spoke when their lips did not, their love a discordance with the words out of their mouths. Aemond had grown like that, loved but never told, learning it as a secret language that tied them all.

The flowers, though. The flowers had been a betrayal of their code. Something they would not understand because while everyone in the Red Keep was fluent in the art of loving and not saying a word, you were not. You were a foreigner, with your tales of romance and princess from a far away land.

This had been Aemond, clumsily speaking your language. Shy about it, as many people were when speaking one that was not theirs for the first time. It was hard. It was private, and certainly not something he wanted to be outed in front of Aegon, who would not know love for his wife if it hit him in the face.

His expression must have been deadly because Aegon had started squirming on his seat like his pants were on fire. Your face had fallen, turning into a terrible, sad thing, that made something funny to his heart.

“It wasn’t you. Of course.” Your voice was softer still. Aemond continued eating his dinner without a word. Because really, what could he say? Anything that he did now would be mocked by Aegon.

The way your face had fallen, brows pinching together in a sad little frown, had haunted him later. He wanted to fix things, but was unsure how. You were not used to his brusque manner and speech. Aemond felt it might do more harm than good, if he were to speak with you. He might end up offending you more without noticing.

Besides, how did one even start to explain that he had denied tacitly to gifting you flowers fearing not being understood and mocked? He would sound like a fool.

Instead, he had penned you a note. Instead of apologizing, Aemond had hoped to butter you up with a few compliments. You must have realized it, then, because you had walked the whole day as if floating in a cloud.

Come the ninth day of the next moon, you had nearly forgotten all about the incident. You had thrown away the flowers before they even had a chance to wilt, and the note had been burned to a crisp in your fireplace. You had convinced yourself having a secret admirer was improper for a married woman, and refused to give it more thought.

It was a bit strange, that your husband was not angered by it. Yet, at the same time, you supposed he was thankful for your discretion over the entire affair. Aemond was very sensible and smart, so it was logical he wouldn't blame you.

Aemond had kept summoning you to his chambers, be either for you to read to him or just to sit in silence. Your happiness persisted. Until your breakfast’s tray was set on your vanity.

You noticed it when you were sipping at your tea. Groggily, and confused, you found a piece of paper under your napkin. On a neat handwriting, there was a quote from one of the poetry books you favored.

You gave a tiny gasp. Your hands clenched on the paper, your cheeks heating up. The penmanship was not one you recognized, but the words made your knees nearly buckle. No one had written you sonnets before.

Ninth day, you realize. Same as the flowers. If not your husband, then who? The idea of the secret admirer came back, stronger this time. The dates could not be a coincidence, this had to be the same person. Ninth day of the ninth moon, then ninth day of the ten.

You started over analyzing each interaction you had with men. When the knights opened the doors for you, your eyes would linger on theirs. When a Lord would greet you, you would try to remind if he had something to do with violets.

You found yourself daydreaming of this man. Would he be an older man? Would he be prone to smiling, or would he share the stoic nature of your Prince? How would his hands feel on your skin? All the daydreaming made you feel guilty, for fantasizing about a man who was not your husband. Yet, at the same time, you knew that you would not act on it. You loved Aemond too much.

It was flattering, to be wanted in such a manner. You liked the idea of it because it was different from the love you were used to. But you would rather not meet the admirer, knowing you would have to reject him. You enjoyed the attention, not the person it came from.

There was only one person in Westeros that you wished would lavish you with attention and love. And you knew already he was not your secret admirer.

Secretly, sometimes, you thought of telling Aemond. What would his reaction be? The thought made butterflies flutter in your stomach. Would he get jealous? Would he turn more affectionate? You imagined he would want to claim you in some way.

Alone, at night, you pictured his eye, narrowed in anger. Those hands, gripping harshly at your hips, leaving bruises. His body over yours, his lips on your throat, your chest, your stomach. Your hands would follow the path that the imaginary Aemond's hands would take, caressing and groping until they reached their destination. You would arouse and tease yourself until you reached your peak, a scream of his name dying in your throat.

The wondering does not last to meet a third moon. No, because King Viserys passes away and Prince Aegon is crowned King. The whole Red Keep is in a state of disarray, and you feel oddly fearful, watching the constant movement the family seems to be in.

Even Queen Alicent, usually so kind and calm, is on edge. She seems on the verge of a neurotic episode, pacing frantically around the halls, muttering to herself. You can't help but feel something bad is about to happen.

Your husband is in a terrible mood. He seems to have a constant headache, and so, you have taken to being even more kind to him. Some nights, he will summon you to his chambers. He keeps asking you to read to him, but you can tell his mind is far away.

You try grounding him, placing your hand on his thigh or shoulder every chance you get. If you were more confident, you would try something more bold. Aemond seems to enjoy your touch, but he doesn't encourage you to do it. His face remains unmoved, and he keeps telling you to keep reading.

His only tell is that he always reciprocates. If your hand is on his shoulder, his goes to your hip. If you touch his back, Aemond caresses your hair.

It leaves you feeling a bit out of balance. It's entirely innocent, as if you were two children discovering love. Yet at the same time, you can't help but feel like you are burning up in your need for him.

He starts requesting for you to stay the night with him. Aemond never touches you beyond holding you to him, body pressed close to yours in a long, vertical line. Sometimes, you wake up to his manhood prodding you from behind, but he promptly excuses himself out of the bed you share. It makes your thighs clench up in need.

It's unbearable. You feel like you are going insane, your center pulsating in need each time you are near him. The simplest touches can set you on fire. You decide to be bolder, soon. You can't keep this state of affairs.

Before you can explore this new side of your connection, Aemond is pulled away. A mission for the King, he explains. You stay behind, feeling restless. Not having been told what his mission involved, nor where he was going, you can't help but worry. Aemond had taken Vhagar, and that, at least, gives you a slight sense of safety. You were familiar enough with his mount to know she could be his fiercest protector if she felt someone was threatening.

You spend your hours praying for his safe return, along with the Queen. While not part of the Small Council formed around Aegon, but you imagine quite well what they discussed. Alicent is as scared as you are.

You go to bed late that night. With Aemond away, you can't sleep, already used to his body pressing against yours. You had hoped exhaustion would help you overcome that problem.

It's even later when heavy footsteps and the slamming of a door rise you. In the dark, you can barely make out a silhouette. A tall man, holding a dagger.

You scream. The man grabs you roughly by the shoulders and pushes you to lay down on the bed. This close, you can feel that his clothes are strangely humid, as if dried in a rush. You had not considered it before, but the letters and violets do not seem so romantic anymore. Instead, they scare you. You find yourself faced with the possibility that this man might this be your secret admirer. Has he felt encouraged by your happiness? Is he dangerous?

There is a heavy candleholder on your nightstand. You reach for it in the dark, and swing at his head. The man yelps. You start to struggle against him. His tone is familiar to you.

“Seven Hells.” He curses. It's then that it hits you. This is Aemond. Aemond is back. You don't get to rejoice on it, or pull him to you, though. He keeps speaking, in a confused tone. “You… I… I made a mistake.”

Aemond gets up and away from you. His clothes still reek of humidity and sadness. You remain there, laying on your stomach, as you feel an uncontrollable urge to cry. There is something inside you that has been rattled until it broke, something that tells you that this Aemond is not your Aemond.

The next morning, you find out he has killed Lucerys Velaryon. Instead of going to his mother or grandsire, he had come straight for you. Aemond had been trying to forget on your skin, lose himself in you.

When you see the violets covering every inch of your room, bouquets over your bed, on your vanity and even the windowsill, your eyes sting. It's bittersweet to realize that, now that you look at them, their color is surprisingly close to a sapphire.

.

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Dividers by yours truly. Por supuesto que la canción era Ramito de Violetas. Grande Zalo Reyes.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x fem!oc #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #aemond x oc #aemond targaryen x y/n #prince aemond #hotd aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen fluff #aemond targaryen angst #aemond fluff #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #hotd #asoif fanfic #asoiaf fanfic #asoiaf

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Round Three: Ambopteryx vs Caihong

Ambopteryx longibrachium

Artwork by Gabriel Ugueto, written by @i-draws-dinosaurs

Name meaning: Both wings with long arms

Time: 163 million years ago (Callovian stage of the Middle Jurassic)

Location: Haifanggou Formation, China

Look, evolution has done a lot of weird stuff to dinosaurs. It put penguins underwater, and did whatever the hall mamenchisaurid necks are, and game lambeosaurs a built-in face trumpet. But I would argue there is one group that represents dinosaur evolution at its most unhinged, and that is scansoropterygidae.

