#two predators curled up for a nap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunlightmurdock · 1 year

Text

The Taste of the Divine | Rhett Abbott (18+)

There’s something wrong with the Abbott land. Something bad about it, it’s clear as day. Angered and maybe on the wrong side of tipsy, Rhett stumbles across something — someone — he shouldn’t have out on the West pasture.

Warnings: vampire reader, race inclusive so ignore the header, written third person with she/her pronouns. Blood, lots of blood, biting, drinking, consuming — yaknow— vampire stuff. Oral (f receiving) and unprotected pinv. Kind of dubcon in that rhett is scared and horny but still down for what’s happening, wc 5.4k

…

“There’s a weird lady out on the West pasture!”

Cecelia’s nerves are already shot to pieces, what with her two terraway boys and all the trouble they’ve managed to cause both recently and over the almost three decade span of their lives. The crash of the door swinging open and banging into her wallpaper, followed by the thundering clap of Amy’s mud-caked boots along her hardwood floors, and then the true snarl of the thunder that rages on outside.

She drops the plate into the sink, suds and soapy water splashing onto the countertops and tile. Curling her hands around the granite, she inhales slowly and closes her eyes.

Royal jolts awake from his nap in his recliner, his rheumatic hands flinching as they clench around the now warm bottle of his beer. Rhett glances up from the shotty news cast on the television as she wizzes past him towards the kitchen.

She’s met with a dubious gaze from her father at the kitchen table and an eye roll that she isn’t supposed to have caught from her grandmother.

“There was!” Amy insists, her voice shrill and panicked as she stomps her boot into the floor and splatters her own muddy footprint. “She was staring right at me! — And she was dressed weird!”

Royal shakes his head and rubs at the bridge of his nose. He exhales all of his irritations out into the room and narrows his eyes at his youngest son, “Don’t worry, princess. Rhett’ll go check it out.”

Rhett scoffs and sinks back further into the arm chair, shaking his head, “No he won’t. Maybe her dad’ll do it.”

“You’ll do it.” Royal stares right ahead at Rhett, serious and stone-faced. “You’re the one who showed her that damn scary movie.”

The young cowboy growls in frustration as his truck plows through the storm, mud plastering the wheels and the paint job. Fucking Amy and her wacky fucking imagination.

He checks damn near the whole west pasture. It’s dark out, pouring with rain. If there was a woman out here, she’d probably be making her way to the house by now anyway.

It’s after he has already given up on looking and decided to come back that he spots it. The herd separated from one of the cows. He drives a little closer for a better look. It’s on its side — dead. He sighs, knowing that Royal will just be pissed about this too. He turns his head and catches movement in his peripheral. Looking back towards the cow, he sees it. The figure hunched over the animal.

Rhett squints, trying to look through the glaring white of his headlights. There’s a figure amongst the herd, he can’t quite see what it is. Hunched over one of the cattle like a damn animal, but it’s not shaped right to be a wolf. His better judgement tells him to stay in the truck.

Chilled fingers reaching out across the bench beside him, they curl around the butt of the shotgun. Brows furrowing, his eyes never once leave the contorted figure. Its shadow through the light tells Rhett that it’s moving, but it’s not right. It isn’t moving… right. Not like any kind of predator he has ever seen.

Being out here in the wide open, with the beams glaring right at this fucking thing, and it isn’t bothered in the slightest. Usually the wolves would be spooked by the lights or the sound of the engine. Not whatever is in front of him now.

Perry used to tell Rhett stories about this kind of thing. Figures lurking out in the pasture, things that weren’t human and wanted to hurt him. Older now, not the same angry little boy staring at the shadows on his wall with his covers pulled up over his face, it’s dismaying to realize that the same stomach-sick, cold kind of feeling washes over him.

Instinct. Royal says that Rhett didn’t inherit a damn ounce of it. But he did. He knows how to keep himself alive. Even after he hits the ground after getting tossed off a bull and it feels like he can physically feel his brain swelling and heart struggling to keep him going, instinct has always pushed him onto his feet and out of that heaving creature’s way. It tells him now to just shift the gears and go back the way he had come. Something tells him that it won’t follow.

Not even sure that he’s still breathing, he sits forwards and tries to make out what it is. It’s not right to be scared of the dark at his age. Of a fucking monster that Amy thinks she saw. Not a monster — a woman. He squints again, tilting his head just slightly. It can’t be a woman. Tearing apart that poor thing in front of it like it’s a sheet of paper. No human could rip through muscle and bone and tendon like that.

Too small to be a bear, not shaped right to be a young one either. It’s not a fucking wolf. He has no idea what it is. But he’ll be damned if he lets it kill off half the herd just for sport. If he could see better, maybe if it was a clearer night or if the rain wasn’t soaking the windshield, he’d be able to see the methodical way that the creature has picked apart its prey. Not sport. Survival.

Rhett’s calloused hand curls around the shotgun, his other grabbing the latch on the door handle. Perry was always more scared of his own damn stories than Rhett ever was.

The sound of the rain amplifies as he swings open the truck door, letting his right leg follow it. His boot touches down into the soaked mud, sliding just slightly before he’s even out. Adjusting the cap on his head, the door swings shut behind him and he tightens his grip on the door stock wrist, gripping the fore end of the gun with his other hand. He lifts the stock up to his cheek and takes a step forwards.

Even out here, Rhett can’t quite make out what he’s looking at. Doubled over and clawing at the flesh of the animal in front of it, he can’t even tell where the cow ends and the creature begins. Jagged-movements, snarling like a wolf, strength like a bear.

“Hey!” It’s a big of a sound as his tightened lungs will let him make. Not meek, it’s deep and graveled. It has scared off bigger animals before. It’s a mistake.

The snarling stops, it doesn’t get any less loud. Rain beating into the ground around him, soaking his clothes and chilling his skin. His heartbeat thudding in his ears is probably the loudest thing for miles.

Like an abstract painting, what is in front of him is just one of those things that doesn’t make any sense until you catch glimpse of that one part that tells you exactly what you’re looking at. Slender fingers braced on either side of the torn open chest cavity, resting still.

The sky and horizon black around it, solely illuminated by the beams of Rhett’s headlights, the creature finally looks up, grinning.

Mouth soaked, chin dripping with blood. Eyes red too, a deeper, more furious colour than the blood that coats her skin. A woman. No longer contorted strangely forwards, her head tilts as she stares right at his face. He’s right — his heartbeat is the loudest thing for miles.

She’s on her knees, pressed into the mud, devouring an animal twice her size. There’s something in her eyes that Rhett doesn’t recognise. He blinks slowly, fingers curling tighter around the shotgun. Rhett has never been looked at by anything the way that she — this thing — is looking at him now.

“What the…” His boots slip in the soaked mud, it cakes the soles and sides, threatening to swallow his footing in the marshy ground if he doesn’t move more cautiously.

She’s barely human looking, there’s something sinister in the reds of her eyes that makes Rhett’s stomach flip. His body carries him backwards quickly enough that his feet start to slip in the mud and the barrel of the gun falters away from the red, splattered target she has made for herself on her chest.

Her lips quirk further at the sides, her grin stretching as he stumbles back from her. Her pointed tongue, a deep crimson as it lifts forwards and cleans the blood from her teeth. She presses her weight forwards onto her palms like she’s going to stand.

Blue eyes widening, his heartbeat falters and amusement covers her chilling features as he drops the gun all together. The safety wasn’t even off. His hands fumble from the door, boots slipping in the mud, rain pouring down his back. With a panting breath, he finishes his sentence. “Fuck?”

Her stomach tightens, reminding her of why she was out here feasting on damn cattle in the first place. She’s so. Fucking. Thirsty. Something in her eyes changes. Rhett recognises the exact moment that he stops being entertainment and instead, becomes prey. It’s not something that he has ever been before, and yet, his body knows exactly what to do. Instinct. Something primal, maybe.

She reaches up and wipes her chin on her forearm, finished with the dead animal in front of her. Primal seems like the right word.

He glances up to the sky, pitch black and still pouring with rain like the heavens have opened up. That seems right too. It’s the first time that his eyes leave her since she has looked up, and he doesn’t dare look back. He tears open the door to the truck and hastens inside, locking the doors and fumbling for the key in the ignition.

He catches hold of the cold metal and looks ahead. She’s standing now. Looking right at him. It’s a little too bright to see with the headlights on, but there’s something disarming about the way she’s looking at him. Blood gone from her chin but still covering her chest, her arms, her hands. It’s the first time that Rhett notices what she’s wearing.

A plain white nightgown, cotton, soaked through and clinging, almost sheer to her body. It comes down to her mid-shins, torn around there. Satin woven through the neckline of it. It’s old — he can’t place it to a certain time period, but it isn’t from this one. Blood and rain mix together to saturate the material, evidence of what she has done lingering on its threads even as the rain washes her skin clean.

She’s barefoot. She must be freezing.

A sick feeling fills him as he realizes that she has drawn closer. That he can see that she is barefoot because she has stepped around the carcass and is walking towards him. He hadn’t even noticed.

His fingers curl tighter around the key but he doesn’t turn it. He just watches. The softened, almost timid look on her face as she stalks towards the truck, bathed in the white glow of the headlights. Still stained in red.

As she reaches the hood, she leans forwards and rests her palms on it. Rhett glances down, remembering the way her slender fingers had been braced on either side of the cow, nails sunk into its flesh. He swallows, blinking hard and forcing his fingers to move. The engine splutters.

Looking back up, his eyes study her face. She’s looking right at him, drenched. Scared. Out here all on her own. He doesn’t try the key again. It occurs briefly to him that something is wrong — that the sick, dreadful feeling had flooded away the second he met her now dark, but not red, gaze.

“Rhett.” She says his name like a prayer. A baited sigh, pleasant and desperate all at once. He blinks at her waiting at the hood of his truck. She tilts her head as he swallows, watching his adam’s apple rise and fall in his throat, listening to the blood gush through his veins. It was the name that the little girl had cried out earlier. She knows that it’s his name.

She mimics his swallow and reminds herself to blink. It freaks them out when she forgets to do that. He’s calmer already, but he’s afraid of her. Her lips almost quirk. He’s smart, he knows better. And yet — as she passes around to the passenger side, he makes no effort to try the key again.

Rhett slides further along the truck bench, pressing his back to the driver’s side door as she watches him through the passenger side window. She curls her fingers around the door handle and it complies with a quiet, effortless snap.

She looks up quickly as his breathing hitches. She shouldn’t be able to hear it from that side of the door, but she does. She shouldn’t have been able to snap the lock like this, but she did.

The door clicks open with no resistance, and Rhett finally gets a good look at her face. His brows furrow slightly as he looks her over, those sweet little features and those big, trusting eyes. He can’t remember why he locked the door in the first place.

“Rhett?” She moves fluidly now. As her gaze breaks from his to watch herself kneel on the truck bed, Rhett remembers. He catches sight of the almost washed away blood on her forearms. He looks quickly back towards the torn apart cow a couple feet from the truck. He remembered her jagged, twitching, animalistic movements. The truck door closes behind her. On her knees, she slides delicately across the bench and rests her hand against his.

