feral-lore-creature

[feral-lore-creature]

@lehnsharrk figured out what was going on here, thank you very much :p

[feral-lore-creature]

I continue to be Normal About Them

[feral-lore-creature]

hiiii everyone i'm back again with another giveaway!! i've got a valkyr heirloom collection to give away as provided by DE!!

da rules:

tell me your fav cat color/pattern (exa. black, orange, tabby, calico, etc!!!) :3

you don't have to be following me or like this post (although i appreciate it)

this is a random giveaway. commenting in a reblog or via replies enters you into the pool that will be randomly drawn from for a winner

please have your dm's open so i can tell you that you won, if i can't reach you i'll have to draw a different winner

be prepared to give information such as your IGN and platform

pool closes august 10, at noon est. the prize will be distributed on august 11, 2pm est.

i love black cats, as i have a darling black cat myself (his name is adrien)

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[feral-lore-creature]

Sick Shaw one-shot POV Engineer (1,500 words)

Shaw lies in her bed, mumbling alien words as he looks down at her. He worries, glancing at her blanketed form. She's below two thick layers of blankets, and yet? She's shivering and shuddering. Her nose makes awful gurgling sounds as she breathes in and out. Her nose and lips were rubbed raw from tissues. Her eyes shut with teary edges. Her brow upturned with discomfort as she panted between parted lips. She groans between attempts to breathe, her mouth muttering as her eyes stay blurry.

Shaw is terribly sick, and he has no idea how to help her.

It is only them on the desolate planet now. A human and a God. Stuck in the barely functioning compartment that once belonged to a larger vessel. Every detail and item was alien. And yet… He feels drawn to help. As if it were a need to live. As vital as breathing air into his lungs. She had done much the same to him just two days before. However, his problem had been an easy fix. A burn wound to his left side and a crushing injury to his upper right chest. Shaw had cared for him. Healed him. All despite what had occurred between her people and him. Perhaps she'd been acting selfishly, not wanting to be alone. Maybe thinking he's offering her a gift for her aid… It didn't matter now, though. Wasn't he doing the same?

Shaw lay sick in the large bed, her mind lost. Shivering and helpless. The species he had a mission to destroy lay before him… And he couldn't bring himself to kill her, even as an act of mercy to free her from this sudden and terrible sickness. His people had long since gotten rid of illnesses, so to see her suffer one? It was as strange as the books she tried to teach him to read. He didn't know where to begin. The shivering had been clear enough, but why wasn't she warming up? Did he need to bring her more blankets? Perhaps a warm meal might help?

He stepped back, watching the weakened woman shift below the blankets. Her form was still trembling as the coverings covered all but her face. She's weak, drained. She needs to regain strength. A meal… yes, a meal might help. He looks away, hurrying to the kitchen area of the shuttle. He ducked and bowed his way through the short hallways and doors. Angling himself to slip through slim gaps. He came upon the directory he'd seen Shaw operate. Only that had been a maximum of four times. He wishes he'd paid more attention… Now he stands, hand hovering as he stares at the words on the screen. He knows some now, unlike when they'd first met. Bowl… He knows that. He pressed a finger to it and tried to read the selections that came up next. He blinks, scowling. He wishes the screen would dictate what and wasn't hot… Then again, maybe it did. He knew the system had limited supplies. He couldn't just trial and error this. He had to be sure… He tries his best to recall what that warm meal she'd given him was called. She hadn't spelled it out for him… But surely he can sound it out. He wasn't an infant, after all.

"Chhh…" He fumbles with his voice, glaring at the screen. 'Ch' It starts with a 'c' and a 'h.' It was a 'e' or 'i' sound next, right? Then… He taps at the counter, chewing on his teeth. There had been meat in it, and tomatoes… The screen listed ingredients under the selection names. He knew it had beans, and he knew how to spell that, too.

"Chile?" He asks himself. That sounds right. He can read the words "meat, tomato, and beans." Below is a selection of things he didn't know. He hopes it's right. He presses a finger to the item, turning toward the outlet. He hears the machine inside the wall begin to work. To his delight, he starts to feel heat radiate from the wall. Warm, yes, warm food! That must help her escape this strange chill.