Scansoriopterygids were generally considered “weird little tree dinosaurs” in the 2000s, with long fingers to pick grubs out of bark or something. Then Yi qi swept along in 2015 and revealed that those long fingers were actually supporting membranous bat wings. With an extra bony rod (the “styliform element”) sticking out of the wrist to help support it, because well if you’re a dinosaur evolving bat wings why bother being normal about it after that? Although really, the dinosaurs did it first so bats actually have dinosaur wings.

Yi was sensational, but it was also extremely weird and completely unique. Even other scansoriopterygids didn’t have wing membranes, so the whole bat thing was a bit up in the air. Or not up in the air, as the case may be. But then along comes Ambopteryx, published in 2019, packing another set of skin wings, and the vindication of Yi is complete! 

Ambopteryx preserves a styliform element and wing membrane, as well as a thick coat of feathers, and honestly out of a whole selection of dinosaurs I think these might be some of the most huggable in the lot. Obviously this whole wing membrane thing didn’t end up working out for them long term, but Ambopteryx is part of an incredible lineage that challenged what we thought was possible for dinosaurs!

Caihong juji

Artwork by @i-draws-dinosaurs, written by @i-draws-dinosaurs

Name meaning: Rainbow with big crest

Time: 161 million years old (Oxfordian stage of the Late Jurassic)

Location: Tiaojishan Formation, China

It’s always a special treat to hear the announcement of a dinosaur with known colours, because it gives the most direct impression of how truly stunning these animals would have been to witness in real life. And Caihong might just be the most spectacular of them all so far, described in 2018 from an immaculate full-body fossil that preserves detailed feathers! Caihong’s feathers are longer than some other floofy dinosaurs, and would have had the appearance of a luxurious mane along its neck. Not only that, the fossil preserves feather microstructures that in life would have made this dinosaur gloriously iridescent!

Now iridescent dinosaurs aren’t new, Microraptor has been decked out in fabulous starling-esque plumage for a while now, but Caihong absolutely takes it to the next level. Its whole body was covered in iridescent black, including the enormous tail, but the real star of the show are the platelet-like melanosomes found on the head, neck, and the base of the tail. Different from the usual iridescent melanosomes, the structure of these tiny organelles reflects brilliantly iridescent colours, like those on the heads of hummingbirds and particularly the bright purple feathers on the necks of the trumpeter family. Caihong would have put on an absolutely dazzling jewel-toned display in the treetops or on the forest floor of prehistoric China!

#dmm #dmm rising stars #dinosaur march madness #dinosaurs #birds #palaeoblr #birblr #bracket #march madness #polls #paleontology #ambopteryx #caihong #round three

[revretch]

apparently recent lore has gith laying eggs and doing asexual reproduction of some kind, and the kids seem to hatch at a point that they don't need milk?

I GUESS that's in keeping with the weird shit mind flayers would do, but god is it so fucking goofy. Why go to all the trouble of making their biology weirder if you're just going to make them look more normal. Keep your egg-laying and give me my bony, bulbous-jointed bitches back

#ask #justmaghookit #rev retches #githyanki #gith #dnd

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Sorry for being gone for so long, I haven't been feeling great both physically and mentally, so that was awesome...anyway:

Look, Eddie wasn't that picky when it came to companions. He wasn't much of a catch either - as a bard, it was already expected of him to cause chaos, but with his choice of songs, the result was less of a bardic inspiration and more of a "turn everyone against each other" or "make everyone extremely horny". Which...actually worked when they needed to avoid combat, but by ancient gods, he didn't need to see that group of orcs going at it.

Anyways. Eddie wasn't picky, but Steven Harrington was becoming a bit too much for him.

First: he was a rich kid. Eddie was a proud trash raised in a cottage that barely held together and he had no patience for people who never washed their own laundry (not that Eddie did, well, not too often, but still).

Second: he was effortlessly handsome. Annoyingly handsome. Bad hair day? Steven fucking Harrington didn't know those. His moles were placed in perfect places. Eddie had nearly invisible freckles and his only moles were - embarrassingly enough - near his groin and if you squinted hard enough, looked like a daisy petal. So uncool. But uncool was a word Steven Harrington apparently lacked in his vocabulary.

And third...this. Just...all of this.

Eddie didn't want to think of himself as a prejudiced person, he really didn't. But there were two things he didn't like in this world: lawyers and necromancers.

And Steven somehow managed to blend both of those into a horrible combination that just. Fucking. Worked.

Eddie was strumming on his lute and watched Steven open a bag full of old bones, yet another unlucky trader, adventurer or whoever had died in the woods before them. He placed them carefully on the ground, arranging them - admirable knowledge of anatomy, Eddie would give him that - and muttered an incantation. Green light, weird whooshing, some sparkles, yadda yadda and the skeleton reassembled itself. It sat in front of Steven and they started working in hushed tones over a pre-prepared contract. Eddie could only make out phrases as "a work opportunity," "being dead must be boring," "do you have any family that could use a percentage of the spoils from this quest" and the best of all, "no pressure, if you'd rather be left alone, just say the word." From what Eddie had seen in last few weeks, very few of them did say the word, and if they did, Steven would honor his word and bury their remains where they desired.

It was a really decent thing to do and Eddie hated himself for even admitting it.

One discussion about details ("do you want to be only reassembled when needed or would you like to accompany us the whole time?") and a bony signature later, Steven carefully stuffed the newest party helper (Arthur, Steven made sure to remember all of their names, another fucking decent thing!) in the bag and stretched himself next to the fire.

Eddie couldn't help but glare. That fucking guy. Built like a fighter from carrying half of a cemetery on his back, pretty, rich and for some reason also awfully nice and moral. Eddie wanted to barf.

"You know," smiled Steven and Eddie's traitorous stomach did a triple flip with a botched landing, "I love seeing you like this. Calm. Strumming those slow melodies. You look really pretty, too." He laughed to himself and turned onto his back, staring at the stars. "Well, you look really pretty all the time, especially when you're trying not to be bitchy, but these times you look the prettiest."

Eddie almost dropped the lute. Almost swallowed his own tongue as well. "Are you trying to kill me, Harrington?" he sputtered. "Don't you have enough to resurrect?"

Steven just shook his head, smirking. "That's a thought. But no. Breach of ethics - I'm pretty sure killing someone to resurrect them wouldn't make them want to join me. Plus, I was thinking less of a "fight for me" and more like "fuck me, possibly date me" - interested?"

Eddie stared at him with large eyes, moving his lips without any sound. "Uh...well, sounds good to me," he said, not very intelligently, but his brain was chanting kiss those moles pull that hair shut him up kiss him like right now maybe. "Do you...have a contract for that?"

Grinning, Steven - no, Steve, he asked to be called that several times and maybe this was the right time to give in to his wish - pulled Eddie to the ground with him. "For you? I'm sure I can draft something."

When Gareth, Robin and Chrissy arrived back from their supply run the next morning, they found Eddie and Steve curled against each other, fully clothed but very obviously satisfied. Robin just snickered and whispered to Steve that she wanted details, all the dirty, sticky and scandalous details, but Gareth just rolled his eyes. "And here I thought you disliked the guy when you said "Fuck him," he nudged Eddie as he unpacked healing potions.

Eddie closed his eyes and hummed a new melody that came to him with Steve's touches and gentle words. "It was open for interpretation," he laughed and reached for his lute.

#steddie #steddie au #steddie drabble #steve harrington #eddie munson #fantasy au #fantasy drabble #chrissy cunningham #gareth emerson #robin buckley #stranger things #stranger things drabble #not proofread we die like my will to exist

[magniloquent-raven]

The first person to tell Billy Hargrove they loved him after his mom left was Julie Wright, a girl in his English class who'd tapped her pencil against her chin and batted her spidery eyelashes all through his presentation on The Great Gatsby.

Her lipgloss was a sticky smear clinging to his upper lip when he was pushed between her legs, locked in place by bony thighs, her ankle digging into his back. She sighed and gasped and murmured all kinds of sweet things and he glowed at the praise. The adoration. For thirty minutes he was loved, he was wanted.

She thanked him with a kiss on the cheek and never spoke to him again.