She’s soaked, but her hands are warm. She curls her fingers around his palm, lifting it from the leather. His attention turns back towards her, arms tense, breathing shallow. Her lips quirk softly, almost sweetly, as she brings his bruised knuckles to her crimson-tinged lips and kisses softly.

Bringing it back down slowly, she rests his hand in her lap, against the soaked material of that strange nightgown. Next, she lifts her hand and strokes it along the length of his neck, smoothing his hair back away from his jugular. “You don’t have to be afraid.” She tells him calmly.

With every fiber of his being, he believes her. He believes that he doesn’t have to be afraid, but he is anyway. He’s afraid of what he saw, and what she is — plenty of things all at once.

Leaning closer, his scent is intoxicating, her mouth waters as her nose brushes against the stubble on his jaw. Rhett slams his eyes shut, suddenly wishing that he was a kid again, with covers to pull up to his chin, and his parents to tell him that he was going to be alright.

Her throat squeezes, desperate. She presses her lips tenderly to his skin, feeling his pulse under her. Pulling back, she hooks a finger under his jaw and turns his head towards her.

With his eyes on her again, he’s unafraid. Handsome. Pretty, blue eyes with long lashes, sun-soaked skin but in the kind of way that demonstrates hard work. A few centuries ago, she would’ve adored him. Now, it’s enough to just soothe his fears. She sits forwards and presses her lips softly to his cheek, pulling back and doing the same to the other one.

He doesn’t flinch. She can feel how badly she wants her touch, even with his trembling hands still rigid on his thighs. She takes his hand again, this time placing it over her breast through the sheer material.

Rhett’s brows furrow, he searches her face for answers and finds none. She leans into him again, this time kissing his lips. His hand remains stationary, unmoving, frozen. His lips move just the tiniest amount, chasing her kiss.

He had been expecting her to taste like blood, but she doesn’t. She smells expensive and she doesn’t taste like anything at all.

Rhett watches as she pulls back long enough to curl her fingers into the hem of the nightdress, peeling it up her body and letting it fall into the footwell. Kneeling before him, completely bare, she leans in again and kisses him tenderly.

His hand flexes against her hip, curling around her skin, feeling the warmth under his palm. Unmistakably human. He kisses her, fingers pressing into her sides.

“It won’t hurt,” She promises him, smoothing her open palm along his clothed chest. Wordlessly, Rhett understands what she is asking of him. He knows what hunger looks like. She kisses him again, more desperately this time, her fingertips trailing the dampened stitching of his jeans along the inseam of his thigh. Pulling back, she nips softly at his earlobe, feeling him shiver. “You give yourself to me, and I’ll give myself to you.”

Again, he understands what he is agreeing to. Her eyes are more red than they were before, her thumb stroking along the column of his neck. She’s intoxicating up close.

“Rhett?” She prompts him, smoothing her hand over his crotch, featherlight as she kisses his lips again. One more taste and she might just lose her mind. The flush in his skin makes her throat dry. The smell of his hair, his skin, the day that he has had. She growls lowly as he presses forwards and kisses her hard, grabbing at the back of her neck.

Almost eighty years of rest — her thirst nips at her nerves, fingers flexing against his shoulder blades as he covers her body with his, a silent reminder that he is still the one at her mercy here.

Her tongue trails the length of his jugular, as far as it spans along his throat. She kisses him feverishly as his rough, calloused hands explore her smooth skin. Not a scratch on her. Like she was just dropped out here, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been a while since she has had sex, even longer since she has had sex with a human. She had almost forgotten how eager they were. The beat of his heart against her bare chest is practically an aphrodisiac.

“I need something soon,” She murmurs into his neck, kissing it tenderly as she pushes his open button down back off of his shoulders. Rhett nods as he drops his head down to her chest, suckling at her warm skin. She pushes her fingers into his hair as he nips at her navel. “You aren’t scared, are you, cowboy?”

Rhett looks up at her from where he’s situated between her legs. Rugged, flushed with life, a spark of amusement in those wild blue eyes. It sparks her with envy as she sits up quickly. A little too quickly, something unhuman in the swiftness of it.

“No.” Rhett tells her. She catches hold of his jaw, nostrils flaring briefly. He should be. His hand smooths along her hip. “It’s okay. Go ‘head.”

She softens, not turning her head away from his throat. It’s not his fault, she supposes. She thinks of his family, hearing them pottering around their little home miles away — not thinking of him, out here, all alone with her. She thinks of her own family, long gone now, but not dissimilar to his.

“‘M gonna make it feel good, Rhett,” She says softly, honeyed cadence and soft lips as they gaze his throat. He closes his eyes and waits. Her index finger pressed to his throat, a discreet spot right below his jaw. The nail presses into his skin and drags, splitting the flesh. Blood spills from the cut immediately. Rhett gasps softly as she lurches forwards and presses her mouth to it.

She sucks the fresh blood from his neck, warm and sweet on her tongue — she should’ve known that a gruff looking cowboy like him would taste sweeter than honey.

He grunts as her palm cups his crotch through his jeans, using the meat of her palm to grind against his hardening cock. His eyes flutter closed as he tongue flicks over the small cut, still sucking at the crimson liquid.

Rhett curls a hand into her hair, holding at the base of her neck, keeping her against him. “S-Shit,” He pants out, grinding his hips up into her palm, leaning his head back in surrender. “Oh.”

Her free hand curls into his hair and tugs, exposing more of his throat to him, making him groan. His fingers smooth softly over the nape of her neck, she reminds herself to be gentle with him.

Licking away the remaining blood, she presses her thumb to the small cut to stop the bleeding. He kisses her slowly, slipping his tongue into her mouth. This time, he does taste copper, but he doesn’t mind it that much. She makes it worth tasting.

He glances down at her blood-soaked skin, the remnants left of what the rain wasn’t fast enough to wash away. He knows that he should be afraid of what’s coming, but he isn’t.

She reminds herself to move slowly and to breathe, to blink, as she takes the cap from his head and discards it, moving into his lap. Bracketing his hips with her thighs, she curls her fingers into his white undershirt, lips quirking. It’s not the same smile as earlier, that gutwrenchingly terrifying grin, but it’s enough to remind him to be afraid.

Her nails press into the material, tearing it with ease. It splits at the middle and down the sides. She discards it with little care, pressing her bare chest against his, carding her fingers through his brown locks as he kisses her. Desperate for that taste again, his lips chase hers. She gives it to him graciously, caressing his tongue with hers. Desperate for more than that, quite clearly.

He’s rock hard against the denim of his jeans, breathing hard through his nose as his hands grope at her still-wet skin. They stop briefly, finding purchase on the curve of her ass, using his human strength to angle her hips and rock his hardened cock against her core.

He would have eaten her alive if he had come across her before she was turned, the sweet little thing she had been back then. Raking her nails along his chest, she reminds him swiftly of the now leveled playing field.

Rhett thinks that this is just like every other girl he has been with — she feels it in his movements. The experienced, cool way that he knows how to touch a woman. Curious — how the times had changed.

The last human she had been with hadn’t paid her nearly this much attention. Maybe this is just Rhett, maybe it’s a new fad. If he lives, perhaps she’ll ask him. She hums, somewhat contentedly, as his nimble fingers work circles on her clit. Still in his jeans and not even asking her to touch him. Truly, curious.

Her reaction isn’t what Rhett is looking for. The soft hums of approval, it’s not enough, it’s not worth the ice-cold fear in his chest. She inhales sharply, a purely symbolic measure, as he turns them both and presses her back into the leather of the truck bench.

He’s got a dirty mouth for a farm boy. Wet, open-mouthed feverish kisses on every inch of skin that he can get his lips on. His trail of filthy kisses continues, his thin nose grazing her sternum as his mouth works towards her navel. His hands are strong and capable, holding her in place by your ribs. As much as she will let him, anyway.

Experienced and well-knowledged about sex by this point in her immortality, she can detect his eagerness in his movements, his desperation to please in the way his tongue moves against her skin. It's sweet. He’s good at it. It’s been a long time since someone has burned for her in the way that this rugged cowboy clearly does.

His hands trail from her hips, up and along her warm sides. Calloused hands roam her flawless skin. Move up and back down again. He revels in the feeling of her under his fingertips, on the tip of his tongue.

She lets the cowboy have his fun. It’s fun for her too, to still be surprised, even after all of this time. It’s not the first time that a man has buried his head between her legs, but it’s the first time that she hasn’t been just waiting for it to be over. Rhett knows what he’s doing. His hands grope at her chest as he sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

She cums, shuddering against his tongue, curling her fingers into his hair, making him hiss. Rhett grins at her as she releases him. There is plenty that she knows about him, but he knows what he did just then.

He’s cocky for someone who’s life is no longer in their own hands, warming up to her too much. This happens frequently. A handsome young man with a troublesome smile, and the wolfish woman ready to tear them apart.

Rhett pops open the buckle on his jeans and pushes them down his thighs. Her eyes burn red, crimson lips quirked at the edges as she spreads her thighs for him. Her hand slides between her legs, two fingers dragging along her folds and gathering her juices on the digits.

“God.” Rhett breathes out, covering her body with his, fingers curling tight into her hips. She smiles into the crook of his neck, kissing the taut skin tenderly, feeling his pulse under her lips.

“He can’t help you now, Rhett.” Her breath fans over his ear as she speaks, making him shudder. Turning his head, she kisses his lips. Slow, longing. Like a goodbye.

He groans softly as he presses into her, the storm raging on outside of the truck, wind slamming cold rain into the windows. Her lips are warm against his throat as she hums softly. Her fingers card through the lengths of his hair and along the muscles in his back.

Rhett rocks his hips back and forth gently — she almost scoffs — he’s concerned about hurting her. “More.” She tells him, her nails digging into his skin. Rhett exhales slowly and drives his hips into her.

To her surprise, he lifts his head to look at her. Studying her face, her reactions to the way that he moves. She moans softly, as he tugs at her hips, angling himself against her g-spot. Rhett’s grip tightens, keeping her there as he fucks into her again and again. This predator, much stronger than he is, completely at his mercy, moaning against his throat.

“You want it?” Rhett mumbles against her skin, grunting softly as he snaps his hips into hers. She gasps back. “Bite me, darlin’ — s’alright.”

She moans, an excited sound as he tugs at the lengths of his brunet hair. “I want it.” She tells him, grazing her teeth, featherlight against the oh, so breakable skin.

The truck is filled with their sounds as she lets another delighted cry out, surprising herself. She pants, squeezing her thighs around his hips. He reminds her so much of someone that she knew. Someone that she misses so dearly. It’s why she didn’t snap his neck out there in the rain. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she pulls him closer. He looks down between their bodies, watching as his cock fills her over and over.

“I want you, Rhett.” She decides, something primal and possessive in her voice. Her fingertips trail the stubble on his jaw as she tips his chin to look at her. He nods blindly.

“You got me, darlin’.” He kisses her mouth, another filthy little exchange that’s all tongue, moaning and panting. She grins against him, pressing her heel into the small of his back. “Whatever you need.”

