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peridots-pixiwolf · 3 months

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[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.

Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.

In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]

If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)

Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]

The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]

> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!

Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.

Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.

Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.

Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.

Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.

Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!

Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.

Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).

(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)

Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).

Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]

#survivor rain world #monk rain world #hunter rain world #nightcat rain world #gourmand rain world #artificer rain world #rivulet rain world #spearmaster rain world #saint rain world #enot rain world #slugcat rain world #rain world #peridots-art #< feels like too long since that last tag's been used. i can say with certainty that the majority of the reason i haven't been just as #active here (not to mention not drawing as often since that's relevant) is just due to my life getting busier with a new school year but i #do miss putting my stuff here! and would like to reblog more on top of that.... so forgive not remembering exactly how to tag everything #(and how to write everything up there but to be fair it's not like long textposts were a staple of mine. i mostly just rambled and it was #fun hehehe.....some of those notes (parts of riv/spears mostly) were written around the beginning of the drawing itself)#OH i messed something up with the drafting and really did not mean to post it while tags were in progress! but regardless. i would've liked #to post it tomorrow to mirror how i was going to post it on JAN 29 a month ago......but it's not like i'm unhappy with this outcome :]#to sum it up really though it's been strange working on this for so long.....unfortunate to not get a chance to let it be seen and keep #experimenting with odd biology much earlier but i'm just glad it's out now cause i am proud of these!! it's been a lot of fun and slugcats #are still my go-to doodles :] if i had to end this off promptly though what's up with that secret pipeyard shelter as gourm that's not on #the maps. connected to vs_a04. doesn't appear on the miraheze or interactive maps for anyone strangely but i've only been there as gourmand #anyway! i'm sure there's a lot i could've said in the rush but goodbye dear reader anyway :]#i forgot spearmy initially. i'm so sorry

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cheyj05 · 1 year

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Okay, the people who are saying The Bad Boys are a disaster waiting to happen... are correct but not for the reason they’re saying!

They are not going to betray each other! They are one of the least likely to betray each other!

First of all, Joel is NOT a lone wolf, the exact opposite in fact! He was only alone in 3rd life. In Last Life he was planning to team up with Scar but he ended up going red life first so he COULDN’T be teamed with anyone. Even then he killed Grian specifically so he could have a friend! He was in the middle of the red life packs in Last Life and Double Life! In Double Life he literally wore a shirt with Etho’s face on it! In the most recent session he protected Grian faithfully! He’s really loyal, he’s just feral about it. Least likely out of The Bad Boys to betray.

The only time Jimmy betrayed anybody was The Southlands but there were a lot of extenuating circumstances. He wasn’t really close to anybody in that group other than Grian and Martyn but Grian hung out with Mumbo most of the time and Martyn had promised to betray the group with him. When he stole the life he thought Martyn would leave with him! Maybe help him escape! He didn’t expect Martyn to betray him! He only betrayed The Southland b/e he though the odds were on his side. Also the larger the group the easier it is to not feel guilty betraying them, it’s less personal. The Bad Boys are a group but not a big one, and I would definitely say he’s close to Joel and Grian. Also The Bad Boys have more of a group identity than The Southlands. B/e they’re The Bad Boys and The Southlands was more of a loose collection of people who all knew they were going to betray each other eventually.

Grian is probably the most likely to betray the others but still unlikely. He has a tendency to be loyal to one person specifically regardless of anybody else he teams up with that season. With 3rd Life, it was Scar, Last Life Mumbo, and Double Life BigB. Those are also the ones he ends up killing. He doesn’t really follow this pattern in Limited Life since I can’t say he’s closer to one Bad Boy over the other (Though maybe Joel?) But honestly he makes it pretty clear in his own POV when he’s planning to betray his group and he hasn’t shown any signs of it yet.

The groups most likely to betray each other are as follows(ranked most to least likely)

1. T.I.E.S

2. The Clockers

3. Bad Boys

4. Mean Gills

5. Nosy Neighbors

I put T.I.E.S above The Clockers b/e I feel like anybody in TIES could betray each other (like Etho, Tango, or Impulse and Skizz) at any time, Bdubs is the only one I think would betray the Clockers right now. Cleo has A Thing about betraying your day 1 ally and while Scar WOULD betray his group, he doesn’t like being alone and would only do it if he knew he wouldn’t be.

Despite everything I typed here, The Bad Boys are still themselves and are unpredictable.

Honestly the Mean Gills and the Nosy Neighbors are both pretty much tied b/e Scott and Martyn are both too pragmatic and BigB and Pearl are both too one unit. I put Mean Gills as 4th b/e we all know Martyn only joined Scott b/e Ren wasn’t there and the other groups had already established themselves. He’s also honestly the most lone wolf out of everybody in the server.

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purlty23 · 5 months

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that recent commission 👁️👁️ we need more mean dom Papa IV in the fandom

I argee. I dont think he has as much of a temper as the others, like when they get mad its genuine even though its controlled and safe. With him, he purposely plays it up. He gets annoyed, hes italian, sometimes he can get loud, but hes a soft guy. He knows that shouting and red hot anger dont always fix things. He also knows that some of his demons crave it. They need a harsh hand and a striking palm to keep them in place, to make them feel secure, to make them cum. Dew is the one who gets it most, because they have an arrangement. More under the cut cause I have feelings, rated like PG 13. Theres hints of sexual tension but nothing happens, nothing is explicit

After Terzo was…. Removed from his position. Let go, if you will. Afterwards, Dew was so angry all the time. He felt he had no safety to run back to. Other ghouls couldn’t be his rock the way he knew some were tyring. Most ghouls were gone, and the ones that somehow made it were shaken and unsure if theyd be next. Aether couldn’t console him, because Dew couldn’t believe his reassurances. Then Copia was introduced to them as the successor.

This guy? Dew had thought to himself. No way. He was a pushover, a scrub, unfit for the role he was being given. Dew hated him.

When Copia would speak, he’d scoff and avert his eyes. He’d cross his arms, flare himself in a way that still ached at his newly scarred and almost healed gills. He’d take every chance he could to scare and terrorize and bestow cruelty on the Cardinal. If asked, he’d say it was for his own amusement. To anyone with eyes it was clear he was lying.

It was after the second time Dew had barricaded him into the confessional booth during his shift there that Copia had had enough. It wasn’t a simple thing to corner a ghoul, but it wasn’t impossible. Enlisting the help of his still forming ghoul pack, he was able to find himself glaring down the newly turned fire ghoul. He always looked small. Somehow, he had never looked as tiny nor as snake-like than now; backed against the wall with nowhere to run in the cramped supply closet of the rehearsal room.

“Tell me, what slight have I committed?” The cardinal demanded. Of course, as soon as he started, his mouth caught up with the ball of nerves in his stomach and it all unravelled over his tongue. “I cannot recall a single moment! Did I step on your tail without my knowledge? Eat a leftover with your name on it? Is my presence such a hinderance? What would you have me to? Leave?”

“No!” The string of otherworldly curses thrown at him were laced with snarls and hisses, completely falling on deaf ears since Copia could barely translate.

Without thinking, his gloved hand slammed into the space on the wall right next to Dew’s head. Their eyes locked, mismatched brown and white falling down into pools of dark black with only pinpricks of-

Oh. Those pinpricks expanded before his gaze. Deep, heavy dishes looked up at him as bright molten blush. Something had changed, and it had done so very quickly. Like something had clicked into place in Dew’s mind.

Leaning in, he felt the warmth. Dew’s heart pounded in his ears and he swore it was loud enough for the cardinal to hear.

“…Is this what it takes to get you to behave?” Copia murmured.

After a moment of tense silence, Dew shook his head once. Bratty and defiant.

Getting closer, Copia’s lips brushed over golden strands of hair as he spoke into the ghoul’s ear. “More?”

Finally, Dew nodded.

#the band ghost #answers #fanfic #NOT BETAREAD #Wrote in like 20 minutes #Copia x dewdrop

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lashysdomain · 5 months

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[Tw for blood in images below the cut]

The last thing you expected was to see a familiar horn formation in this town.

It's been four years since you were here; skipping town after killing that weird white blooded girl you'd not had a reason to come back; until now, anyhow. Your ancestor had been killed not long ago, and something you had to deal with resided here.

Though that's a train of thought long abandoned at the station.

Nails bitten and pace picked up the phone in your hand cracks from the stress of your grip, teeth sinking into the fingers and flesh of your palms. That girl should be long forgotten in a forest, not walking around in broad moonlight.

You'd gone back to watch her corpse a few times that first week, just to try and watch the decay take hold but it never did. Your interest was lost, and the rest of the world forgot about her when you abandoned her corpse. There's no point in something that won't change.