It was a relief and a disappointment all at once.

But that was just how these things worked. How it worked for years. Not every girl was nice about it, so generous with her words, but sometimes just their attention was enough. It had to be enough.

The third person to tell Billy Hargrove they loved him after his mom left was Davy Garcia, an older boy he'd met at a party in some warehouse by the pier.

They didn't talk much, but maybe Davy liked that. He liked to keep Billy's mouth stuffed full, liked him drooling and struggling to breathe. Loved it, in fact. Loved Billy. The way he looked on his knees. How spirited he got.

None of that stopped him from running when Neil caught them.

The first person to love Billy Hargrove was Steve Harrington.

Billy didn't know. He didn't know for a long time. They were friends. And Billy was used to settling when he actually wanted something.

Sometimes they got high and Billy would let Steve kiss him for hours. Sometimes they were sober and they'd fall into bed tangled together, with wandering hands and shallow breaths. Sometimes Steve would tell Billy sweet things while he touched him.

But they were friends. And people say things in the heat of the moment that they don't really mean.

Except one day Steve comes up behind Billy while he's making coffee, wraps his arms around Billy's waist, buries his face in tangled curls, and says,

"I love you."

And Billy drops his mug.

It was empty, thankfully, and he only chipped it, but the noise still startles him, and Steve startled him, and there's a weird ringing in his ears and his fingers are kind of numb, and—

He might be panicking a bit. A lot.

He's not...doing anything, is the thing. The coffee wasn't even for Steve. He's just standing in Steve's kitchen, using up his fancy dark roast shit, wearing one of his old gym shirts—a clean one even though Billy hasn't showered yet—and chipping his goddamn mugs, shit—

Steve might've said it before. Once or twice. But never...like this. Never out of the blue, for no goddamn reason.

"Billy?"

"Mmng."

"You okay?"

Billy tentatively touches the back of Steve's hand, biting back a slightly hysterical noise when Steve slips their fingers together and kisses his shoulder. "Did you..." he exhales slowly. "Did you mean that?"

"...What?"

"The thing you said."

"I—yeah, Billy, I meant it."

"...Huh."

~~tag list ppls @growup-thatbeautiful @spreckle @prettyboy-like-you

#stranger things #billy hargrove #harringrove #steve harrington #harringrove ficlet #a raven's writing desk #on today's episode of billy needing so much therapy—

[fishrights69]

My Top 5 GARBAGE fish that suck

Here we go again. After receiving a very high ammount of notes!! (61 UwU) on the last fish list, here's another top 5 no one asked for. I've tried to use the reasoning of ''all fish are good'' but let's be honest, we'd be better off without these. 5. Monkfish🙏

So these things are weird as hell. Their ugliness alone landed them on this list. Not only are they ugly as shit, but they're also mean motherfuckers that eat basically anything. They like to cover themselves in mud and just chill there until something crosses their path which imo is fucking lazy. Some people do eat them as a delicacy apparently(ew?). Props to them for getting over the looks. Ugly/10 5/10 for laziness 4.Hairy Frog Fish💇‍♀️

If you wonder wtf are you looking at, this fish is the living embodiment of that feeling you get when you find hair in your food. This girlie loves to swallow as it's mouth can open to make space for fish almost twice her size so don't go sitting too close 💦 Still, it doesn't take away from the fact that she looks like a mistake. 4/10 appearance 8/10 for the deep throating skills 3. Goblin Shark 👺

First of all, these sharks look like if someone designed a fish based on a child's drawing of a shark. Instead of going the terrifying route and choosing one of these pictures, I opted for a derpy yet still creepy photo. Besides being quite good at ambushing prey, these dudes still tend to eat man made garbage which further argues their position on ''the garbage fish top5™''. They also are basically living fossils since they're old af and most of their body is atrophied. 3/10 appearance 6/10 for still living so long despite everything.

2.Bony-Eared Assfish🍑

This fish is for all ass obsessed fuckers. Grilling this baby and enjoying it counts as eating ass. Some cool facts about him: -The bony-eared assfish has the smallest brain-to-body weight ratio out of all vertebrates. -Assfish are soft and flabby with a light skeleton (so like a real ass) As for personality, they are not what I'd call assholes. They are quite sluggish as they prefer to sort of flap around with short bursts of energy instead of swim. They don't do much besides that which makes them a very underwhelming fish despite the sexy name :( Apparently they were given this name to make up for how utterly boring they are. 2/10 appearance 1/10 Interest in them or what they are good for (spoiler, nothing)

If you're a fish enthusiast, you probably know what's coming at nr.1 🥁 🥁 1. Ocean Sunfish☀️

There are far, faar too many reasons for this fish to be on the first spot. Not only are they the dumbest fish in the whole world, but they also are not good swimmers AT ALL (wtf is with these poorly designed fish who cannot swim??). Scientists are still perplexed at how this fish continues to stay alive. If you want more shitty facts about them, here's a link to a very famous post trashing these bitches. BUT, I have my very own reason to hate the sunfish. One cursed morning, I decided to go get educated about animals and visit Naturalis, a museum in Leiden, The Netherlands. I was having a blast looking at all the beautiful animals showcased, along with the cool facts and atmosphere. I excitedly get to the aquatic creatures floor and mesmerised, I try to take in all the beauty. At the long corridor nearing the exit, I look around admiring the fish that were displayed. Thinking I had seen it all, I move further when I turn a corner and out of nowhere.. . . . . . . . BAM

this GIANT motherfucker, hidden in a corner makes it's presence known. I'm not kidding when I say this thing is huge. Here's a picture of the replica from another angle for size reference. As you can guess, I was legit extremely spooked and actually screamed. :( 0/10 appearence 0/10 fuck this thing. useless and it gave me a heart attack

BONUS: I'm sorry but I think I've tortured myself and you enough, so to make up for it, here's a cute fishy instead: (take him)

Alright thanks for reading and follow for more fish content. Suggest me some more top5's I could do, be it fish related, or whatever your mind decides to curse me with. Still need to cleanse yours eyes? My top 5 coolest fish

#my most hated fish #fish #fish that are NOT friends #marine life #things that make me unhappy #top5 #ocean #aquatic life #fishblr #fish tag #animals #animal enemies

[slaythebirdman]

post "And? What happens next?" where despite leaving as mortals and not gods both quiet and the princess maintain a little bit of their weirdness. like the princess' appearance and personality still changes at least a little from day to day

💗 love love love this ask. it's perfect since it's the only ending we've gotten so far. also, i've never heard birdie be called the quiet before, so that's neat. i'll address him as such in this post. this also ended up being a bit more than you asked for, but oh well. i also imagined them eventually getting/building a house together!

And? What happens next?

The Princess: -She's... still figuring herself out. Sometimes her appearance will shift depending on how the Quiet sees her. For example, one time, the Quiet forgot to clean the dishes when it was his turn, and when the Princess found out and yelled for the Quiet, she grew horns and her teeth became sharp. Her personality feels like spinning a wheel some mornings, too. There are days where she's softer and more agreeable, kinder with her words and actions, and there are others where she feels more like a goddess that every being should kneel before and beg for their lives, and others still where all she wants to do is fight until she can feel something again... She and the Quiet are both working through these changes together. -She is so over the dresses and is very open to trying other clothes now that she isn't tied down to what the narrative says she should wear. She does eventually lean more into wearing warmer clothes though because: -She's afraid of feeling cold. It terrifies her that one day, those hands will manifest and drag her away from this life they've built for themselves. There are sweaters and warm house slippers lying all over their house, and the Quiet will wrap his wings around her tightly to warm her up if he notices her clutching her arms and looking panicked. The Quiet: -He still catches himself talking to no one and expecting a response in his head. It's... lonely. Unnerving. Even when he's talking with the Princess, there's an uneasy feeling he gets when he asks a question in his head and receives an infinite silence in return. -Along the same vein, ironically, the Quiet has a difficult time dealing with the quiet. It's oppressive, constraining. There always has to be some noise, preferably someone else talking, whether from a podcast or a radio or a television depending on how advanced the technology is in the world you imagine the two stepping into post-game. -His appearance also changes from time to time, though it is nowhere near to the extent of the Princess's changes. It's more subtle, though that doesn't mean it isn't noticeable when he finds himself to be more bony one morning than he was the night before. It doesn't bother him too much, though. -Their house changes as well. Not the outside, just the interior. It's nothing as drastic as before, but the color and pattern of the wallpaper with occasionally shift, and the wooden floorboards will become stone, or linoleum, or carpet. Sometimes the change will happen within a day, and sometimes it takes weeks. When the Quiet comes home and sees the living room looking a bit more... voidy than usual, he knows that the Princess is in a particularly bad mood. -Crows. Something in his chest aches terribly at the sight of them, longing and hurt and regretful. It's bittersweet, though some days it tastes much, much more bitter than it does sweet. -Similarly, the Quiet avoids mirrors at all costs. Not even his reflection, just specifically mirrors. He gets too emotional, too lost in his own head, and it's a worse place to be stuck in now than it was before without anyone in there to talk with. There aren't many mirrors in their house, and the ones they do have, the Princess keeps covered.