The smell from his memory enters the air. Then comes the bowl of food. Gently delivered on a small moving conveyor. A spoon is dropping on the tray next. He takes it in his hand. His grip was firm on the tiny tray. He cups his other palm around the bowl. Circling it to keep it upright as he presses between tight gaps. He travels back to Shaw, moving the tray before him to ensure it never spills.

"Shaw…" He rumbles from his throat.

Shaw doesn't do much. But her chest visibly tenses. A sound of notice came from her. She may be terribly sick, but she knows he's here. The high-pitched yet muffled cry was like that of a bird. One wounded and dying. It pulls more at his instinct to protect and care.

"Chile…?" He croons to her. The alien word was strange on his tongue.

Shaw manages to open her eyes. If only a sliver. The deep, earthy hue of her gaze stark against her sickly pale skin. He hates that some part of him finds her beautiful like this. She nearly resembles one of his people. He moves to her bedside, setting the tray on her belly, which is covered with a blanket. Shaw scowls, trying to squirm. He lifts the tray again, looking at her. She mumbles words, and he understands enough of them.

"Sit -- --, I can't eat ---- ----. I'll choke."

He sets the tray beside her feet. His hands found her form under the blanket. She feels aflame. Her skin brims with sweat as he pulls her toward the headboard of her bed. She fumbles her hands onto his wrists. Her trembling worsens as she tries to move on her own.

"No, Shaw." He grunts.

She scoffs, continuing her small battle. In the end, he slips his hands away. But his grip hovers, ready to catch if she falls. Shaw fits herself against the headboard. Her back straightens as her hands pull free of the blankets. She smooths out her lap, then pats. Her barely open eyes sought his gaze.

"-----." She says faintly.

He doesn't know the word, but he knows that look. Shaw is hungry. He fetches the tray, setting it on her lap again. She clings to it as it gets close, her fingers finding the spoon. Shaw moves to eat. He stands, gaze fixed as her hand shakes. The spoon of food she gathers dribbles on the tray. He blocks her with a hand before she dirties her blankets or clothes. She protests, saying something to him.

"Make a mess." He grunts. "I do it."

"---- ---." It's a curse, Shaw says. One full of venom and frustration.

He grits his teeth, but relents. He lays his hand on Shaw's lap as he sits on the bedside desk. The furniture groans at his weight, but manages. He moves his other hand behind her, fitting his fingers to the small of her back. Again, he feels the burning heat of her body. She's like living fire. Her body twitches and shakes as she starts to feed herself. A slow raise of a spoon, a loud sip. A weak chewing. Again, and again. Shaw eats like a lumbering animal. Her eyes were trying to close between sniffles. The warm food only brings forth more nose slime. He scowls, moving his palm off her legs. She notices in an instant, grunting a light sound. He leans over, finding his hand on the box of cloths that sits on the bed.

His chest over her lap, she suddenly moves. Shaw's head meets his shoulder, the messy hair of her scalp tickling his skin. He stalls, arm still outstretched. The palm on her back twitches. What was this? Suddenly, her hands abandoned her meal. Fitting around his shoulders and throat. She weakly pulls, grip tightening around him. He hovers, then turns his eyes to her. He feels her tears before he sees them. Rivers that run down the creases of his bio suit. Her back bucks and ducks as the sound of crying starts. Hickups and whimpering.

Is… this what she needed?

He adjusts, awkwardly finding the meal tray. He pulls it from under himself, setting it elsewhere on the bed. All the while, Shaw clings to him. Her features fit neatly into his own. He knows what a hug is. However, why would she want one from him? Didn't she worry he might maul her? He takes his other hand to her back, pulling her closer. Shaw's knees turn under the blankets as her chest meets his. Her head finds the side of his throat. He waits a moment before leaning his head against hers. He tightens his arms around her, pressing her to his chest. He stares at the headboard of the bed. Unsure what this was for. This wasn't a welcome home. Nor a goodbye. So what was she embracing him for? He finds himself stroking her back. Petting wide circles. It makes her sobbing worsen, and her grip tighten.

Was this helping? Or was this hug making things worse?

[feral-lore-creature]

Not Gods? Engineer and Shaw Oneshot. POV Shaw.

"Not gods?" A translator asks.