The blood now running in steady streams down your hand leaves a trail as long strides take you into the woods. She'd still be there, right? Bones, at the very least. There's no reason she'd be gone. No animal had so much as tried to take a bite of her when you had been watching, there's no reason for them to have done so after, so she'd still be there all in one piece, right?

Your feet slip out from under you as the cliff you dropped her off approaches. A snowy forest floor was practically a death trap for those not used to wandering them, and sadly your ass ends up firmly planted into the ground after sliding down the side of the cliff face.

There's nothing. Nothing at all, nada, zilch, not even bones, none of her clothing, not a single scrap. Some of it would have decomposed after so long, sure, but there would be a trace.

The icy grip of death climbs its way along your back, the nails and grip so clear as the idea of one of your victims having survived overtakes you.

Fine. FINE! It's FINE! You aren't your ancestor, there's nothing you can't fix. It'll be FINE! The tightening of your chest doubles you over in a coughing fit demanding the release of your gills from under the tight turtleneck you wear, scars felt through the fabric only reminding you further of the white blooded girl.

She should have died here, and you'll be sure to put her back right where she belongs. This is where she belongs. That... Vayuya, was it? She belonged to you. Her death was yours to cause, and someone, or something had taken that from you; be it luck, fate, or even magic, you'd put her back. There's no reason someone who's meant to be dead should be walking around and living like something normal.

You suppose she still might live in the same place.... Might make paying her a visit easier if that's the case.

#vayuya #drabble #blood (for the images)#this took place yesterday in character

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royalreef · 1 year

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@skytired inquired: [ TOUCH ] for sender to trace one of receiver’s scars [ from oz! ] Older meme I will not go find - Always Accepting

From the very first touch to her gills, Miranda froze.

It made the fine muscles flex, pulling off of the harder bone-and-cartilage covers beneath the skin, forming the flap over their openings, now pulling flush, down against her neck to close. Their soft innards, bright red with oxygenated blood and so frilly and soft and large that they seemed like a feather boa, hidden inside her throat and tentatively exploring the open air, were much too large to pull fully inside. They twitched, moved, tried to retract, but that option had vanished for them, and their tips poked outside of the exit, unable to hide from the touch.

When Miranda breathed in again, hard and gasping, thinking too much of it, they flared open, three sets of oblong holes made into the shape of slits, set into the tender skin of her neck, right behind her jaw and the larger fins that sat like ears to frame her face.

It would have been strange, for creatures without gills, to consider what they were. It was easy to forget they were extensions of her natural body, entrances and exits as simple as anyone else’s nose or mouth. With their soft inner structures, flush and bright as any of Miranda’s flesh that could have been flayed open, they seemed more wound-like than natural. As though someone had come through and cut those parallel lines into her throat, punctured through so deep that it was possible to see light coming in from the other side if someone were to look within, and the edges had merely healed over with new skin.

Miranda flushed, ruddy scales burning darker, the color of fired brick, the thin skin warming as more blood rose up and against Oz’s fingertips. Somewhere beneath his gaze, her hips shifted against her seat, her arms pulling in close to her body. It was too clear, too obvious. For someone who was used to all eyes being on her, for someone who was so familiar with her appearance being picked over down to every last detail — Miranda didn’t like Oz scrutinizing her like this. It felt too open, too visible. It was too risky, too sudden, the question posed as to what might happen if he found something that he didn’t like, and Miranda did not want to answer.

The truth was — there was nowhere over her plated scales that held scars.

Not on her head. Not on her hands. Not even on her tail. She was immaculate, clean, so unmarred by the world that it had never seemed to touch her, as though the hardships of life rolled off of her like droplets of seawater. Her body was perfect, kept perfect. She was everything that the crown wanted, everything that they needed, a crown jewel of their own to keep on display and to walk out as a symbol of their power, their unthinkable control. She was a thing of desire, sculpted to awe-struck perfection down to every last detail, down to every last stretch of scales and every corner of skin, soft and polished and new. The crown protected her, polished her, kept her like any of its treasures. They left her upon a velvet display so that all could see her and all could want her and only they could have her, truly have her, and she would be theirs forever and ever, because that was the only thing that could be true for something so perfect.

Her eyes flicked down. Staring away from Oz, at the ground, unwilling to move. Abruptly she didn’t want Oz so close to her, didn’t want him touching her, wanted to crawl out of her skin and into some new lack of sensation that would wash over her like relief. Her want appeared aching and painful, but so too did her ability to say anything vanish, to nudge away from Oz, to make some semblance of her intentions known. She just... couldn’t.

Maybe that wasn’t fitting, for someone who was known for bossing others around, who made no qualms about reminding everyone else of their positions under her, but it wasn’t fitting for her to be so upset either, was it? And this was upset, wasn’t it? She was upset. She was upset and didn’t want them touching her and they had done nothing wrong, and she was someone designed to be touched. Why else would someone else polish her scales for her? Why else would she be so soft, so beautiful? Why else would they make sure that, no matter what happened to her, there would never be a scar upon her beautiful body, nothing on all ten feet of muscle and bone and scale and flesh that would ever indicate that she had been tarnished, that the world had ever rubbed a little of its filth on her, that she ever had a single rotten spot that needed to be scrubbed out?

Her throat was burning. It was burning again, protesting, familiar pain stabbing down into the lining of her esophagus, and Miranda couldn’t do anything about it.

It flared greater the more she breathed, the harder she flexed her gills, trying to think of something, trying to say something, trying to do something, and only breathing harder and harder and harder, her lungs not fully emptying before she was gasping more in, her nostrils flaring and shuttering and her chest heaving in and out as her heart fluttered in her chest, panicked, struck into motion, and she had known this hurt for so long, it had haunted her for so many years, it was her companion and her friend and it always came for her whenever she began to fear, whenever she started to breathe too hard and think too hard and someone was too close where they shouldn’t be, and it was hers and it would always be hers and it hurt, it hurt so much, and she didn’t know why her throat and her gills hurt so much but they did and they hurt when she tried to eat and when she tried to make herself eat because she started thinking about bodies and meat and how close they were and how they were inside herself and within herself and how she couldn’t get away, couldn’t get away, please, please, please please please please please please please please please—

—And she still hadn’t said a single thing to Oz. She was frozen, sitting there, staring at the ground, unable to move her body. Unable to will herself to move. She didn’t want to. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t. The fear and the pain and the terror flared up inside her and she stopped trying to do anything about it, because if she just let it happen, it would have to let her go. That was how things always went. If she didn’t do anything, if she looked and acted like the perfect little jewel polished behind glass, then they would get bored. They would leave, having gotten from her what they wanted, and she would be alone again.

That was how the story always went, and it never got better. It certainly never got better if Miranda raised a fuss about it.

#Glory and Gore || IC #Dreaded rumors || Asks #skytired #panic attack #abuse #trauma #gore m #(( ....... answers this ask So Fucking Late #(( but I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT IT #(( because. YYYYEAH miranda has. no visible scars!#(( but she does. well. Have Them.

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prittyvenus · 1 year

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The medium and the Nameless Ghouls

Case file 003-1 Terzo file Saving Dewdrop

After getting the bishop’s name from Dewdrop, the cops began the investigation. Omega and Phil are both willing to help but Phil’s past life is beginning to unravel along with phantoms of the past. Can Sara help solve the crisis that’s plaguing him?

Sara grabbed her phone and stopped the recording, just before Dewdrop tossed his pillow at Aether. Sister Imperator approached the door.

"What is going on here!" She shouted.

Dewdrop stopped himself from throwing the second pillow, then he tucked it behind him. "You live for now, Aether. You stupid son of a bitch."

"Love you too, baby doll!" Then he ran off.

Sister Imperator picked up the pillow and dusted it off. "It would seem that someone had taken himself into mischief." Dewdrop slowly went over and grabbed the pillow. Then Imperator grabbed his throat and squeezed the scars on his right forcefully. "This behavior will not be tolerated in this Clergy am I absolutely clear?" Dewdrop nodded his head trying to breathe.

"Let him go. Sister." Sara sternly told her.

"What did you say?" Imperator asked

Sara shows her badge and handcuffs. "Let him go. I will not allow you to physically harm or abuse him in any way." Sister lets him go and Dewdrop collapses. "He is a valuable witness to the murder and he gave us the name of the killer who killed Lucia." Sister widened her eyes. "If you harm him again you will be arrested for physical and mental abuse, but also assault on a medical patient, and interfering with the police investigation." Sister stood still and turned white as a ghost. "Plus, I know for a fact that you don’t want that stain on your reputation."