#Slay the Princess #STP #STP Imagines #STP Headcanons #Slay the Princess Spoilers #Slay the Princess Headcanons #The Princess #MC x The Princess #MC #STP MC #The Long Quiet #Mod Pink 💗 #i've never had a tumblr ask blog before so this is fun and new for me! #hope i didn't make any mistakes (●>ω<)ﾉﾞ #ask

[jazztag]

An Encounter in the Snow VII

The Captain finds Weapon as he left him, seated on the floor and fidgeting with the dust. His prisoner looks up when hearing him step inside. He grins a little bit and then, as if remembering the last time, he retreats from his place and steps as far as his chains would let him, hiding in the shadows and away from the dim light on the ceiling. Knowing Hero may be mad at him, he turns his back toward the Captain and tries to look inconspicuous while doing so, hyperfocused on the wall.

Hero scoffs.

His prisoner remains facing the wall, but something is different. While Hero stops, hands in pockets, he observes Weapon getting more and more unrested. His prisoner seems to be smelling the air, as if something has changed.

“I brought you something,” says Hero, and Weapon turns around at last, still sniffing the air like a dog. The Captain reveals the old blanket, something that can merely cover Weapon’s skinny body but thick enough to look comfortable.

Hero waits for his reaction, but Weapon is frozen in place, caught between an expression of confusion and agitation. So he decides to try something he has been rummaging about for the last few hours.

“Come here,” orders Hero. Weapon doesn’t move at first, but when he sees Hero signaling for him to approach, the prisoner complies. He stands up, still with his back ached and head down, and gets in front of Hero.

The Captain scrutinizes him for the first time since the prisoner arrived. From head to toe, he finds it funny that the two of them may be of the same height, or at least it may seem so if Weapon stood straight. His prisoner keeps looking at the ground, suddenly docile and weirdly calm. He still has his grin plastered on his face, but his expression is more sober.

Hero observes how he still clutches at his side and pays attention to his bony wrists, ankles. His skin, calloused and burned from severe exposure to the sun. His hair, which falls onto his eyes, only letting his smile shine from under the messy dark waves. He lacks some fingernails, both on each hand and foot. It may have been because of torture, who knows. Lots of bullet wounds, cuts. His hips bend at a weird angle, and his underwear, clearly old and not once washed, just adds to his overall pitiful state. And the way he twitches. Now that’s scary, adverts Hero. He grins constantly, and his fingers seem to grab something invisible in the air from time to time. Signs of PTSD. There’s one twitch that specifically puts him on edge. The index finger on his left hand, which curls inward subtly. As if pressing the trigger of his firearm, shooting, and killing as a first instinct.

He’s absolutely and utterly a machine made to kill. Hero looks down at his prisoner, trying to see underneath the other’s matted hair. Two gray eyes return his gaze. He steps back again and decides to try something with the blanket.

“Now, eyes on me, you dog,” signs Hero. Weapon looks up toward him, and his hair falls back a bit, framing his face. He has huge eyebags, and he looks tired. He always does.

“Is this yours?” asks him Hero, showing him the folded blanket. Weapon looks briefly at the item and then pouts. He looks as if he’d like to tear it out from his hand but can’t. As if now, Hero has the upper hand, at least for the first time.

“If you want it back, you’ll follow what I say,” tells him Hero. The Captain is still feeling a little bit skeptical about the whole ordeal. Weapon furrows his brows but doesn’t move from his place. He is now listening. “Ok, it seems I have your attention. Now, put your right hand up.”

Weapon seems to have heard him, but grinning a bit, he looks like he doesn’t understand what is going on. Hero, with the hand which isn’t holding the blanket, puts it up, palm open and toward Weapon. “Here,” motions. And Weapon ends up copying him as well, pulling his right arm out and opening his palm toward Hero a bit. His fingers are long and bony, and the skin on his knuckles is red and raw. His hand trembles. Actually, all of him seems to subtly tremble. Hero waits a bit. The chains dingle.

“Ok,” says Hero, lowering his arm. Weapon copies him as well. Hero then says, “now the other hand,” while pulling up the very same hand as before… Just as the Captain thought, Weapon raises again the same right hand, mirroring him again.

Hero repeats himself using a monotonous voice, “no, the other. Left.” He doesn’t move, though, keeping his hand still up. Weapon doesn’t hesitate to change sides; he keeps his right hand up in the air.

The Captain finally pulls his arm down, and Weapon copies him again. “So I was right,” mutters Hero to himself. “You don’t really understand me.”

Weapon smiles again, looking absentmindedly at his blanket, still in Hero’s grasp. His arms gravitate towards it, but Hero pulls away from his grab.

“Before that, one more thing.” Weapon looks at him again. ‘He seems to get the tone of my voice,’ notes Hero. He signals down to the floor.

“Sit down.” Weapon looks at his index and then at the floor, and without a word complies, crouching down. He lets his hands rest on his knees, fidgeting again with his fingers. The chains on his arms and feet rattle quietly.

Hero crouches down to his level as well. He makes a mental note to clean him up when possible, and with caution, reveals a key from the inside of his coat inner pocket. Weapon watches closely as Hero grabs one of his chained wrists and unlocks the link between the handcuff and chain. Silently, Hero does the same with his other wrist and ankles, releasing him from them all except the one on his neck, still bolted to the floor. His prisoner doesn’t move at all. He looks around meanwhile, lost in thought and not quite there. Finally, Hero grabs the blanket again and unfolds it on him. Weapon doesn’t move while getting covered with the soft fabric, and when the Captain gets up again on his feet, the prisoner caresses absentmindedly his item.

He sniffs the cloth, and there’s a peak of weirdness in his eyes. Weapon looks up at Hero, questioning.

“I had to wash it, you dog; it was disgusting,” tells him Hero. The Captain kicks away the detached chains to the back of the room, away from Weapon’s reach. Last time it was a pair of tweezers stabbed onto a Colonel’s leg, who knows what Weapon would be capable of with those.

Hero stands in front of his prisoner again. It’s useless to talk to Weapon. He won’t understand a word, and he doesn’t seem too eager to acknowledge even his tone. But talking to him has proved from time to time to calm Hero’s thoughts, maybe as a way to free them off his mind.

“I’ve seen your eh… room, the one back at your last base,” speaks Hero. His tone is harsh, authoritarian. Weapon looks up, not really understanding a word from a language he hasn’t been trained to understand. “Seems to me you are considered useless if not owned and directed. At least that’s what they say in your homeland.”

Hero starts pacing around the room, hands behind his back. Weapon, seated on the floor and caressing his blanket, smiles devilishly at the Captain. Who knows what might be he thinking about. He sits, cross-legged, fiddling with the cloth but without taking his attention off Hero. ‘He’s waiting,’ realizes the Captain.

Hero stops again right in front of his prisoner. Weapon looks up, defiantly. They stare at each other.

“I know you don’t understand a word I’m saying,” tells him Hero. “But I don’t fucking care.” He crosses his arms, looking down at the other severely. “You are now under my orders. You rest when I tell you, you eat what I’ll give you, and you, in no circumstance, move a finger without me knowing it beforehand.”

Weapon says nothing, as usual. His smug smile widens under his matted hair.

“I,” repeats Hero, pointing at himself, “own you,” and follows by pointing at Weapon. Weapon looks at his finger and licks his lips. Hero’s not too sure the other is getting the idea. He then crouches on one knee and gets really close to the enemy. Weapon doesn’t mind the sudden movements of the other. He watches defiantly how Hero grabs at the only chain still binding him to the cell floor, the one around his neck. The Captain pulls it up toward himself, obliging the other to face him, unable to resist the restraints around his neck.