Fingers curling around the muscle of his jaw, her strength braces him there, steady. She leans in close and inhales slowly, savouring this delicious scent. Rhett gasps as her teeth sink into his throat, hips stuttering and slamming forwards. She moans at the feeling, blood trickling down her chin.

She grabs desperately at the back of his neck, not wanting to spill a drop, liquid gold on her tongue. Not only because it has been so long, but because it’s him. Rhett’s fingers curl tighter into her hair, struggling to keep up with the pace of his thrusts as his eyes squeeze shut, muscles tensing.

His body’s natural reaction tells him that he is in danger, but danger has never felt this good. It’s like he can feel every ounce of her desire for him, pulsing through his veins when she’s attached to him like this. His arms squeeze around her middle, desperate to have her closer.

She squeezes her legs tighter around his hips, crying out his name in her mind, moaning against his throat. Her fingers curl into those long locks at the nape of his neck, feeling his blood lubricate that excruciating burn in her throat. Her stomach tightens at the thought.

Devotion. Sustaining her like this, fucking her like this — he’s right, he is all hers. Those people back at the house have all already gone to bed without so much as checking if he was alive. He wouldn’t be, if not for her mercy, and his wonderful mouth.

Hers. She licks a stripe along throat, gathering the spilled blood and lifting her chin to kiss his mouth. He accepts her kiss hungrily, sucking at her tongue greedily. Entirely hers. As their lips part, she goes right back to his neck, biting again, feeling her stomach tighten as his hips stutter.

She bites him harder, feeling him tense up, knowing that she’s hurting him. His blood spills freely into her mouth, gushing onto her tongue and out of the corners of her lips.

“Fuck!” Rhett grunts, feeling her walls clenching around him. The honeyed taste of his blood, the sound of his gravelled voice in her ear, the life flowing through his veins. Her back arches up off of the truck bench as she hits the peak of her climax and spills right over it.

There are a few more, erratic, desirous thrusts before the cowboy is spent, spilling into her. Wrapping the monster tight in his arms, forehead braced against her bloodied collarbone.

“I’m sorry,” She smooths her fingers through his hair delicately, licking the last few drops of blood that spill from the teeth marks on his neck. “Rhett.”

He’s dizzy and warm, burning warm, in fact. He squeezes her softly in his arms, closing his eyes for just a moment. He should have expected to be tired, but not like this. It’s like an anaesthetic— he feels sleep come for him and there’s nothing that he can do to fight it.

It crosses his mind briefly that it could be worse than sleep, but he isn’t afraid for it.

“Damn it, Rhett!” The curtains are drawn open sharply, making him flinch. He growls and pulls the covers up over his sensitive eyes. “We’re going to be late for church!”

Cecilia storms out of the room and slams the door behind her. Rhett sits up in his bed and presses the base of his palm into his eye socket, rubbing tiredly. He glances towards the window and squints at the light cascading across the floor, not quite reaching his bed.

He falls back against the comfort of his mattress and exhales slowly. Fucking weird dream. He shifts, hoping to find sleep again, feeling a soft discomfort at the bottom of his throat. Brows furrowing, he swallows and flinches at the white hot pain that passes through his nerves. His brows scrunch as he sits sharply upright again.

He looks towards the window and brings a hand up to cup his throat. His gaze falls down to his boots by the door, caked in mud and bloodied.

…

@fudge13 @hangmanscoming @hexpectations @bradshawseresinbabe @xoxabs88xox @topgunbiqueen @perpetuelledaydreaming @thedroneranger @noorsworlr @princess76179 @phoenix1388 @astronomeoww @cherrycola27 @wkndwlff

#rhett abbott smut #rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #rhett abbott x you #rhett abbott one shot #Lewis Pullman #outer range smut #outer range

213 notes · View notes

rose-tea-and-strawberries · 1 year

Note

I'm not sure if you ever stated but, where would adult Simba and Nala lie in ship war? I mean it would align well for them to ship Yuu with Leona. But it also wouldn't be a stretch that shipping the human(ish) counterpart of your evil uncle with your new friend is kind of weird so possibly someone else.

So Simba and Nala ship Leona with Yuu. Eventually.

You see, Simba had his reservations when it comes to the younger lion that appeared to be a carbon copy of his nefarious uncle, what with his laziness and the way he'd use his cunning to manipulate and harm others to get his way to the top - all down to the scar over his eyes.

I mean, when he finds out that he was responsible for other students getting hurt and that he was planning to overthrow Malleus similarly to the way his uncle successfully overthrew his father and caused a lot of pain and suffering to his mother, he's not exactly the happiest camper. His protective dad instincts are just telling him to keep Yuu as far away from him as possible. Plus, he doesn't really trust Ruggie - hyenas bring back bad memories and he doesn't trust them at all.

(Listen, Lion King 2 showed that Simba had a lot of PTSD from the childhood trauma Scar inflicted on him, which causes him to act more on emotion than logic at times due to his overprotective nature. Not gonna lie though, dad Simba is adorable and one of my favourite scenes is at the end where he chases after her at the waterfall similarly to how Mufasa tried to rescue him. Like his face was just screaming 'I need to protect my little girl' even though she is a literal grown huntress)

Yuu would have to explain to Simba how Leona is one of her close friends now and he's atoned for what he's done. She's forgiven him so bygones are bygones. And it does take him a while but he sees him interact with Cheka and even though he looks disinterested, there's never any harmful intent and he's clearly just being a grump instead of holding actual resentment or bitter hatred for the young cub. Plus it's clear that he does care about his brother and sister-in-law and that he dislikes what the throne represents instead of the actual king and queen themselves. He sees how gently and kindly Yuu speaks to him and how clearly he cares for her and how he's much softer when he's with her than with anyone else and our Lion King realises that Leona is still young and because of Yuu he won't grow up with hatred and resentment the way Scar did. Unlike his father's murderer, Leona sees his faults and he feels genuine guilt. He does care for others and is an actual good leader who is incredibly respected by his dorm and the spelldrive team he captains. And yeah, he is lazy and he does dump his work onto others whilst he does the bare minimum but when he gives it his all when the time does call for it. He went on the wrong path so did Simba, and like Simba did after Rafiki hit him on the head he's making an effort to fix himself (and Yuu didn't even need a stick).

Plus, he sees the way he behaves when Yuu is around - the way his tail sways in happiness the second he detects her presence or how it would curl against her arm as if to stop her from leaving or how his ears would flatten when he gets flustered or perk up when her footsetps draw near or how he'd softly purr when Yuu threads her fingers through his mane (yes, in my world, lion beastmen refer to their hair as manes) (also, yes, I know lions don't purr but please let me have this). Sorry, Leona but you're not the only predator around here and he gets the feeling that your elevated heartrate has nothing to do with exercise. And if anyone knows a thing or two about a lion in love, he does. For me, his big lightbulb moment of realising that Leona has a thing for Yuu is that he's taking advantage of Yuu's obliviousness to just do lion courting rituals. Like sometimes he'd rub his head against hers or he'd cuddle with her during naps so that his scent is on her or he'd just give her gifts at random times of the day or how he's much more territorial and protective of her. And since he's warmed up to him already, he's going to ship Leona and Yuu with all he can.

Simba: When you go swimming, you should drag her into the water

Leona: Why on earth would I do that?

Nala's just there for a good time. Watching these two silly lions trying to figure out how to court Yuu is prime entertainment. Plus, she can tell that Leona greatly respects her and treats her with high regard by always being polite and courteous in her presence. She likes hearing about the lionesses in his pride and about his sister-in-law.

I've said it before but most of the heroes that fight The Great Seven ship Yuu with the NRC boys at first mainly because they're from their story, which gives them a lot of bragging rights (I swear some of them are just kids). Yes, at first all of them were incredibly skeptical seeing their beloved Yuu with villains when she's so sweet and kind and 'Disney Princess like' but then they see how Yuu stopped them from going down a dark path and because of her, those boys won't become like the villains from their stories. Yeah, they're still a bit twisted but they're also so horribly down bad for her, even the blind can see that they would never allow any harm to come to her.

#house of mouse au #asks #fem yuu #twst yuu #twisted wonderland #twst

148 notes · View notes

performativezippers · 7 months

Note

have you ever read the His Dark Materials series? if so, what daemons do you think the ncis hawaii team would have?

oh my goodness great question. (a) have been obsessed with His Dark Materials since i was approximately eight years old, and (b) let me think about this.

Jesse's I think would be a dog. Like a big, 70-80 pound mutt that might look a little intimidating but is really a big ole baby who sleeps in the bed and loves to cuddle. She could tear the shit out of someone though, and would, and does, if she needs to. She's often found napping in a pile with Jesse's kids and their daemons, and she's be the first to break the don't-touch-other-people rule if another member of the team is hurt.

Kai's, I'm thinking a bird. Maybe a small hawk or falcon. One that could enjoy soaring in the air when he's at sea, perch on his surfboard when he's waiting to catch a wave, chirps incessantly when hungry and then eats fastidiously--not a single entrail left behind--and then grooms Kai's hair in thanks. She's a surprisingly cuddly bird, and anyone who knows them very, very well knows that when Kai is upset, she'll open a wing for him to rest his head against her chest, or will climb into his lap to doze against him. She loves having her chest feathers scratched (by him ONLY) and she can come out of fucking nowhere to scratch, claw out the eyes, or knock bad guys out with stooping rakes or punches to defend Kai. She has a truly bloodthirsty shriek. She and Lucy have a great affinity for each other and she loves to tease Kai.

Ernie's is maybe a small lemur, some kind of small monkey with big eyes that's too smart for her own good. She's always getting into trouble, poking her round little head where it doesn't belong and bringing back all kinds of gossip and government secrets. Ernie, in comparison, is a paragon of restraint. She's a trickster, the kind of person who would text Lucy and Kate "from Ernie" to get them to end up a bar alone together and would have absolutely zero remorse for it. She's not super cuddly, but she does love sitting right in front of Ernie on his desk when he games or hacks, watching with her little jaw a little bit open.

Jane's is a raven. Enormous, smart as a whip, sarcastic. Independent but fiercely loyal, totally black sense of humor. He counterbalances all of Jane's ernest, caring mom energy with sarcastic gay uncle energy. He's a great scout with an eidetic memory—he can repeat full conversations between multiple people even weeks later. He likes to entertain Jane and her kids and the team by replaying conversations complete with eerily accurate impressions of each voice. He's a brilliant strategist and loves a good fight. His beak and talons are no joke, and he laughs whenever Kai's daemon acts like she's the better fighter between the two of them.

Lucy's is a panther. She's not as big as an animal panther, but she's still fucking big. She can fold herself up pretty small into a ball of cat, or keep her head ducked down so she looks smaller than she is, but piss her off or watch her stretch, and damn! That cat is fucking big. She's stealthy and quiet when she needs to be, but her comfortable, natural state is quite chatty. The joke is that people are like "oh tiny cop, has to rely on her big ass daemon to protect her" and Saffiyah is like "lol," literally yawns, lays down, and closes her eyes when Lucy's fighting. It's all a performance—she'd jump up and rip the leg off a human being if she needed to—but she knows exactly how much Lucy can handle and she doesn't so much as twitch her tail until it gets to that point. That's even scarier for the dudes Lucy's fighting, that the tiny lady is taking on these dudes AND their daemons, and her fucking apex predator is just napping nearby. It's totally psychological warfare, and Saffiyah fucking loves it. She's less cuddly than you'd think, only Ernie and later Kate really ever seeing the extent to which she curls around Lucy and offers soft, fluffy, wordless comfort.