Behind the robotic translation? The Engineer's voice. Deep and guttural. A crack in the man's voice betrays a hint of heartbreak. He moves from his stance, lowering himself. The titan sits against the wall, a hand lying over his mouth as he stares distantly. The reality of what he'd done must feel crushing.

"No, just humans," Shaw answers. "Like me."

Their words are simple. Still, they speak, God and mortal. The translator between them slowly improves its catalog of languages with each word shared.

"Innocent." The Engineer realizes this through the tool.

"Yes," Shaw confirms. "Only Weyland thought he was a God."

"Crime for man to think himself God." The Engineer informs.

"I know. I'm sorry." Shaw says softly. She recalls many myths of humans being punished for this exact crime. It seemed those stories were warnings, not just fables.

She wished she knew Weyland was there. Wished she knew what he came for. She could have warned him… Then maybe Ford and Jackson would still be alive. Instead, their dead bodies lay still. Shaw hopes their souls are somewhere better than that lonely planet.

"Hurts." The Engineer croaks. He motions to his chest, knuckles tapping at the armor over his heart. He swallows a tight knot, throat tense.

"I know." Shaw agrees. She can hear the grief in his voice. The same pain echoed in her chest.

"Hurt innocent. Crime." The Engineer bemoans. His hands meet his face, fingers pulling at his skin as anguish fills his eyes.

The Engineer looks younger than before. Maybe it's the raw amount of emotion he's showing. Shaw's heart would break if there had been anything left of it. Instead, she stares at him, absorbing the sight of a distraught God. The guilt. His fear.

"You didn't know. You couldn't have known." Shaw tries to comfort the man. Her voice reverberated from her hideaway and through the machine.

"Mad God. Mad gods die," the Engineer explains, the spirit of his voice broken. He motions to his heart again. A distraught look crossed his face. "Need to die."

"You were doing what you thought you had to." Shaw consoles. It was strange, speaking assurances to something that had killed three humans and a machine. He could still kill her. "That has to count for something. You weren't crazy. You aren't crazy."

Silence falls for a long moment. Timeless sensations of the ruins soak into her veins.

"Others? On ship?" The Engineer asks.

"Not gods," Shaw promises. "Just humans."

"Mortal." He confirms. Tone flat, eyes haunted.

"Yes." Shaw agrees in turn.

"Do mortals forgive?" The Engineer asks.

"They can," Shaw promises.

"Does Shaw?" The Engineer says her voice with a soft breath, a tiny flicker of hope in his tone.

Shaw hesitates. That answer is enough. The Engineer lays his eyes on her, looking through her. The eyes of a broken soldier. He's served his duties and committed a horrible act in doing so. Shaw has seen it before. She hates that she's seen it before. Her breath sticks in her throat. She fumbles open-mouthed before her voice finally works.

"I'm scared. But I understand. But I also don't understand. Why is death the punishment? Can't you lock them away? Punish them some other way?" Shaw rambles, tone growing urgent.

"False gods threaten the order of everything. They take worship and prayer. They misguide. They are too dangerous to be allowed life." The Engineer explains, haunted expression hardening into anger. "False gods were the reason Earth needed cleaning. The reach spread like cancer."

"My God."

"Yes." The Engineer says plainly. "But others before, as well. Too many. A few? Allowable. Possible to return home. To learn the right ways again. But hundreds?"

"Earth was too far gone." Shaw finishes for him.

"Yes." He confirms.

"So you were ordered to kill us all," Shaw says. She's confirming it for herself. And still? The Engineer answers.

"Yes." The Engineer nods, face solemn.

"What if we can learn to worship the right Gods again?"

"Humans are too far from the path. They can't change back." The Engineer sighs.

"How do you know that for sure? You are talking about reversing everything, but what if you start now? Correct our mistakes instead of making a clean slate?" Shaw argues. She keeps the man's gaze as he looks at her untrusting. "We changed enough to make it here, didn't we? We CAN learn better."

The Engineer's eyes drop, falling to her suit. The material is primitive compared to his. Still? It is a far cry from the material made two thousand years ago. That had to mean something.

"Humans wage wars, kill another. They could never be united again." The Engineer declares.

"It takes a lot of people getting along to manage space travel…" Shaw prompts him. His eyes meet hers again as she continues with a sour smile. "Sure, our species isn't united under one government like yours… But we didn't get here by doing nothing but murder and war."