“You are now my dog,” tells him Hero, and suddenly, it appears to dawn on Weapon what those strange words he can’t identify mean. He loosens his smile, and his gaze becomes darker.

Hero lets go of the chain, and Weapon sits back again, still looking him in the eye.

“Hope we can get to an agreement,” says Hero. Still kneeling on the floor, he slips out from his inner pocket a metal canteen, full of water. The Captain unscrews the cap carefully, watching Weapon’s eyes following the action. His prisoner’s mouth opens slightly, his gaze now pierced onto the bottle. He stops fidgeting with the blanket, leaving it aside, and starts to crawl toward the canteen.

“Ah, ah. Stop there.” Hero motions for Weapon to stop dead in his tracks, and the monster complies, looking thirstier by the minute. The Captain leaves the bottle right in front of Weapon and crosses his arms. He waits patiently, observing how Weapon grows more restless from the sight of water.

“I heard you weapons could stand almost a week without taking a drink. But looks like even you have limits when bound.” Weapon grows more nervous each second that he isn’t permitted to get his hands on the canteen. He starts struggling with breathing, and he starts to scratch at his left arm, drawing red lines onto the dry skin. The Captain observes the sight, finally taking some pity on his new pet.

“Ok, stop scratching. Drink already,” he finally allows. Weapon looks up to him, trying to understand if that was a yes. Hero motions toward the water and points at his prisoner. “Go on.”

His prisoner grabs the bottle as if there was no tomorrow and in practically seconds gulps down the entire contents. Hero motions for him to return the water flask, and Weapon complies when finished. He looks more relaxed and docile after that, and so, Hero stands up on his feet again.

“Good boy. Surely we can manage to understand each other.” Weapon dries his mouth on his arm, and the Captain looks absentmindedly at his still fresh bullet wound on his chest, alongside all the other scars and older bruises on his skin.

“I’ll take a look again at that if you let me,” and starting to head toward the cell door, adds, “Now rest.” Weapon looks at him from his spot on the floor. Hugs his blanket and falls on his side, closing his eyes and rolling until finding a comfortable spot on the concrete. Hero watches him for a bit before locking again the door. He can’t keep away the thought, though. This cell looks as sad as the one Weapon inhabited before.

Taglist: @whump-blog @bitchaknso @pumpkinsncoffee @scrumpledumple (comment to get added/removed from the list!)

#promptfactory #writing prompt #prompt #whump #whump prompt #hero x villain #villain x hero #whump scenario #whumpee x caretaker #my ocs #biologically nonhuman #living weapon whumpee #tropes #ww2 whump #biological weapon #militar whump #anencounterinthesnow

[bethanythebogwitch]

I talked before about fish Pokemon and that was great, but it's not the only mon series I like. So fuck it, fish Digimon time. This will definitely be less analytical and more me gushing about Digimon I like because I may be a bit out of it right now. Also sorry if I missed any.

Starting at rookie/child level we only have one fish but why would we need more when we have Swimmon?

Loot at it, it's amazing! It's some some sort of tropical fish, obviously, but with some embellishments, like the beak full of teeth. I love how colorful and pointy it is. It works great as a rookie for so many aquatic lines. I think some great lines for it would be Swimmon -> Coelamon -> Piranimon -> MetalPiranhimon or Swimmon -> Tobiumon -> DIvemon -> Surfimon. Speaking of which...

I'm going over champion/adult Digimon together and starting with Coelamon.

It's a coelacanth! Coelacanths are amazing as some of the last lobe-finned fish. In this case, the lobes have been exaggerated into proper limbs, like how lobe-finned fish are the ancestors of tetrapods through intermediate limbed fish stages like tiktaalik. Its armor might also be based on placoderms, extinct fish with bony armor.

We have surprisingly few shark Digimon, but one we do have is Tobiumon, and it's amazing.

A shark with arms that can fly with its fins is such a Digimon concept that all it needs are some guns to be peak Digimon. It even has a remora missile launcher on its chest!

The armor Digimon give us several fish, and while I don't think any of them particularly work as armor evolutions, they're fine as Digimon on their own. And before anyone mentions it, Tylomon is a tylosaurus, not a fish. The first is Manbomon, and while it's a terrible armor evolution for Patamon, A mola mola wearing boxing gloves is such a goofy concept I can't help but love it.

Next is Seahomon, which is pretty obviously a seahorse, but its snout is a trumpet and it has a cape that turns into wings I guess? I dunno, it's a pretty weird one.

My favorite of the three is Mantaraymon. Despite the name, it doesn't have a manta ray's face, instead having a rostrum like a shovelnose ray or even maybe a dolphin. I do like how they used Patamon's ears as the cephalic fins.

Mantaraymon also has a more mechanical X-antibody variant that gives it kind of a stealth fighter vibe. I kind of like it more than the original Mantaraymon, which is saying something since I usually don't like X-antibody Digimon.

Moving onto the ultimate/perfect level we have a new mon from China, Huankunmon.

I love this design so much. Its based on the peng, a mythical creature that can turn from a bird to a fish. Fittingly, Huankunmon's line goes from a bird (Xiquemon) and goes to a bird/fish/dragon hybrid (Xiangpengmon). It'a also based on a flying fish since it can fly with a swimming motion. And it can turn invisible. There's nothing not to love about it.

Next is Piranimon, and look at this absolute beast

Some might call it overdesigned, but I absolutely love it. I particularly dig the tail being a fish hook covered in barbed wire. Its based on a red-bellied piranha, but the pop-culture version where they're bloodthirsty monsters that attack everything they see. Real piranhas are not like that. The helmet it wears may also be based on placoderms, some of which only had the bone armor on the front of their bodies.

Finally at this level, we have Divemon.

I'm not as big of a fan of this as I am of the other two, but I do like the Polynesian-style tattoos it has. Its a combination hammerhead shark and professional swimmer.

Maxing out at the mega/ultimate level we have MetalPiranimon.

While I appreciate any fish megas, I think this is a step down from Piranhimon. It's just a red-bellied piranha with a big metal head dragging around a counterweight. I'm not saying its bad, I'm just saying that Piranhimon is better. Fun fact, Metalpiranhimon came first. Piranhimon was designed because someone thought it was weird that there's a MetalPiranhimon but no regular Piranhimon. There are a few examples of that in Digimon, like SkullBaluchimon coming before Baluchimon.

Next is Regalecusmon, which might be stretching the definition of fish a bit, but it does have an oarfish for a head.

I really like this design, especially it using Zudomon's horn as a sword and what looks like Ebidramon's claw as a shield. I think it would make a great villain for an aquatic episode or storyline of a show. Maybe like a more modern version of MetalSeadramon from Adventure.

Finally, we have Surfimon.

It's a mechanical shark man riding a rocket-powered hammerhead shark surfboard with a buzzsaw on the front. We have reached peak Digimon, people. And even better, it was created by a fan as part of a contest. Frankly, it's a shame that it hasn't gotten any appearances in the anime or games. I don't get why some fan-made Digimon can go onto have major appearances like Dobermon, Cyberdramon, and SoundBirdmon while others get ignored. A lot of them don't even have art. I'd be pretty bummed if I was a kid who won a contest to have my design become official and then it was never used. I think Surfimon should get an anime appearance and the English dub should make it talk like a Californian surfer dude.

#fishblr #digimon #fish #I'm such a nerd #coelamon #tobiumon #manbomon #mantaraymon #seahomon #piranimon #divemon #huankunmon #metalpiranimon #regalucusmon #surfimon #shark #coelacanth #manta ray #seahorse #sunfish #mola mola #piranha #oarfish #hammerhead shark

[stuffed-x-arts]

SLAY THE PRINCESS Voice + Narrator Designs

sorry they arent all 'complete' sort of. I was struggling and it was starting to feel like i would never finish at all and that the slay the princess interest may slip from my grasp altogether and i wanted to finish these before doing other slay the princess drawings and !! anyways yeah these are mostly to get an Idea of how the guys look, there may be potential changes in future but for the most part these are the guys !! design notes under the read more teehee.

beaks are so hard to draw but im trying smh

SLAY THE PRINCESS DESIGN NOTES:

ok first of all. maybe sometimes i will feel like drawing wings instead of hands, okay? teehee. all in good fun. these are all how its Supposed to be, generally, but i can bend the rules or edit them as i wish lol !! pupils are also a if-i-feel-like-it thing !!