Kate's is the only daemon not suited for combat. Hers is a ferret, a small one. He can curl into a ball that almost fits in one hand. He's often found in her pocket or purse, or, when she's alone, draped across her neck. He's very quiet, doesn't say much, and a hidden camera would see him often staring into Kate's eyes with overflowing love. Kate's emotional walls are always up, but not between her and him. He tries to give her everything she won't let the rest of the world give her. He's surprisingly opinionated and has meticulously high standards. He doesn't have much of a sense of humor, but he's steady and warm to Kate. Most other people don't even see him—he's such a softness, so revealing of a part of Kate that she outwardly pretends doesn't exist, that Kate usually keeps him tucked away. He hates Cara, likes Jane, quietly giggles at Jesse and Kai's daemons, and he, in a way that's extremely out of character, absolutely loves Lucy. He doesn't let Lucy touch him for a long time, not until a few months after the grand gesture, but even before Cara ruins shit, he will sometimes curl up into a small ball of ferret on top of Saffiyah's back.

Bam Bam's is a snake.

#ncis hawaii #ncis: hawai'i #kacy #daemons #his dark materials #ask zipps #kate whistler #lucy tara #jane tennant #jesse boone #kai holman #ernie malek

32 notes · View notes

total-fandom-tr45h · 1 year

Text

Mer!Sun & Moon x Mer!Reader

Two Predators And Their Lovely Prey

Enjoy~

You gently picked up the sea star, moving it aside to get the piece of broken glass out from under it. You held it up towards the surface, watching the light from the sun overhead shine through it beautifully, spots of green landing on the coral surrounding you.

Perfect!!!

You shoved the shard into your little pouch you had made out of random bits of trash you found in the water and swam onward, scanning the seabed for more glass and other shiny objects.

You had made it your job to clean up the reef you called home, as humans so often would just throw their garbage into the water, not caring if a turtle choked on a plastic bag or fish got stuck in those metal cans. You hated humans for that, but the glass they made was the prettiest you had ever seen, and when you weren’t cleaning you were scavenging to add to your glass collection.

You continued scanning the sandy bottom, eventually getting to the edge of the reef. You gulped as you looked out into the deeper water, shuddering at the feeling of being watched. It had been going on for weeks now, but you never saw anything when you looked. It scared you; the gaze felt predatory, and though nothing ever came into the reef that could harm you, it still made you uneasy every time you got to the edge.

You went to turn around when you spotted something sparkling in the sand, just a few meters away from the edge of the reef. You looked around, seeing if there was anything around before you gripped your pouch tightly and darted forward, aiming for the glass.

You scooped it out of the sand, giving it a quick inspection before sticking it in your pouch. Something moved off to your left, and you spun around to see a pair of red eyes. You yelped and sped toward the reef, hearing whatever was chasing you growl softly. This scared you, as you knew it wasn’t any kind of fish or sea mammal that you had interacted with before.

It was a mer. And it was a predator.

You sped up and darted in between a narrow space in the coral at the edge of the reef, one of your many places you hid when humans went by in their boats. The eyes got close, watching you press farther back into the little space, sharp pieces of coral jabbing you in the back as you pressed against them. The face of the mer was mostly obscured, but you could tell from what little light you had that he had sharp teeth and a funny marking on his face that looked like the crescent moon.

He growled again before turning and leaving, apparently not hungry enough to try and get you out of your little nook. You let out a sigh of relief, watching the bubbles trail upwards only to get caught on the corals above your head. You waited a little longer before poking youur head out, checking to see if the mer had really left.

When you didn’t see anything you squeezed out of the little cubbyhole and sped off to your home, a little cave nestled in almost the dead center of the reef. You pushed through the seaweed covering the entrance, smiling as you entered the place you called home. You headed to the little outcrop you kept all your glass on, taking out all of the day’s finds and arranging them on the surface. The piece you had grabbed and risked your life for was the biggest of all the glass you had, and it wasn’t really glass at all, it was a piece of mirror.

You set it up in the middle, admiring the variety of colors surrounding the reflective material. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, then stuck your tongue out. You giggled before going to your bed (which was just lots of seaweed woven into a mat) and laid down, curling up for a nap.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Good going, Moon! You scared her away!” Sun grumbled, glaring at his brother. Moon just rolled his eyes, arms crossed over his chest as he lounged in a nice open space in their territory.

“She took the gift.”

Sun went completely still, staring at his brother in disbelief. “She did?” Moon nodded, putting his arms behind his head and closing his eyes. Sun smiled, his head-fins fluttering. “Wonderful!!! Oh that’s so good to hear…. but she still doesn’t know we left it. Next time, I’ll stay behind to try and talk to her.” He mused.

Moon ignored his brother, electing to take a nap instead. Sun rolled his eyes at his brother’s laziness. “I’m going to go see if I can find anything else she might like.” He announced before taking off.

Sun hummed as he swam, heading for the nearby shipwreck to look for something pretty to gift the beautiful prey mer that lived in the reef. He and his brother had been watching her for a few weeks now, and finally they (mostly Sun) got the courage to try and court her. She was so small and cute, too cute to eat!

Sun sighed dreamily, nearly running into the side of the shipwreck. It was an old crab trapping boat, which hopefully contained something the pretty reef mer would like.

Hmm….. she really needs a nickname, calling her the pretty reef mer is going to get old…. how about…. Starfish!! Yeah, he’ll refer to her as Starfish.