Dewdrop starts coughing to breathe. "You win this round. Next time you won’t be so lucky." She said before she walked away.

"Don’t count on it, bitch." Sara said as she put her badge and handcuffs away.

Copia stood with his mouth open. "What?" He says in a low sounding voice.

Sara ignored Copia and tended to Dewdrop. "Are you okay? Did she hurt you?" Sara sees the scars move from Dewdrop’s neck. "What the fuck?" The scars open and close every time Dewdrop takes a breath. "I thought those were scars."

Dewdrop smiled. "Well, I wasn’t kidding when I said I was a water ghoul." He began to cough.

A male human nurse runs inside and sees Dewdrop on the ground leaning on Sara. Sara reveals the bruise on the right side of his neck. "Sister Imperator grabbed and squeezed his gills. Do you think you can help him?"

The nurse nodded and used the emergency phone inside the room. "Doctor? We have a code 647 in room 113." The nurse pauses. "Yes, that’s right. She exploded on a patient." The nurse looks at Sara and Dewdrop. "It’s fire ghoul 106. She severely damaged his right gills, sir." He looks back at the phone. "Understood sir. I will take him there." He hangs up the phone and rushes to Dewdrop. "He needs to be taken to the west hall room 215 on the second floor." The nurse helped Sara with carrying Dewdrop.

As soon as they got to the elevator and got to the second floor the emergency bed was ready for them. Sara and the nurses helped Dewdrop onto the bed and rolled him down the hallway to the emergency examiner's office. The male nurse held her arm and told her, "You cannot enter beyond this point."

Sara looked desperate. "When will he be out."

"I don’t know, maybe hours? It depends on how bad the damage is." He asked her, "I don’t think you’re from the clergy, are you?"

"No, I’m not." Sara reveals her badge. "That patient is a witness to the death of Lucia Watson." The nurse looked away. "I know she wasn’t liked here, but…"

"You want to bring the killer to justice." The nurse interrupted her. "Look, I was once a close friend of her brother and trusted me, she was a piece of work. Her parents are spanking rich, wealthy beyond belief, and don’t give a damn about the poor life. That’s until the recession hit."

"That must have hit them hard."

"Yup, the family almost lost their fortune because of it. My best friend had a hard time getting a job because of it. He had to go overseas to find work."

"Did he ever come back?"

"No, he got married in Singapore and stayed there. But he does call sometimes to let me know how he’s doing."

"According to Phil, she was abandoned by her husband and family. How did that happen?"

"Well, when the recession hit. She started to act up. She doesn’t want to stop her spending habits and then started to chase other men around while her husband was working. Then one of her husband’s coworkers started to report to her husband about what she had been doing. Even recording her love affair with their boss."

"Holy Shit!" All the nurses and doctors look at her. "I'm so sorry… it won’t happen again."

One of the ghoul doctors yelled "Language, next time lady." Then they all left.

"I guess you weren’t kidding about her being a piece of work."

"Oh, trust me, it gets worse. After her son was born her husband decided to take a DNA test on him. After he found out that he wasn’t the father, he wanted a divorce and decided to sue her for damages."

"Bet she didn’t win on that case."

"Of course, she didn’t win. She was forced to pay three million dollars in damages and compensation for mental distress."

"Unholy mother of Satan…" she said as she was being watched.

"You have to get used to it. Anyway, she begged for money from her friends and family but no one wanted to help her. Until her parents caved to her demands, leaving them completely broke. Then one day they decided to take custody of her son and disown her."

"Wow talk about karma."

"She was forced to come here after they found out she had not learned her lesson the first time."

"I would not lie, they all suck. They should not have spoiled her from the beginning. Now they are stuck with her debt and her kid."

"I know right?"

Sara went over to a desk and asked a ghouette for a sticky note and a pen. She wrote down her name and number on paper and handed back the pen. Sara went to the nurse and gave it to him.

"Here’s my cell number. Your testimony will come in handy in the investigation. When you are free just give me a call."

"Sure thing." The nurse takes the paper and puts it in his pocket. "Is there a place where I can meet with you?"

"I'm going to be staying at the mansion of the three papas."

"That abandoned mansion! You know they died in there, right?" One of the ghoul doctors approaches Sara and the nurse. "Sorry to interrupt but you said that you are staying at the mansion of the Emeritus Brothers?"

"Um... Yes?" Sara looks confused.

The ghoul doctor got close and whispered to Sara. "You know I'm not supposed to say this, but..." The doctor looks around. "The murders were carried out by Sister Imperator through the order of Papa Nihil."

"So, wait. It was Papa Nihil who gave the order?"

The doctor hushes Sara.

"I don't know. It feels fishy to me." Sara looks at the doctor. "Thank you for the info, but I'm here for Lucia Watson's murder. I don't have a warrant for the Emeritus Brothers."

"Oh, that's a shame..." The doctor looks disappointed "We were willing to help you out too." The doctor looks at Sara. "Copia is great and all but he's not a true Emeritus."

Then the intercom turns on. "Whoever is Sara Santos of the police department, Way to fucking go! Nobody has ever fought Sister Imperator and lived to talk about it!" Sara's face turned red from embarrassment. "Also, can you please help Copia in room 113? I think you traumatized him."

Sara was shocked. "Oh shoot, we left Copia in Dewdrop's room!"

The nurse looks at Sara. "Let's go get him!" Then they left for the first floor.

Case file closed

Case file content

#papa emeritus iv #nameless ghouls #copia #ghost fanfiction #the band ghost #papa popia #sister imperator #dewdrop ghoul #aether ghoul

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yeehaww-sims · 2 years

Note

hiii i saw ur rb about retagging ccs. can u perhaps share ur document? cus im so lost on where to put them AAAAA tyyyia !!

Hell yeah I can! This is where I personally move certain pieces of CC to:

SKIN DETAIL:

Forehead -> Most of my overlays are here, but I don't often touch those. Facial markings are also here. Mostly a miscellaneous category.

Mouth Crease -> More overlays, if I needed something from Forehead. Mostly a miscellaneous category.

Freckles -> Just freckles, but I also have some full detail skin overlays that I also put in here.

Dimple Left -> I used to have top surgery scars in here, but I need to move them all to Upper Body Scar. Mostly a miscellaneous category.

Dimple Right -> Heterochromia, though I might move them to Occult Eye Socket

Lip Mole Left -> Tails [fantasy, animal, etc]

Lip Mole Right -> Ears [fantasy, animal, ones with piercings attached, etc]

Cheek Mole Left -> Antennae

Cheek Mole Right -> Extra head things, like horn overlays/accessories, feathers, things that attach to other pieces.

Acne -> Horns, Halos, and all matter of Head Things like that.

OCCULT/FACIAL SCARS:

Occult Brow -> Third eyes, 3d eyes, etc. The furry muzzels by Crow I also have here. Also a miscellaneous category.

Occult Left Cheek -> Hair Ombres/Overlays

Occult Right Cheek -> Accessory facial hair, extra ombres that have multiple layers, hairlines

Occult Eye Socket -> Non-default/Face Paint Eyes

Occult Eye Lid -> I haven't moved them yet, but this is where I plan on putting all of my eyelashes! And to access this you need a CAS menu unlocker, like this one by Crilender

Occult Mouth Scar -> Mouth overlays, extra teeth like Tusks and stuff. I also have fishy hand webbing here, but there's only one or of those.

BODY SCAR:

All Body Scar categories have prosthetics moved to their applicable spots, so like prosthetic left arms go in left arm scar, etc.

Top surgery scars go in chest scars.

Weird scars that don't really have a place I put in back scars.

Weird skin things things also go here. For example I Sewersims' Gnarly Arm Spikes here. Zaneida's fins could also go in here.

I haven't finished rearranging all of my scars yet fdsjkfdslkjs

TATTOOS:

Lower Arm Left -> Miscellaneous category. Put skin details/markings in this here that you don't want to conflict with most tattoos.

Upper Arm Left -> Tattoos, unchanged.

Lower Arm Right -> Miscellaneous category. Put skin details/markings in this here that you don't want to conflict with most tattoos.

Upper Arm Right -> Tattoos, unchanged.

Leg Left -> Tattoos, unchanged.

Leg Right -> Animal nose overlays.

Lower Back -> Tattoos, unchanged. I also usually use the gills overlay that I have in this category specifically. You could put markings here if you wanted.

Upper Back -> WINGS. I cannot stress enough if you want wings forever put them in upper back.

Lower Chest -> Tattoos, unchanged. This is also where most of my body hair still is.

Upper Chest -> Tattoos, and also full body overlays, like scales.

ACCESSORIES:

Left Wrist -> I used to keep Accessory Jackets here, but some I've moved to Toenail. Garters also are in here.