The Cold

- light blues, icy, cold colours.

- thin, bony, pointy. his 'ears' / tufts stand up straight. sharper beak. etc. mid-length feathers on arms, short on legs.

- thin, long tail with a few feathers at the end

The Contrarian

- warm colours for the most part, potentially some blues or something for contrast. all rather saturated

- puffy feathers.

- simple no-sleeved vest that fits well.

- thin tail with rough, messy feathers that ends with two arrow-shaped ends

The Smitten

- more pinkish, purplish, red sort of colours. potentially rather vibrant and saturated also?

- lots of roundness in his design, including a more curved beak and relatively heart shaped ears. short puffy tail.

- feathers dont reach far on arms or legs

- little dots under eyes

- fluffy chest.

- more solid body

- two toes

The Opportunist

- blues and purples, perhaps a little orange

- looser shirt, long + big sleeves. deck of cards. plays with the cheated. Often cheats.

The Hunted

- greens, perhaps, greens and browns more neutral, natural colours for camouflage

- big ears. to listen

- stronger legs, ready to run and dodge,

The Paranoid

- orange, yellow.

- overpreens and stuff. lots of bent or broken feathers, occasionally some rather patchy spots. feathers dont have a clean end along his limbs. the others have some bent or broken feathers too of course but he's got it the worst

The Cheated

- weird feathers at his neck. fun <3

- deck of cards

- also has a like. mark/scar at the neck

- edit teehee: so neck feathers can be like. jagged. same for the ends of the feathers on his arms. jagged and all kinda like the whole razor princess route, you know?

The Skeptic

- orange, cautious

- long tail with feathers at the end that resemble a question mark

- maybe a choker or something?

The Stubborn

- more desaturated in tone. red.

- shorter tail

- lots of scars

The Hero

- Bandanna sort of thing around the neck

The Broken

- dark blues

- marks beneath the eyes

The Long Quiet / Player / Body

- during the loops its more simple. two sets of wings, one at the shoulder blades, one by the hips. rather small, unable to be used for flying. all the voices take after them in looks.

- is something... more though, in his natural state. similar to how the Shifting Mound is different than the ordinary princess you see. bigger wings, a more monstrous form.

- entirely greyscale

The Narrator

- toothed beak, sharp teeth.

- has a mane. whether thats made of feathers or fur or hair or what? who knows. All that matters is that its soft.

- regular bird tail, regular bird feet.

- paws. sorta similar to a lions?

- might mess with his colours a bit tbh but generally it sticks to dark grey or blueish

also have some drawings of working on the narrators design

OKAAAAY thats all teehee hope u enjoy !!!!

#slay the princess #stp fanart #the narrator #voice of the cold #voice of the smitten #voice of the contrarian #voice of the opportunist #im just tagging the ones thatre like. properly coloured and all smh #i want to draw these guys so much more please please plea #voice designs #i have silly ideas and i can only hope i manage to put them into drawings #hope u guys enjoy or at the very least have a nice day !! take care teehee #FUN FACT i tested out a sorta like. mohawk. crest sorta thing. only a short tiny one. but i didnt like how it turned out so. #yeah i tested that with skeptic and hero i think smh #ok yeah thats all teehee lets go see if i can finish some more drawings (typed with hopeful desperation as i look upon my gallery of #unfinished wips)

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

Bannykus vs Ambopteryx

Factfiles:

Bannykus wulatensis

Artwork by @i-draws-dinosaurs, written by @i-draws-dinosaurs

Name meaning: Half claw from Wulatehouqi

Time: 113 to 100 million years ago (Albian stage of the Early Cretaceous)

Location: Bayin-Gobi Formation, Inner Mongolia, China

If there’s one group of dinosaurs that has most recently gained more fame among casual dinosaur fans it’s probably alvarezsauridae, elevated to stardom by the Mononykus that captured everyone’s hearts in Prehistoric Planet. The bizarre group of single-clawed maniraptorans has been studied for a while, but their evolutionary origins have fairly mysterious until recently. How did that whole giant thumb claw thing happen??

Published in 2018 alongside more basal alvarezsaur Xiyunykus, Bannykus helps to fill in a gap in that evolutionary pathway! More specifically, they help to fill in a 70 million year long gap between the primitive Late Jurassic Haplocheirus and the very end of the Cretaceous! Notably, Bannykus has a larger thumb claw that the rest of its claws, but the other fingers are at least partially functional instead of just nubbins. It’s a lot easier to see how the later alvarezsaurids got to where they are from here! Next time you lose your mind over the Mononykus from Prehistoric Planet (which I do at least weekly), say a thank you to the lil guy with slightly less weird hands. Thumbs up to Bannykus!

Ambopteryx longibrachium

Artwork by Gabriel Ugueto, written by @i-draws-dinosaurs

Name meaning: Both wings with long arms

Time: 163 million years ago (Callovian stage of the Middle Jurassic)

Location: Haifanggou Formation, China

Look, evolution has done a lot of weird stuff to dinosaurs. It put penguins underwater, and did whatever the hall mamenchisaurid necks are, and game lambeosaurs a built-in face trumpet. But I would argue there is one group that represents dinosaur evolution at its most unhinged, and that is scansoropterygidae.

Scansoriopterygids were generally considered “weird little tree dinosaurs” in the 2000s, with long fingers to pick grubs out of bark or something. Then Yi qi swept along in 2015 and revealed that those long fingers were actually supporting membranous bat wings. With an extra bony rod (the “styliform element”) sticking out of the wrist to help support it, because well if you’re a dinosaur evolving bat wings why bother being normal about it after that? Although really, the dinosaurs did it first so bats actually have dinosaur wings.

Yi was sensational, but it was also extremely weird and completely unique. Even other scansoriopterygids didn’t have wing membranes, so the whole bat thing was a bit up in the air. Or not up in the air, as the case may be. But then along comes Ambopteryx, published in 2019, packing another set of skin wings, and the vindication of Yi is complete! 

Ambopteryx preserves a styliform element and wing membrane, as well as a thick coat of feathers, and honestly out of a whole selection of dinosaurs I think these might be some of the most huggable in the lot. Obviously this whole wing membrane thing didn’t end up working out for them long term, but Ambopteryx is part of an incredible lineage that challenged what we thought was possible for dinosaurs!

DMM Round One Masterpost

#dmm #dinosaur march madness #dinosaurs #paleontology #dmm round one #dmm rising stars #palaeoblr #bracket #march madness #polls #bannykus #ambopteryx

[scribespirare]

I feel like Miles trying to hide his mating bite from everyone - especially his parents - would be so funny for some reason

when i was 15/16 i tried to hide a hickie from my mother but i am an absolute dog shit liar so she found out basically immediately and then spent like twenty minutes laughing at me. afterwards she taught me the spoon trick so my father wouldn't see. i feel a kinship w/ Miles b/c that's exactly how Rio would react lkajdfladsj;a

“Miguel, we have a problem!”

With a long suffering sigh, Miguel looks up from his work just in time to see a frantic Miles finish a graceless tumble through the front door. The sight of his Omega never fails to warm Miguel, but its up for debate on whether the warmness is from affection and love or irritation. He’d say it’s a 50/50 split.

“Yes, Miles?” he asks as the Omega throws himself down on the couch beside Miguel in true teenage fashion. All long limbs and bony elbows Miguel deftly dodges.

“It’s my mom,” Miles says, sounding breathless. He’s looking up at Miguel through his eyelashes and that combined with the fact that Miguel can see one of his own t-shirts under Miles’ hoodie nearly makes him miss the next words. “I think she saw my mating bite.”

Miguel freezes at that, tearing his gaze away from the tantalizing dark skin of Miles’ throat. “What?”

“My bite! I was getting ready to leave and I didn’t realize I was wearing your shirt until it slipped down my shoulder and I thought I fixed it fast enough but she stopped me and-”

“Miles. Breathe.”

By mutual agreement they’d decided to keep their relationship a secret. The reasons are varied and many; Miles’ age, their antagonistic history, the fact that Miguel is sorta kinda in a position of authority over Miles…when Miles chooses to actually participate in spider society, anyways. The point is that they’ve gone out of their ways to make sure nobody knows until they’re ready for them to. Miles’ mating bite is on the curve of his shoulder. It’s admittedly pretty huge on the much smaller Omega, and the impression of teeth clearly shows Miguel’s double set of fangs.