Sun entered the ship through a hole in the hull, scaring away a few fish and an octopus in the process. He scoured the ship, struggling to get through the doors. They were definitely made for humans, NOT mer of his size. He was actually able to find a few things he thought Starfish would like, and his rays fluttered as he held them carefully in his arms, speeding back to he and Moon’s territory.

~~~~~~~~~

You were rudely awoken from your nap by lots of yelling right above your cave. You grumbled, but tried to listen to what they were screaming about.

“THERE’S A MONSTER IN THE WATER!!!!!!!”

Oh, the humans were just being ridiculous again. It was probably an oarfish or something, but if something wasn’t immediately recognizable to humans they called it a monster. Once the sounds of people exiting the water subsided you stuck your head out, looking around. You spotted a long, red and yellow shape in the distance, which must have been what the humans were yelling about.

You left the safety of your cave, heading to the edge of the reef to go see what the commotion was about. From afar it looked like it could have been an oarfish, but as you got closer you realized it wasn’t- it was a mer.

A predator.

You went to swim away, but you reacted too late- it had seen you and was approaching. You were frozen in place as the yellow and red mer swam towards you, your gills fluttering as your breathing sped up, fear coursing through you as it came within reaching distance. It wouldn’t take a lot of energy on its part to lunge and devour you….

You squeezed your eyes shut, whimpering. “Just get it over with…..” You waited, but nothing happened. Confused, you cracked open an eye to see the mer staring at you, holding something in their hands with a frown on their face.

“I’m not gonna eat you, I just wanted to say hi.” They tilted their head to the side, the funny ray-like fins on their head fluttering a little. You looked at them incredulously, not trusting what they were saying.

“B-but….. wh-why?” You stammered, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “Y-you’re a predator, I-I’m your f-food…” The mer huffed, shaking their head.

“Nonono, you’re far too pretty to eat- o-oh gosh oh no Ijustsaidthatoutloud-- h-here, this is for you!” They shoved something into your hands before turning and swimming away. You blinked in confusion, unable to move or even speak you were so stunned. Why did they just give you a gift? And they seemed so shy about it too? That didn’t seem like the way a predator should act around prey… much less giving them gifts.

Speaking of, you swam down to hide under a ledge, hearing the humans splashing back into the water upon seeing the ‘monster’ leave, and carefully examined the item in your hand.

It was a beautiful piece of deep blue glass, slightly concave and almost perfectly round. Your eyes sparkled and you squealed, hugging the piece tightly to your chest. It was wonderful!! You looked out to the place you had watched the yellow mer swim towards, frowning. You wished you had been able to say thank you… maybe you’ll see them again?

Wait, what were you thinking? Yes they had been nice to you and given you a present today, but that doesn’t mean they won’t be hungry and think of you as a wonderful little snack tomorrow! You shook your head and turned your attention back to the glass in your hand, the smile returning to your face. There was no doubt this piece had been the bottom of a glass bottle, the shape and size were just right.

As you were about to leave the safety of your hiding spot to head back home, you groaned as you realized; the humans would see you if you tried. You settled yourself on the ocean bed, pulling your tail close to you as you continued admiring the gift you had been given, blissfully unaware as to what it meant.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Sun was giddy, swimming back to Moon as fast as he possibly could. “Moon!! MOON!!!!” He yelled, nearly running into his brother at full speed. Moon dodged out of the way, causing his yellow counterpart to crash headlong into a small sandpile. Moon snorted as Sun backed up, holding his head.

“What’s got you all excited, Sunny?” Moon asked, swimming lazily around his brother. Sun shook the sand off his head, rays fluttering in excitement as he waved his hands around in front of himself.

“I talked to her- well, she talked to me- ohgodMoonItotallyblewit-- but she accepted the gift I gave her, oh she has such pretty eyes-'' Moon put a hand over Sun’s mouth, stopping the absolute word vomit he was spewing.

“Slow down, what did she say? Why do you think you blew it?” Moon asked before slowly taking his hand away from his brother’s mouth. Sun took a deep breath, calming himself down before speaking again.

“Well, she was obviously scared at first, and told me to just get it over with- which of course I denied wanting to eat her, I just wanted to say hi! And when she asked why I-- hhhhhh- I told her she was too pretty to eat- god I messed up soooooo bad Moooooon… I didn’t even tell her my naaaaameeee….” Sun lamented as he settled on the sand, sprawling out.

Moon snickered, settling his body across his brother’s tail with a smirk. “You really did screw up. That’s just too bad… buuuuut I guess it means I can have her all for myself.”

Sun sat up, his fins flared in anger as he tried pulling his tail out from under his brother. “No, absolutely not!” Moon snickered as he watched his sunny sibling flail around until he finally gave up, flopping back down onto the sand.

Sun huffed, twitching the tip of his tail in irritation as he thought. “You should probably go back sometime later and apologize for scaring her.” Moon rolled his eyes before dragging himself off his brother.

“Fiiiine, I’ll go. Did you find anything you’d be willing to let me give her?” He asked, hoping he didn’t have to go find a gift simply because he was lazy. Usually he would go find a gift himself, but he saw the haul Sun had brought back earlier so he wanted to take the lazy way out.

Sun stayed silent for a moment before pushing himself up off the sand, swimming over to where he hoarded his treasures. He rummaged through the small pile, picking up a couple objects and examining them before replacing them. Finally he decided on something, letting out a satisfied chirp before bringing the item to Moon.

Sun pushed the object into Moon’s outstretched hand, and Moon turned it over in his hand, inspecting it. The item in question was a chunk of some kind of crystal or gemstone, a light almost mint green in color, the surface worn smooth by the current and tides. The stone was close to the same color as the pretty little reef mer’s scales, and Moon decided it was perfect.

“Thanks Sun, I’ll make sure to go see her in a little bit.” Moon said as he gave his brother a genuine smile, and Sun’s rays fluttered happily.

“You’re welcome! Just make sure you tell her you’re sorry when you give that to her.” Moon nodded, staring at the stone absentmindedly.

A couple hours later Moon found himself at the edge of the reef, the sun setting on the horizon making most of the humans leave the water for the night. He surveyed the reef, looking for the mer when he heard soft singing coming from somewhere near the ocean floor, at the very edge of the reef.

He swam towards the sound, and found it was coming from underneath a little ledge, where he found the mer with her tail curled under herself, toying idly with the glass Sun had given her earlier.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You heard a sound like a person clearing their throat, and you looked up to see the predator mer that had chased you earlier. You went stiff, clutching the glass the yellow mer had given you earlier to your chest.

The mer in front of you looked very similar to the yellow mer, except this one was blue and grey, and had a- oh, he had a lure. Thaaaaaat didn’t bode well for you.

You gulped, trembling slightly as you spoke. “Wh-what do you want…?” You asked, curling your tail tighter underneath yourself. The mer let out a rumble, giving you a smile that was probably supposed to be reassuring but instead looked intimidating.

“That’s a silly question, little fish.” He spoke with a low baritone voice, inching just a bit closer to you. He then held something out in his clawed hand, and you searched his face for any malintent before looking to see what he was trying to give you.

You gasped, forgetting all your fear as you reached out and gently took the object from his palm to inspect it. The gemstone you held was the same color as your scales, and you couldn’t help but let out a few happy chirps.

The mer chuckled at your enthusiasm, and you were brought back to the reality of the situation. You stared at him for a moment, then down to the glass and stone, and it clicked;

Both of these similar looking mers were courting you.

Immediately your face burned as you blushed, clutching the items to your chest as you looked to the side. “I-I um….” You took a deep breath before looking up at the blue mer. “Th-thank you…… I accept.”

The blue mer let out a satisfied hum, moving to circle you a few times before just- leaving. You watched as he started to swim away, and you worked up the courage to speak. “W-Wait! Do you have a name..?” You asked, and the mer stopped and turned, flashing you a sharp toothed grin.

“Moon.”

#Ghosti's AUs #Ghosti's Rambles #daycare attendant x reader #daycare attendant au

155 notes · View notes

pluviophile-imagines · 2 years

Text

Thinking abt Gagamaru and unintentional manhandling...

Bc he’d never do it on purpose, not unless you brought it up to ask—he treats you a little like a wounded animal, tiny and skittish and breakable, and he is acutely aware of his size & his strength despite how airheaded he comes across as—but as you two grow closer, and he grows more comfortable, he begins to relax more and doesn’t think so much. It’s little things, for the most part; tugging you into a hug instead of bending down to meet you, dragging you towards his seated form momentarily when you pass by to kiss you, moving you to the side with hands on your waist so that he can ease past you. You’ve never complained, so he’s never noticed he does it.

But sometimes, when he’s out of it, he forgets to hold back entirely.

Sometimes he’ll stumble into your shared apartment after practice, all burnt out and exhausted and wanting nothing more than to sleep, and find you wherever you are—hanging laundry up to dry, in the kitchen cooking, curled up with a book in your favorite armchair—because sleep needs to include you or it isn’t restful at all. You’ll know right away what mood he’s in. It’s different when he’s distracted, so clearly operating on pure instinct; he feels stronger, bigger, far more sturdy as he wraps arms around you. It’s fruitless to struggle, though it isn’t as if you’ve ever tried for real, and it’s difficult not to be endeared by the big puppy-dog eyes and thoughtless demeanor.

He’ll bully you back to the bedroom and tug you down onto the futon and there’ll be no escape for hours as he naps with you in his arms. It doesn’t even stop once he nods off. He falls asleep almost the moment his head hits the pillow but his hold remains unyielding through all his twisting and turning, dragging you around with every movement, grip so strong you’ve no chance of breaking free—not that you’d want to, with how easy it is to drift off in his arms, warm and safe and comfortable, handled with care even as he tosses you around like a ragdoll.

And sometimes... sometimes he gets distracted. By you, of course. There’s no greater distraction than you.

(You do it on purpose, you like when he gets distracted; so worked up he forgets that it’s rude to maneuver you how he wants without permission, so laser-focused on you and your attentions that he gets a little feral. You like the way he goes all glassy-eyed and mindless, a slave to his base impulses)

All it takes is you touching him just enough in just the right ways—fingers at the base of his neck, lips against his jaw, hand dipping beneath his shirt and tracing a featherlight brush up his stomach—to render him helpless and wanton. He’ll trail after you like a lost puppy when you pull away and then strike like an apex predator the moment you wander near a bed or a couch or a chair, reaching around your waist with an ironclad grasp to grapple you down into his lap with lips already finding yours. Big, hot palms grow heavier as your kisses deepen and your petting gets more insistent. They’ll hold you close, press you tightly into him, long fingers gripping with white-knuckled strength at your thighs and your hips and your stomach, pawing at soft, pliable flesh.

You might end up on the floor, or laid out on the couch cushions with him hovering over you, or straddling his waist on the futon. The precise position hardly matters. You’re not getting away no matter what, not with how desperate he is now, barely thinking beyond your breathless laughter cutting off with mewls and the way you squirm beneath his hands.

That’s all. Just Gagamaru and accidental manhandling.

(He likes it when you manhandle him, too; not that you’d be able to do it unintentionally like him, but his mouth always goes slack when you yank him down by his tie to press lips to his cheek, and his eyes widen a little when you shove him down onto the couch to look at the bruises he sustained at his last game. He’ll let you tug him around however you please. It’s only fair)

#char.🌧 gagamaru #gin gagamaru x reader #blue lock x reader #mine.🌧#SORRY SORRY THIS DEFINITELY TURNED UHHHH SPICER THAN I. MEANT IT TO #NO REGRETS IT JUST HAPPENED AND I HAD TO GET IT OUT OF MY SYSTEM #sobbing and crying and wailing I want him so bad #give him to me now #I’ve been good I deserve it :(#i spent way too long debating if he’d have a futon or a western style bed but #mr wild man I think likes to sleep on the floor dkndksnd

499 notes · View notes

nevermindirah · 11 months

Text

fun new way for immortals to do drugs

A while back Nile and Booker stumbled upon a fun new way to do drugs. Turns out there's a poisonous mushroom that doesn't kill immortals, it just temporarily turns them into a werewolf. Booker's a really cute werewolf! He loves playing fetch and getting belly rubs! More about Booker's first werewolf trip in Wouf Wouf: An Unredacted Fairy Tale.

Their second time around, Nile takes a dose, and they discover it's a more general immortals become were-beasts thing: Nile is now a were-squirrel. She's so cute and sleek and bushy-tailed! She's extremely agile. She's no more a flying squirrel than she is a flying human but it's not like that's gonna stop her, and she has the best time discovering she can leap between treetops!