Right Wrist -> Jacket extras, like if an accessory jacket has an extra piece to it.

Gloves -> Gloves, MOST clothing overlays, accessory bras/shirts.

Rings -> I try to keep this clear for only rings EXCEPT: I use Ring Finger Right for Extra Props, like if a Sword went in Toenail, it's Sheath would go here.

Fingernails -> I just moved all of my nails here.

Toenails -> PROPS. I put ALL of my props in here, and it decluttered SO MUCH. I also put Belts, Weird Accessories, Backpacks/Bags, and Jackets in this one, as well as weird overlays that can't go in gloves. [Like shirt overlays that I might use gloves with]

Leggings/Tights -> Accessory underwear.

Socks -> Socks, but also BELLY BUTTON PIERCINGS.

GENERAL:

A lot of things I just leave where they are, just because I don't have better places for them

Some things that I've custom recoloured/duplicated I will have in multiple categories. For example, I have the blush I use for all my sims, I edited to show up in every single Occult Face category, the skin detail eyeliner I have is as well.

Again this is all what I, personally, do. If you feel like you want something else in a different category, go for it! I still need to shuffle things around, but it's my general rule of thumb. Go with your gut! You have a good day 🧡🧡🧡

#I am VERY thorough about it #also funfact my doc is called hot or not.txt #ask #faceless #resource #long post

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ask-them-bois · 2 years

Text

An Old Siren's Song

TLDR: Erimus and Lucina have a quiet, nice moment

TW: None

Her hair was so soft. Like spider silk, well cared for and fine between his claws as Erimus parted it and redid his wife's braid for her. Lucina sat before him on the floor, leaning on his knees as he sat on the lounge plank.

He couldn't stop staring, staring at the white streaks in her hair that mirrored his own. At the ridges of her horns, so sharp that if he was to grab them, and she was to jerk away, she'd slice open his hand. The scars on his palms already declared the amount of times he'd done just that.

The hive was quiet. Amadri was home, but he was in his block, either reading or napping. Cody was out with Brigan, the two lowbloods doing god-knows-what this time. Probably crimes.

"What was that song?" Lucina asked suddenly, claws picking at the fluffy, deep green robe she was wrapped in.

"Aye?" He didn't look up from carefully folding one strand over the next, lest he lose track of his progress.

"The song you used to fuckin' hum when you did this for me, back on the Warshark. You always hummed a little song... Ye'd hum it when we danced on the deck, too."

Erimus frowned. "Dunno. Do ye remember it?"

There was a pause, before Lucina began humming a melody. It sounded sweet and slow, like a love song. It took a second, Erimus' fins flickering as he listened, before it clicked.

"Oh, aye, I recall now." He murmured, smiling softly, "That's the ol' siren's melody." He cleared throat and began to hum, picking up where she had left off.

The deep rumbles of his humming vibrated through his chest and throughout the block, filling the hive with the purr of a mountain as he continued to braid his love's hair.

When he finished the song, he started again from the beginning, and this time, she joined him.

"Does this song have words?" She asked as he tied off the end of her braid.

"Aye, it did, once. Don't rightly recall 'em, anymore, other than a few lines." His fingers trailed down from her head, claws lightly brushing down the back of her neck before his hands came to rest on her shoulders.

She tipped her head back into his lap to look up at him, and he gazed down at her with a soft smile on his lips. One hand abandoned its post to trace her eyebrows and the bridge of her nose.

"I only really remember 'em when I look at ye, Lucy." He breathed, stroking her sharp cheekbones, "Made it fer ya, after all. It's just been sweeps since I sang it."

"You... made that fucking song for me?"

"Aye." His finger brushed her lip, and her tongue slowly slipped between her lips to poke it. He leaned down and felt her arms wrap around his neck.

His finger slid aside so he could kiss her properly, albeit upside down, sun-chapped lips meeting soft fang-concealers. They did a poor job as he felt her smile, felt her fangs bump his nose as her claws scratched lightly over his scars and stubbled jaw.

"'Spose I could write a new song, aye?" He whispered when they parted.

Her laugh puffed softly against his neck and his gills flared, as if to drink in her happiness.

"Why would ya do that? I don't need a fuckin' siren's song, you've already got me, you bastard." She whispered back.

"Aye, but I'd write ye a thousand melodies if ye asked me to."

"Just as you'd throw yourself into the fucking sea, or be eaten by your lusus, or bring me the very fucking stars?" She asked, smiling still as she recalled all of his old promises.

"Aye, and I'd deliver, just as I did with those." He hummed.

"You never brought me the stars, you fucking liar." She huffed.

It was too easy, his own smile grew across his face. "Aye, because they were already in yer eyes." He chuckled.

There was a softness in her eyes, even as she laughed at him. "You giant fucking sap. Come here." She ordered, pulling him back into another kiss.

#depths of passion #the warhound #ruthless deepbite #drabble #drabbles #long post

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cosmosoracle · 9 months

Text

character sheet

REPOST, DON’T REBLOG !

Stolen from the dash, tagging you all!

𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬

FULL NAME. Evangelia from the Lake of Mists and Veils NICKNAME. Lia GENDER. Female HEIGHT. ~160 cm AGE. 28 ZODIAC. Virgin SPOKEN LANGUAGES. Common, Aquan, Celestial, Draconic, Alghollthu.

𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐬

HAIR COLOR. Dark blue, shifting to purplish or light blueish hues and shines in the right lights (tentacle-shaped, two of them are prehensile.) EYE COLOR. Glowing light blue, almost white - it's impossible to see her pupil. BODY TYPE. Moderately curvy, with strong and toned legs thanks to all the swimming. VOICE. Delicate, quiet, kind. Lightly more high-pitched than common. DOMINANT HAND. Right. POSTURE. Upright, but not overconfident; it speaks lots of her humility and of her curiosity. SCARS. The most obvious one is the black one with white veins spreading from the cut in her chest, over her heart - the mark of her first death. The acid burn on her back and abdomen are hidden by her clothing and mostly faded, but indeed there, and those she got from General Roktor as she was killed again. TATTOOS. The Black Tears falling on her cheeks aren't exactly a tattoo, but that's the best association we can get. On the nape of her neck, instead, a dark cloud spreads vertically and the lightning crossing it extends towards her back: Rasmia's protective mark is temporary and fades every few months. BIRTHMARKS. Scattered bioluminescent dots are across her whole body, mainly gathering on her cheeks, shoulders, hands, knees and feet. She can light them up willingly. MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURE(S). Dark blue skin, purple blush, her gills on the neck - and overall her very round features.

𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝

PLACE OF BIRTH. Jaha, Lake of Mists and Veils HOMETOWN. Jaha, today a ghost city, abandoned by the survivors to escape the monster that wiped it clean. SIBLINGS. No blood-related ones that she knows of, but Tora and Milo are the closest to the figure of siblings. PARENTS. Unknown.

𝐚𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

OCCUPATION. Oracle of Ashava, travelling performer, adventurer. CURRENT RESIDENCE. She currently just arrived to the city of Torch; the team will spend few days there, and they still need to find a tavern. CLOSE FRIENDS. Igris (forgotten due to a magical deal); Hoyt and Zinnya. RELATIONSHIP STATUS. Taken. FINANCIAL STATUS. Pretty good for common needs! DRIVER’S LICENSE. What driver's license? CRIMINAL RECORD. Despite the killing count and some chaotic tendencies, she's not recognized as a criminal, thankfully... Especially compared to her teammates. VICES. She's got strong tendencies towards despair and recklessness, but she tries to fight them.

𝐬𝐞𝐱 & 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Bisexual, male lean. PREFERRED EMOTIONAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch PREFERRED SEXUAL ROLE. submissive | dominant | switch LIBIDO. Moderate. TURN ON’S. Either open affections or dirtier teasing do the trick. TURN OFF’S. Violence, disrespect of the other or of their boundaries, extreme dominance. When the comfortable environment is gone, she's no game. LOVE LANGUAGE. Acts of service, quality time, words of affirmations. Too shy to call physical contact in the list too, especially in public, but she loves that. RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. It takes forever for her to realize and express her feelings, but even when she does, she tends to just stay around the other person, so that she can see if things work for them or not as well without any influences. When either things are sufficiently clear or she gets a fit of courage to take the risk, she can become the one confessing or initiating things. Otherwise, she'll just enjoy the company of her loved one, even if it won't feel like enough.

𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. A Father's Lesson - Peter Gundry || Entropy - End of Silence HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Dancing, studying other dancing styles or magic, meditating. LEFT OR RIGHT BRAINED. Right. PHOBIAS. Not being enough, failure. As of now, death. SELF CONFIDENCE LEVEL. 6/10. VULNERABILITIES. She can't stand injustices or witnessing someone threaten the ones she loves. She will jump in the arms of danger to protect others, and her extreme empathy is a strength as much as it's a weakness.

#headcanon #black tears crossed the world #tag game #dash game

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muutos · 1 year

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‵ you are such a soft and messy thing. nobody knows how to take care of you. ′ Copia and Dew 👀

it feels like heartburn. nostrils stinging, with impending tears he's well aware won't come. unneeded, not necessary -- just a slight kickback of his natural reaction. though the way the small ghoul regards his master is just slightly adverse. his brows narrowing, thin lips parted softly as he regards the other with clear skepticism. a trap for his vulnerability.

everything in him wants to twist & spit, & bite within the other's grasp. feels gripped tight, despite the press of copia being non-threatening. to hiss, & deny - with a whip of ashy grey tail, & golden tresses. but it's too late for that, now. unsure if copia's ever seen him like this, before. the full extent of his hellish appearance on full display. warm reds somewhat deepening the slightly pathetic look in his eyes. his small legs tapering out to large hind paws, with his burnt gills & various scars from previous finning on his arms & legs. light pink -- in different stages of healing, even still. he growls, a primal sound as his lips close in resignation. his large hands resting on copia's chest, before they slide up around his neck. his chin turning away, to avoid those eyes. can be so unnerving.. long fingers curling into fists, as they cross behind the papa's head. burying his face into the man's neck with paws flexing, when he pushes up on his toes. huffing, & nuzzling him softly. head tilted to accommodate his nose. "so i've been told..." he grumbles. half a lie. "--& let me guess. you do, right?" it's mocking, but deep down there's a glimmer of hope.

❥ 𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓 . / / @dilffactory

#dilffactory #we love dewpia #i'm having so many thoughts about him in both a physical and an emotional sense and it's killing my whole ass #dewdrop ghoul 001 * / era v #misc * / answered #03. thread — * dewdrop ghoul.

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arctobicwrites · 2 years

Text

Part one of chapter one

Creature.

You understand what you must do. Do not fail us.

Find the traitor. We will give you back your friend.

The first thing that Gait registers is falling, the rift closing behind her with a blast of cold air. The second is the ocean, directly beneath her.

“No, no, no, no-”

Gait bellyflops and sinks like a rock. Her clothes, leather and heavy linen soak immediately with the ice-cold water. Bubbles escape her mouth as she wheezes in pain. Her extremities numb almost immediately.

Squinting through burning eyes, she can make out a distant green glow. Gait breathes a mouthful of water and choaks. She flails, still underwater, and kicks weakly. Gait chokes on more ice-cold saltwater.

She might be screaming. She can’t breathe. The green glow is getting closer. Gait struggles uselessly.

She blacks out.

She wakes and vomits seawater. It’s the worst experience of Gait’s life. She gasps and twitches, feeling smooth stone pressed against damp fabric. Somebody is patting her on the back, holding her mask up so her mouth is free. She flinches away when she realises that, still coughing.

A cold hand guides one or her own to her mask. Gait shivers. The pressure lingers. She glances upwards.

Kneeling above them is a fish chimera, wide dark eyes expressing concern. Blue scales dotted their face, and small fins branched off where you’d expect ears to be. Scraggly hair, bleached in places covered their head, and gill slits, a dark red, could be seen on their neck.

Gait pulls their mask back down. They’re still coughing, but they’ve stopped vomiting.

She's shivering. Gait feels like there’s not a bit of warmth left in her. She glances up again.

The chimera has backed up a bit, and briefly glances over their shoulder at a fire, orange light casting odd shadows behind them.

Gait clears their throat a few times.

“Thanks.” She rasped. Her throat felt raw.

The chimera flicked their tail. “You’re welcome.” He tilted his head. “But if you don’t want to freeze even more, you should probably take off all your soaked clothing. “

Gait froze. On one hand, the fish chimera had a point. She could feel the cold water soaking her clothes, sapping away any warmth she may have gained. On the other, years of repeated advice, the same phrases again and again. Hide your scars.

The fish chimera shuffled towards the fire. “I won’t look, but you really should, unless you want to freeze to death.”

He turned and faced the fire.

Gait shuddered. She didn’t trust him yet. People didn’t do things without reason. But, unfortunately for her, she had no idea what those reasons were. Unless...

They had told her to never use that magic. But the Observers weren't looking. And Gait didn’t want to freeze.

Gait took a deep breath and focused. She thought of how the chimera’s voice sounded. She thought of how his hand had felt, cool, but not freezing. And she reached out.

They had called it mindsight, but Gait had never really used sight to do that particular bit of magic. When used correctly, the user could see the surface of their target's mind. Each current thought, each current plan.

T’voo’s mind was like an ice filled ocean. Like cold water and the soft boom of waves hitting icebergs. Gait almost got lost in the sensation of it, before focusing again. She mentally ran her fingers over what she could sense. No deceit, but an intense curiosity about how she’d fallen from the sky.

Gait cut the connection, and stripped, hesitating before she removed the mask, and shuffled closer to the fire.

T’voo remained facing towards the fire, but there was a relived smile on his face.

Back to book 1

#Gait #T'voo #alias writes #my writing #mocst

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bellafragolina · 2 years

Note

THAT IS FINE. THAT ONE WITH LAVENTON. GIVE IT TO INGO. BIG FISH MER HE NEEDS IT

Oh! You're referencing @it-ezz-what-it-ezz 's mer post that I reblogged! I would go request from them if you want a something that's more faithful to the original, but I'll happily write you something too! I love mermaids!

🍓🍓🍓

Prelude Beach is a wonderful place to sit and relax. Ingo settles onto the dock, sighing. It's been a long day. A satisfying one, but long all the same. The new tolerance of Pokémon means more and more people are becoming interested in battling them. Which means Ingo has more and more people to help train, alongside Akari and Rei. it's a lot of work, even with help, so Ingo is grateful to have these few minutes to himself.

He leans his head back, feeling the sun on his face, and sighs.

Then a wave of water slaps him down onto his back.

Shrill laughter fills the air. Ingo sputters and wipes salt water from his eyes, glaring down at the perpetrator. It's a person, in the water, with a grin full of sharp teeth and eyes as bright as gemstones.

"All wet?" The person asks, snickering.

"Thanks to you, I suppose." Ingo fixes his sopping hat onto his head, and cocks a brow. "To what do I owe the splashing?"

"You're a human." The person drawls. Ingo stiffens as they approach, far larger than he realized. Their hands sit on either side of the docks, and with careful grace, they pull themselves out of the water to tower over Ingo. "Humans hate getting wet. I like watching them when they do get wet. Funny expressions, and all."

Your grin is sharp, and now Ingo can see there are two, large fins where your ears would be. Your neck has deep slits on either side, as does the sides of your stomach, before everything fades into sparkling scales, no doubt a tail hidden beneath the water.

Ingo casts an awed glances at the scales that decorate your arms in small spatters, then meets your gaze again. "BRAVO!"

You reel from the shout, quickly returning back underwater. When you resurface to Ingo's stammered apologies, you're facing away, rubbing your head fins. Ingo can see similar fins running down the length of your spine and forearms from this position.

"I-I apologize." Ingo stutters. "I just- You just- You're incredible!"

"Humans are so loud." You grumble, easing back over to the dock. You keep cautious distance, and make a shrill whistle with. . . some part of you. Your gills? Mouth? Ingo can't tell. "Things underwater aren't as loud. My hearing is more sensitive than yours. That's what the. . . professor told the little humans, at least."

You say 'professor' like the word is strange to you. Ingo supposes it is. Professor Laventon must come down here often with Rei and Akari, telling them about the fish that swim near the shore. You must've listened in on the conversations.

"Ahem," Ingo clears his throat, and sits on his knees, eagerly meeting your gaze. "I apologize again for hurting you. My name is Ingo, I'm a Warden of the Pearl Clan. Can I ask your name?"

You cock a brow, but give it to him. "Warden. Pearl Clan. The other humans have mentioned those as well. What are they?"

Ingo tells you about Hisui, the people living on it. In return, you tell him about your world under the waves. You show him your tail, long and full of healthy scales the same as the ones on your arms and torso. He shows you some of his scars in return, shuddering at your wet touch.

You both talk for quite some time, and before long, Ingo notices the sun setting.

"Ah, I'm afraid I must be making my departure." Ingo moves to stand, glancing at your pout. "Will you be returning to this station soon?"

You nod. "Yes. I come here every day to ensure the fish aren't bothered too much."