"Two thousand Earth years…" The Engineer drones. Eyes seeping deep into Shaw's soul. "Perhaps for such short-lived animals, it's possible…"

[feral-lore-creature]

OH GOD!!!!

[feral-lore-creature]

Someone asked for Tulvin x Reader head cannons so here we go:

( the Tulvin I made in this fic https://archiveofourown.org/works/65073913/chapters/167338894 )

Firstly, the meeting: You likely meet him while he's doing a task. He's a busy man, even when it doesn't look like it. Guarding local shops tends to be his day to day. He'll be off to the side, protecting but not interfering in the interactions between shipowner and customers. If you are buying or passing by? There is hardly a difference to him. A quick glance to see if you act like a thief, and he's back to surveying the crowd. If you manage to approach? He keeps an eye around. Making sure you aren't a distraction as your friends steal something nearby. He's polite of course, but hardly planning to leave his post. He doesn't mind company, however. You can linger with him the rest of the day, he might find your instant fascination strange, but not threatening. Its regular visits to him at his posts that would win his heart. The action of you coming to see him, at least in his eyes, showing you mean business. That you aren't just gawking at his scars before leaving for the next interesting thing. He'll talk, but not about much. As a man predisposed to survey and protect, he's better at listening than speaking. He'll remember thing you tell him, even if you didn't mean to say it. The more you linger, the more focus he'll pay to remembering everything. He's not much for chatting, but he'll try to ask some questions he's seen other people ask one another. Such as favorite colors or flavors of jam. Little things that he notes intently.

It might take as much as a week's worth of time before he realizes you're dropping romantic hints. He's not one for dates, but due to his work he has more than enough 'I know a place/guy' things for you to do together. A newly perfected batch of meed at the brewery. A fresh harvest of fruit you enjoy. A location related to a hobby you've mentioned. Still not much of a talker, but he lets you know he remembers by bringing you there.

When its finally official? He welcomes you home, or follows you to yours. His home isn't filthy, but it is the home of a working man. A tad dusty and unorganized. Even then, he knows were everything is and isn't keen on changing much. A cleaning he's alright with, but he insists you leave anything your find back where you found it. He follows that exact same rule at your home without you ever saying it. To the point you could secretly mark an outline of the object and he'd place it back in the exact pose and all. He doesn't touch much without clear permission. Only eats when you invite him to. Even then, he politely refuses at least once, only accepting if he's genuinely hungry. He won't share a bed with you for a while. And I don't mean just the steamy way. Not even for innocent sleep. However, if you insist? He will sleep in the same room on a chair or roll. That's about it. To get a shared bed? You won't have to beg, no, he's not a mean man. However, he's a little dense. A firm telling that you are ready to share the sheets will have him sitting on the side until you encourage him to sleep. He's a light and quiet sleeper. You can sleep easy knowing if anything happens inside or even nearby, he'll hear it and notice. He's the opposite of controlling. Where he commands his hounds with a short leash? You don't even have a metaphorical one. You might find it actually annoying with the extent he doesn't ask or question you about your business away from him. Its not that he doesn't care, its that he trusts you know what you are doing. He'll always be ready to lend his attention when you return to him. Soaking in the information you have to offer.

[feral-lore-creature]

Shaw & Last Engineer bullshit

He wants his favorite nap spot, but Shaw wants personal space.

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[feral-lore-creature]

Lost in Paradise Chapter 30: Task Given

https://archiveofourown.org/works/65073913/chapters/173820217

"We ask you to attempt to find her and return her to us, at all costs. Ideally alive." David answers, calm as the day.

'Ideally.' Did the humans think she was dead?

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another attack! For junoneo :]

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Rainbow mo

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hyorses

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jokes to make after failure that aren’t self-deprecating:

I’m the best to ever do it

Nobody saw that (best if said loudly)

No one’s ever done it like me

I could be President/they should make me President

Behold, a mere fraction of my power!

The public wants to be me soooooo bad

I’m an expert in (thing you just failed at)

How could this have happened to god’s favorite princess?

Nothing ibuprofen and a glass of water cant fix

I’m being sabotaged

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i NEED to have a symbiotic bonded relationship with a bio-mechanical spaceship. it would fix me

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I wanted to deliver healing pastel colors to you.