Squirrel Nile sits on human Booker's shoulder or curls up on his chest and he feeds her almonds and gives her pets and watches her sleep. When they're were-beasts together, Nile loves holding onto wolfy Booker's ruff while he runs as fast as he can. It becomes a thing they do every so often, go off for a camping weekend, do drugs, run around a wilderness as their were-beast selves. Their special thing.

Eventually they decide to invite Andy and Quynh to join them. Andy is, predictably, a were-horse. She's enormous and so elegant and faster than wolfy Booker thank you very much. Were-horse Andy teaches human Nile how to ride her, and she whinnies mercilessly at wolfy Booker when he tries and fails to climb onto her back.

Quynh's were-beast form? Frog. If she wants to venture back under water, now she can breathe there. Wolfy Booker loves to swim as well, and the two of them spend hours at a time splashing around in ponds and lakes and rivers. Froggy Quynh can also leap and climb up into the treetops right alongside Nile, which quickly gets competitive. Nile can leap higher, Quynh can leap farther.

Quynh finds she especially loves clinging to Andy's mane as she runs at top speed. She and Nile take to leap-frogging each other hopping between Andy and Booker's backs as their lorge sweeties race each other through whatever wilderness, and then they all sack out by the nearest body of water for naps and snacks and cuddles. Nile is barely visible as she sinks into Booker's shaggy fur just as Quynh is neon-vivid where she rests perched between Andy's ears.

Booker, the only predator among them as animals just as he's the only one of them as humans who didn't choose a warrior's life, keeps other predators away with his ferocious growling. If it really came down to it though, Nile and Quynh could fight off most beasts with creative use of projectiles. Andy, of course, can and will stomp an asshole to death with her hooves.

#nile freeman #sebastien le livre #book of nile #andromache the scythian #quynh #andromaquynh #immortal family #my tumblr fics #tog #mine #tog were-beasts au

31 notes · View notes

wcrstarter · 5 months

Text

SONJA'S SLEEPING HABITS.

RESIDENCE: Verse dependant. Canon verses she atypically lives in the Castle Corvinus in her private quarters, or a cabin in a remote location of her choosing. Modern verses even if she is involved with the covens it's rare she will stay with them, she will have a city residence of a condo that she keeps private. Most crossover au's she will live in a cabin in the wilds quite happily.

TYPE OF BED: She's not terribly picky, she's slept on a bedroll on the ground before. If she has the option, she does preferred a stuffed mattress when possible and will craft her own if she needs to. However, it's usually more firm than most people like.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS: Sonja is immune to cold, and is only as warm as her ambient surroundings. She does enjoy her creature comforts, in winter time she will (in most verses) have a thick goose down duvet that she will nestle into. Usually there are woolen knit blankets and animal furs, no more than two at a time. In warmer seasons it's usually a lightweight linen blanket thrown over her bed.

NUMBER OF PILLOWS: Usually only two, one of which she will use as a makeshift body pillow unless she has company, then it'll be given to them instead.

TYPE OF CLOTHING: Either nothing to bed (only in private residences), often just a large shift or shirt (if she can swipe a partner's shirt she's inclined to). If she's travelling its unlikely she would do much of an outfit change just to sleep, she might leave her armour on and simply go to sleep in it comfort be damned. Otherwise it'll be leggings with a large shirt/oversized shirt if she's not fully comfortable where she's bedding down for the night.

DO THEY SLEEP WITH COMPANY?: Depends on verse/other muse involved. If romantically inclined she might want the company, if she views them in a familial platonic manner she might sleep next to them to guard them while they sleep. This would apply to any mortal who would need to rest during the night when she's active.

DO THEY SLEEP BETTER WITH COMPANY?: Yes, especially if she knows them well over a one night stand.

DOES IT MATTER WHERE THEY SLEEP?: Not particularly, in verses where the sun cannot hurt her she enjoys sleeping in the sunlight or under the stars. If she is staying at the residence of someone she doesn't like, she might pretend to be fussier over her sleeping conditions--if its a court setting and she cannot stand the other noble she will deliberately do this and then simply sleep on the floor to be contrary.

WHAT DO THEY DO IF THEY CANNOT FALL ASLEEP?: She'll often sing to herself, cradle songs and war chants, pace around the room/campsite, or read until she finally drifts off. She has a hard time getting her hunting/predator instincts/battle instincts to shut 'off' in order to rest and often suffers racing thoughts closer to her bedtime.

FREQUENT DREAMS, NIGHTMARES: Some verses, her memory of burning under the sun. Most verses its relieving battles she fought in the past, or moments she regrets. Memories she prefers to avoid during her waking hours if she can. She will only talk about them if she truly trusts the other person.

DEEP SLUMBER OR NAPS: Deep slumber, she's too restless to nap unless she's been unable to sleep for days and then it'll be an exhausted driven nap.

WHEN DO THEY SLEEP: When she needs to, when she can no longer put it off, or can finally shake off the insomnia to rest.

WHAT COULD WAKE THEM UP: Sonja's a ambush style predator by nature, the slightest sound or movement will wake her. She might not indicate she's awake and aware, and there is usually a weapon nearby she will use (if she is not the weapon herself).

EARLY OR LATE RISER: Early, she'll only sleep in late if she's truly exhausted/injured, or if she has a bed companion she'll be more inclined to stay where she is and curl up closer to them.

Tagged by: @ithring

Tagging: @penddraig @tornsurvivors @halfvampirehalflycan @sookiestackhcuse @ofcatnaps @parainvestigate @causeitsmyboat @llosgcariad

#—&; dig up her bones but leave the soul alone(ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ)#;;dashboard games #sonja: piss me off and i will singlehandedly ensure that people doubt your hospitality #also she's an insomniac but *very good* at hiding it #she fought wards for ages it is ***very** hard for her to settle and sleep unless she feels completely safe #you know she trusts your muse if she instantly settles and falls asleep

3 notes · View notes

shiftingpath · 5 months

Text

To My Secret Santa

Three characters under the cut: an outcaste Dragon-Blood, a Lunar, and a deathknight. I've put some prompts in there for inspiration but don't feel bound by them!

1- The Glittering Blade, Fire Aspect Adventurer and Hero (he/him) maybe you could describe all exalts would be heroes, but there's no other way to put it; the Glittering Blade is a hero beloved by the people of the Jade Road along the Burning Sands. a brilliant swordsman, passionate storyteller, and stunning romantic in search of the history of his people's warrior-poet tradition before they were conquered by the Realm in the time of his grandmother's grandmother, Blade has made a name for himself in ten years wandering the Road from Urim to Ember.

though he's constantly falling in love with people he meets (and usually, saves), very few get close enough to realize he's much shrewder than simply a good-hearted wanderer, with a calculating eye for his image and a finger on the scale in favour of his own survival. but even if his internal life is more complicated and grey than most know, he continues to risk life and limb for total strangers on a day-to-day basis.

Exalt type: outcaste Fire Aspect Dragon-Blood Anima banner: a bright blade of flame letting off sharp orange sparks Personality: charming, open, friendly, dashing, a bit of a showoff, very courteous Appearance: dark skin, shiny smooth black hair (he oils his beard and the curls around his ears), glowing orange eyes, draws on kohl eyes and paints his face with gold, gold hoop earrings, exciting coloured silks for town, durable black robes for desert wanderings. Artifacts: long thin starmetal daiklave Timekeeper (hilt bound with red and blue strings), red jade chain shirt Edge of the Oasis (red/orange jade at the base up to nearly yellow at the shoulders) Prompts: practicing the blade, singing or playing a simple instrument (a wooden pipe or a hand drum), excitedly storytelling, wandering the sands with his beloved horse Haizum (dark bay formerly wild stallion, very short and scrappy and not at all elegant)

Reference: 1 2 3

2- Tabaq Twinface, Changing Moon Jackal Lunar (she/they)

what is she good for? making trouble, mostly. Tabaq has been coasting and mooching her whole life, and exalting has only played to her strengths. she is endlessly devoted and clever in creating trouble or taking up one of her many, quickly-discarded life's callings, for everything else she spares the least amount of effort she can manage.

her home, the Lunar domain the Kingdom of the Elephant, has a cultural signifier for "currently exploring my gender", a vertical painted line on the face. though society suggests it last about a month to a year before you make a decision, Tabaq has wandered in and out of Seeking as soon as she could draw the line on her face herself. she insisted to the Elephant that she get the line in her moonsilver tattoos, dedicating herself to always being exploring her gender and never making up her mind in one direction or another.

Exalt type: Changing Moon Lunar Spirit Shape: golden jackal Tell: perpetual vicious grin with two curved fangs Anima: blue-silver image of a predator's cracked jawbone holding the moon like a pearl Personality: lovable goofball, good-for-nothing, always making promises she forgets to keep, incredibly generous making up for things, devoted and fierce in protection of her family, friends, and children in general, most of whom think of her as a fun cousin no matter who they are Appearance: medium warm brown, hair shiny straight black cut messily, yellow eyes, ears pierced in several places with red coral rings, wide hips, thick ankles, never wears shoes, dresses sloppily in stained and worn-out clothing she says she'll get around to washing tomorrow (muted pinks, reds, and greys) Prompts: kicking back in a hammock, happily stealing noodles, taking a nap somewhere inappropriate, smiling sheepishly in apology, hanging out with her horrible familiar Dish-Eating Dog, a wild jackal she says is a pet Note: in hybrid or jackal form, she salivates toxic-looking neon green goop, some sort of hideous poison from her Stamina charms

References: 1

3- Flame-Eating Moth, Dusk Caste Wanderer (they/them)

Moth woke up no hair, clothes, gender, or memories on a broken stone slab deep in the Labyrinth. in their wanderings through the shifting horrors, pulled by some inexorable force, they found the Great Stones, monumental mausoleums ringing with silence. they were drawn to the terrible things, walking among them, touching the stone reverently, unable to read the ancient words scripted upon them, or decipher their images. they lay down on one of the great stone tablets before the tombs, and slept deep and disturbing dreams, stirring strange memories in their soul and remembering the most ancient, most primal of murders. something immense reached out to touch their mind, a finger brushing the wing of a moth.

they woke from the dream hungrier, stranger, and with a gift dredged unseen from the vaults or restless dreams of those eldest unbeings; a great black sword, wickedly sharp, colder than stone. they remained unsure in their identity. who brought them to this place? why? but the questions mattered less. what mattered was the hunt; tracking those things that would misuse the shifting lands of the Labyrinth, the great creatures of death that would not quite die, but should. the little insect ventured out to test their sting, and it was quite a terrible one indeed.

Exalt type: Dusk Caste, Melee Apocalyptic Anima banner: a dark sword like knapped obsidian ominously hanging over the world. distant howling winds make it sway slightly. at any moment it could fall. Personality: strange and off-putting, alien and detached, a strange soft reverence for very spooky dark things, friend to inanimate objects and little bugs Appearance: short and underfed, greying skin, filthy hands and feet, scratches on their knees and legs, wearing the sack they were stolen in, dilated eyes glitter like black beetles, dark hair recently shaved but beginning to come in again, full back tattoo of slightly-open moth wings they don't know they have Artifacts: Thorn, a hungry black soulsteel daiklave, little in the way of crossguards (it is not for defense. it is for pure murder.) a little oversized for them, it leaves a trailing line behind as they drag it with them and cut through stone Prompts: you know Hollow Knight? anything like Hollow Knight, that is what this is. wielding their terrible Thorn. examining a glass orb wound with string, containing their only friend, a glow worm they let out once in awhile to nibble on slugs and fungi. wearing a featureless bone mask, either on their face, or on their head or tucked behind their neck like a woven cone hat. laying on a stone slab to commune with the Whispers.

References: 1

#exalted #exalted secret santa

4 notes · View notes

vendettavalor · 8 months

Text

@tacticalvalor said: The way your faces are so close to each other’s, and you’re not sure if anyone’s going to make the move -> soap and lupa

⚔️ Those Seconds Before The Kiss Prompts // CLOSED ⚔️

She's not used to anyone being this close. Aside from her siblings and Alacan. The idea that anyone would want to be this close is something she can't fathom. For so long, Lupa had regarded herself with the same labels and warning signs that her captors always had. A danger. A monster. An apex predator. A tool designed to murder and maim. A killing machine developed only to know and exhibit bloodlust. Even as a child, she knew the look of fear in the scientists' eyes and what it meant. As she grew older, she swallowed down that desire to be loved and accepted, to know a gentle touch. She buried it below the ocean of pain that seemed to fill her, only growing more infinite each and every time she looked in a mirror and saw what they did.

The monster they had made out of her.