Ingo nods. "I shall return too, then." He'll start taking his breaks here, he thinks. You're far to interesting to just forget about. As he rises and starts to leave, he glances at you again. You wave, and a question springs to his mind. "If I may ask, why reveal yourself to me and not the others."

You shrug. "You looked tired, about to fall asleep. Humans don't do well when they do it here. They wake up red and hurting. I didn't want that for you." You pause, then flash a smirk full of sharp teeth. "Also, I knew your face would be funny, when I splashed you, and it was."

When a cackle, you dive under the water, using your tail to splash at Ingo once more before you're off into the sea. Ingo laughs as well, full and loud, and starts his own way home.

Yes, he'll definitely have to come back here tomorrow.

🍓🍓🍓

}<=(0)

It's a mermaid I swear

~Renee

#warden ingo x reader #ingo x reader #submas x reader #pokemon imagines #pokemon x reader #mermaids!!

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too-gay-for-marvel · 3 years

Text

just this once pt.6.1

a/n: I’m gonna put as many warnings as I can in this one because it’s fairly dark. Idk if it’s considered “dead dove don’t eat” quality, but I’ve got as many warning as possible just in case

Words: 5,351

Warnings: smut (18+), hate sex, slavery/ownership of mutants, trafficking, coerced consent, sexual exploitation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dubious consent, graphic descriptions of violence and torture, mass murder, swearing, cheating

Pairing: Natasha x Reader

solnishko - little sun

(pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6.1 pt.6.2 pt.6.3 pt.7 pt.8)

“I feel uncomfortable,” you mumbled to yourself as you pulled your leather gloves over each finger.

You were supposed to infiltrate a trafficking ring. Word on the street was that mutants were being bought and sold, for whatever purpose the buyer deemed appropriate. Nick had warned the both of you of the potential sexual elements of the case, and Natasha had noticed the blush spread across your face at the news, but you had nodded in agreement and left.

Natasha would have been more than happy to have just been normal with different names, but people knew who she was and your, hmm, “features” would have been too distinguishable. So those beloved scientists at SHIELD had come up with some ways to hide those features.

You had let them install an implant into the back of your neck, and before you knew it, your gills and spines flat against your skin. Now they just looked like scars, which would fit in well with the trafficking scene. Next was another implant, this time in your hand, that eased the sea tint of your skin to something more natural. Last was a pair of gloves since nothing could hide the webbing between your fingers.

All Natasha had to do was dye her hair blonde.

“Which part is uncomfortable?” Natasha asked as she finished putting on some killer red lipstick.

“All of it,” you grumbled. “I feel so… human.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Natasha asked again as you both stood up straight. She reached her manicured hands up to straighten the green tie that was around your neck.

“It is to me,” you finished with a huff.

“Before we get started, we need to make our parts clear,” Natasha said softly, her hands still on your tie even though she had already straightened it.

“Gonna make me your pet?” You asked, eyes glued to Nat’s. Those stupid SHIELD contacts hid the depth to them, made them look empty. They weren’t your eyes, and it made Natasha feel like she was talking to a stranger.

Maybe she was.

“Not if you don’t want to,” Natasha shrugged. Her hands had started busying themselves by flattening the wrinkles in your shirt.

“Funny, cause you abandoned me like one,” you said, your jaw clenching and your eyes left hers.

“How many times do I have to say I’m sorry?” Nat asked, finally stepping back to give you a bit of space.

“Until I believe you.”

Natasha huffed. You were right, she knew you were; she had been trying to apologise for the past two weeks while preparing for the mission. Bringing you food, offering to help clean your wounds, verbally apologising a million times a day. But nothing, and even though Natasha knew you were right, she hated it.

“I can be the pet,” Natasha said with a slight nod.

“They wouldn’t buy it,” you huffed, looking down at your feet.

“They might,” Natasha said again, taking a small step forward. You flinched slightly, and Natasha froze.

“You command a certain… authority. Respect,” you said as your brows knitted together. “They’d see right through me.”

“All of the victims are mutants anyway,” Natasha continued your train of thought. “You can relate to them better, whether you look like them or not.”

“Try not to enjoy it too much, yeah?” You asked, a hint of teasing in your voice but Natasha could pick out the malice. It left a knot in her stomach that she couldn’t shake.

You both got in the car and sped off, you in the driver’s seat. Once you arrived, you got out of the car and let Natasha out, slinging your arm over her shoulders. Then you made your way into the club and did what you would be doing for the next however-many months. You schmoozed, you learned the ropes, you met the right people. Sometimes some less-than-socially acceptable actions would be made, but the end result was what mattered.

There were nights where you would both come home and collapse in on each other. The wear and tear of the day would cause the both of you to crash and just hold each other. No words, only physical comfort and the occasional tears. Those were the nights Natasha loved, because you would let her get close again. She just missed being close to you.

Other night you would go back to your safe house and fight, yelling and screaming because you want this to be over, you’re tired, you’re disgusted, you want to go home. You would both yell and throw things and storm off because it was hard. You hated her, and Natasha hated the situation, and no one was happy.

The worst night happened after you had both separated and gone into the back rooms of the club, Natasha with a pet and you with an owner.

You had gotten in the car and sped off, absolutely seething. Your knuckles were pale against the steering wheel as the speedometer ticked higher and higher. Natasha wanted to tell you to slow down, but she could see you weren’t going to handle it well, so she kept quiet.

It was only when you parked and had both gotten into the safe house.

“It’s fucking bullshit, Natasha,” you said as you slammed the front door shut. Your neighbours probably hated you by now. “They’re not fucking property.”

“I know,” Natasha had said calmly. “That’s why we’re here.”

“No, we’re here because Fury wanted to get his rocks off by putting us on another doomed mission.”

“Nick cares,” Natasha said, still attempting to keep her temper down even though it was threatening to rise. “He sent the both of us for a reason.”

“No, he sent the both of us because he knows we don’t work together,” you shouted, turning on your heel to jab a finger into Natasha’s chest. “We don’t work together anymore, but he doesn’t like it.”

“What do you mean we don’t work together?” Natasha asked, her voice quaking ever so slightly.

“I mean we don’t work,” you reiterated, your finger jabbing into her chest again. “I fucked you over, you fucked me over, it never works.”

“Don’t say that,” Natasha shook her head.

“Name one mission we’ve gotten right since I fucked you over,” you demanded. “One single mission.”

“We…” Natasha trailed off. She couldn’t think of one. Couldn’t think of something you had both gotten right since… well.

“Exactly my fucking point,” you growled. “But at least on those missions I could fucking stand to be in the same room as you.”

“Excuse me?” Natasha asked as you turned and started to walk back to the shower. “You can’t stand to be in the room with me?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” you shouted back, still not turning to look at her. “I can’t fucking stand it, makes my skin fucking crawl.”

“I’m not the only one who fucked up in this relationship, Y/N,” Natasha continued as she followed you into the bathroom. You had tried to slam the door on her, but she threw it right back open.

“On no, you’re right, how silly of me,” you put your weight on one hip and threw your hand to your chest. “I forgot that fucking you was the same as you leaving me to be tortured.”

“How dare you,” Natasha hissed. You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t say it was the same, I said we both fucked up.”

“I’m not taking responsibility for this one,” you said as you took your shirt off, lifting from the bottom and pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. “I said my apologies and did everything you asked of me.”

“Then let me make it up to you,” Natasha said, voice raised and shaking on the last few words. You turned your head and looked at her, and she could see the faint outline of your gills against your neck. “Let me make it up to you.”

You moved quickly. The bathroom door slammed shut at the time Natasha felt her back pressed against the chipped wood. You towered over her with one of your hands by her head and the other on her waist. She could smell the alcohol on your breath and the stench of that owner coming off your clothes. But underneath it all, she could smell the salty sea on your skin as she looked up into your not-quite-yours eyes.

“You wanna make it up to me?” You asked, your breath fanning across her face. But there was no inebriation in your voice; you were painfully sober.

“Yes,” Natasha whispered. You didn’t move, just kept your eyes glued to hers.

“Then do it.”

“I’m so-”

“Not like that,” you said, your voice more demanding. She hadn’t heard you like this since… well, since before Maria. “On your knees.”

Natasha kept her eyes on you but did as you asked. She slowly fell to her knees, ignoring how hard the scuffed wooden floor was. Her pants were still on, but she could feel the occasional splinter or bump through the fabric, irritating her skin.

“Beg,” you ordered. Because it wasn’t your usual voice, it wasn’t soft. There were emotions in your voice now, Natasha could hear it.

“Y/N,” Natasha started, softly, carefully, “please forgive-”

“Not for forgiveness,” you interrupted.

Oh.