Miguel’s is on his clavicle. It’s almost delicate looking in comparison, except for the faint trailing edges where Miles had started to tear at the skin before Miguel had grabbed him by the nape and pulled him off. Brat.

Despite the strategic locations they’ve both had close calls hiding them in the past. Miguel’s suit decided to malfunction just right. Miles needed to change his shirt after spilling something on it during movie night, and got teased when he insisted on running to the bathroom to do so. One time Miguel had tried to shower at the gym thinking no one else was there, only for Peter B to show up. For some weird reason. So on and so on.

Still, nobody has caught on, and nobody has ever seen the marks outright. The idea that Miles’ mother might be the first to know, a woman Miguel has never actually met but who he hears plenty about? Yeah, if that’s not panic inducing Miguel doesn’t know what is.

“Are you sure she saw it?” he asks, looping an arm around Miles’ waist and pulling the Omega close.

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

“What did she ask?” Miguel presses.

“If I was dating someone.”

“And you said?”

“No.”

“Okay. She probably thought it was a hickie then,” Miguel says, soothing himself with the words probably even more than Miles. Mostly because Miles’ face gets that faint pink glow to it that means he’s blushing. “Es algo bueno, cariño.”

“She thinks I’m sleeping around!” The tone of Miles’ voice is somewhere between horrified and traumatized. “I said I wasn’t dating anyone so now she thinks I’m…soy una puta!”

“Is that better or worse than being mated to someone twice your age?” Miguel asks dryly.

That has Miles snapping his jaw shut at least. He still looks embarrassed though and Miguel laughs, tugging at the Omega until he’s got Miles comfortably in his lap.

“Relaja, cariño. She’s your mother and you’re a teenager. Most kids have already had a few sexual experiences by the time they’re your age and she knows that. Also did I mention she’s your mother? She’s had-”

“No termines eso,” Miles says quickly, shoving a hand directly into Miguel’s face, palm to cheek. “That’s so gross, por qué dirías eso?”

Miguel tolerates the awkward angle his head’s being pushed at for a moment longer, then when Miles doesn’t let up he sighs and bodily grabs the Omega up, wrestling him until Miles is firmly planted with his back to Miguel’s front, trapped between Miguel’s thighs.

“Your mother doesn’t think you’re a whore,” Miguel grunts once the scuffle and Miles’ complaints have died down. “My point was that she’s had a child herself and she knows what being a teenager is like. One little hickie isn’t going to make her think you’re out getting laid every single night.”

“I mean…”

“I said every night, malcriado.”

Miles pats placatingly at Miguel’s thigh. “A technicality. I am definitely getting laid way more often than most people my age.”

“You know what I mean!”

“Yeah.” The word is soft and amused and Miles tips his head back against Miguel’s chest to smile up at him. “Thanks, big guy. I do feel a bit better about it. Though I still don’t think I can look her in the eye for like the next week.”

“I’d make an attempt if I were you if you don’t want to be teased about it.”

“...damn, you’re right.”

#asks #requests #flowerfang #ur right this is fuckin hilarious anon

[girlfailure-smut-hour]

Study Date with Enki

Nsfw content MDNI

SERIOUS TRIGGERS IN THIS ONE PLEASE READ THE CW

Characters: Virgin!Enki X GN!Reader, Modern!AU

CW: Mentions of self-harm and pretty extreme implied physical abuse, Implied possible eating disorder, Hurt/Comfort, Oral (Giving) Penetration (Recieving), Romantic and a little angsty .

A/N: I'm posting this one outside of my usual schedule cause I don't want anyone to feel ripped off lol. I usually do more... normal stuff for more normal fandoms. This one's for all the weirdos. I wrote it months ago and have been holding onto it, but it's as good a time as ever. So I'm finally putting my weird nonsense into the world (Sorry.) I love the stinky bugs-and-opium-wizard. You invite Enki for a study date to seduce him. I might write a sequel with a transfem Enki. ~2700 Words.

Please check out my fic masterlist <3

It took some doing, but you’d convinced Enki Ankarian to come over for a study date. It all started when you saw him in the library, at a table covered in stacks of books, his naturally Grey hair spilling over his face. He was so serious, scribbling notes with an almost frantic expression.

He was standoff-ish at first, but you broke through his facade with a little earnest care. You took interest in his strange fascination with the occult, withstood his seemingly random insults, and shared with him some of your own interests. It took weeks, but finally he let his defenses down and finally accepted your invitation.

You hear a knock at your apartment door exactly one minute early, and peering through the peephole you see him. He stands there in an ill-fitting sweater vest with a comical number of books nestled under his arm. In fact you’re not really sure how he’s carrying them all with his frail little arms.

You open the door and say “Enki! You made it!”

He smiles, subtly, and walks past you to set his books down. Among them you can spot books on things like demonology and fringe religious texts. A heavily worn and annotated copy of The Lesser Key of Solomon sits on top.

You walk over to the bar with him and sit down across from him. His glasses keep sliding down his bony nose as he stacks his books, but it’s cute. He looks like a librarian or something.

“Would you like anything to drink?” You ask.

“What do you have?” He replies.

“Soda, and water.”

“Anything harder?”

“Afraid not,” You reply.

“I’m okay,” he grumbles.

“Suit yourself,” You say, grabbing a drink.

He’s already immersed himself in a book by the time you sit down. “Is that for one of your classes?” You ask.

“Just a hobby,” He replies, writing notes.

What is it about this gnarled, rude, strange boy that attracts you so much? There's a certain something to him that's hard to place, but you can't help but be drawn in by him. Maybe it’s his sad stare, or maybe the passion you can sense in his feverish studies.

Maybe it was a mistake inviting him for a study date. You knew how fastidious he was in his studies and now he’s hardly talking to you. You sigh and buckle down on your own studies, but after an hour or so, he suddenly stands up. “Going out for a smoke,” He says.

You follow him out onto the patio and snatch his lighter from the railing. As he puts the cigarette between his lips, you flick the lighter and hold it up for him. He leans forward, pulling his hair away. The gentle ember gives his pale face a rich orange tone as he draws the first puff

"Why are you so nice to me?" He grumbles.

Because I want to fuck you, you think. "Everyone deserves a chance,” You say. “You're a sweet guy, Enki. And passionate. I don't know. Do I need a reason?"

He grumbles something to himself.

“So what got you into the occult?” You ask.

“It’s something I get from my family,” He replies, wincing.

“How’s that?” You ask.

"I shouldn’t have said anything,” He says. “I don't really want to get into my family situation. It's… ugly. Like me." His face contorts into a snarl.

“You should be nicer to yourself,” You say, gently touching his shoulder. He reflexively pulls away. Maybe in disgust, or maybe it’s some kind of trauma.

“Perhaps I should," he replies, Staring out into the sunset. His eyes glaze over, like a corpse almost. You decide to watch the sunset as well. There’s something to a quiet introspective moment like this.

He shakes his head as he takes his last puff, flicking the butt out into the parking lot.

“You ready to head in?” You ask. He nods his head, and you open the door for the two of you.

Walking behind him you spot a knot in his hair. Even though he’s grown it well past his back, it appears he doesn't take care of it at all.

“Could I brush your hair?” You ask as he sits down.

“I’m sorry?” He asks, jolting and turning around to you.

“Your hair,” You say. “I’d like to brush it.” He’s squinting at you, and you can’t tell what is going on behind those eyes. “It’s just so beautiful,” You add.

“If you must,” He says after a moment.

After retrieving your gentlest hairbrush, you pull a stool up behind him and sit down.

“Please be careful,” he says.

“Awww does the baby have a tender scalp?” You tease.

“I don’t have to let you brush my hair,” He snaps.

“I’m only teasing,” you giggle, before taking a strand of his knotted hair and holding it so it wouldn’t tug on his scalp when you pulled the brush through. He winced, but didn’t pull himself away from his studies. His hair is a wreck, but not unsalvageable. It would be worthwhile for him to consider at least a trim though.

“I wish I had detangling spray,” You remark. “This would be so much easier.”

He just grumbles something under his breath as you continue to brush. It feels like his hair is all knots. You could be here all night as far as you know. You tenderly run your fingers through his hair and he sighs, but not his typical sigh. A sort of relief, or maybe pleasure. You gently scratch his scalp and something akin to a quiet moan escapes his lips.