But Johnny didn't look at her like that. At first, it didn't bother her or confuse her. He was new here after all. He hadn't learned who she was or where she came from. He didn't know what she was. She figured that, eventually, he come to realize the danger he was in with her around and learn to be afraid of her like everyone else. That was always how it went. His innocent curiosity and desire to be close to her would wane once he saw her claws and her teeth in action, or saw her eyes glowing in the dark, or heard her ravenous snarling. It was why she never let him get too close. She didn't want to hurt him, and she didn't want to be hurt by him leaving.

And he couldn't leave her if he never got close enough to give her hope.

But his curiosity did not wane. Rather, it only seemed to grow stronger. And Soap only grew more persistent. He admired the shape of her form slinking about. The way she curled up like a dog on the floor to nap. The way she sniffed at her food before eating it. The way her claws gently curled around anything she picked up and the way she leaned down so others didn't feel so intimidated around her. He saw her for what she really was - what she'd yearned to be seen as. A gentle, loving person. And it was that part of her that stole his heart. He yearned to know her gentle touch. And he so desperately wanted to show her love and loyalty and companionship. It drove him to come closer and closer - closer than anyone else had gotten to her before.

Close enough that his lips hovered just a few desperate inches away from hers. Close enough to feel her soft, warm breaths ghosting over his facial hair and send goosebumps rising up all over his flesh. For the longest moment, they hung there. Just two people trying to navigate their feelings without admitting anything at all. Unsure of who would move to break the spell first. Lupa had never been good at initiating anything but conflict, instilling fear in enemies and bringing order to her allies. But Soap? Soap wouldn't know hesitation if it was shoved up his ass.

And without a second though, he closed the gap. He didn't mind her fangs pressing into his lips, or the feeling of her tongue awkwardly pressing against his, or the low growl-like purr that rumbled out of her. He didn't mind that she was clueless on what to do. He just recognized that she was trying her best to reciprocate. And that was enough to make his heart explode in his chest as he leaned in further to deepen their first "kiss."

#ask : is this what you wanted #mutual : all of my best friends #tacticalvalor #drabble : the higher the climb the harder the fall #( ocm : lupa the fanged sword )#john soap mactavish / lupa : a love like laughter with fangs [tacticalvalor]#( v : ashes and stardust )

1 note · View note

scrawled-mumblings · 1 year

Text

Dunes

There is sand running through my fingers. Somewhere between soft and coarse, it flows along my skin and soothes my aching joints, sore from the constant one step forward, two steps back of climbing dunes. The wind has half buried one leg; it’s cozy under there, warm and safe and heavy. My other leg is warm as well, the dog’s back pressed against me as he naps away his exhaustion. We’ve been here too long already, but I can’t bring myself to wake him yet, he looks so peaceful curled up into a ball, tail wrapped around him.

I sit up, brushing the sand from my clothes and gauging how much farther we need to go before we sleep. I can see it off in the distance, a vast dead oak tree shimmering in the heat. I can just make out the spindly bridges connecting the structures strewn about in the branches. We’ll never make it by nightfall, but we can’t go another full night without shelter. When I stand the dog stirs, shakes out his fur, and looks at me expectantly. “We’d best get going if we don't want to be caught out again.” I pick up my rucksack and start down the dune, slipping and sliding in the loose grains. He follows.

The wind whips across my face and I keep my eyes lowered, watching my feet and letting my lashes keep the grit at bay. The rag tied around my mouth and nose smells like dust and sweat, but the smell is still preferable to breathing sand. Each gust ripples my pants and tunic and I can feel the desert grinding its way into my skin. It hurts, but at least it cools me down. I can’t afford to lose too much fluid sweating in this heat; it’s been too long since we’ve found a place to restock.

Hours pass and the sun begins to dip below the horizon. The whole world seems to be the same color, the sand reflects the sky and the sky reflects the sand; the dull orange wash makes me dizzy. The only change is that tree, just a silhouette against the setting sun now, and it doesn't seem to be getting much closer. We keep walking. One step forwards, two steps back. My feet are aching, my skin stings, my throat is coated with dust. When I glance down and to the right, the dog is almost invisible against the desert; his coat was a dark tan to start with, but all the sand clinging to his fur reflects the sky like the rest of it. He’s stumbling too and he can’t place his feet as well as he used to.

Night falls and the moon rises. The world is monochrome now instead of sun-soaked. We’ve become ghosts, apparitions floating across the silver sand. The great tree looms ahead, textured and bright with the moon full on its trunk. The wind tries to push us back, but the tree forms a barrier that bends it around us. They’ve already pulled up the last of the platforms for the night, but the trunk offers better shelter than we’ve had in a long time and I’m grateful for a respite from the constant wind. I sit at the base and rest my back against the rough trunk between two spikes, trying to get comfortable. When these kinds of trees were alive they had to protect themselves from predators so the bottoms of their trunks were heavily armored. They don't serve much of a purpose now, but at least I can rest my head on one to sleep. The dog curls up underneath a thorn and rests his head on my leg. I run my fingers through the soft hairs on his head, sliding my finger from the tip of his nose up and over his head to the ruff of his neck. “We’ll have water soon. Something to eat too, if we’re lucky.” My head lolls and I’m drifting off to sleep. All he has to do is make it through the night.

I’m startled awake by the sound of creaking wood and ropes as one of the platforms descends towards us; they must have seen the blinking light in the control room when we set off the pressure sensors last night. They’re one of the few odds and ends of technology that survived the war and ancient as they are, their solar cells never seem to show any signs of failing. I struggle to my feet, pushing down on the spines to help me on my way, and wave at the two men walking from the platform to hurry. The dog isn’t doing well, he can raise his head can’t get up. The men have come prepared: I can see water skeins at their waists along with pulse generators tied onto long sticks on their backs, more remnants of the time before. They can plainly see that we’re in no condition to pose a threat, so they approach with the water in outstretched hands. It’s all I can do not to drink the whole thing in one go, but I sip slowly for fear of overloading my system. The dog is not so controlled; he laps furiously for a minute or so before retching up the water and the last traces of the lizard we’d eaten two days before. I take the water from the men and get him to drink again, this time only allowing him a few licks before closing it off again. Open and shut, open and shut until he starts to get his strength back.

(April, 2016)

#writing #creative writing #prose #science fiction #fiction #beginning

0 notes

buildugsroamin · 2 years

Text

Last Redoubt, pt.1

Many, many, years later, a mosquito hopped across the black-and-white sands of a mountainside desert as the sun sank into the ocean, taking advantage of the cool air blowing in from the sea. Whipping a pair of long, graceful antenna the length of its’ body, the creature detected what it was looking for: the sweet, earthy scent of agave. Several more strategic hops were made; long, broad feet laid against the sand to feel the slight vibrations of a predator. Vibrations that, by luck, did not manifest. Being an especially small member of its’ species- a little less than a foot long- it was likely overlooked in favor of juicer morsels. Of course, it was not as though the mosquito would ave known this, its’ simple mind focused as it was on a singular target. After several strategic leaps, sometimes aided by flaps of broad gossamer wings that were suited more for heat dispersion than flight, that it reached its’ destination: the scrumptious, scrumptious agave that grew around this part of the desert in spiraling rows. Like a skilled doctor, it lowered its’ lance into the sand, needling for the precious tap root…

Only for a gentle rumble to disrupt its’ reverie. The mosquito jerked in the direction of the tremors, a guttural squeak piping from its’ needle mouth. Although not as powerful as other tremors it had felt in its’ short life, it never hurt to be cautious. Reflected in obsidian eyes a million times over was the silhouette of a large, furry beast with a wide, flat nose, long, daggerlike incisors, and massive conical ears easily the size of its’ head. The beast’s front legs were even more peculiar: They had a great curved claw in front, while the beast’s sole, gigantic finger curved backward in a reverse scythe. Fitting, considering such creatures usually bought death to insects like the mosquito. Thankfully, this one seemed occupied with a strange device that had been shackled to its back, a device bulky and square, with four odd, circular legs that rolled across the sand. Sitting atop this device were two figures, one large and one small. The larger figure thankfully seemed disinterested in the small insect, but the smaller one stared with glowing crimson eyes, pointing at it and shaking the larger figure frantically. If only the sight had not been so curious, the mosquito might have looked behind itself, or paid more attention to the intensifying sand tremors. Instead, the looming, tooth lined shadow rising out of the sand would be the last thing it ever saw.

. . .

The child kicked the sides of the cart, shaking the larger figure’s shoulder.

“Dad! Dad! A sandcroc just popped out of the sand and ate that skeeter! Did you see it? Did you see it?”

By the time the gaunt, elderly figure craned his head to the side, it was too late. The massive lizard had totally vanished beneath the granular earth. Impressive, given such reptiles could easily eclipse ten feet in length.

“Well, I hope you learned your lesson, young lady.”

“Yeah I did! Sandcrocs are AWESOME!”

The man chuckled.

“I would have said ‘never stray off the designated path’”, he said, gesturing to the gravel road they currently travelled on “but I can’t prove you wrong.” He whipped the reins, adding “Look alive, Zithro! We’re almost there!”

The large, fuzzy beast, known locally as a panotti, snorted in protest, but pressed on regardless. Fortunately, this would not be for long.

Looming higher up the slope, a dragon cast its’ long shadow over the island. A dragon that, in the child’s eyes, had come down with a severe case of not being alive. It had curled up around the base of a great caldera, as though only taking a nap. The dirt road the two travelers drove on winded its’ way to the beast’s jaws, awkwardly propped open with crude wooden pillars. But where skin should have been, there was only bones bleached white by the desert sun. All except for the belly, which had been filled in with bricks and long, oval windows set up between individual ribs so that the whole thing had the appearance on an inverted boat hull. Atop the back grew a garden of reds, blacks, and purples, from which wafted warm, humid air. Things could be heard buzzing in the thick foliage, making it seem the dragon had only been dead for a few days and not many, many years. It was a marvel of engineering. It was a monument to a culture of a bygone age. It was a most sacred house of learning, and its’ inhabitants only hope for salvation from the mortal coil of life. But most importantly, it got his kid shut up for a few seconds, granting a long overdue respite. He smiled. Perhaps he was in for a long overdue peaceful night.

Not that he could blame the kid. It wasn’t every day you saw a komodo in the flesh. Or lack thereof.

He turned to his child once more. “Alright, Vera. Remember what I told you?”

And of course, the one time he wanted to talk to them, they were quiet. Oh, Kib, the bitter ironies of life!

“Vera! Are you listening, sweetie?”

The child reluctantly turned his way. “Yes, Dad. Always make eye contact when somebody talks to you, don’t talk too much, and don’t get too close to people you just met because it makes them uncomfortable.”

Their father nodded wearily. True, Vera understood the letter of the law well enough- right down to the syntax- but the spirit of said law was a whole other kettle of fish.

They just had a mischievous streak. Just like their mother.

As the sun descended into the red ocean, the two gazed at the small black shadows that flitted out from the komodo’s mouth and eyeholes, a last dying gasp made physical: BATS. Vera gasped in awe. This one building had to house more bats than the rest of the island combined. Then again, it wasn’t called Batavia for nothing. But more importantly-

“You’re twitching again.” Observed Vera.

Her father looked down, and sure enough, his legs were trembling against each other as steadily as the wingbeats of the small furry mammals above.

“That obvious, huh?”

“But why are you scared? You said the people here are friendly.”

“Not scared, Vera. Just nervous. The people at the monastery are… dedicated. Not that that’s bad or anything! It’s good to believe in things! But it can be… unsettling, though. You’ll see when we meet them!”

Zithro screeched, snapping him out of his thoughts. The cart came to a halt in front of the dragon’s (er, monastery’s) propped open jaws. A mural had been painted on the komodo’s upper palate, consisting of two great spheres, one near the snout and another near the throat, painted lucid green against an indigo backdrop. Several flitting steaks of light, the product of phosphorescent dye, were painted as if flying to the greater sphere from the lesser sphere. In other words, into the overgrown lizard’s pitch black throat.

Streaks alien to most, but immediately recognizable to Vera and her Father as Life Ships.

From deep within the beast’s belly, heavy footsteps echoed against cold stairs. Vera’s father gripped the reins tighter as they grew louder. Vera, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to see what new curiosity this skeleton beast would eject.