“What about M-”

“I don’t care,” you cut her off. “Do you want us to come off as master and pet, or not?”

“This isn’t the same,” Natasha insisted. But she had to admit it to herself; kneeling in front of you and having you watch her so intently was making her very uncomfortable.

“You wanted to make it up to me,” you said again. “So prove to me you can handle this part of the mission.”

“I thought you were supposed to be the pet,” Natasha teased with a small smile. But you bent down and wrapped your long, slender fingers around her throat; not squeezing, but reminding her that you would.

“In private, I’m nobody’s pet,” you said slowly, calculating, dominant. “Is that understood?”

“Yes,” Natasha said softly, almost too distracted by the hand around her neck to even get the single word out.

“Then you’d better start begging, Natalia,” you said, letting go of her throat and standing up again. “Before I change my mind.”

You stepped back and leaned your hip against the chipped bathroom counter. Your arms crossed over your bare chest and you waited. Something about your casual yet demanding demeanour that reminded Natasha of all those years ago when the both of you had been together. The kind of you that she had missed, had secretly craved.

“Y/N,” Natasha started. The words got caught in her throat; it felt like she was going to suffocate on the words before she could get them out. Maria’s face flashed in her mind and-

“Keep goin, princess,” you said, urging her to keep going with a raised brow.

Fuck.

“Please let me make it up to you,” Natasha said, her voice turning shaky. You always did this to her. “Please just…,” Natasha hesitated, and you raised your brow once again. “Please fuck me.”

“That can’t be all you’ve got,” you said with an irritating grin. “Try again.”

“I hate you,” Natasha huffed.

“You can pretend to hate me after you beg,” you replied.

Natasha wasn’t going to beg; she wasn’t going to beg you for something so ridiculous. And she was going to keep her mouth shut and pretend it never happened and you could both go back to your mission like nothing was wrong.

But when she kept silent, still in her head, she looked at you. She looked at you and watched your lips turn up into a smirk before starting to unbuckle your belt. Her mouth went dry as you pulled the belt out in one swift movement and set it on the counter.

Natasha’s breath left her in a huff when you grabbed the waistband of your jeans and started pulling them down. Those tight jeans that hugged your ass perfectly and showed off the outline of the strap that had been driving Natasha insane every time you would leave for the night.

“You gonna say it now?” You asked. Natasha couldn’t look up at your face; she was too distracted.

“Please fuck me,” Natasha said, so softly that she was almost convinced she had only thought it.

“No,” you said simply. Even with all the tech hiding your mutations, they couldn’t hide your build. Or how clearly uncomfortable you looked with minimal clothing on.

“Dammit, Y/N,” Natasha said, “please fuck me. I want you to fuck me, to bend me over the counter and have your way with me until I can’t even think. I want you to-”

Natasha was cut off as you moved forward and picked her up off the ground. She yelped at how easily and quickly you could pick her up, and the next thing she knew she was sitting on the bathroom counter and you were standing between her legs.

Your hands held her face and pulled her close, smashing your lips against hers unceremoniously rough. Teeth clacked against each other, but Natasha didn’t care. She didn’t care at all, she had missed your lips on hers, had missed the closeness from those years ago.

She felt your hands left her face before moving down to her pants, unbuttoning them with a precision and speed that reminded Natasha of just how many people you had probably slept with. It nearly made her pause until you slipped her pants off, and her bare legs on the cold counter made her shiver.

Next was Natasha’s shirt, which you didn’t even bother unbuttoning. No, instead you just grabbed the edges and yanked, the buttons flying everywhere. Natasha slapped your arm gently as a scolding, but you didn’t care. You just took the ripped shirt off her shoulders.

Her bra was next, and once it was gone Natasha had expected you to take her panties off next. But no, you didn’t. Instead you pulled her down off the counter, turned her around, and bent her over it. Your foot wedged her legs apart, and Natasha was done for.

“Tell me again,” you said in her ear as one hand held the back of her neck and the other started running down the inside of her thighs.

“Please, Y/N,” Natasha said, barely keeping her voice even. “I want it. I need it. I need you in me.”

She felt, more than heard, you chuckle. As soon as the words had come out of her mouth, you pulled her panties aside, not even bothering to take them off, and inserting two fingers into her. Natasha let out a moan, instantly feeling full from your long fingers.

“Is this what you meant?” You asked as you started finger fucking her, not near fast enough to satisfy her. She almost thought it was worse than not having you at all.

“No,” Natasha said, “I want more.”

“More?” You asked. She could hear the smile in your voice. “What more do you want from me, solnishko?”

The use of the only Russian name you have ever called her sent a shiver down her spine. Your breath near her ear, your hand tight on the back of her neck, your fingers pumping in and out of her. It was all too much, she couldn’t think properly.

“Your strap,” Natasha finally managed to get out before another moan fell from her lips. “Please.”

She didn’t have to wait long to get what she wanted. You pulled your fingers out of her, and she whined until she felt the tip of your strap pressing against her. There was a moment where Natasha thought you were going to tease her, to make her cry. But that moment disappeared when you sunk into her, filling her completely.

Every thought in her head vanished once you were buried inside her. She could feel you moving, could feel you thrusting into her and pushing her against the counter, could feel your fingers flexing against her neck. All of the feelings that she had missed, she had craved, were flooding back and overwhelming her.

“Harder,” Natasha said. Her voice was probably far too quiet and jumbled with moans for you to understand.

But you did understand, because you always understood what she wanted, what she needed. And your grip on the back of her neck moved to hold the front of her neck as you pulled her up flush against your chest. Your other hand held her hips still as you did as she asked, making her body shake with each thrust.

“Open your eyes,” you said in her ear. “You need to watch.”

Natasha opened her eyes and moaned instantly as a sudden wave of arousal flooded her core. Your eyes were locked on hers in the reflection, the eyes she dreamed of so often. They bored into her soul, drawing out every thought in her head.

When she felt your fingers flex and squeeze and press on the sides of her neck, her eyes fluttered closed. She felt lightheaded and dizzy and euphoric, and when your hand left her hip to rub her clit, she lost it. It was too much and she just wanted to-

“Open your eyes,” you demanded again, squeezing her neck a little tighter. “And no cumming without permission.”

It was a struggle to open her eyes and keep herself from just letting go. But she managed, forcing her eyes open and seeing you holding her gaze again. There was a knowing smirk on your face, one that Natasha wanted to slap off of you.

If you weren’t so good at fucking her senseless.

“Please,” Natasha asked in a high-pitched, whiny voice.

“Please what?” You repeated. “That’s not very specific.”

You thrust into her harder, upping your speed while her hips stayed pressed between you and the counter. She was going to have bruises on her hips, she could already tell.

“I want-” she was interrupted by another thrust, another moan. “I wanna cum.”

“You want to?” You asked. Your smile grew bigger. “You can’t cum until you need to.”

But she did. Oh god she did. She needed to cum like she needed air. Like she needed to be around you, to feel your presence, to feel your touch. She needed you to make her cum and forget all of the trouble of the past and be reminded of all the good times.

And when you started circling her clit faster, burying yourself in her, she couldn’t wait.

“Please let me cum, I need to cum, I need you to make me cum, please.”

You didn’t answer, just locked eyes with her in the mirror, smiled, and tweaked your fingers just right over her clit to push her over the edge. To call it intense was an understatement; it was the only thing Natasha was aware of. The whole body orgasm was enough to leave Natasha a writhing and moaning mess, and you kept up your pace through all of it.

Only when Natasha started to go slack in your arms did you slow down to a stop, holding her up with your arms and leaving warm, soft kisses over her shoulders and neck. You were soft; much softer than you had been only seconds ago.

She almost thought she heard you say “I love you.”

——

Things became slightly less unbearable after that night. At least you didn’t hate her anymore. In fact, you two actually got along, and everyone in the clubs seemed to take notice of it. Sure, you still hadn’t really forgiven her, but that didn’t matter because now you could both focus on the task at hand.

And you found yourself making friends with one of the big boy’s pets on the dance floor a few weeks later.

Natasha had been at the bar, flirting her way into a conversation with a connection. He was a perverted creep and just looking at him made her skin crawl, but if it helped move this undercover stuff along, then she would do whatever she needed to do.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a young woman - a mutant, judging by her literal horns - pull you down and whisper something directly into your ear. You stood up slowly, your eyes glued to the lady, then slowly turning to look at Natasha.

She excused herself from the conversation and made her way over to you, her very presence commanding the authority that you had spoken of all those months ago. Everyone moved out of her path until she reached you, her hand instantly going to the small of your back. Under your thin, skin tight t-shirt, she could feel the faint outline of your spines.