It takes nearly an hour, but you finally work out his knots. You didn’t notice at the time, but at some point, he stopped his studying to lean his head back, closing his eyes.

“Alright,” You say “I’m all done!”

He jumps as if startled and sits up to continue his studying. “Thank you,” He replies.

“When you condition your hair, make sure to get the ends,” You tell him. “That will help with the tangles.”

“Sure,” He says.

You brush your fingers through his hair again and say, “You really do have beautiful hair.”

“Thank you,” He replies.

“You should let me wash it some time.”

He nearly keeps his composure, but you notice a slight jump, or maybe a shiver. “I don’t think that will be happening,” he says.

“Who knows you might enjoy yourself,” you tempt him. 

You begin to scratch his back and he shivers. You can feel his spine, even through several layers of clothing. He feels emaciated. You could probably sling him over your shoulder, he seems so skinny.

“Why are you so affectionate toward me?” He asks. “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

“Enki,” You say, “I like you.”

He turns around and starts to get up. “I don’t know what kind of cruel joke this is, but I don’t appreciate it.”

You stand up too and brush his hair behind his ear, looking into his eyes. Without warning, you plant a kiss on his sunken cheek. His knees nearly buckle.

“You’re serious…” He says. You nod. “This is a date?” You nod again. “Not, like, a date, but a capital D date?”

“Yes Enki,” You laugh.

“Oh my god,” He says. “I feel so stupid now. I-I’ve been so mean to you, and you-you…”

He stammers and stutters until you just kiss him. On the lips this time. He puts his arms around you to hold himself up. It’s a tender kiss, not too much, but you do slip a little tongue in. You put your hand on his chest and feel his heart pounding.

As you pull away, He’s blushing, bringing just a little color to his pale skin. You try not to notice, but his pants have gotten a little tighter now as well.

“I want you, Enki” you say.

“So quickly?” He asks, his face lighting up in nervous excitement.

“Why not?” You ask. “But it’s okay if you’re not ready.”

“I think I am,” He replies, glancing down and blushing even harder.

"Come to the room with me," you say, offering your hand. He gives you a nervous smile as he takes it.

He gulps as you enter the room. “There’s something… I don’t know how to say this.”

“Don’t worry Enki,” You reply. “You’re not going to scare me off.”

“It’s just…” he starts, “I have some scars.”

You smile at him as you take his hand and unbutton his sleeves. “Don’t worry about it.” You roll them up to reveal hesitation marks. Quite a few of them. You hold his wrists to your lips and kiss them. “Sweet boy. I’m so sorry.”

You do the same for his other wrist, then grab his sweater from the bottom, and lift it over his head. You start to unbutton his shirt, but he stops you by placing his hand in front of the buttons. “I’m sorry,” he says. “This was a mistake.” He looks like he might cry.

“Enki,” You reply, cupping a hand to his cheek. “I won’t judge you.”

He drops his hand and allows you to start unbuttoning his shirt. There’s little muscle or fat between the skin and bones. You notice more scars as more of his chest is revealed. Some long, some short. You push his shirt off of him and it falls to the floor. You brush your hand over his chest and all of his scars. He flinches. “There’s nothing to worry about,” You say. “I won’t hurt you.”

You run your hands over his back, feeling his prevalent spine with your fingers. You also notice even more scars to your surprise. Long, deep ones. Scars in places he wouldn’t be able to reach. Oh Enki, what happened to you? You think.

Now you move your hands down to his pants. He’s hard as a rock, and it’s impossible not to notice. You undo the button, and pull down the zipper. A light crop of light gray pubic hair peeks out. You can’t help but grin at the fact that he doesn’t wear underwear, but you’re not sure what you expected.

His pants fall from his bony hips, revealing more scars on his legs. You admire him for a second, careful not to let him catch you. His hip bones and ribs jut out so severely from his sunken stomach that you can’t help but worry, though it’s none of your business. His skin, though pale, is quite beautiful, and surprisingly soft.

He kicks his shoes off and removes his socks as he steps out of his pant legs. “I hope this is okay,” He says, rubbing his arm nervously.

“You’re perfect,” You say with a smile. taking his hand and leading him to the bed, you begin to undress. Enki sits up against the headboard watching, though he looks away when you notice.

"You can look," you laugh. "You'll be doing more than that soon enough."

He blushes, turning his gaze back to you. His erection is absolutely throbbing now. "You should know," he says, "it's my first time."

"That’s okay," you smile. As you finish undressing, you crawl on the bed toward him.

You start on his shins, kissing each of his scars. "Is this okay?" You ask.

He nods. "Though you might be there for a while. I have a lot of them."

"I don't mind," you reply between kisses.

You're making your way up his thighs and he's starting to squirm. You playfully brush his cock with your face, and he grips the sheets with white knuckles. You're almost worried he's going to cum then and there. He doesn't, though he leaks a bit of precum.

You pay special attention to his hip bones that jut so far out as you move up to his torso. As you reach his chest, you give his nipples a lick and he moans sweetly.

Now you've made it up to his face. He turns away, but you bring his face back to you and give him a deep, passionate kiss. His rigid body slowly melts into yours, and eventually, he starts to kiss back. You can feel his excitement in the way he pushes back into you and writes under your touch.

You pull away and start to move down his body, again planting little kisses on his body as you move down.

As you reach his legs, he can barely contain himself anymore. Writhing, and squirming, and gripping the sheets, he looks like he's going to explode before you even touch him. His erection is so hard now that the skin is thin and shiny and that little bead of precum has grown slightly.

You look up at him as you lick his shaft starting from the bottom and moving up, licking up his precum. He tilts his head back, moaning. You could tease him like this all day, laying little kisses up and down his shaft as his throbbing cock twitches involuntarily; watching as he squirms and moans at each little brush of your lips.

Eventually, when you can't wait any longer, you wrap your lips around the head and he tenses up letting out a high-pitched whimper. You look up at him as you press downward and his breath catches. You start to move up and down, feeling his length fill your mouth.

You bring your head back up to focus on the head again. You twirl your tongue around the tip as he twitches and throbs. He’s making cute little whimpers and squeaks as he shudders beneath you. You shove your head back down and he moans loudly again.

He can hardly contain himself, thrusting his hips involuntarily and writhing as you drool down his shaft. Each time he twitches, it pushes his cock to the back of your throat which causes him to moan and squirm even more. By this point he's throbbing in your mouth. You're almost worried he's going to cum now, but he keeps it together.

If you keep going like this he won't last long though, so you pull away after a moment and crawl up to meet his face with yours. You cup a hand to his cheek and plant a kiss on his lips. His eyes are brighter than you’ve ever seen them. You squirt some lube into your hand and gently rub it on his erection. He shuts his eyes and trembles at your touch.

“Are you ready?” You ask.

He nods and you slowly ease down onto his cock. As he pushes into you, he moans softly. Nearly a whimper. You push down a little more until he fills you completely. For a moment you just sit there, arms wrapped around his neck, looking into each other’s eyes. Slowly, you start to move up and down, bouncing on his cock as he shuts his eyes and leans his head back.

He feels amazing inside you and he can tell from the noises you’re making. Though you’re not as loud as him, the two of you are so lost in pleasure that you’re practically screaming. If you were more aware you might wonder what the neighbors would think.

As you go, he starts to thrust his hips more and more, like some animalistic urge has overtaken him. He pushes into you harder with each thrust causing each of you to moan louder and higher. As if you can’t take it anymore, you grab his face in both hands and pull him into a deep, passionate kiss. He practically growls into your mouth as your tongues swirl around one another.

He pulls away and says “I’m going to come.”

"Come for me," you say, clasping his face. He thrusts a few more times, hard and slow, before you can feel his throbbing cock pulse inside of you, filling you with his hot cum. The sensation pushes you over the edge and you cum as he does; the both of you a trembling wreck, holding onto each other as you convulse.

You caress his cheek and look into his eyes. "That was nice," you say.

"Yeah," He says, sleep setting rapidly in.

You climb off of him as he slumps down until he's laying flat. You lay down next to him and put your arm over him. "Get some rest," you say, planting a little kiss on his cheek. He sighs contentedly and the two of you drift off.

#fear and hunger #fear & hunger #fear and hunger x reader #funger #fear & hunger x reader #f&h #enki ankarian #enki #fear and hunger enki #smut #fear and hunger smut #enki x reader #enki ankarian x reader