To their disappointment, it was a fairly unremarkable person, her (at least, Vera assumed them a her) body shrouded in cloth and waist tied with a tattered rope. What little skin was exposed was painted chalk white with black streaks. Her wide, yellow eyes glowed faintly in the darkness. It was a glow that killed her father’s apprehension on the spot.

“Creosote!” He leapt, and came dangerously close to embracing her in a hug, an act the woman only narrowly avoided via a swift sidestep.

“Blessing of Kib to you too, Malagasy.” Though she tried to keep her tone neutral, even in the dark, beneath her veil, he could see the edges of her mouth creep upward into the faintest grin.

“Why-? How-? Where’s Saguaro? Not that I’m complaining, but she’s always been so on point about being the ne to greet visitors!”

“Oh, Madame Saguaro has her hands full taking care of the children. They’re at a delicate age, you know. They need a guiding hand.”

For a moment, Malagasy’s joy tapered. Something about kids spending their entire lives cooped up in a fortress of bone… even if it was for the greater good, it made his stomach quiver.

But really, he could only be so down when the beautiful Creo was in his presence!

“Now then,” continued the yellow-eyed beauty, “What have you got for us?”

“Huh? Oh right! The goods! Vera, tie up Zithro and help me unload!”

Vera took up the task with relish, tying the exhausted panotti to the hitching post that had been built right beside the skull. Below the post was a trough of crystal clear water, which Zithro gulped greedily.

Together, the two visitors unloaded cloth- wrapped bundles from the back of their wooden cart, tossing them between each other with a strength and agility an observer might find uncharacteristically prodigious for their size.

Once unloaded, Malagasy untied the cord around one bundle, revealing a long, coiled lance that glistened in the moonlight.

“Behold! The tooth of a flying whale, shipped directly from the blustery north!”

Creo gazed at him silently.

“At least, that’s what the sellers told me.”

“And who, exactly, were these sellers?”

“Pair of merchants from Carcosa. Seemed honest enough. Even threw in these speckled gillygaloo eggs!”

From his pocket he fished out several small, white cubes pipped with black.

“Pretty neat, huh?”

“Those things will kill you.”

Malagasy screamed, dropping them into the sand. This was the last time he trusted those Carcosan freaks!

“If you eat them. Just touching them, you should be fine.”

“Dang it!” Cried Malagasy, scrambling to snatch them back from the sand-no easy task given their black-and-white coloration. “Why didn’t you mention that FIRST?!”

“You are amusing when you scream.”

“Da- dang it, Creosote!”

And even though he couldn’t see her face, he knew by the way she averted her eyes she was deeply amused by this.

. . .

As the twin moons rose high in the starry night sky, Malagasy continued to show off items: the old stingers of Brodbinagin gigahornets, a mounted snot-fisher from Hyduddify, a picture of a rare human firearm (which to be fair, looked nothing like the ones currently in the Monastery’s collection), some pottery (both artificial and organic), the bones of elephants and city turtles of Flores, and books. Old books and new books, bound in leather and silk, small as a fingernail or large as Malagasy himself, only united in that their owners were willing to part with them for a few casks of Batavia’s vintage tequila.

By that point, Creosote SHOULD have summoned the other nuns to start ferrying the goods into the belly of the monastery, and Malagasy (plus Vera) SHOULD have been following one of said nuns to the guest room. Instead, they sat on a crate, gazing at the moons and the shifting stars. Vera had occupied themself with a book.

It would be a long night.

They had some time.

Malagasy was the first to speak. “So how are things going? Must get tedious around here.”

He drew a pouch from his pocket, popping the contents- several dried nuts- into his mouth.

Creosote stifled a laugh. “You would be surprised. The children can be quite difficult to handle.”

“I’d imagine. Being cooped up inside all day gets to you after awhile.”

“Spoken by a man who has never spent a day indoors.”

Malagasy sighed, chewing. Nuts always calmed his nerves. “Is it really all right, though, treating kids like this? I mean I know you guys have your reasons-“He tactfully cut himself off before adding ‘however stupid’. “But do they really need to spend all day-?”

“Our sins are many, Malagasy. And if we are to return to Venus-“

The red-eyed man threw up his arms. “We we we! Always we! But what about your needs, Creosote?! Don’t you miss those days when we dressed up and travelled together? Don’t you miss facing death herself on the open sea? Seeing the world? Didn’t that mean anything to-?”

“Of course I do. Every day. But now that we have you to trade with the other islanders for us, there’s no need for me to sacrifice my chance at redemption by forcing my cursed soul upon the world. Besides, I have children here. And Saguaro, for all her grace, can’t raise them alone.”

Malagasy considered making a smart remark, then thought better of it and spat his nuts onto the sand. He wouldn’t leave Saguaro alone with kids, either. Or adults, for that matter.

Creosote was as obstinate a stone wall as ever, but he couldn’t complain. It was a beautiful night, spent in the company of a lovely lady, and Vera was keeping quiet for once. Who could ask for anything more?

Of course, that’s when he realized Vera was keeping quiet. Cautiously, not wanting to ruin the magical moment, he turned around.

The cart lay unloaded. Zithro slurped happily from the trough, without a care in the world. If only he could say the same.

“VERA?!” he called “Dang it, Vera! This isn’t funny!”

He looked back at Creosote.

“Did you see where Vera went!?”

The yellow eyed Venusian averted his gaze coyly. “Perhaps…”

Malagasy groaned. It really was too much to ask for one peaceful night!

#my writing #Dispatch to Venus #speculative biology #science fiction

1 note · View note

sodadrabbles · 3 years

Note

Hey! I really like your writing and was wondering if you could do a request! If not its totally understandable. Could you do a fic where phill and techno find a pheonix hybrid reader (like with the wings and tail) passed out in the snow? I just think it'd be kinda cool, thanks for considering my request!

Ohoho, phoenixes are my favorite mythical bird to mess with! I hope you enjoy this, I had a lot of fun writing it :]

Paring: c!Philza + c!Technoblade x phoenix!Reader (Platonic!)

Rating: Fluffy with a little mention of death.

Summary: You passed out in the snow- What happens when an old man and an anarchist find you? 1.4k words

Cold. That was probably the most simple way you could describe the situation you were in. But it isn’t a simple cold. It’s a freezing wind that pierces your skin with ice and sends a chill down to your bones. You could feel it deep inside you, like a curse or illness. But it was just the freezing arctic winds. You should have been prepared for this situation, you knew it would happen, yet you let yourself wander this far.

Snow swirled in your vision as the wind whipped against you, freezing and unrelenting. You shiver again and try to curl your wings closer to your body, but the joints where the fiery appendages meet your back ached. You had been flying for too long, and now you have had your wings stretched even longer. The melting heat that usually poured from the ends of your feathers was starting to feel lukewarm at best, and that told you clearly that time was running out.

The arctic just isn’t the place for a phoenix, as warm as their cores might be, the icy arctic can put them out in an instant. It’s unforgiving, it made you question how anyone could live out here. But you had heard the rumors of the two men that lived far away from the Greater DreamSMP, sheltered away in the far snowy tundra. But in your state of ever-growing drowsiness, you couldn’t recall their names.

You sigh, a tired and heavy sigh, as you finally let your wings rest. The large limbs droop and you can see, at the very tips of your largest feathers, where your fire burns the hottest, your flame could no longer melt the snow under them. Your time had come, though a few days early. But you showed no fear of the process, one you experienced so many times before, as you let your body slump to its knees, before falling forward into the crunchy snow.

‘I’ll wake up in a few hours.’ You thought to yourself, feeling the now cold wings pressing into your back. ‘Just a little nap for now.’

---

“I just don’t see why I needed to come with you, Techno.” The blonde man huffs, pulling his heavy coat tighter to him. The snow had been picking up fast, the winds howling louder than the pack of wolves Technoblade had adopted. The piglin walking beside him was much less bundled up, the warm blood of his kind seeming enough to keep him warm through the oncoming blizzard.

Techno just snorts in response to his old friend, so unused to the snow, keeping his pace against the freezing wind. He had just been minding his business, brewing some potions when he swore he saw what he could only describe as ‘a column of white-hot fire’ sprout up from distance. It, quite frankly, scared the shit out of him. So, he grabbed Phil and dragged him out to investigate the strange occurrence.

After a few more moments of fighting the harsh weather, the two arrived at where the fire had come from. In its wake lie what was now a puddle, and scorched grass beneath that in the shape of a person. The two men glanced at each other before Techno stepped forward and reached out to touch the grass. Before he could, however, the spot of the grass that was once scorched burst into flames again, ash rising from wherever the fire touched. It swirled in the warm light, moving against the wind to take its shape. Despite how the wind roared the ash moved so calmly and in such a distinct way, forming the silhouette of a person. Of you.

Once all the ash of your ‘death’ had clumped back into your form, burning red light filled the cracks and sealed the process. You felt your consciousness slip back into place, your memories, your being. You felt the heavy weight of your wings, the light flicking of your birdish tail, and the warm crackle of your fiery feathers.

And then you fell.

You had expected this, and yet as you tensed your muscles in preparation for impact, you found yourself getting caught by two separate pairs of hands. You open your eyes and blink, glancing at the two men now staring bewildered at you. Wait, there are other people here?

You gasp and scramble to push away from the two, but the older one- A blonde wearing a green bucket hat- Held tight onto your shoulder, holding you in place. He spoke, his voice was calming and warm, unexpectedly paternal. “Easy,” he breathed, using his other hand to steady you. “We aren’t gonna hurt you.”

You’re hesitant to comply, but carefully you steady yourself to your feet. You stare at the blonde man, his eyes heavy from many years of living. It surprised you a bit to see another immortal face to face. But as you looked closer you noticed the way the part of his robe that wasn’t torn refused to move with the wind, it hit you. An elytrian.

You snap out of your thoughts as a gruff voice to your left draws your attention. You glance to see a large piglin standing there, his eyes still wide in shock. He was tall and broad and just standing near him made you feel small. You didn’t like feeling small. Out of instinct, your wings spread out. Not to full length, but enough to calm the anxious feeling of a prey animal being stared down by a predator. You feel the elytrian’s presence disappear from beside you. “What the- Mate, you’re on fire!” He exclaims, staring at the way your feathers spark and crackle like a fireplace.

Yeah,” you laugh at the elytrian. Had he never seen a phoenix before? “That’s what phoenix wings do.” Your response doesn’t earn any laugh from the two, only more confused stares. The piglin is the first to speak up. “A… Phoenix?” The way he says the word makes you step back. This time the elytrian speaks up. “Aren’t phoenixes extinct?”

You stare at him, eyes wide. Had they really? Sure, it had been a while since you met another of your kind. Phoenixes were not social creatures, they preferred their seclusion and stuck to their own. You just assumed…

“No, clearly not.” You straighten your back and try to puff your wings. You wouldn’t let yourself be intimidated by the two hybrids. “I’m here, so we aren’t extinct.”

---

After you explain why you were in the arctic in the first place, you managed to earn the two’s names. Philza and Technoblade. You had recognized the two names, you heard stories about the two Anarchists from your friends in the Greater DreamSMP- How Techno had taken down L’manburg twice, and Phil helped him turn New L’manburg into L’manhole. You had admired those stories- Admired the bravery it took to stand up to corruption.

It was the remaining members of L’Manburg that drove you from your home in the Greater DreamSMP- With Tommy building his hotel near your home and being unable to find safety in Las Nevadas with Quackity, you wanted to find somewhere to go where you would be unbothered.

Though you must admit the life you found wasn’t what you expected. Phil allowed you to stay with them in the arctic, after much arguing from Technoblade. So you built yourself a home. You got to meet Ranboo formally- You had seen the ender wandering the Prime Path a few times, as well as near Snowchester. You weren’t too fond of him, but you learned to accept him.

You finally were able to learn of what happened to your species. Techno had an astounding collection of books. His library was impressive, but he never allowed you inside. He claimed your wings made him too nervous, and that made you laugh. The worries made sense- You once set part of Phil’s house ablaze as he was teaching you how to brew potions.

Techno had handed you a book with no title, its leather cover stamped with a fiery bird. The piglin watched you as you flipped through the pages- Phoenix hybrids had, in fact, been hunted to extinction a long time ago. You remained to be the only one and would be for the rest of your life.

And somehow, this didn’t bother you. You found all you needed right here- even closure.

#c!technoblade x reader #c!philza x reader #technoblade x reader #philza x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #dream smp x reader #technoblade x you #philza x you #request #anon

1K notes · View notes