“Did you need something, little one?” Natasha asked, eyes drilling into the girl’s soul. She felt a knot form in her stomach when the girl looked down immediately.

“Master took an interest in your pet and wants to meet you,” she said in a soft voice. A voice far too innocent for the situation she had been thrust into.

“Then lead the way,” Natasha ordered. She hoped with all her being that she hadn’t sounded too harsh. The poor girl deserved better.

The girl grabbed your hand and started walking off, dragging you with her. Natasha reached out to grab yours before you could get too far. Even through the gloves she could tell you were sweating by how hot your palm was, and she gave your hand a gentle squeeze of reassurance. You returned it.

She led the both of you through the crowd, past the speakers that were blasting so loud Natasha swore she would need hearing aids after this mission. But once you were past, the entirety of the club became muffled and was quickly replaced by laughter, moans, the slapping of skin on skin, the clinking of glass, and the occasional scream.

Natasha couldn’t tell if they were screams of pleasure or pain.

When you were stopped right outside of a room, the girl let go of your hand and turned around. She still didn’t look up to meet Natasha’s gaze, but she did look over to meet yours. It was a secretive look, one that would have gotten her in trouble if she had been caught by anyone else. But it was also one of fear, desperation, silently begging for help.

“Master doesn’t like the pet being in front,” she said. “And she doesn’t like to hear them speak unless spoken to.”

Wait. She?

Natasha looked at you, and you nodded before moving behind her. You were close, but not too close; something you had learned the hard way at an earlier club. You had been close and had gotten a few whips to the back by another owner who proceeded to call you disrespectful.

It had made Natasha see red. She had jumped forward and grabbed the hand that held the whip, threatening him before snapping his wrist. You had shot a look her way, and she felt her pulse race as she realised she might have blown your cover. But all was well when the other owners laughed and praised her for her loyalty over her property.

“You may go in,” the girl continued once you were in position. She stood aside so you could both walk in, and Natasha did her best to maintain her composure.

The woman was sitting on her plush couch, drink in one hand and cigar in the other. She looked both as lavish as Natasha had expected and yet also seeming like a normal person. If Natasha imagined someone at a club, this is what she would have imagined. The normalcy of it all sent a shiver down her spine.

“Please sit, Miss Craft,” the woman said in a slight, indistinguishable accept before gesturing to the couch adjacent to the one she was sitting on.

Natasha’s movements were slow and calculated. She noticed the younger girl move and sit on her knees in front of the woman, back straight. It was the first time Natasha noticed the Raft collar on her neck. Must be a connection, she thought to herself. By the time Natasha had sat down, you had positioned yourself behind the couch, directly behind her.

“You know my name,” Natasha said nonchalantly as she crossed her legs.

“It’s my business to know your name,” the woman smirked.

“May I have the honour of knowing yours?” Natasha continued. She heard you shift behind her, and the woman’s eyes narrowed at you for a moment.

“You can call me Roulette,” she said quickly. “Where did you get your pet?”

Natasha had to fight the urge to look back at you. She didn’t like the look Roulette was giving you; one of desire. But not necessarily lust; more like you were a trophy that she wanted for herself. Why, Natasha didn’t know.

But she was going to find out.

“A personal gift a few years ago,” Natasha shrugged. “Not officially on the books.”

“They’re stunning,” Roulette continued, eyes still glued to you. “Can I see?”

Natasha’s voice stuck in her throat, but she nodded. She gestured for you to move forward, in front of Roulette, and kept her eyes locked on the woman as you came into view. Your hands were clasped behind your back - another hard-learned lesson - and your back was ramrod straight.

“Fantastic,” Roulette said, more to herself.

She stood up and only came to your shoulders. You avoided her gaze, instead keeping your eyes locked to a spot on the wall; a habit you had picked up when anyone studied you. Your shoulders and arms tensed when she walked around you, but other than that you stayed still.

“Lean,” Roulette said, her hand coming up to travel down your arms. “Strong core,” she continued, coming around and putting her hands flat against your stomach. Natasha spotted your jaw clenching and relaxing. “A bit scarred, though.”

Her hands moved to touch the gill outlines on your neck, and you flinched. You had told Natasha at the start that they were still extremely, and Roulette was putting her hands all over them. Running her fingers across each line, moving up to behind your ears.

“Sensitive, little one?” Roulette asked when she touched your gills again. Your eyes flicked over to Natasha, filled with a silent question. She gave you a single nod and prayed to the gods that it was the right decision.

“Yes ma’am,” you answered before swallowing so hard that Natasha could hear it from where she was seated.

“Oh my,” Roulette said, a devilish smile on her lips, “and a voice to match.”

She kept her hands on you as she continued to study you. Her manicured thumb ran over your lips and then into your hair. Those same hands traced your collar bone, your arms, felt the muscles in your back. She was studying you, looking for something, and Natasha could only sit there and watch.

Especially when she went to your front and grabbed the bulge of your strap like she owned you.

“Someone is prepared,” she purred. “How much?”

“Excuse me?” Natasha asked, not having prepared herself for the question. Your eyes widened, but otherwise stayed locked on the wall.

“Would you like cash, or a trade?” Roulette asked again, stepping closer to you until there was no space in between.

“Neither,” Natasha answered. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep a straight face and even tone. “I’m very fond of them.”

“How about a loan,” Roulette suggested, finally turning to look at Natasha. Her eyes were filled with lust. “I’ll even put the both of you up in one of our penthouses.”

Natasha locked eyes with you. This would be the closest the two of you had gotten to the main circle. If she said no, you would have to start all over, work your way back up in another direction. But if she said yes, you would be in. You could learn whatever you wanted to know and could end this operation for good.

“This is unexpected,” Natasha said, rising to her feet and walking closer. “Give me a night to think it over?” She asked with a sickly sweet smile.

“Of course,” Roulette answered. “I would be hesitant to loan this one out, too.” She finally let go of your, and Natasha heard your breath leave your mouth in a rush. “I’ll give you the penthouse for the night anyway, as a sign of good faith.”

“You’re very generous,” Natasha said before turning to you. “Isn’t she, little dove?”

“Yes ma’am,” you said, voice thick, “beyond generous.”

“Well mannered,” Roulette said with a slight shake of her head. “And just when I think your pet can’t get any more perfect.” She didn’t bother looking anywhere but at you. “My pet will give you directions to the penthouse. I expect to see the both of you back here at 8 tomorrow evening.”

Roulette’s pet - Natasha really wanted to know her name - finally got up from the floor after a small nod from Roulette and immediately led them out of the room. You kept your distance behind Nat, but she could practically feel the nerves radiating off your body as you exited the club.

The young lady gave you the instructions, and you quickly opened the car door for Natasha before getting into the driver’s seat. Just like that night so long ago, you sped off, hitting incredibly dangerous speeds. Natasha didn’t call it to attention. Instead, she just got her burner cell and made a call.

“Something wrong?” Maria asked on the other end of the line. She had picked up before the first ring had finished.

“Run a scan of a building for me,” Natasha instructed, quickly giving Maria the address.

“I see video feed but… no audio,” Maria answered after a few seconds.

“You sure?” Natasha asked as you skidded around a corner. Honking quickly followed. “I need you to be absolutely positive. We don’t want to blow cover now.”

“You’re in?” Maria asked, and Natasha could hear typing on the other end of the line.

“Close,” Natasha nodded. You sped around another corner. “If we blow it now, we’re done for.”

“Ran three different scans,” Maria said. “No audio. But video in every room, including the bathroom.”

“I wish I was surprised,” Natasha huffed. “Thank you.”

“Please stay safe,” Maria insisted. There was a tiredness in her voice. “For me.”

“Of course,” Natasha said, trying to convey a smile through her tone.

“I love you,” Maria said. She didn’t give Nat the chance to return the sentiment before ending the call.

You pulled into the parking garage, nearly crashing into the gate before it was completely open. The car flew into the nearest empty space and you slammed on the breaks, nearly throwing Natasha into the console in front of her.

But you didn’t turn the car off. You put it into park, but didn’t turn it off, instead continuing to look out the windshield. Natasha could see the gears turning in your head, could see the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the tensed muscles in your jaw. So she waited.

“She touched my gills,” you said, your voice rough.

“She did,” Natasha said softly with a nod. You still didn’t look at her.

“She touched them,” you said again. The roughness was making way for shakiness.

“I know,” Natasha said, still talking as softly as she could possibly manage.

“No one touches my gills,” you said, your voice more quiet but still just as emotional.

“I’m so-”

“I’m going to kill her for it,” you said. There was no room for argument in your voice. Natasha could tell by the new energy in the car that you had made up your mind.

And you were going to follow through.

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